We Leaped Out Of The Coach, However,
Without Sustaining Any Personal Damage, Except The Fright; Nor
Was Any Hurt Done To The Vehicle.
But the horses were terribly
bruised, and almost strangled, before they could be disengaged.
Exasperated at the villany of the hostler, I resolved to make a
complaint to the uffiziale or magistrate of the place. I found
him wrapped in an old, greasy, ragged, great-coat, sitting in a
wretched apartment, without either glass, paper, or boards in the
windows; and there was no sort of furniture but a couple of
broken chairs and a miserable truckle-bed. He looked pale, and
meagre, and had more the air of a half-starved prisoner than of a
magistrate. Having heard my complaint, he came forth into a kind
of outward room or bellfrey, and rung a great bell with his own
hand. In consequence of this signal, the postmaster came up
stairs, and I suppose he was the first man in the place, for the
uffiziale stood before him cap-in-hand, and with great marks of
humble respect repeated the complaint I had made. This man
assured me, with an air of conscious importance, that he himself
had ordered the hostler to supply me with those very horses,
which were the best in his stable; and that the misfortune which
happened was owing to the misconduct of the fore-postilion, who
did not keep the fore-horses to a proper speed proportioned to
the mettle of the other two. As he took the affair upon himself,
and I perceived had an ascendancy over the magistrate, I
contented myself with saying, I was certain the two horses had
been put to the coach on purpose, either to hurt or frighten us;
and that since I could not have justice here I would make a
formal complaint to the British minister at Florence. In passing
through the street to the coach, which was by this time furnished
with fresh horses, I met the hostler, and would have caned him
heartily; but perceiving my intention, he took to his heels and
vanished. Of all the people I have ever seen, the hostlers,
postilions, and other fellows hanging about the post-houses in
Italy, are the most greedy, impertinent, and provoking. Happy are
those travellers who have phlegm enough to disregard their
insolence and importunity: for this is not so disagreeable as
their revenge is dangerous. An English gentleman at Florence told
me, that one of those fellows, whom he had struck for his
impertinence, flew at him with a long knife, and he could hardly
keep him at sword's point. All of them wear such knives, and are
very apt to use them on the slightest provocation. But their open
attacks are not so formidable as their premeditated schemes of
revenge; in the prosecution of which the Italians are equally
treacherous and cruel.
This night we passed at a place called Radicofani, a village and
fort, situated on the top of a very high mountain.
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