The Pharmaceutical Journal Vol 267 No 7158 p132
28 July 2001

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Moon magic
Music of men’s lives
The Swithun effect

Moon magic

I think it likely that there are more, and more varied, superstitions associated with the moon than with the sun from which she derives her glory. At least, if you look up the two celestial bodies in accounts of folklore you will find much more about Luna than about Sol. And I notice that Gail Vines, in New Scientist for 23 June, draws attention to the disrupting effect of the moon, and of ideas about moonlight, on human society and institutions.

Back in the first century, Pliny remarked: “We may certainly conjecture that the moon is not unjustly regarded as the star of our life. This it is that replenishes the earth; when she approaches it, she fills all bodies, while, when she recedes, she empties them.” The waxing moon was for centuries thought to promote healthy growth. At that time it was wise to plant seeds, cut one’s hair, and undertake new enterprises. Farm animals and children born then were sure to thrive. But Bede in the eighth century warned that bleeding an individual at the time when the moon was becoming brighter and the pull of the tides stronger might be dangerous. A 19th century belief in Cornwall was that a child born during the interval between the phase of the old moon and the appearance of a new one would never live to achieve puberty, and Somerset had a similar belief.

For many centuries it has been supposed that individuals of disturbed mind became worse with the fullness of the moon; hence the term lunacy once used to categorise the insane. There was even a popular belief that the moon actually induced madness in those who slept in moonlight. In several regions children were encouraged to repeat a charm to avert ill effects: “I see the moon, the moon sees me. God bless the moon, and God bless me.” It was considered wiser to avoid trouble by closing the bedroom curtains when the moon was full and not falling asleep under her influence. Otherwise blindness, as well as craziness, might be your lot. There were many ceremonies to be observed when first seeing a new moon, dating from the 16th century. It was appropriate to bow, curtsy or kiss one’s hand to her, turn over the money in one’s pocket or spit on it to ensure a healthy increase. But for this it was necessary to have a clear view of the moon’s face. To see her through a window or the branches of a tree was thought to bring ill luck.

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Music of men’s lives

There has been an astonishing surge of interest lately in the theme of music and its effects on the human body and psyche. The link between music and behaviour is of course a theme that fascinated our distant ancestors, and for ages has encouraged theories, some of them logical, others cranky. Alexander Pope, in 1711, commented: “As some to church repair / Not for the doctrine, but the music there.” And William Wordsworth wrote in 1798 of “The still, sad music of humanity / Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power / To chasten and subdue.” William Congreve, in 1697, was bold enough to claim: “Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast / To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.” Perhaps he was exaggerating slightly when it came to rocks, but the idea was an ancient one.

According to an account I read recently in a non-specialist paper, listening to music can relieve pain, assist in efforts to lose weight, increase your intelligence quotient, counteract depression, and add to the sum of your days. I am inclined to agree with most of the claims, although proving them might be difficult. When we listen to our favourite music (not just any old noise, though) our immune system produces more T-cells and so offers us a degree of protection against infection. Music may improve impaired cerebral function in people suffering from Parkinson’s or Alzheimer’s disease, and musical speech from a therapist has been shown to hasten recuperation after stroke.

In infants, music assists mental development, and the study of music assists older children to master mathematical concepts. Mozart is highly recommended. Many pre-school children taking piano lessons for at least six months have shown better abstract reasoning than others of the same age who did not. And, talking of Wolfgang Amadeus, it has been claimed that results of an IQ test were improved if the subject listened to his music shortly before taking the test.

It has long been recognised that suitable music (this rules out Muzak) will relieve stress and improve sleep patterns, probably by reducing cortisol secretion. On the same line of reasoning, provocative music may induce stress and indeed may incite to violence. Actually producing music by playing an instrument or singing, has a more pronounced effect on mood than passive listening, and may be depended upon to prove truly therapeutic. By way of criticism, it has been claimed by academic musicians that music therapy has no unique virtue, but must be related to other cultural influences on an individual, such as theatre, painting, sculpture and literary composition, which all produce their own therapeutic interactions.

As a commentary in Science for 27 April states, music and language have much in common in terms of effects upon the central nervous system. Brains can recognise musical syntax in the same way as verbal grammar, and much of the processing of music goes on the Broca’s area, which is largely associated with language interpretation. Recent research in Leipzig has studied electrical activity in the brain in right-handed individuals without musical training. Chord sequences ending in the so-called Neapolitan discord caused electrical activity in Broca’s area above the left temporal lobe and in the corresponding region on the right lobe, while the regular chord sequence effects were mostly confined to the auditory cortex. Effects of music were more prominent in the right hemisphere, those of speech in the left. Whether music and language responses in the brain are shared or independent remains to be determined.

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The Swithun effect

Now that 15 July has safely passed without any evidence, so far as I have been able to notice, of a prolonged spell of wet weather, I am asking myself whether there are limits to the famous Swithun pronouncement, and where they are to be drawn. One story goes that Swithun (or Swithin), Bishop of Winchester, when he was dying in the year 862, desired that he might be buried out of doors, where the gentle rain, particularly the dripping from the cathedral eaves, might fall upon him. During the next century, when Swithun had became regarded as a saint, the then Bishop of Winchester considered it necessary to honour his predecessor, and on 15 July 971 he was reinterred in a shrine within the cathedral. There was then a heavy rainstorm which caused massive flooding. A belief subsequently arose that if it rained on the feast of St Swithun the rain would continue for 40 days. A similar belief was held in France over the anniversary of St Gervais.

The point that puzzles me is what were the limits set to this flooding? Was it just within the see of Winchester, or did it extend to the rest of Britain or even beyond? History is silent on the subject. I would agree that Winchester itself has a damp enough climate, which I have experienced at first hand. Another mysterious aspect of the Swithun case is that, a few years ago, when his shrine in the cathedral was decorated with a fine display of rock crystals, thieves removed the magnificent stones. Altogether, Swithun has had a rather poor treatment at the hands of his fellow countrymen. He deserves better.

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