Travels Through France And Italy by Tobias Smollett (fastest ebook reader .txt) 📕

Suppose He Would Not Have Made So Free With Our Country And

Religion, If He Had Not Taken Us For German Catholics, As We

Afterwards Learned From Mr. R--I. Next Day, We Crossed The Tyber,

Over A Handsome Bridge, And In Mounting The Steep Hill Upon Which

The City Of Perugia Stands, Our Horses Being Exhausted, Were

Dragged Backwards By The Weight Of The Carriage To The Very Edge

Of A Precipice, Where, Happily For Us, A Man Passing That Way,

Placed A Large Stone Behind One Of The Wheels, Which Stopped

Their Motion, Otherwise We Should Have Been All Dashed In Pieces.

We Had Another Ugly Hill To Ascend Within The City, Which Was

More Difficult And Dangerous Than The Other: But The Postilions,

And The Other Beasts Made Such Efforts, That We Mounted Without

The Least Stop, To The Summit, Where We Found Ourselves In A 

The Least Stop, To The Summit, Where We Found Ourselves In A

Large Piazza, Where The Horses Are Always Changed. There Being No

Relays At The Post, We Were Obliged To Stay The Whole Day And

Night At Perugia, Which Is A Considerable City, Built Upon The

Acclivity Of A Hill, Adorned With Some Elegant Fountains, And

Several Handsome Churches, Containing Some Valuable Pictures By

Guido, Raphael, And His Master Pietro Perugino, Who Was A Native

Of This Place. The Next Stage Is On The Banks Of The Lake, Which

Was The Thrasimene Of The Antients, A Beautiful Piece Of Water,

Above Thirty Miles In Circumference, Having Three Islands,

Abounding With Excellent Fish: Upon A Peninsula Of It, There Is A

Town And Castle. It Was In This Neighbourhood Where The Consul

Flaminius Was Totally Defeated With Great Slaughter By Hannibal.

From Perugia To Florence, The Posts Are All Double, And The Road

Is So Bad That We Never Could Travel Above Eight And Twenty Miles

A Day. We Were Often Obliged To Quit The Carriage, And Walk Up

Steep Mountains; And The Way In General Was So Unequal And Stony,

That We Were Jolted Even To The Danger Of Our Lives. I Never Felt

Any Sort Of Exercise Or Fatigue So Intolerable; And I Did Not

Fail To Bestow An Hundred Benedictions Per Diem Upon The Banker

Barazzi, By Whose Advice We Had Taken This Road; Yet There Was No

Remedy But Patience. If The Coach Had Not Been Incredibly Strong,

It Must Have Been Shattered To Pieces. The Fifth Night We Passed

At A Place Called Camoccia, A Miserable Cabaret, Where We Were

Fain To Cook Our Own Supper, And Lay In A Musty Chamber, Which

Had Never Known A Fire, And Indeed Had No Fire-Place, And Where

We Ran The Risque Of Being Devoured By Rats. Next Day One Of The

Irons Of The Coach Gave Way At Arezzo, Where We Were Detained Two

Hours Before It Could Be Accommodated. I Might Have Taken This

Opportunity To View The Remains Of The Antient Etruscan

Amphitheatre. And The Temple Of Hercules, Described By The

Cavalier Lorenzo Guazzesi, As Standing In The Neighbourhood Of

This Place: But The Blacksmith Assured Me His Work Would Be

Finished In A Few Minutes; And As I Had Nothing So Much At Heart

As The Speedy Accomplishment Of This Disagreeable Journey, I

Chose To Suppress My Curiosity, Rather Than Be The Occasion Of A

Moment's Delay. But All The Nights We Had Hitherto Passed Were

Comfortable In Comparison To This, Which We Suffered At A Small

Village, The Name Of Which I Do Not Remember. The House Was

Dismal And Dirty Beyond All Description; The Bed-Cloaths Filthy

Enough To Turn The Stomach Of A Muleteer; And The Victuals Cooked

In Such A Manner, That Even A Hottentot Could Not Have Beheld

Them Without Loathing. We Had Sheets Of Our Own, Which Were

Spread Upon A Mattrass, And Here I Took My Repose Wrapped In A

Greatcoat, If That Could Be Called Repose Which Was Interrupted

By The Innumerable Stings Of Vermin. In The Morning, I Was Seized

With A Dangerous Fit Of Hooping-Cough, Which Terrified My Wife,

Alarmed My People, And Brought The Whole Community Into The

House. I Had Undergone Just Such Another At Paris, About A Year

Before. This Forenoon, One Of Our Coach Wheels Flew Off In The

Neighbourhood Of Ancisa, A Small Town, Where We Were Detained

Above Two Hours By This Accident; A Delay Which Was Productive Of

Much Disappointment, Danger, Vexation, And Fatigue. There Being

No Horses At The Last Post, We Were Obliged To Wait Until Those

Which Brought Us Thither Were Sufficiently Refreshed To Proceed. 

Understanding That All The Gates Of Florence Are Shut At Six,

Except Two That Are Kept Open For The Accommodation Of

Travellers; And That To Reach The Nearest Of These Gates, It Was

Necessary To Pass The River Arno In A Ferry-Boat, Which Could Not

Transport The Carriage; I Determined To Send My Servant Before

With A Light Chaise To Enter The Nearest Gate Before It Was

Shut, And Provide A Coach To Come And Take Us Up At The Side Of

The River, Where We Should Be Obliged To Pass In The Boat: For I

Could Not Bear The Thoughts Of Lying Another Night In A Common

Cabaret. Here, However, Another Difficulty Occurred. There Was

But One Chaise, And A Dragoon Officer, In The Imperial Troops,

Insisted Upon His Having Bespoke It For Himself And His Servant.

A Long Dispute Ensued, Which Had Like To Have Produced A Quarrel:

But At Length I Accommodated Matters, By Telling The Officer That

He Should Have A Place In It Gratis, And His Servant Might Ride

A-Horse-Back. He Accepted The Offer Without Hesitation; But, In The Mean

Time, We Set Out In The Coach Before Them, And Having Proceeded

About A Couple Of Miles, The Road Was So Deep From A Heavy Rain,

And The Beasts Were So Fatigued, That They Could Not Proceed. The

Postilions Scourging The Poor Animals With Great Barbarity, They

Made An Effort, And Pulled The Coach To The Brink Of A Precipice,

Or Rather A Kind Of Hollow-Way, Which Might Be About Seven Or

Eight Feet Lower Than The Road. Here My Wife And I Leaped Out,

And Stood Under The Rain Up To The Ancles In Mud; While The

Postilions Still Exercising Their Whips, One Of The Fore-Horses

Fairly Tumbled Down The Descent, Arid Hung By The Neck, So That

He Was Almost Strangled Before He Could Be Disengaged From The

Traces, By The Assistance Of Some Foot Travellers That Happened

To Pass. While We Remained In This Dilemma, The Chaise, With The

Officer And My Servant, Coming Up, We Exchanged Places; My Wife

And I Proceeded In The Chaise, And Left Them With Miss C-- And Mr.

R--, To Follow In The Coach. The Road From Hence To Florence Is

Nothing But A Succession Of Steep Mountains, Paved And Conducted

In Such A Manner, That One Would Imagine The Design Had Been To

Render It Impracticable By Any Sort Of Wheel-Carriage.

Notwithstanding All Our Endeavours, I Found It Would Be

Impossible To Enter Florence Before The Gates Were Shut. I

Flattered And Threatened The Driver By Turns: But The Fellow, Who

Had Been Remarkably Civil At First, Grew Sullen And Impertinent.

He Told Me I Must Not Think Of Reaching Florence: That The Boat

Would Not Take The Carriage On Board; And That From The Other

Side, I Must Walk Five Miles Before I Should Reach The Gate That

Was Open: But He Would Carry Me To An Excellent Osteria, Where I

Should Be Entertained And Lodged Like A Prince. I Was Now

Convinced That He Had Lingered On Purpose To Serve This Inn-Keeper;

And I Took It For Granted That What He Told Me Of The

Distance Between The Ferry And The Gate Was A Lie. It Was Eight

O'clock When We Arrived At His Inn. I Alighted With My Wife To

View The Chambers, Desiring He Would Not Put Up His Horses.

Finding It Was A Villainous House, We Came Forth, And, By This

Time, The Horses Were Put Up. I Asked The Fellow How He Durst

Presume To Contradict My Orders, And Commanded Him To Put Them To

The Chaise. He Asked In His Turn If I Was Mad? If I Thought I And

The Lady Had Strength And Courage Enough To Walk Five Miles In 

The Dark, Through A Road Which We Did Not Know, And Which Was

Broke Up By A Continued Rain Of Two Days? I Told Him He Was An

Impertinent Rascal, And As He Still Hesitated, I Collared Him

With One Hand, And Shook My Cane Over His Head With The Other. It

Was The Only Weapon I Had, Either Offensive Or Defensive; For I

Had Left My Sword, And Musquetoon In The Coach. At Length The

Fellow Obeyed, Though With Great Reluctance, Cracking Many Severe

Jokes Upon Us In The Mean Time, And Being Joined In His Raillery

By The Inn-Keeper, Who Had All The External Marks Of A Ruffian.

The House Stood In A Solitary Situation, And Not A Soul Appeared

But These Two Miscreants, So That They Might Have Murdered Us

Without Fear Of Detection. "You Do Not Like The Apartments? (Said

One) To Be Sure They Were Not Fitted Up For Persons Of Your Rank

And Quality!" "You Will Be Glad Of A Worse Chamber, (Continued

The Other) Before You Get To Bed." "If You Walk To Florence

Tonight, You Will Sleep So Sound, That The Fleas Will Not Disturb

You." "Take Care You Do Not Take Up Your Night's Lodging In The

Middle Of The Road, Or In The Ditch Of The City-Wall." I Fired

Inwardly At These Sarcasms, To Which, However, I Made No Reply;

And My Wife Was Almost Dead With Fear. In The Road From Hence To

The Boat, We Met With An Ill-Looking Fellow, Who Offered His

Service To Conduct Us Into The City, And Such Was Our Situation,

That I Was Fain To Accept His Proposal, Especially As We Had Two

Small Boxes In The Chaise By Accident, Containing Some Caps And

Laces Belonging To My Wife, I Still Hoped The Postilion Had

Exaggerated In The Distance Between The Boat And The City Gate,

And Was Confirmed In This Opinion By The Ferryman, Who Said We

Had Not Above Half A League To Walk. Behold Us Then In