FERRANTE, an Italian writer, descended from a noble family in Placentia, was born about the close of the 16th century. He soon gave proofs of an extraordinary genius, and quickly improved in classical erudition. He was afterwards sent to complete his education in the monastery of Augustin friars at Milan, where he took the habit, lived much esteemed for piety and learning, and raised great expectations of future fame; but being somewhat amorous inclined, he engaged in an intrigue with a young courtesan of Venice, whose charms proved irresistible; and in order to enjoy them without restraint, he obtained leave from his general to make the tour of France. Accordingly, he pretended to set out for that country; but it was only a blind to cover his real design. He never left Venice, but lived there privately, enchanted in the arms of his Venus: and having too ready a talent at invention, he imposed upon his friends by often sending them in letters feigned accounts of his travels through France; also informing them of several things respecting that court, which he learned from the advices of many considerable persons with whom he corresponded.

His finances were in the mean time greatly reduced; and in this exigence he naturally had recourse to his wits for supplies. He wrote for the booksellers; and composed several pieces, more for the sake of lucre than out of fondness for authorship. Among other things, he wrote a collection of letters, mostly satirical, which he called The Courier Robbed of his Mail. The work appeared at first in such a cast, as could not give great offence except to the Spaniards, against whom he had Pallavicini's grudge. The piece was accordingly licensed by the inquisitors; but falling into the hands of the secretary of the republic of Venice, who at that time was licenser of books, he would not give his imprimatur, though great interest was employed for that purpose, neither would he return the manuscript. This enraged Pallavicini so much, that had not his friends restrained him, he would have pursued the affair to his ruin.

At length he found an opportunity of travelling into Germany with the duke of Amalfi, as his chaplain. This journey, as was to be expected, had no good effect either upon his wit or his morals. On the contrary, finding himself, from the manners of the Germans, more at liberty, he indulged his genius and passions with greater ease; and after a residence there of upwards of a year with the duke, he returned to Venice. He was now resolved to have his full measure of revenge against the secretary of the republic for keeping his manuscript; and with him his resentment joined the family of Barberini, Pope Urban VIII, and his nephews, because they also endeavoured, at the instigation of the Jesuits, to get all his manuscripts forbid the press. In this rancorous spirit he cast his Courier into a new model, and enlarged it with many letters and discourses. Thus new modelled, he offered it to a bookseller, who undertook to get it printed; but our author was betrayed by a pretended friend; who acted the part of a spy, and informed the archbishop of Vitelli, then the pope's nuncio at Venice, just as the work was finished at the press: at the same time, this treacherous friend bought the whole impression; and upon the nuncio's complaint, Pallavicini was imprisoned. In this miserable condition he found a friend in one of his mistresses, who, seeing him abandoned by most of his patrons, not only supported him, but conveyed letters to him, by which he gave him such information as enabled him to make a proper defence, and to recover his liberty.

But a war having in the mean time broken out between the Barberini and the duke of Parma; Pallavicini, in order to revenge himself upon the supposed instruments of his imprisonment, wrote a piece entitled "The tinkling Instrumet to call together the Barberini Bees;" and dedicated it in terms of the profoundest contempt to the nuncio Vitelli. The nuncio finding that little notice was taken of his complaints on the occasion, procured by bribery one Charles Morfu, a Frenchman of infamous character, who pretended to pass for a gentleman, to ensnare Pallavicini: to which end, the traitor used his best endeavours to infatuate himself into his friendship, and at length exhorted him to accompany him to France. He declared that his fortune would be made by the extraordinary encouragement which was given to men of letters by Cardinal Richelieu: and the better to favour the deceit, he produced feigned letters from the Cardinal, inviting our author to France, and expressing a desire he had to establish in Paris an academy for the Italian tongue, under the direction of Pallavicini. The snare took; and now, fascinated by the prospect of gain, Pallavicini suffered himself to be led like an ox to the slaughter, whithersoever Morfu thought proper. He left Venice much against the advice of his friends, and went first to Bergamo, where he spent a few

few days with some of his relations, by way of giving some entertainment to Morfu. They then set off for Geneva, to the great satisfaction of our author, who proposed to get some of his works printed there, which he had not been able to do in Italy. Morfu, however, instead of conducting him to Paris, took the road to Avignon; where, crossing the bridge of Soraces, in the county of Venaissin, they were seized by a gang of sbirri, or sheriff's officers, on pretence of carrying contraband goods, and confined. Morfu was quickly discharged, and very liberally rewarded; but Pallavicini, being carried to Avignon, was imprisoned; and notwithstanding, on his examination concerning some papers found upon him, he made a very artful defence, it was in vain. The sentence was already brought from Rome, and he was to undergo a trial merely for form's sake. For this purpose being put into a dark dungeon, he made another effort to escape. He managed matters so well with his keeper, as to procure wax candles to be allowed him, under pretence of amusing himself with reading, and when he had got a number of these, he set fire one night to the prison door, in order to get off by that means; but the stratagem did not succeed, and he was of course confined much closer, and treated with great inhumanity. After a year's suffering, he was brought to trial, in which he made an excellent defence, and flattered himself with hopes of relief. He had even begun a whimsical piece on the subject of melancholy; but, contrary to his expectations, he was sentenced to die, and lost his head on a scaffold in the flower of his age.

He was of so heedless and profuse a disposition, that had he possessed an immense estate he would have spent it all. He was never engaged in a virtuous passion, being inflamed to a prodigious and unnatural degree with the love of the meanest and most infamous prostitutes. On the other hand, no one could be more sincere and faithful in his friendships, nor was ever a man a greater prey to treachery; insomuch that, when released from prison in Venice, he was told that a wretch had betrayed him, he could not be prevailed upon to believe it, saying, "How can this be, since he declared himself my friend, and I made him privy to all my concerns!" He used, while he wore a religious habit, to study or write two or three hours in bed every morning. The rest of the day he spent either in the company of idle persons, or else with the ladies: but after he had wholly left the monastic life, upon pretence of securing himself from the fears of his enemies, he lived in a very irregular manner. He was possessed of a fine genius, had a great facility in writing; and till he was corrupted by the commerce of mean lewd women, he wrote pieces worthy of immortality. He did not spend much time or pains either in composition or in revision, for he frequently sent to the press the very first exertions of his genius; yet nature had given him to noble a vein of eloquence, which he had greatly improved by perusing the best authors, that his first thoughts were often equal to the most laboured compositions. He was modest, and spoke of himself with diffidence: but his works are strongly tinctured with envy, malice, and gall. He made but a poor figure in conversation; and when with persons of worth and distinction, would often retire to a corner of the room, and seem quite wrapped up in thought. He never exerted his wit and humour after his return from Germany, but when he was in the company of some mean women. Upon the whole, it is difficult to determine whether vice or virtue was the most predominant feature in his character. His death gave birth to a dialogue, entitled, Anima erranti di Ferronte Pallavicini, or, "The wandering Ghost of Pallavicini." Besides his life at the head of his works in two volumes, there is another prefixed to the "Divortio celeste," at Amsterdam, 1696.