This courtier did not resemble Charles VI., at whose court the greatest favour was enjoyed, not indeed by a professional wearer of cap and bells, but by a saucy wit of the name of Steffens. The latter had been a clerk, and his readiness of repartee had so endeared him to the monarch, that he elevated him to the rank of Count, and so entirely surrendered himself to the jesting Count’s company, that none of the ministers, not even Prince Eugene himself, could obtain an audience, without being previously kept waiting an hour. I have read however more of Steffens’ reputation for wit than examples of the wit itself. Möser cites an instance which seems to me to have more impertinence in it than true humour. For example, in 1724, Count von Mikosch died of poison. “What is popularly said of Mikosch’s death?” asked Charles of Steffens. “Well,” answered the latter, “I will tell you, if you will make me a present.” The Emperor put some gold pieces in the hand of this mercenary fellow, who rejoined: “The people say that it was the devil who carried off Mikosch; and they add, that if he had lived longer, and you had continued to trust him and follow his counsel, the devil would speedily have come for your Majesty also.” It will be seen by this, that whatever humour there may have been under the ancient fool’s cap, there was not much of it to be found beneath the coronet of this lackered Count Steffens. The smaller courts of Germany, as a matter of course, followed the fashion set by the Emperors. At Anspach the Margraves were ordinarily their own fools; but towards the end of the last century the little court found intense delight in the religious folly, if I may so speak, of a poor ex-artist named Bayer. He was reasonable and witty on every subject except prophecy and the Apocalypse; and it was precisely from his madness on these points that the Margrave and his courtiers drew most delight, till indeed they nearly drove the poor fellow mad on every other subject as well. Baden, too, had its fools of various degrees; and indeed the Margrave Philip kept two, Lips and Hänsel von Gingen. The wit or fun of the latter seems to have consisted in his pride, which would never permit him to sit at meat with other jesters who accompanied their lords to the court at Baden. Lips was so great a favourite that he sat in the council-chamber when Philip was presiding. Lips was once asked his opinion on a vexed question which the counsellors could not solve--the admission of the Jews into Baden. “Oh, let them in, let them in,” said Lips, “and then we shall have all religions among us, even a little Christianity!”