James I., while he was quite a young man. He had inherited an income of £3,000 a year, and seems to have been popular with the King and with his fellow courtiers. But he was not contented to lead an idle life, so he pressed James to give him a commission to go forth and steal some Spanish galleons, which was the gentlemanly thing to do in those days. James consented, but at the last moment it was discovered that the commission would not be in order unless it was countersigned by the Lord High Admiral, who was away from England at the time. James therefore simply granted the buccaneer a licence to undertake a voyage “for the increase of his knowledge.” Digby scoured the Mediterranean for a year or two, captured some French, Spanish, and Flemish ships, and won a rather severe engagement with French and Venetian vessels at Scanderoon in the Levant. This exploit was celebrated by Digby’s friend, Ben Jonson, in verse, which can only be termed deathless on account of its particularly imbecile ending:-- Witness his action done at Scanderoon Upon his birthday, the eleventh of June. The writer of Digby’s epitaph plagiarised the essence of this brilliant strophe in the following lines:-- Born on the day he died, the eleventh of June, And that day bravely fought at Scanderoon. It’s rare that one and the same day should be His day of birth and death and victory. On his return home after thus distinguishing himself, Digby was knighted, changed his religion occasionally, was imprisoned and banished at intervals, and dabbled in science between times, or shone in society in London, Paris, or Rome, visiting the two last-named cities frequently on real or pretended diplomatic missions. During his residence in France, in 1658, he lectured to the University of Montpellier on his sympathetic powder, and the fame of this miraculous compound soon reached England. When he came back he professed to be shy of using it lest he should be accused of wizardry. But an occasion soon occurred when he was compelled to take the risk for the sake of a friend. Thomas Howel, the Duke of Buckingham’s secretary, was seriously wounded in trying to prevent a duel between two friends of his, and the doctors prognosticated gangrene and probably death. The friends of the wounded man appealed to Sir Kenelm, who generously consented to do his best. He told the attendants to bring him a rag on which was some of the sufferer’s blood. They brought the garter which had been used as a bandage and which was still thick with blood. He soaked this in a basin of water in which he had dissolved a handful of his sympathetic powder. An hour later the patient said he felt an agreeable coolness. The fever and pain rapidly abated, and in a few days the cure was complete. It was reported that the Duke of Buckingham testified to the genuineness of the cure and that the king had taken a keen interest in the treatment.