I Could Hardly Refrain From Shedding Tears At
This Dismal Spectacle, When I Recalled The Idea Of What It Was
About Eighteen Months Ago.
As we stayed all night at Frejus, I had an opportunity of viewing
the amphitheatre at leisure.
As near as I can judge by the eye,
it is of the same dimensions with that of Nismes; but shockingly
dilapidated. The stone seats rising from the arena are still
extant, and the cells under them, where the wild beasts were
kept. There are likewise the remains of two galleries one over
another; and two vomitoria or great gateways at opposite sides of
the arena, which is now a fine green, with a road through the
middle of it: but all the external architecture and the ornaments
are demolished. The most intire part of the wall now constitutes
part of a monastery, the monks of which, I am told, have helped
to destroy the amphitheatre, by removing the stones for their own
purposes of building. In the neighbourhood of this amphitheatre,
which stands without the walls, are the vestiges of an old
edifice, said to have been the palace where the imperator or
president resided: for it was a Roman colony, much favoured by
Julius Caesar, who gave it the name of Forum Julii, and Civitas
Forojuliensis. In all probability, it was he who built the
amphitheatre, and brought hither the water ten leagues from the
river of Ciagne, by means of an aqueduct, some arcades of which
are still standing on the other side of the town. A great number
of statues were found in this place, together with antient
inscriptions, which have been published by different authors. I
need not tell you that Julius Agricola, the father-in-law of
Tacitus, the historian, was a native of Frejus, which is now a
very poor inconsiderable place. From hence the country opens to
the left, forming an extensive plain between the sea and the
mountains, which are a continuation of the Alps, that stretches
through Provence and Dauphine. This plain watered with pleasant
streams, and varied with vineyards, corn-fields, and meadow-ground,
afforded a most agreeable prospect to our eyes, which
were accustomed to the sight of scorching sands, rugged rocks,
and abrupt mountains in the neighbourhood of Nice. Although this
has much the appearance of a corn-country, I am told it does not
produce enough for the consumption of its inhabitants, who are
obliged to have annual supplies from abroad, imported at
Marseilles. A Frenchman, at an average, eats three times the
quantity of bread that satisfies a native of England, and indeed
it is undoubtedly the staff of his life. I am therefore surprised
that the Provencaux do not convert part of their vineyards into
corn-fields: for they may boast of their wine as they please; but
that which is drank by the common people, not only here, but also
in all the wine countries of France, is neither so strong,
nourishing, nor (in my opinion) so pleasant to the taste as the
small-beer of England.
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