DEAR SIR, - By the Pont St. Esprit we entered the province of
Languedoc, and breakfasted at Bagniole, which is a little paltry
town; from whence, however, there is an excellent road through a
mountain, made at a great expence, and extending about four
leagues. About five in the afternoon, I had the first glimpse of
the famous Pont du Garde, which stands on the right hand, about
the distance of a league from the post-road to Nismes, and about
three leagues from that city. I would not willingly pass for a
false enthusiast in taste; but I cannot help observing, that from
the first distant view of this noble monument, till we came near
enough to see it perfectly, I felt the strongest emotions of
impatience that I had ever known; and obliged our driver to put
his mules to the full gallop, in the apprehension that it would
be dark before we reached the place. I expected to find the
building, in some measure, ruinous; but was agreeably
disappointed, to see it look as fresh as the bridge at
Westminster. The climate is either so pure and dry, or the free-stone,
with which it is built, so hard, that the very angles of
them remain as acute as if they had been cut last year. Indeed,
some large stones have dropped out of the arches; but the whole
is admirably preserved, and presents the eye with a piece of
architecture, so unaffectedly elegant, so simple, and majestic,
that I will defy the most phlegmatic and stupid spectator to
behold it without admiration.
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