out, of the Pitti Palace,
at Florence. Between these is the old Residenz, adorned with fountain
groups and statues in bronze. On another side are the church and theater
of the Residenz. The interior of this court chapel is dazzling in
appearance: the pillars are, I think, imitation of variegated marble;
the sides are imitation of the same; the vaulting is covered with rich
frescoes on gold ground. The whole effect is rich, but it is not at all
sacred. Indeed, there is no church in Munich, except the old cathedral,
the Frauenkirche, with its high Gothic arches, stained windows, and
dusty old carvings, that gives one at all the sort of feeling that it is
supposed a church should give. The court chapel interior is boastingly
said to resemble St. Mark's, in Venice.

You see how far imitation of the classic and Italian is carried here
in Munich; so, as I said, the buildings need the southern sunlight.
Fortunately, they get the right quality much of the time. The
Glyptothek, a Grecian structure of one story, erected to hold the
treasures of classic sculpture that King Ludwig collected, has a
beautiful Ionic porch and pediment. On the outside are niches filled
with statues. In the pure sunshine and under a deep blue sky, its white
marble glows with an almost ethereal beauty. Opposite stands another
successful imitation of the Grecian style of architecture,--a building
with a Corinthian porch, also of white marble. These, with the
Propylaeum, before mentioned, come out wonderfully against a blue sky.
A few squares distant is the Pinakothek, with its treasures of old
pictures, and beyond it the New Pinakothek, containing works of modern
artists. Its exterior is decorated with frescoes, from designs by
Kaulbach: these certainly appear best in a sparkling light; though I am
bound to say that no light can make very much of them.

Yet Munich is not all imitation. Its finest street, the Maximilian,
built by the late king of that name, is of a novel and wholly modern
style of architecture, not an imitation, though it may remind some
of the new portions of Paris. It runs for three quarters of a mile,
beginning with the postoffice and its colonnades, with frescoes on
one side, and the Hof Theater, with its pediment frescoes, the largest
opera-house in Germany, I believe; with stately buildings adorned with
statues, and elegant shops, down to the swift-flowing Isar, which is
spanned by a handsome bridge; or rather by two bridges, for th