he found the spare energy to write from London to a
good friend of his, the Rev. Mr. Sandy, Parson of Great
Lindford. In this letter—the original
is in the Ashmolean—Kenelm asks for the
good parson’s prayers, and sends him “a
manuscript of elections of divers good authors.”
Mr. Longueville, who gives the letter, has strangely
failed to identify Sandy with the famous Richard Napier,
parson, physician, and astrologer, of the well-known
family of Napier of Merchistoun. His father, Alexander
Napier, was often known as “Sandy”; and
the son held the alternative names also. Great
Lindford is two and a half miles from Gothurst; and
it is possible that Protestant friends, perhaps Laud
himself, urged on the good parson the duty of looking
after the young Catholic gentleman. Sandy (Napier)
was also probably his mother’s medical adviser:
he certainly acted as such to some members of her
family. A man of fervent piety—his
“knees were horny with frequent praying,”
says Aubrey—he was, besides, a zealous
student of alchemy and astrology, a friend of Dee,
of Lilly, and of Booker. Very likely Kenelm had
been entrusted to Allen’s care at Oxford on
the recommendation of Sandy; for Allen, one of his
intimates, was a serious occultist, who, according
to his servant’s account, “used to meet
the spirits on the stairs like swarms of bees.”
With these occupations Napier combined a large medical
practice in the Midlands, the proceeds of which he
gave to the poor, living ascetically himself.
His favourite nephew, Richard Napier the younger,
his pupil in all these arts and sciences, was about
the same age as Kenelm, and spent his holidays at
Great Lindford. The correspondence went on.
Digby continued his medical observations abroad; and
after his return we find him writing to Sandy, communicating
“some receipts,” and asking for pills
that had been ordered. Thus we have arrived at
the early influences which drew the young Catholic
squire towards the art of healing and the occult sciences.
The latter he dabbled in all his life. In the
former his interest was serious and steadfast.
He remained out of England three years. From
Paris the plague drove him to Angers, where the appearance
of the handsome English youth caused such commotion
in the heart of the Queen Mother, Marie de Medicis,
that she evidently lost her head. His narrative
of her behaviour had to be expurgated when his Memoirs
were published in 1827. He fled these royal attentions;
spread a report of his death, and made his way to Italy.
His two years in Florence were not all spent about
the Grand-ducal Court. His mind, keen and of
infinite curiosity, was hungering after the universal
knowledge he aspired to; and Galileo, then writing
his Dialogues in his retirement at Bellosguardo, could
not have been left unvisited by the eager young student.
In after years, Digby used to say that it was in Florence
he met the Carmelite friar who brought from the East
the secret of the Powder of Sympathy, which cured
wounds without contact. The friar who had refused
to divulge the secret to the Grand Duke confided it
to him—of which more hereafter.