It has been suggested by Mr. Archdeacon Oley, that some of these Paduan physicians, during Mr. Ferrar's illness, endeavored to seduce him to popery: as also, that upon his recovery from this illness, he made a vow of perpetual celibacy: and that he would upon his return to England, as soon as he could conveniently, settle his affairs for that purpose, and endeavour to spend the remainder of his life in a religious retirement. But of these articles I do not find sufficient evidence: yet if the latter be true, it will account for a very remarkable instance of self-denial, which will occur in the future part of his life.

While Mr. Ferrar continued thus at Padua, to establish his health, and pursue his studies, he had an opportunity of exercising his great faculty in quieting a troubled mind. For now an English gentleman came thither, who by the impious custom of duelling had killed another, and had fled from his country to avoid the punishment which the laws adjudge to murderers. He was under the deepest melancholy, but concealed the cause of his uneasiness. At length, however he acquainted Mr. Ferrar with his misfortune, declaring his great contrition, and sincere repentance; and beseeching him to give him counsel and comfort. Mr. Ferrar by his spiritual consolations, his persuasive arguments, and wonderful power over the human mind, at length made the unhappy sufferer more easy and composed, and confirmed him in the hope of forgiveness. And this event laid the foundation of a sincere and most affectionate friendship between them b.

Mr. Ferrar thus passing his time between Venice and Padua in a course of learning and virtue, and in the most laudable pursuits, he was much sought after, and visited by the English who were then also on their travels; who were delighted with his conversation, notwithstanding that his way of life and manner of thinking were very different from their own: and they would often ingenuously confess that he was certainly in the right way, and that they could not but wish they could live as he lived.

These gentlemen on their return to England spoke of him in the highest terms of applause to their respective families and connections. The Italian merchants also and the English factors resident in different parts of Italy, with whom he had transac

a

[Postscript to Mr. Herbert's Country Parson, F. P.]

b [This unfortunate gentleman is the person who in the original MS. is frequently referred to as Mr. G.]

tions on money concerns, all wrote of him to their correspondents in England, with the warmest commendations, considering him as one who had some great object in view, and would sometime appear to the world possessed of very extraordinary talents. Thus his reputation became general: on the exchange, in the city, at court, and all over the country he was universally known and universally admired.

Having now finished his intended studies, having traversed all Italy, and become intimately acquainted with every place of consequence, being perfect master of the Italian language, both for writing and discourse, having an accurate knowledge of all their laws, customs, manners, doctrines and practices, civil and ecclesiastic, and having made the best use of every thing he had heard, read, or seen, and being determined as to his future plan of conduct, he resolved at last to pay a visit to imperial Rome. He knew indeed before he went thither, as much of that celebrated city, both ancient and modern, as could be learned from history, and from conversation with many persons of great judgment and observation, who had lately been there: but he was desirous to confirm what he had learned by information from others, by his own observation. But having been well informed that since he came into Italy, there had been a particular account of him sent to Rome, of the college of which he was fellow in Cambridge, of his degrees, and his acquisitions in learning, and particularly that his person had been described in all points to the college of Jesuits there; the manner also in which he had spent his time in Italy, with the general conjecture, that he surely had some farther end in travelling, than other gentlemen ordinarily have: all this duly considered made him keep his intention very private. For he foresaw that without great caution some mischief might probably befal him. Changing his habit therefore for such a dress as he thought was most proper for his disguise, and safety, he set forward, concealing the time when, and keeping the place from whence he came always unknown to all but one trusty friend only, the unfortunate Mr. G, who, whatever should befal him in that journey, might give an account of him to his family. He travelled on foot, and contrived his business so that he came to Rome on the Monday before Easter; and during his stay there, he every day changed his lodgings, coming in late and going out early and as to his repast, such as it was, he took that also sometimes at one place, sometimes at another, and sometimes at

none at all. He staid at Rome about ten days, and in that time he so improved his opportunities as that he satisfied himself in seeing all that he desired. But the particulars need not be here recited, as they may be found in many other books upon this subject.

From Rome he returned to Venice, not acquainting any one where he had been. At his return he was welcomed home by the English gentlemen, and all his other acquaintance; as was the custom with them at other times, after his other excursions. In one of these, he went to see the chapel of Loretto. From thence he went to Malta, where one of the knights conceiving a particular friendship for him, at their parting desired his acceptance of one of the rich crosses worn by the brethren of that order, entreating him to keep it for his sake; and thus exchanging mutual good wishes and benedictions, Mr. Ferrar returned again to Venice.

And now intending at length to leave Italy, he went from Venice to Marseilles, purposing after he had passed sufficient time in that city, for visiting what was remarkable there and in the parts adjacent, to take ship there and sail from thence to Spain.

But at Marseilles he fell dangerously ill, being suddenly seized with a violent fever, which daily grew worse and worse. And what added to his misfortune, he knew no one in the place, nor had he any of his former acquaintance with him. In this distress he sent for the most celebrated physician in the city, and trusted himself entirely to his care. He was very regular in his attendance, and was very careful of him. His host also and hostess where he lodged shewed great tenderness and attention to him.

The first day he was taken ill he wrote to his much loved friend whom he had left at Venice, the unfortunate Mr. G., to whom he had promised to give information of his arrival at Marseilles. In this letter he acquainted him that he was beginning to grow ill, and feared his illness would prove both long and dangerous. Nor was he mistaken, for his illness continued thirty-four days, and his physician was for a long time in absolute despair of his life. This made his attendants desirous to know who he was, which Mr. Ferrar industriously concealed. But one day, as they were looking amongst his things for something he had called for, carefully wrapped up in a little box, was discovered the rich

cross which was presented to him by his friend the knight of Malta, at his departure from that island. At sight of this, the host and hostess, and the physician presently concluded that he was a knight of that order, who was travelling unknown, and they earnestly entreated him no longer to conceal himself. Mr. Ferrar in vain endeavoured to convince them of the mistake, assuring them that he was only a private gentleman, travelling for amusement and instruction; for the more he affirmed this, the more they were confirmed in their own opinion. His disorder still continuing excessive, the physician had given him up for lost. But at the very moment when all hope was gone, a favourable crisis took place; and though he was extremely weak, and reduced to the lowest degree, yet he soon appeared to be in a fair way of recovery.

And now word was brought to him that there was a gentleman below, just arrived from Venice, who demanded to see him. They who know what true friendship is, need not to be informed that this person could be no other than his dear and unfortunate friend Mr. G. When he came into Mr. Ferrar's room, and beheld his friend lying on the bed of sickness, so pale, weak, and reduced, he burst into tears. His friend was equally affected, seeing him so unexpectedly. They mutually embraced, and a long, and affectionately expressive silence ensued: for their hearts were so full, that neither could for some time speak to the other. At length Mr. Ferrar told him how welcome he was to him, who but yesterday expected never to see him more. Mr. G. replied, that on the receipt of his letter he became so deeply afflicted, that he could not rest day or night, till he should see him; that if he should find him still sick, he might abide with him and take care of him that if he should die, he might perform the due honours of burial; and that if he should recover, he might rejoice with him on that happy occasion, and in every respect shew him that unfeigned friendship which was justly due to his uncommon virtue.

As a sincere and affectionate friend is perhaps the most effectual medicine that can be administered to the sick, so by the endearing attentions of the benevolent Mr. G. Mr. Ferrar every day advanced apace in his recovery. And when he was thought to be out of danger, Mr. G. said he must at last bid him farewel, and return to Venice." Yes," said Mr. Ferrar, "You shall now return to Venice, but I will return with you. For as you have

nor

been so very kind as to come so far to take care of me when I was ill, and have likewise staid so long with me, it is but justice, and the least return I can make, to see you safe back;' would he take any refusal; and so they returned together to Venice. From this place Mr. Ferrar immediately gave his parents an account of his cruel sickness, and recovery at Marseilles, in a very affectionate letter bearing date April 1616.

Having staid at Venice till he was perfectly recovered, and his strength thoroughly recruited, he took his last leave of all his friends and acquaintance there; but particularly of his dear friend Mr. G., who at their parting presented him with an excellent and costly rapier, saying that perhaps it might be of great use to him in his future travels, and wished him to keep it as a testimony of his friendship. And now these dear friends with the warmest affection bade each other adieu! for in the gulph of Venice a small English vessel was ready to sail for Spain, and Mr. Ferrar resolved to take his passage in her, that so he might travel through Spain, and see that kingdom, after which he purposed in like manner to see France and so return home.

The ship in which Mr. Ferrar left Venice, carried only ten pieces of ordnance, but was overloaded, though there were no passengers but himself. They had not been long at sea, before a large ship, a Turkish pirate, gave them chace, and gained speedily upon them. And there being some difference of opinion between the officers, and mariners, whether they ought to yield, or fight it out; they referred their doubts to Mr. Ferrar, who had stood silent among them attending to their debate. They said, "This young gentleman has a life to lose, as well as we; let us hear what he thinks of the matter." For from his first coming on board, upon discourse with him, they had taken a great liking to him, perceiving that he had great skill in maritime affairs.

Mr. Ferrar being thus applied to in form for his opinion, resolutely told them that they ought to fight it out, and put their trust in God. That it was better to die valiantly, than be carried into slavery. That God could easily deliver them, and he hoped would not suffer them to fall into the hands of their enemy. He then put them in mind of the many sea engagements atchieved by their countrymen, in which the victory had been gained against