in law in the olden time--men in antiquated costume, with long
councilors' wigs and forgotten faces, who expressed themselves greatly
astonished that they, the widely famed of the previous century, should
not meet with special consideration; and these, after their manner,
joined in the general chattering and screaming, which, like ocean
breakers, became louder and madder around the mighty goddess, until she,
bursting with impatience, suddenly cried, in a tone of the most agonized
Titanic pain, "Silence! Silence! I hear the voice of the beloved
Prometheus. Mocking cunning and brute force are chaining the Innocent
One to the rock of martyrdom, and all your prattling and quarreling will
not allay his wounds or break his fetters!" So cried the goddess, and
rivulets of tears sprang from her eyes; the entire assembly howled as if
in the agonies of death, the ceiling of the hall burst asunder, the
books tumbled madly from their shelves. In vain did Münchhausen step out
of his frame to call them to order; it only crashed and raged all the
more wildly. I sought refuge from this Bedlam broken loose in the Hall
of History, near that gracious spot where the holy images of the Apollo
Belvedere and the Venus de Medici stand near each other, and I knelt at
the feet of the Goddess of Beauty. In her glance I forgot all the wild
excitement from which I had escaped, my eyes drank in with intoxication
the symmetry and immortal loveliness of her infinitely blessed form;
Hellenic calm swept through my soul, while above my head Phoebus Apollo
poured forth, like heavenly blessings, the sweetest tones of his lyre.

Awaking, I continued to hear a pleasant, musical sound. The flocks were
on their way to pasture, and their bells were tinkling. The blessed
golden sunlight shone through the window, illuminating the pictures on
the walls of my room. They were sketches from the War of Independence,
which faithfully portrayed what heroes we all were; further, there were
scenes representing executions on the guillotine, from the time of the