ed so much fame, in consequence of the subtlety of his arguments and the acuteness of his wit, that preferment followed of course. By several gradations he arrived at the highest dignity of the church, being elected pope the 11th of April, 1585. This pontiff, who seems to have been a humourist as well as a man of great learning, used some artifice to obtain this high dignity. From the time he had been nominated cardinal, he had affected the semblance of age and of ill health. When he went into the conclave, he appeared so feeble, and seemed to labour so much under the paroxysms of a confirmed asthma, that few expect ed he would have lived to come out. He supported himself with a staff, and as he ascended the stairs halted and coughed at every step. These symptoms were excedingly in his favour, and probably in a great degree influenced the election. But even before the scrutiny was finished, as soon as he saw that the object of his ambition was secure, he threw away his staff, his faithful companion for fifteen years, and erecting himself, there seemed in his system an instant renovation of youth. The cardinals murmured, but the thing could not now be helped. The artful pontiff at once saw their motives; and in order to add additional food to their meal of cogitation, he began to sing " Te Deum Laudamus" with a voice so clear and melodious, and withal strong, that the spacious hall and vaulted roof re-echoed to the sound. The recital of the life of this pontiff, which abounds with entertaining passages, exhibits a character which was rendered remarkable by contrasting it with others in the same elevated station. So strict was the impartiality of his adherence to justice, and so great his activity and energy of mind, that while he purified the jurisprudence of the holy see, he also established a well-regulated police, by which means he wholly extirpated a most ferocious banditti, that had not only infested the state of the

church, but had spread over Italy.

On this occasion, the gratitude of the citizens of Rome induced them to commemorate the repose which they enjoyed by several inscriptions in different parts of the city, by statues, and other tokens of their approbation and liberality.

One great source of the amusement of Sixtus the Vth was the perusing the memoirs of his life and transactions, of which he had kept a regular journal, whilst he was the friar Montalto, which was the name given him in the convent. When he was one day deeply engaged in looking over this manuscript, and while he was probably enjoying the contemplation of some of the occurrences of his early years, he came to a passage that strongly attracted his attention, as it stated nearly these words:

"1546. Being at Macerata, and observing the miserable state of my shoes, the soles of which were on the very brink of perdition, owing, I fear, to the flinty-hearted and impenetrable rocks and roads, over which we had journeyed together: I therefore, resolving to use my endeavours to save them, repaired to a shop that I fortunately discovered in the market place, to consult the shoemaker or translator who kept it respecting their reformation.

"The shoemaker, who for his sagacity with regard to the cure of soles might have been a cardinal, after examining these wretched and oppressed subjects, whom I had so often trampled upon, declared that they were so far gone, that it was out of the power of man to amend them: in fact, that they had been upon their last feet, and had come once more to an end. He therefore added, that he could not advise me to allow them an indulgence, but would rather wish me to cast them entirely away, and try a new pair. This seemed orthodox: I therefore took his advice, kicked my old shoes, as they could no lon ger serve me, into the street, and installed myself in his chair. The

shoemaker brought a pair of candidates from his shelf; he lifted up my leg, placed my foot in his lap, but did not kiss my toe: he, however, fitted me in a moment, without putting me into what is called purgatory. But here a difficulty occurred of greater magnitude than any of the mountains that I had passed. The shoemaker demanded seven giulios* for the shoes, and I, alas ! had but six in my leathern purse which hung to my girdle, and in which my whole fortune was suspended. What was now to be done?

"I immediately emptied my purse, and dicovered the state of my exchequer to the shoemaker. This man, who had none of the heresy of John Crispint in his mind, in an instant believed what he saw; or, rather (if a paradox were allowed in our system) what he did not see so without seeming to notice my disqualifying bow, or the cause of my confusion, so apparent in the emptiness of my purse, he briskly said, "Haggling in this case would be to no purpose. It is true, I can

not afford to sell these shoes (look how well they are made!) for less than seven giulios; but if you have taken but six out of your strong box, that's a fault, as you are at a distance from home, that cannot easily be mended; therefore I will take the six upon this condition, that you will solemnly promise to pay me the other giulio when you come to be pope. To this I readily agreed; we therefore laughed heartily, shook hands, and parted."

Three shillings and sixpence sterling.

↑ John Crispin, born at Arras, a man famous for his knowledge of the law, and his proficiency in polite literature, a short period before this time

travelled to Rome, whence he returned to Paris; and becoming acquainted with Beza, he renounced the errors of the Romish church, and retired to Geneva, 1547. He wrote several learned works, and among the rest the French Martyrology. Balduin in Respons. ad Calvin.

When Sixtus had read this passage, it recalled the circumstance strongly to his mind, and withal in troduced a desire to learn if the friendly shoemaker was living. He therefore dispatched his steward to Macerata to enquire after him, and, if successful, to inform him that he must attend the pope directly, upon business of the utmost importance to himself.

The shoemaker was yet living; but the message he received from the steward, who gave it its full force, almost frightened him to death. He had heard the exaggerated accounts of the severity of the pontiff that were circulated over Italy, and he had not the least doubt but he was to become the victim of his cruelty and the malice of his enemies. The rack, or the stake, were the lightest punishment that occurred to him: of these he felt all the horrors already. He therefore endeavoured to recollect what he done to merit this severity of chastisement. His very best friends could not accuse him of heresy; or if they had there was an inquisition upon the spot; but his life had been industrious and innocent, nor could he, even in the moments of his deepest despondence, force his concience to reproach him with any crimes which merited those excruciating tortures which he knew were prepared for him.

He more than once thought of flying from Italy; but this he supposed the steward (who was nearly at Rome before he set out) had taken measures to prevent.

Slowly, therefore, he journeyed on; and, the day after his arrival, trembling like a crimnal going to execution, he, with the same reluctance, ascended the black marble staircase that led to the pope's

closet.

When introduced into his presence, Sixtus, for a moment, observed him with that keenness of penetration for which he was remarkable, and then, with a stern voice, said, "Have you ever seen me at Macerata ?"

"No-o-o," returned the prostrate, and almost petrified, shoemaker. "What! do you not remember that about forty years since you sold me a pair of shoes?"

"No!" said the poor fellow; "but I hope they wore well."

"Not remember this circumstance!" said the pope, who could hardly maintain his gravity: "Well! what am I to think of this, but that my memory is better than yours? Rise then, and learn from me, that I well remember the purchase I made at your shop, and also that you gave me credit for a_giulio, which I was to repay when I came to be pope. That time is now arrived. I therefore owe you a giulio: it is debt of honour, which must be paid with interest. This I have calculated, and find that it amounts to two giulios more. These my steward will pay you, and you may depart in peace."

When the shoemaker left the closet of the pope, how different were his sensations from those with which he entered it. He seemed in Ely sium. Dungeons, racks, and tortures had vanished from his mind; or if they for a moment recurred, it was only to induce him to wonder how he ever could have feared them. He received his three giulios, and returned to his inn; but in this short walk his sensations underwent another transition. When when he reflected upon the slender remuneration he had obtained, he could not help considering Sixtus the Vth as the meanest of mortals. He therefore, while he told the story, murmured exceedingly, that he should bring him from his native place, so far distant, and only give him three giulios (eighteen pence sterling) to defray the expences of a journey which had cost him twenty

crowns.

This discontent of the shoemaker the spies who were purposely planted around him communicated to the pontiff, who accordingly sent for him again, and asked him if he had not a son who was a priest of the order of the Servi. To this he an VOL. VIII. NO. XLVII.

swered in the affirmative. "Then,” said the pope, "he is the very man I want: let him be immediately called to Rome."

The messenger that was sent executed his commission with great expedition. The son arrived before the departure of the father. They both attended the pontiff, who, after examining the young priest, promoted him to a bishoprick in the kingdom of Naples.

In a few days they returned to the Vatican to make their acknowledgements to his holiness, who received them with great benignity, and, upon their taking leave, said to the father, "Here, my good friend! calculate the interest of your giulio, and see to what it has amounted, and how it has been disposed of. If I had given to you great riches and honours, they would have taken you out of a course of life that you have been long used to, and, in all probability, by placing you in a more elevated sphere, have rendered you unhappy. The education of your son has fitted him for his present station. I am pleased with his character, with which I am well acquainted, and have a good opinion of his talents. May he become at once an ornament and support to the church! He knows his duty too well not to consider himself as a steward to his father, and, now he has largely the means, support your age, as you, my worthy friend, from a very slender and precarious income, have supported his youth."

state. It is the interest of despotic and corrupt governments to keep mankind in as profound an ignorance as possible of the nature and extent of their faculties, and of the mode of improving them. Within this last century, however, several illustrious sages have arisen who have deeply investigated these subjects, and placed them in new points of view. They may very properly be termed the first rays of that sun of happiness and liberty which now dawns upon us, and which will ere long blaze out in perfect day.

Until the time of Locke mankind were divided between these opinions, 1st, That man is naturally virtuous; 2dly, That he is naturally vicious. Both these doctrines were completely destroyed by that profound philosopher: he proved that man is born without an idea of any kind, therefore without a knowledge of, and consequently without an inclination for either vice or virtue. The mind of an infant is like a blank sheet of paper, uncoloured by any impression, but capable of receiving every impression. As the senses are the only inlets of knowledge, the only channel by which we receive our ideas, it is impossible that we can have ideas before we come into the world. While in the womb the child has no idea of light, colours, sounds, tastes, smells. It may have the idea of pain; a blow given to the mother may communicate pain to the child; but until it has felt pain it has no idea of it: the idea of pain, therefore, is not innate. Ideas of justice and morality are much more complex. If innate they would be as perfect in the child as the man, in one man as in another, the same all over the globe a position which is contradicted by the experience of every day.

If born without ideas, how do we acquire them? By education; which, in the large sense of the word, includes not only the precepts of our instructors, but likewise conversation, example, and every object that strikes any one of our senses.

Helvetius, in his Treatise on Man, proves (at least to my understanding) that every person is capable of acquiring an equal degree of knowledge, unless there be a material defect in some of his senses. For example, a child born blind cannot comprehend any thing that takes in the idea of light and colours; nor a child born deaf any thing that takes in the idea of sound. Every man, therefore, is by nature endowed with an ability to equal Newton or Milton. How is it then that these men remain unrivalled? Because nobody has had the same education as they have*. When an object strikes us with particular force, we apply our whole faculties to it, we are not dismayed by difficulties; and the pleasure we derive from the overcoming of one difficulty encourages us to encounter another. A man possessed of emulation will always excel in whatever he undertakes; a man devoid of emulation will always remain ignorant.

Objects frequently strike the minds of children with peculiar force; they turn their attention to a particular study, and improve rapidly in it. We attribute this to a genius implanted in them by nature. It is no such thing; it is the effect of something that has excited a

* Sir Isaac Newton never discovered any extraordinary genius for astronomy till one day, sitting under an apple-tree, an apple was blown off and struck him on the head. He took it up, and was surprised that so small a body should strike so severe a blow; curiosity excited him to investigate the reason of it, and the result of his research was the discovery of gravitation. Urged by an insatiable cuted the study of astronomy with inthirst of knowledge, he now prosetrifling accident is owing all the great defatigable perseverance; and to this discoveries that he made. Had the apple fallen on Milton's head it would probably have made a philosopher of him; he would have anticipated Newton, and the world would have been deprived of his Paradise Lost.

strong sensation: in other words it is education.

The fact, however, is not very material, whether all men have an equal aptitude at acquiring knowledge, or not. Whatever they do know is the effect of education: and admitting that it be impossible to render every child equal to Newton, or Milton, it is still an object of the highest importance to render it as wise as its faculties will allow.

Laying down this position, that man is born without ideas, and that all his knowledge is acquired by education, I shall, in two or three subsequent letters, point out what appear to me the means best calculated to render education more perfect; for it is obvious to every one who considers the subject ever so slightly, and who attends to the manner in which children are treat ed, that the present mode is miserably defective.

W. W.

For the Literary Magazine.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE VICISS I

TUDES OF HUMAN LIFE.

ture's powerful ties. We, doubtless, are not all born with the same disposition and propensities: the same misfortunes are very differently felt; and a character destitute of sensibility is no more to be admired for bearing them with composure, than the immoveable rock which the winds of heaven cannot shake. But when we behold a being, born to an elevated station, endowed with feelings of the most lively and susceptible kind, piously submitting to the ordinations of a wise Providence, yet supporting the wants of Nature by the exertions of his own hand; a kind of enthusiastic admiration seizes us, and we can scarcely find words to express the emotions it inspires.

dote.

FOR the shortness of human life, a variety of comparisons have been suggested; not only by general observers, but by the wisest of men*; yet it would be difficult to find a simile perfectly applicable to the transitions which some characters are destined to undergo.

To behold a good man struggling with adversity, and as it were rising superior to the poignancy of its shafts, is allowed to exalt the human character to the most dignified situation which it is possible for it to attain. Courage may enable a man to brave danger; apathy may render him regardless of life; for the heart which is incapable of attachment feels not the force of Na

* Solomon.

Eastville, had frequently been struck with the superior language and manners of the master mason who superintended the work. When his mind was not occupied in giving directions to the labourers, he was always intent upon a book, which sir Thomas at length contrived to obtain a glance of, and, to his astonishment, discovered it to be Virgil's Æneid. This discovery confirmed him in the opinion which he had previously formed; and by those little delicate attentions which excite friendly communication, he at length received from the lips of the mason the following extraordinary account:

"Until the age of sixteen, I was boarded with a master, whose chief attention was devoted to the improvement of my mind; and, during that period, I was regularly vi