Farinelli, the famous singer, was sent for to Madrid to try the effect
of his magical voice on the king of Spain. His Majesty was absorbed in
the deepest melancholy; nothing could excite an emotion in him; he lived
in a state of total oblivion of life; he sat in a darkened chamber,
entirely given up to the most distressing kind of madness. The
physicians at first ordered Farinelli to sing in an outer room; and for
the first day or two this was done, without producing any effect on the
royal patient. At length it was observed, that the king, awakening from
his stupor, seemed to listen; on the next day tears were seen starting
from his eyes: the day after he ordered the door of his chamber to be
left open, and at length the perturbed spirit entirely left our modern
Saul, and the _medicinal_ music of Farinelli effected what medicine
itself had denied.
"After food," says Sir William Jones,[121] "when the operations of
digestion and absorption gives so much employment to the vessels, that a
temporary state of mental repose, especially in hot climates, must be
found essential to health, it seems reasonable to believe that a few
agreeable airs, either heard or played without effort, must have all the
good effects of sleep, and none of its disadvantages; putting, as Milton
says, '_the soul in tune_' for any subsequent exertion; an experiment
often made by myself.
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