Adjoining the new residence on the east, is the Royal Chapel, lately finished in the Byzantine style, under the direction of Klenze.  To enter it, is like stepping into a casket of jewels.  The sides are formed by a double range of arches, the windows being so far back as to be almost out of sight, so that the eye falls on nothing but painting and gold.  The lower row of arches is of alternate green and purple marble, beautifully polished; but the upper, as well as the small chancel behind the high altar, is entirely covered with fresco paintings on a ground of gold!  The richness and splendor of the whole church is absolutely incredible.  Even after one has seen the Ludwig’s Kirche and the Residence itself, it excites astonishment.  I was surprised, however, to find at this age, a painting on the wall behind the altar, representing the Almighty.  It seems as if man’s presumption has no end.  The simple altar of Athens, with its inscription “to the Unknown God,” was more truly reverent than this.  As I sat down awhile under one of the arches, a poor woman came in, carrying a heavy basket, and going to the steps which led up to the altar, knelt down and prayed, spreading her arms out in the form of a cross.  Then, after stooping and kissing the first step, she dragged herself with her knees upon it, and commenced praying again with outspread arms.  This she continued till she had climbed them all, which occupied some time; then, as if she had fulfilled a vow she turned and departed.  She was undoubtedly sincere in her piety, but it made me sad to look upon such deluded superstition.

We visited yesterday morning the Glyptothek, the finest collection of ancient sculpture except that in the British Museum, I have yet seen, and perhaps elsewhere unsurpassed, north of the Alps.  The building which was finished by Klenze, in 1830, has an Ionic portico of white marble, with a group of allegorical figures, representing Sculpture and the kindred arts.  On each side of the portico, there are three niches in the front, containing on one side, Pericles, Phidias and Vulcan; on the other, Hadrian, Prometheus and Daedalus.  The whole building forms a hollow square, and is lighted entirely from the inner side.  There are in all twelve halls, each containing the remains of a particular era in the art, and arranged according to time, so that, beginning with the clumsy productions of the ancient Egyptians, one passes through the different stages of Grecian art, afterwards that of Rome, and finally ends with the works of our own times—­the almost Grecian perfection of Thorwaldsen and Canova.  These halls are worthy to hold such treasures, and what more could be said of them?  The floors are of marble mosaic, the sides of green or purple scagliola, and the vaulted ceilings covered with raised ornaments on a ground of gold.  No two are alike in color and decoration, and yet there is a unity of taste and design in the whole, which renders the variety delightful.