Still further on, there is a hall hung with the cloaks of the first Knights of the Golden Fleece. In a hall leading out of that one stand the white marble effigies of the emperors sprung from the House of Austria. These are succeeded by a series of vast reception rooms, several of which are most admirable in virtue of their decoration. There is no longer an attempt at imitating the Gothic style; they are filled with the marvels of art of the period itself--that is, the masterpieces spared by the hand of time, most exquisite specimens of sculpture, delicately-worked panels, whole ceilings. All these precious relics were collected from the convents suppressed at the period of the building of the ‘Ritterburg.’ Everything calculated to heighten the illusion was conveyed to the ‘Ritterburg.’ In one spot there is a narrow winding stair, leading to a dungeon, or rather a torture-chamber, with its massive doors, its irons and chains, and even its instruments of torture. Crouching against the further wall, there is the figure of an ill-fated prisoner, dressed as a Knight Templar and bending beneath the weight of his fetters. By some ingenious mechanism, he slowly and painfully drags himself with an effort from his sitting posture to hold out his arms to the spectator. The gruesome imitation is so perfect as to produce a shudder in the beholder. The topmost story of that tower is a spacious room called the Hall of Judgment. Narrow ogival windows admit only a sparse light. Twelve stone seats are ranged in a circle along the walls. In the centre there is a round table with a circular hole in it, big enough to admit a human head and no more. On the day of his trial the accused man was bound to a chair; by means of a contrivance consisting of ropes and pulleys, he was quickly raised to the summit of the tower, and suddenly his head emerged from the hole in the board. Before the interrogatory, he was asked the whole truth; he replied, knowing that at the slightest sign from his judges the rope attached to his chair could be cut and he himself be flung from a height of two hundred feet on to the stones of his dungeon. Nothing could give a more striking idea of the terrible ‘proceedings’ of feudal justice in the Middle Ages than this mechanism. The committee entrusted with the programme of the fêtes had, it was said, entertained the idea of giving a representation of a judiciary ascension as described; the scene had even been cast. The Empress of Austria was, however, of opinion that such a picture of anguish and torture would only mar the brightness of the fête she was preparing for her guests. The chapel of the ‘Ritterburg’ is not the least of its curiosities. It is the same which was constructed by St. Leopold in the twelfth century at Kloster-Neuburg. The materials were transferred piecemeal to its present site, and the monument is in perfect keeping with all those relics of past days.