Thus one of the natives burst into tears when he heard “God save the Queen". On another occasion Mr. Grey observed during a funeral the great effect of music upon the natives. Even those infants who sat passively on their mothers' shoulders, not understanding the cause of lament, seemed to be affected as the involuntary tears. rolled down the cheeks.1 This, of course, may be mere reflective imitation, for if all people in a company cry, children will always cry too, even without music; still the grown-up persons, at least, seemed to express their sadness by music, and then, again, to be more deeply moved by hearing it. I may mention that the Australians are accustomed to quiet their children by music if they cry.2 Another example of the influence of music is given in a narrative of Mr. Peron: While an Australian family were taking their simple meal Mr. Peron's company began to sing the "Marseillaise". At first the natives seemed more confused than surprised, but soon listened attentively. The meal was forgotten and their satisfaction was manifested by contortions and gestures, so "whimsical" that the Europeans could hardly refrain from laughing, while it was equally difficult to the aborigines to hide their enthusiasm. But scarcely was the first strophe ended before exclamations of rapture were uttered by every one. A young man, especially, was almost frenzied; he tore his hair, scratched his head with both hands, agitated himself in a hundred different ways, and repeatedly iterated his approving clamour. After this vigorous and warlike song the Europeans sang some "light and tender airs" but soon perceived that they affected the natives but in a slight degree.3 A similar exciting influence was often observed when the tamtam was sounded, of whose effect we gave a few examples on p. 106. Mr. Du Chaillu noticed this among 1 Grey, Two Exp. to Austr., ii. p. 331. 2 Gerland-Waitz, l. c., vi. p. 782. 3 Peron, l. c., p. 840. savages on his travels in Equatorial Africa. No sooner do they hear the tamtam than they lose all control over themselves, and the louder and more energetically the instrument is beaten the wilder are the jumps of the male African, and the more disgustingly indecent the contortions of the women.1 Mr. Reade observed that his people always began to sing when he compelled them to overcome their natural laziness and to continue rowing.2 Skilled singers in Greenland well know how to express different passions by soft or animated tones of the drum and the motions of their body. This they do during a banquet which lasts for several nights, until all provisions are consumed and the participants too exhausted to articulate any longer. He who can make the drollest contortions of the body passes for the master-singer.3 The Indians have special songs for the time of mourning as well as for the time of pleasure, for leisure hours as well as for the hour of triumph. Simple and rude as they may be, they have always a definite character. The required expression is, however, attained by variety of time rather than of cadence.1 When, on his third voyage, Columbus landed on Trinidad, he ordered his sailors to dance on board a ship to the sound of a tambourine, thinking he would decoy the Indians. They however put down the oars, seized their shield and bows, shooting at the ship with arrows. sibly they mistook the whole affair for a war-dance and feared mischief.5 Pos The savages themselves are quite aware of the great power of music, and try to make use of it whenever a peculiar emotional effect is intended, and especially so in the case of diseases. The primitive physician performs his duty-strange to say—with musical accompaniment. 1 Du Chaillu, Equ. Afr., p. 201. 5 Columbus, l. c., p. III. 2 Reade, Sketch B, ii. p. 313. There are, it is true, some cases where it seems to me doubtful whether an emotional effect is really intended, or whether the doctor simply uses a well-thought-out bit of humbug which he is able to express in a more naïve way than his European colleague. When among the negroes a rich man calls in the doctor, all musicians are called together, surround the patient, and play on instruments day and night.' The negroes do not think this is worse than the actual disease. Among the Wasambara in East Africa the doctor comes with a small bell in hand, which he rings from time to time. The patient sits before him on the ground, and the doctor begins in a singing tone: "Dabre, dabre," which he repeats several times, to which the patient answers: "Eh ".2 The Benguela call their musical doctor Kimbunda, the Lomami call him Tawuli, and the Zanzibaris Mganga. The Kafirs, too, have their musical doctor.5 It is especially the ceremony of circumcision, which among some tribes is seldom passed over without singing and dancing. The Banshaka decorate themselves on such occasions in the most funny way with leaves, amulets, and fetishes, roar and caper all the time, clapping hands and making altogether an infernal noise. In Madagascar, too, the circumcision is celebrated with general merry-making, during which the "happy fathers" amuse themselves with singing, dancing, eating and drinking. In South Africa even the first menstruation of a girl is made a general festival, celebrated with music.8 6 In Australia the doctor shakes a bundle of reeds," an 1 Proyart, l. c., p. 574. 2 Krapf, l. c., ii. p. 116 (German edition; in the English edition this remark is left out). 3 Magyar, l. c., i. p. 26. 5 Doehne, l. c., p. 44. 6 Lenz, Skizzen, p. 301. 7 Pfeiffer, Madag., p. 187. 4 Shooter, l. c., p. 173 (edition, 1853). (Upper Ogowe River.) 8 Macdonald, l. c., p. 116. 9 Schurmann and Teichelmann, l. c. (1840), part ii. action otherwise used during a song to mark the time. At Port Jackson Mr. Hunter saw a physician who did not speak or sing to the spirit of the disease, but only put his mouth near the sick part of the body.1 In Borneo the natives perform recitatives, songs, dances and processions in order to catch the soul of the patient, which is supposed to have ran away before the evil spirit.2 In Tanna (New Hebrides) the natives believe that the doctor sends the illness; consequently they are very much afraid of him, and quite overload him with presents when they think he ceased to send the illness.3 The obeah or medicine man of the negroes in Jamaica commences his cure with a dance, which he himself performs, not the patient, as in the case of the tarantella. Surely, very few European colleagues would be a match for him in this respect. Among the North American Indians the doctor is a very important person. He is in the most cases an old woman, not in a figurative sense, but in reality. With the Wallawalla Indians a medicine woman tries to expel the illness through her actions. She stands over the patient singing under great excitement accompanied by a dozen men and boys. She is constantly in motion, making all kinds of grimaces, falls on her knees and pretends to draw out the bad spirit with both hands, blowing into them, and, as it were, tossing the spirit into the air.5 These Indians believe that singing influences the cure of a patient, so that all convalescent sick are directed to sing for several hours during the day. Thus we have many reasons for wishing those Indians good health." The Mandans (Missouri) and Minetaris (Fall Indians of the Hudson Bay) have a medicine woman who dances, the Moluches (Chili) and Puelches in Patagonia male and female doctors; the former wear women's dress, 1 Hunter, l. c., p. 476. 3 Engel, Mus. Myths, pp. 84-144. 5 Wilkes, l. C., iv. p. 399. 2 Hein, l. c., p. 29. 4 Lewis, l. c., p. 158. 6 Wied-Neuwied, North Am., ii. p. 190. and both cure the patient by singing, beating a drum, and shaking a rattle.1 The same is the case with the medicine man of the Araucanians, who call him Gligna or Dugol.2 In British Columbia the doctor sings when he visits the patient, while a chorus of other people intones a song outside the house, and beats time on the roof of the house with long sticks.3 The Manchi or medicine man of the Pehuenches (Indians in the Argentine provinces) used a sort of drum in his musical invocation, with which he hoped to expel the evil spirit. If only the good spirits too would not be frightened away! One of the most important occasions on which music. is employed is during childbirth. It is hoped that by this either the evil spirit is expelled or the patient encouraged. Fortunately this event passes off very easily in the savage world. Should, however, this not be the case, the poor woman, who is maltreated and bothered in the most incredible manner and suffers considerably, must allow herself to be also treated by the most noisy and discordant music. It is, of course, not our task to follow the different phases of this act, although from the point of view of ethnological medicine some interesting facts might be brought to light. As is well known music is employed for medical purposes up to this time, when, however, some involuntary humour can scarcely be avoided. In spite of this we can say music has an emotional influence, and this fact remains true however funny the attempts may be which "savage" or "civilised doctors and laymen at times make in employing music for medical purposes. 1 Falkner, l. c., p. 115. 3 Mayne, l. c., p. 261. 2 Molina, l. c., ii. p. 105. + M'Cann, l. c., i. p. iii. 5 I refer for further particulars to Ploss, Das Weib and Das Kind. 6 Bibliography by Engel, Mus. Myths, ii. pp. 84-144. |