Nature produces unusual diseases and extraordinary cures. In Apulia, Italy, the venomous tarantula can incapacitate victims quickly. Without prompt treatment, they may die, fall into a coma, or suffer lifelong insanity. Remarkably, locals employ music therapy as a cure. After a bite, musicians play, prompting the victim to dance energetically. This vigorous movement helps expel the venom through perspiration. Alexander recounts an instance where a dancer collapsed when the music stopped but revived immediately when it resumed, continuing until the venom was purged. Some individuals, even after partial recovery, would leap and dance upon hearing music again, unable to stop until fully healed.

Theophrastus and Aulus Gellius noted that music alleviates pain from gout and sciatica. Sacred scripture also supports this, recounting how David soothed King Saul with his harp when Saul was tormented by an evil spirit. This intersection of music and healing underscores the profound impact of sound on both mental and physical ailments.

Herodotus recounts the story of Croesus, the King of Lydia, whose son was mute for many years. When an enemy approached Croesus with a drawn sword, his son cried out to protect his father. This desperate plea broke his silence, allowing him to speak clearly for the first time. Moved by the young man’s words, the enemy sheathed his sword, sparing King Croesus’s life. From that day forward, the young man retained his ability to speak.

Plutarch tells the story of Prometheus the Thessalian, who suffered from an incurable ulcer until he was wounded in battle. Remarkably, this new injury initiated a healing process, curing both the wound and the ulcer. Similarly, Livy recounts Quintus Fabius Maximus, who endured years of quartan fever without relief from conventional treatments. He finally gave up and went into battle ready to die. The excitement of fighting stirred his body to heal.

A Frenchman in Poland was suffering from a recurring quartan fever. While walking along the bank of the River Wixell to alleviate his discomfort, he was jokingly pushed into the river by a friend. Although both knew he could swim, the shock was so great that he never suffered from the fever again.

Captain S. Arbin, despite suffering from a bout of quartan ague at the time, insisted on joining a battle. He was shot through the side of his neck during the fight, which instilled in him such a fear of death that the fever’s heat was quelled by his cold fear, and he never suffered from the ague again.

John Berlam was a fellow citizen who had been paralyzed on one side of his body for many years. When his house caught fire and flames approached his bed, he was overcome with fear, which enabled him to suddenly rise with all his strength. He jumped out of a window from the top of his house and miraculously recovered full strength and movement, thereafter walking upright without any pain.

John Sobiratius had been lame for a long time due to contracted nerves in his legs that prevented him from walking. One day, driven by intense anger at a servant he was trying to beat, he exerted himself so much that it stretched the nerves in his legs, allowing him to stand and walk upright without pain, a condition that persisted for the rest of his life after being bent for six years.

Galen was treating a man who had severed an artery near his ankle. In saving the man from the threat of an aneurysm, Galen also unwittingly alleviated a severe hip pain that had plagued the patient for four long years. This unexpected relief from sciatica occurred as a result of the bleeding from the opened artery on the same side, a fortunate outcome rather than the intended goal, yet it aligns closely with other tales of serendipitous cures.

A man named Phalereus, who, after suffering from violent coughing fits that caused him to spit blood, found himself at a loss when all remedies failed. Worn down by his affliction, he boldly entered the fray of battle unarmed, where he sustained a wound to his chest. This injury caused him to bleed profusely, ultimately bringing an end to his spitting of blood, as the wound healed and the vein that had been unable to contain the blood became solidified.

In July of 1572 in Paris, a certain gentleman of modest and courteous demeanor fell into a relentless fever that drove him to madness. In a fit of desperation, he leapt headfirst from a two-story window, landing first on the shoulder of Vaterra, the physician to the Duke of Alençon, before hitting the pavement below. This fall resulted in severe bruising of his ribs and hip, yet miraculously restored him to his senses. Among those present during this incident were Valterra and several other physicians. A similar event occurred with another man from Gascony, who experienced a comparable affliction while staying at Agrippa’s house on the cobbled street.

Othomannus, a doctor, recounted to me the case of a carpenter from Broquer, a village in Switzerland. This man, driven to madness, jumped from a high window into a river. Remarkably, after being pulled from the water, he regained his senses almost immediately.

However, if we are to transform such accidents into methods of healing, I would not recommend throwing the patient out of a window. Instead, I would prefer to plunge them abruptly and without warning into a large cistern filled with cold water, headfirst, and I would not retrieve them until they had swallowed a good amount of water. This sudden immersion and the shock of fear might help to drive the source of their madness from the higher faculties down to the lower ones. The plausibility of this approach is evident in the aforementioned examples, as well as in cases where individuals bitten by rabid dogs are often submerged in water to cure their fear of it.