The Président de Brosses describes the death of Clement XII.[40], which he witnessed, and saw the election of Benedict XIV.[41]—as I saw Leo XII. the Pontiff lying dead on his abandoned bed: the Cardinal Camerlingo had struck Clement XII. twice or thrice on the forehead, according to the custom, with a little hammer, calling him by his name, Lorenzo Corsini.
"He made no reply," says de Brosses, and adds, "That is how your daughter comes to be dumb[42]."
And that is how at that time the most serious things were treated: a dead pope at whose head one knocks as it were at the gate of understanding, while calling on the deceased and voiceless man by his name, could, it seems to me, have inspired a witness with something else than raillery, even though it were borrowed from Molière. What would the frivolous Dijon magistrate have said had Clement XII. answered him from the depths of eternity:
"What do you want with me?"
Cynicism of de Brosses.
The Président de Brosses sends his friend the Abbé Courtois a list of the cardinals of the Conclave, with a word on each of them to his honour:
"Guadagni[43], a bigot, a hypocrite, witless, tasteless, a poor monk.
"Aquaviva of Aragon, a fine presence, although somewhat heavy in figure, as he is also in mind.
"Ottoboni[44], no morals, no credit, debauched, ruined, a lover of the arts.
"Alberoni[45], full of ardour, anxious, restless, despised, no morals, no decency, no consideration, no judgment: according to him, a cardinal is a ——- dressed in red."
The rest of the list is all of a piece; cynicism here takes the place of wit.