In much too
short a time we had passed the town of Pirna, situate at the
commencement of this range of mountains. The very ancient gate of
this town towers far above all the other buildings.
Lastly we see the great castle Sonnenstein, built on a rock, and now
used as an asylum for lunatics.
All the beautiful and picturesque portion of our passage is now
past, and the royal villa of Pillnitz, with its many Chinese gables,
looks insignificant enough, after the grand scenes of nature. A
chain of hills, covered with the country-houses of citizens, adjoins
it; and on the right extends a large plain, at the far end of which
we can dimly descry the Saxon metropolis. But what is that in the
distance? We have hardly time to arrange our luggage, when the
anchor is let go near the fine old Dresden Bridge.
This bridge had not escaped unscathed by the furious river. One of
the centre arches had given way, and the cross and watchbox which
surmounted it were precipitated into the flood. At first, carriages
still passed over the bridge; it was not until some time afterwards
that the full extent of the damage was ascertained, and the passage
of carriages over the bridge discontinued for many months.
