ich was practised in the reign of his great grandfather. But reason
and philosophy have made more rapid strides in France, within these few
years, than the arts and sciences. It is, however, a great and mighty
kingdom, blest with every convenience and comfort in life, as well as
many luxuries, beside good wine; and good wine, drank in moderation (and
_here_ nobody drinks it otherwise) is not only an excellent cordial to
the nerves, but I am persuaded it contributes to long life, and good
health. Here, where wine and _eau de vie_ is so plenty, and so cheap
too, you seldom meet a drunken peasant, and never see a gentleman
(_except he be a stranger_) in that shameful situation.

Perhaps there is not, on any part of the Continent, a city or town which
has been so frequently sacked by foreign invaders, nor so deeply stained
with human blood, by civil and religious wars, as this: every street and
ancient building within its walls still exhibit many strong marks of the
excesses committed by the hands of domestic as well as foreign
barbarians, except only the Temple now called, and so called from its
form, the _Maison Carree_, which has stood near eighteen hundred years,
without receiving any other injuries than the injuries of time; and time
has given it rather the face of age, than that of ruins, for it still
stands firm and upright; and though not quite perfect in every part, yet
it preserves all its due proportions, and enough of its original and
lesser beauties, to astonish and delight every beholder, and that too in
a very particular manner. It is said, and I have felt the truth of it in
part, that there does not exist, at this day, any building, ancient or
modern, which conveys so secret a pleasure, not only to the
_connoisseur_, but to the clown also, whenever, or how often soever they
approach it. The proportions and beauties of the whole building are so
intimately united, that they may be compared to good breeding in men; it
is what every body perceives, and is captivated with, but what few can
define. That it has an irresistible beauty which delights men of sense,
and which _charms_ the eyes of the vulgar, I think must be admitted; for
no other possible reason can be assigned why this building alone,
standing in the very centre of a city, wherein every excess which
religious fury could inspire, or barbarous manners could suggest, has
stood so many ages the only uninsulted monument of antiquity, either
within or withou