my reveries from the bridge of St. Esprit to Remoulin: I had been advised
to visit the Pont-du-Gard; hitherto I had seen none of the remaining
monuments of Roman magnificence, and I expected to find this worthy the
hands by which it was constructed; for once, the reality surpassed my
expectation; this was the only time in my life it ever did so, and the
Romans alone could have produced that effect. The view of this noble and
sublime work, struck me the more forcibly, from being in the midst of a
desert, where silence and solitude render the majestic edifice more
striking, and admiration more lively, for though called a bridge it is
nothing more than an aqueduct. One cannot help exclaiming, what strength
could have transported these enormous stones so far from any quarry? And
what motive could have united the labors of so many millions of men, in a
place that no one inhabited? I remained here whole hours, in the most
ravishing contemplation, and returned pensive and thoughtful to my inn.
This reverie was by no means favorable to Madam de Larnage; she had taken
care to forewarn me against the girls of Montpelier, but not against the
Pont-du-Gard--it is impossible to provide for every contingency.

On my arrival at Nismes, I went to see the amphitheatre, which is a far
more magnificent work than even the Pont-du-Gard, yet it made a much less
impression on me, perhaps, because my admiration had been already
exhausted on the former object; or that the situation of the latter, in
the midst of a city, was less proper to excite it. This vast and superb
circus is surrounded by small dirty houses, while yet smaller and dirtier
fill up the area, in such a manner that the whole produces an unequal and
confused effect, in which regret and indignation stifle pleasure and
surprise. The amphitheatre at Verona is a vast deal smaller, and less
beautiful than that at Nismes, but preserved with all possible care and
neatness, by which means alone it made a much stronger and more agreeable
impression on me. The French pay no regard to these things, respect no