According to some writers, it was the fool Baraballo, and not Querno, who was processionally conducted in mock pomp through the streets of Rome, to be crowned in the Capitol. The absurd verses of this jester procured for him this doubtful honour; but when he uttered dull jokes in bad measure, Leo would order him to be bastinadoed,--and to such depth could one of the most intellectual of pontiffs stoop to find relaxation from heavy duties and oblivion of as heavy responsibilities. But he might cite as example and excuse the Pontiff Paul II., who from 1458 to 1464 found exquisite delight in the poor jests of his official fools. But Paul was at least more orthodox than Leo, and in that distinction there is a world of difference. Both these pontiffs differed from Benedict XIV., who was Pope from 1740 to 1758. Benedict loved a joke, but he loved to make it himself, and he might therefore be set down among those potentates who have been their own fools. When he was yet but Consistorial Advocate--a sufficiently grave and responsible dignitary--the spirit of fun so strongly influenced him, that at carnival-time he would issue into the thronged streets in the burlesqued costume of a doctor of divinity, and, mounting on a stool, would hold forth to the other gay masquers, denouncing their sins so pleasantly that their only regret was, that they were not fathoms deeper in iniquity, that they might laugh the more at the comic recapitulation of their offences. When Benedict became Pope, he endeavoured to suppress the carnival orgies; but the popular voice expressed itself so menacingly that he was content to leave others to enjoy what he could no longer participate in himself. He then confined himself to playing tricks on the Cardinals. His chief butt was Cardinal Passionei, a patient, orthodox man, who equally hated heresy and the Jesuits. The papal jokes were practical; as when the Pope, hearing that his Eminence had ordered a chest of books to be sent to him, contrived that a chest should reach him full of the most famous heretical and condemned volumes. The papal enjoyment here consisted in beholding the horror of the Cardinal on opening the case, and in seeing the delicate disgust with which he seized each work with a pair of tongs, and tossed it into the fire. The spiritual prince-electors followed the fashion, and retained fools who seem to have been pretty plainly spoken. Thus, when the Elector Brendal of Mayence asked his jester what he thought of the newly-gilded chancel of the cathedral, Sir Motley replied, “I think it is very like the golden goblet in which the Hessians drink sour beer. Your newly-gilded chancel will be filled by dirty thieves of monks.”