If the Emperor Rudolph of Hapsburg kept no fool of his own, the reason was that his nose, which was of a size to make Slawkembergius swear with admiration, was the source of so many jokes, that it provided his court with fun enough, and so saved the expense of a fool. Rudolph was yet Count of Hapsburg, when, in 1264, his secret enemy Count Ulrich, of Ratisbon, resolved to attack him and the Zurich forces, of which Rudolph was General, unexpectedly. “I think,” said Ulric, one day, to a circle of his friends, “we have men enough to properly punch Von Hapsburg’s great nose;”--“_seine grosse Nase zu klopfen_.” Ulric’s fool heard the remark, and struck with astonishment, or wishing to convey intelligence to Rudolph, he repaired to the quarters of the latter to satisfy his curiosity, or any other feeling by which he was influenced for the moment. His cap and bells procured him ready access to Rudolph’s presence; and in that presence he stood for awhile, fixedly staring on the august proboscis. At length he said, “Well, it is not a mile long, after all. I can’t imagine why my master should want a whole army in order to punch such a nose. I could myself smash it flat with a blow of my fist.” “Thanks, good fool, more for your hint touching your master, than that of the power of your fist.” Therewith Rudolph protected the jester, and took the initiative in attacking the Count of Ratisbon; whom, after continued assaults, he reduced to such a condition, that Ulrich was grateful for permission to become a simple citizen of Zurich. Throughout life the nose of Rudolph was ever provocative of remark. He was once with his courtiers in a very narrow defile, when they encountered a peasant. “Pass on! pass on!” cried the officers; “the Emperor! the Emperor!” “That’s all very well,” said the clown, “but where can I go? his nose fills up the whole valley.” The courtiers conjectured that the Imperial wrath would be excited; but Rudolph, turning his head on one side, exclaimed laughingly, “Now, friend, get on with thee; my poor nose is no longer in your way.” Few of the Emperors appear to have extended greater favour towards the jesters than Maximilian I. And yet he found as much peril as profit in his intercourse with them. In one case he had nearly lost his life while loading a fowling-piece, by the act of a house fool, who, coming into his presence with a candle, was about to place the light on an open cask of powder. On another occasion he was playing with his fool at snowballs, when the jester sent one at his right eye with such violence, that the Imperial sight was weakened for a month. I have said “his fool,” but I should have been more correct in saying “one of his fools;” for his jester, _par excellence_, his own very familiar friend and fool, was indisputably Konrad (or Kunz) von den Rosen, the Don Japhet d’Arménie of Scarron, and the “De Bossu” of Werner.