The revival of massage in Europe and America has called into existence a considerable number of professional operators, both male and female, who may be regarded as forming a branch of the nursing profession. Some of these are trained in hospitals or other institutions, some by private practitioners and some not at all. Similarly some are attached to organized societies or institutions while others pursue their calling independently. Several things are required for a good operator. One is physical strength. Deep massage is very laborious work, and cannot be carried on for an hour, or even half an hour, without unusual muscular power. Feeble persons cannot practise it effectively at all. The duration of a sitting may vary from five or ten minutes to an hour. For general massage at least half an hour is required. A masser should have strength enough to do the work without too obvious exhaustion, which gives the patient an unpleasant impression. A second requirement is tactile and muscular sensibility. A person not endowed with a fine sense of touch and resistance is liable to exert too great or too little pressure; the one hurts the patient, the other is ineffective. Then skill and knowledge, which can only be acquired by a course of instruction, are necessary. Finally, some guarantee of cleanliness and character is almost indispensable. Independent massers may possess all these qualifications in a higher degree than those connected with an institution, but they may also be totally devoid of them, whereas connexion with a recognized hospital or society is a guarantee for a certain standard of efficiency. In London there are several such institutions, which train and send out both male and female massers. The fee is 5s. an hour, or from two to four guineas a week. On the European continent, where trained massers are much employed by some practitioners, the fee is considerably lower; in the United States it is higher. For reasons mentioned above, it is most desirable that patients should be attended by operators of their own sex. If this is not insisted upon, a valuable therapeutic means will be in danger of falling into disrepute both with the medical profession and the general public. (A. Sl.) Entry: MASSAGE
Thinking out the problem here presented in all its bearings, realizing the great and ever-increasing cost of sites for hospitals in great cities, the heavy consequential taxes and charges which they have to meet there, and all the attendant disadvantages and drawbacks, the present writer has ventured upon an anticipation which he hopes may prove intelligent and well-founded. Nearly every difficulty in regard to the cost of hospitals and in respect to all the many problems presented by securing the material required, under present systems, for the efficient training of students and nurses, would be removed by the erection of the Hospital City, which, he foresees, must ultimately be recognized by intelligent communities throughout the civilized world. Why should we not have, on a carefully selected site well away from the contaminations of the town, and adequately provided with every requisite demanded from the site of the most perfect modern hospital which the mind of man can conceive, a "Hospital City"? Here would be concentrated all the means for relieving and treating every form of disease to the abiding comfort of all responsible for their adequacy and success. At the present time all the traffic and all the citizens give way to fire engines and the ambulance in the public streets. Necessarily the means of transit to and from the "Hospital City," and its rapidity, would be the most perfect in the world. So the members of the medical staff, the friends of the patients, and all who had business in the "Hospital City," would find it easier and less exacting in time and energy to be attached to one of the hospitals located therein than to one situated in the centre of a big population in a crowded town. To meet the urgent and accident cases a few receiving houses, or outpost relief stations, with a couple of wards, would be situated in various quarters of the working city, where patients could be temporarily treated, and whence they could be removed to the "Hospital City" by an efficient motor ambulance service. The writer can see such a "Hospital City" established, can realize the comfort it will prove in practice to the medical profession, to the patients' friends, to those who have to manage the hospitals and train the medical and nursing students, and indeed to all who may go there as well as to the whole community. The initial cost of hospital buildings should be reduced at once to a quarter or less of the present outlay. They could then be built of the cheapest but most suitable material, which would have many advantages, whilst the actual money forthcoming from the realization and sale of the existing hospital sites in many cities would, in all probability, produce a sum which in the whole might prove adequate, or nearly adequate, or even in some cases more than adequate, to defray the entire cost of building the "Hospital City" and of equipping it too. The cost of administration and working must be everywhere reduced to a minimum. The hygienic completeness of the whole city, its buildings and appliances, must expedite recovery to the maximum extent. In all probability the removal of the sick from contact with the healthy would tend in practice so to increase the healthiness of the town population, i.e. of the workers of the city proper, as to free them from some of the most burdensome trials which now cripple their resources and diminish materially the happiness of their lives. Probably the United States (where a city has sometimes sprung up in twelve months) may be the home where this idea may first find its realization in accomplished fact. The writer may never live to see such a city in actual working or in its entirety, but he makes bold to believe its adoption will one day solve the more difficult of the problems involved in providing adequately for the sick in crowded communities. He has formulated the idea because it seems desirable to encourage discussion as to the best method of checking the growing tendency to make hospital buildings everywhere too costly. If the idea of the "Hospital City" commends itself to the profession and the public, the practice of treating all the hospital accommodation in each city as a whole will gradually increase and spread, until most of the present pressing difficulties may disappear altogether. That is a consummation devoutly to be wished. Entry: HOSPITAL
_Occupations of the People._--The occupations of the people may be so considered as to afford a conception of the relative extent of the industries already noticed, and their importance in relation to other occupations. The figures to be given are those of the census of 1901, and embrace males and females of 10 years of age and upwards. The textile manufactures occupied a total of 994,668 persons, of which the cotton industry occupied 529,131. A high proportion of female labour is characteristic of each branch of this industry, the number of females employed being about half as many again as that of males (the proportion was 1.47 to 1 in 1901). The metal industries of every sort occupied 1,116,202; out of which those employed in engineering (including the building of all sorts of vehicles) numbered 741,346. Of the other broad classes of industry already indicated, the manufacture of boots and shoes occupied 229,257, and the pottery and glass manufactures 90,193. For the rest, the numbers of persons occupied in agriculture has been quoted as 1,192,167; and of those occupied in mining as 805,185. Among occupations not already detailed, those of the male population include transport of every sort (1,094,301), building and other works of construction (1,042,864), manufacture of articles of human consumption, lodging, &c. (774,291), commerce, banking, &c. (530,685), domestic service, &c. (304,195), professional occupations (311,618). The service of government in every branch occupied 171,687. Female workers were occupied to the number of 1,664,381 in domestic service generally. Tailoring and the textile clothing industries and trade generally occupied 602,881; teaching 172,873; nursing and other work in institutions 104,036; and the civil service, clerkships and similar occupations 82,635. Entry: VIII
The rude imitative dances of early civilization are of extreme interest. In the same way the dances of the Ostyak tribes (Northern Asiatic) imitate the habitual sports of the chase and the gambols of the wolf and the bear and other wild beasts, the dancing consisting mainly of sudden leaps and violent turns which exhaust the muscular powers of the whole body. The Kamchadales, too, in dancing, imitate bears, dogs and birds. The _Kru_ dances of the Coast Negroes represent hunting scenes; and on the Congo, before the hunters start, they go through a dance imitating the habits of the gorilla and its movements when attacked. The Damara dance is a mimic representation of the movements of oxen and sheep, four men stooping with their heads in contact and uttering harsh cries. The canter of the baboon is the humorous part of the ceremony. The Bushmen dance in long irregular jumps, which they compare to the leaping of a herd of calves, and the Hottentots not only go on all-fours to counterfeit the baboon, but they have a dance in which the buzzing of a swarm of bees is represented. The Kennowits in Borneo introduce the mias and the deer for the same purpose. The Australians and Tasmanians in their dances called _corrobories_ imitate the frog and the kangaroo (both leaping animals). The hunt of the emu is also performed, a number of men passing slowly round the fire and throwing their arrows about so as to imitate the movements of the animal's head while feeding. The Gonds are fond of dancing the bison hunt, one man with skin and horns taking the part of the animal. Closely allied to these are the mimic fights, almost universal among tribes to which war is one of the great interests of life. The Bravery dance of the Dahomans and the Hoolee of the Bhil tribe in the Vindhya Hills are illustrations. The latter seems to have been reduced to an amusement conducted by professionals who go from village to village,--the battle being engaged in by women with long poles on the one side, and men with short cudgels on the other. There is here an element of comedy, which also appears in the Fiji club-dance. This, although no doubt originally suggested by war, is enlivened by the presence of a clown covered with leaves and wearing a mask. The monotonous song accompanying the club-dance is by way of commentary or explanation. So, also, in Guatemala there is a public _baile_ or dance, in which all the performers, wearing the skins and heads of beasts, go through a mock battle, which always ends in the victory of those wearing the deer's head. At the end the victors trace in the sand with a pole the figure of some animal; and this exhibition is supposed to have some historical reference. But nearly all savage tribes have a regular war-dance, in which they appear in fighting costume, handle their weapons, and go through the movements of challenge, conflict, pursuit or defeat. The women generally supply the stimulus of music. There is one very picturesque dance of the Natal Kaffirs, which probably refers to the departure of the warriors for the battle. The women appeal plaintively to the men, who slowly withdraw, stamping on the ground and darting their short spears or _assegais_ towards the sky. In Madagascar, when the men are absent on war, the women dance for a great part of the day, believing that this inspires their husbands with courage. In this, however, there may be some religious significance. These war-dances are totally distinct from the institution of military drill, which belongs to a later period, when social life has become less impulsive and more reflective.[2] There can be little doubt that some of the characteristic movements of these primitive hunting and war-dances survive in the smooth and ceremonious dances of the present day. But the early mimetic dance was not confined to these two subjects; it embraced the other great events of savage life--the drama of courtship and marriage, the funeral dance, the consecration of labour, the celebration of harvest or vintage;[3] sometimes, too, purely fictitious scenes of dramatic interest, while other dances degenerated into games. For instance, in Yucatan one man danced in a cowering attitude round a circle, while another followed, hurling at him _bohordos_ or canes, which were adroitly caught on a small stick. Again, in Tasmania, the dances of the women describe their "clamber for the opossum, diving for shell-fish, digging for roots, nursing children and quarrelling with husbands." Another dance, in which a woman by gesture taunts a chieftain with cowardice, gives him an opportunity of coming forward and recounting his courageous deeds in dance. The funeral dance of the Todas (another Indian hill-tribe) consists in walking backwards and forwards, without variation, to a howling tune of "ha! hoo!" The meaning of this is obscure, but it can scarcely be solely an outburst of grief. In Dahomey the blacksmiths, carpenters, hunters, braves and bards, with their various tools and instruments, join in a dramatic dance. We may add here a form of dance which is almost precisely equivalent to the spoken incantation. It is used by the professional devil-dancer of the wild Veddahs for the cure of diseases. An offering of eatables is put on a tripod of sticks, and the dancer, decorated with green leaves, goes into a paroxysm of dancing, in the midst of which he receives the required information. This, however, rather belongs to the subject of religious dances. Entry: DANCE
GUARINI, GIOVANNI BATTISTA (1537-1612), Italian poet, author of the _Pastor fido_, was born at Ferrara on the 10th of December 1537, just seven years before the birth of Tasso. He was descended from Guarino da Verona. The young Battista studied both at Pisa and Padua, whence he was called, when not yet twenty, to profess moral philosophy in the schools of his native city. He inherited considerable wealth, and was able early in life to marry Taddea de' Bendedei, a lady of good birth. In 1567 he entered the service of Alphonso II., duke of Ferrara, thus beginning the court career which was destined to prove a constant source of disappointment and annoyance to him. Though he cultivated poetry for pastime, Guarini aimed at state employment as the serious business of his life, and managed to be sent on various embassies and missions by his ducal master. There was, however, at the end of the 16th century no opportunity for a man of energy and intellectual ability to distinguish himself in the petty sphere of Italian diplomacy. The time too had passed when the profession of a courtier, painted in such glowing terms by Castiglione, could confer either profit or honour. It is true that the court of Alphonso presented a brilliant spectacle to Europe, with Tasso for titular poet, and an attractive circle of accomplished ladies. But the last duke of Ferrara was an illiberal patron, feeding his servants with promises, and ever ready to treat them with the brutality that condemned the author of the _Gerusalemme liberata_ to a madhouse. Guarini spent his time and money to little purpose, suffered from the spite and ill-will of two successive secretaries,--Pigna and Montecatini,--quarrelled with his old friend Tasso, and at the end of fourteen years of service found himself half-ruined, with a large family and no prospects. When Tasso was condemned to S. Anna, the duke promoted Guarini to the vacant post of court poet. There is an interesting letter extant from the latter to his friend Cornelio Bentivoglio, describing the efforts he made to fill this place appropriately. "I strove to transform myself into another person, and, like a player, reassumed the character, costume and feelings of my youth. Advanced in manhood, I forced myself to look young; I turned my natural melancholy into artificial gaiety, affected loves I did not feel, exchanged wisdom for folly, and, in a word, passed from a philosopher into a poet." How ill-adapted he felt himself to this masquerade life may be gathered from the following sentence: "I am already in my forty-fourth year, the father of eight children, two of whom are old enough to be my censors, while my daughters are of an age to marry." Abandoning so uncongenial a strain upon his faculties, Guarini retired in 1582 to his ancestral farm, the Villa Guarina, in the lovely country that lies between the Adige and Po, where he gave himself up to the cares of his family, the nursing of his dilapidated fortunes and the composition of the _Pastor fido_. He was not happy in his domestic lot; for he had lost his wife young, and quarrelled with his elder sons about the division of his estate. Litigation seems to have been an inveterate vice with Guarini; nor was he ever free from legal troubles. After studying his biography, the conclusion is forced upon our minds that he was originally a man of robust and virile intellect, ambitious of greatness, confident in his own powers, and well qualified for serious affairs, whose energies found no proper scope for their exercise. Literary work offered but a poor sphere for such a character, while the enforced inactivity of court life soured a naturally capricious and choleric temper. Of poetry he spoke with a certain tone of condescension, professing to practise it only in his leisure moments; nor are his miscellaneous verses of a quality to secure for their author a very lasting reputation. It is therefore not a little remarkable that the fruit of his retirement--a disappointed courtier past the prime of early manhood--should have been a dramatic masterpiece worthy to be ranked with the classics of Italian literature. Deferring a further account of the _Pastor fido_ for the present, the remaining incidents of Guarini's restless life may be briefly told. In 1585 he was at Turin superintending the first public performance of his drama, whence Alphonso recalled him to Ferrara, and gave him the office of secretary of state. This reconciliation between the poet and his patron did not last long. Guarini moved to Florence, then to Rome, and back again to Florence, where he established himself as the courtier of Ferdinand de' Medici. A dishonourable marriage, pressed upon his son Guarino by the grand-duke, roused the natural resentment of Guarini, always scrupulous upon the point of honour. He abandoned the Medicean court, and took refuge with Francesco Maria of Urbino, the last scion of the Montefeltro-della-Rovere house. Yet he found no satisfaction at Urbino. "The old court is a dead institution," he writes to a friend; "one may see a shadow of it, but not the substance in Italy of to-day. Ours is an age of appearances, and one goes a-masquerading all the year." This was true enough. Those dwindling deadly-lively little residence towns of Italian ducal families, whose day of glory was over, and who were waiting to be slowly absorbed by the capacious appetite of Austria, were no fit places for a man of energy and independence. Guarini finally took refuge in his native Ferrara, which, since the death of Alphonso, had now devolved to the papal see. Here, and at the Villa Guarina, his last years were passed in study, law-suits, and polemical disputes with his contemporary critics, until 1612, when he died at Venice in his seventy-fifth year. Entry: GUARINI