The interior has really nothing deserving of particular description.  But I check myself in an instant:  It has something—­eminently worthy of distinct notice and the most unqualified praise.  It has a monument of the EMPEROR Louis IV. which was erected by his great-grandson Maximilian I. Duke of Bavaria, in 1603-12.  The designer of this superb mausoleum was Candit:  the figures are in black marble, the ornaments are in bronze; the latter executed by the famous Krummper, of Weilheim.  I am ignorant of the name of the sculptor.  This monument stands in the centre of the choir, of which it occupies a great portion.  It is of a square form, having, at each corner, a soldier, of the size of life, bending on one knee and weeping:  supporting, at the same time, a small flag between his body and arm.  These soldiers are supposed to guard the ashes of the dead.  Between them are three figures, of which two stand back to back.  Between these two, somewhat more elevated, is raised the figure of the Emperor Louis IV.—­dressed in his full imperial costume.  But the two figures, just mentioned, are absolutely incomparable.  One of them is Albert V. in armour, in his ducal attire:[41] the other is William V. habited in the order of the golden fleece.  This habit consists of a simple broad heavy garment, up to the neck.  The wearer holds a drawn sword in his right hand, which is turned a little to the right.  This figure may be full six feet and a half high.  The head is uncovered; and the breadth of the drapery, together with the erect position of the figure, and the extension of the sword, gives it one of the most commanding, and even appalling, airs imaginable.  I stood before it, till I almost felt inclined to kneel and make obeisance.  The entire monument is a noble and consummate specimen of art:  and can hardly have any superior, of its kind, throughout Europe.

Perhaps I should add that the interior of this Church contains twenty-four large octagonal pillars, dividing the nave from the side aisles:  and that around these latter and the choir, there are not fewer than twenty-four chapels, ornamented with the tombs of ancient families of distinction.  This interior is about 350 English feet in length, by about 145 in width.

Of the other Churches, that of St. MICHAEL, attached to the late College of the Jesuits,—­now forming the Public Academy or University, and containing the Public Library—­is probably the most beautiful for its simplicity of ornament and breadth of parts.  Indeed at this moment I can recollect nothing to be put in competition with it, as a comparatively modern edifice.  This interior is, as to Roman architecture, what that of St. Ouen is as to Gothic:  although the latter be of considerably greater extent.  It is indeed the very charm of interior architecture:  where all the parts, rendered visible by an equal distribution of light, meet the eye at the same time,