MUSIC AND MICROBES

Evening Post, Volume CXXVII, Issue 29, 4 February 1939, Page 26

MUSIC AND MICROBES

Not long ago the suggestion was made to me tnat a discussion of the healing powers of music might be helpful, writes Dr. Irving Cutter L the "Chicago Tribune." Presumably the idea was founded on the theory that if-the sweet resonance of the lute "has charms to soothe the savage breast," in turn it would subdue the rampant microbe or the roaring germ.

Every physician will acknowledge that persons with overwrought nerves a i raw sensibilities may become calm under the spell of melody. I know of nothing more soothing than the soft peal of a church organ when all is quiet within, with the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows, playing hide and seek with the shadows about the altar. But I wonder for what disease Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries"—-soul-inspiring as it is—would be recommended. Perhaps for narcolepsy or a case of opium poisoning, for it would certainly arouse every dormant faculty.

But music cannot be applied as a poultice or taken in a capsule, and one may well doubt its efficacy if an appendix is responsible for a growling pain which presages the formation of an abscess. If we could follow the old medical theory of a century or two ago, that the way to cure a fever is to produce more fever, that the remedy for a chill is to increase the shaking, that in the event of a fit we should stimulate more vigorous convulsions— we might find numerous prescriptions in operas and symphonies—not to mention swing.

Someone may ask, "What about insomnia? Would you advise 'Fingal's Cave'?" Probably not. Although tl .'c are many delightful strains, the superb majesty of the rhythm finds the listener on tiptoe most of the time. Neither would we suggest Paganini's "Perpetual Motion." Nevertheless, for one who appreciates music—who loves it —slumber may be wooed by De-

bust's "Clair de Lune," with its soft passages conveying a sense of comfort and that all is well. This is quite in contrast with the excitement created by Wagner's "Tristan," where everyone in the audience may gasp for breath as the moods change.

We cannot deny that raucous sounds are nerve-racking and disturbing. As a boy I remember the reactions of my favourite pup, who would lift his voice to high heaven in howling protest whenever the neighbourhood chaps organised a comb band or shrill notes were played on a mouth organ. But there are certain physical values which we must not overlook, and we may recall that Plato placed music next to gymnastics in the education of youth. No doubt he recognised that muscular co-ordination was stimulated and that there would be brought about improvement in those inherently awkward children who possess sluggish reflexes.

I do not know that we should go as far as a certain surgeon who insists that his patients shall be ushered into the operating room with a violin playing an obbligato to the clicking of his instruments. One effect may not be wholly beneficial, in that he claims that it relaxes the tension of the surgeon and the, operating room personnel. If there is any moment in human affairs when tension—yes, attentionshould be at the optimum—as perfect as human faculties will permit—it is during a surgical procedure.

I doubt if the time has come when we can throw away the family medicine chest with its few simple drugs and supply in its stead selections played on a phonograph. I am afraid that whooping cough, mumps, measles, scarlet fever, etc., might not understand. In the distant future, perhaps, all of our infectious agents will become disciples of the band just as we lads trudged down the road, long blocks from home, in the wake of the calliope.- Until then we may utilise harmony for its restful or inspirational influence. Some day we may have departments of musical therapeutics in our schools of medicine.