Let me digress for one moment to relate how this modest and unpretending monk (for he belonged to the Franciscan order), came to be a cardinal and a prince of the church. He was born in the village of Grottamarina in the province of La Marca D’Ancona and was keeping pigs at the age of nine, when a priest who had lost his way sought his guidance to the town of Ascoli, where he was going to preach. The child beguiled the way with many shrewd remarks and pertinent questions and the priest charmed with his intelligence, took him by the hand, and at once decided to educate him. Little Felix made such surprising progress that he was accepted as a novice in the Franciscan order at the early age of fourteen. He rose rapidly in the Church, and having the gift of eloquence, became a learned theologian, a popular preacher, and an able disputant, so that he was held in general esteem. One bishop told him that if he were pope, he would soon give Felix a cardinal’s hat. Very liberal and tempting proposals were made to him to remain in Spain when he went there with Gregory, but his heart clung to Rome, to which he returned, when he was made general of the Franciscan order, a bishop and later a cardinal. He had also the direction of the papal councils and it may be noted that the bull of excommunication fulminated against Queen Elizabeth of England was drawn up by him. “It was about this time,” says one of his biographers, “that he secretly began to indulge ambitious dreams and looked to succeed some day to the papacy.” He became humble, patient and affable, artfully concealing the natural impetuosity of his temper and comporting himself with extreme gentleness and moderation toward all. Nevertheless he was generally despised and overlooked, but he showed no disappointment or resentment and quietly bided his time. His opportunity came at the death of Gregory XIII when the conclave assembled to choose his successor. There were several candidates, each with nicely balanced claims. No one party was powerful enough to win the day for its nominee, and it seemed to one and all that the best plan would be to favour the election of some aged invalid who would speedily make way for another election. Montalto was just the person, and when the three most influential cardinals came to tell him of their choice, he was seized with such a violent fit of coughing that they feared he would expire on the spot. He recovered himself so far as to assure them that his reign would not last many days, that he breathed with difficulty and that his strength was quite unequal to the weighty cares of office. He went further, and would not give his consent to wear the tiara unless they promised to assist him with their counsels, saying: “If you are resolved to make me pope, you will really be placing yourselves upon the throne; I shall be content with the bare title, let them call me pope and you are welcome to the power and authority.”