A Lady's Tour In Corsica - free ebook by Gertrude Forde

A LADY'S TOUR IN CORSICA.

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PREFACE.

The popularity of Corsica is increasing so rapidly, and information regarding the island is so difficult to obtain, that these sketches may not be unacceptable to intending travellers....

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CHAPTER I. PERILS IN CORSICA.

It is strange that Corsica should be as little known and visited as it is. Placed within easy reach of the most unambitious tourist, offering him the loveliest scenery and few serious difficulties of travel, it yet remains comparatively a terra incognita . Many people have a vague idea that its sole claim to distinction lies in the fact of its having given birth to the great Napoleon, and that it is now a land of semi-savagery, snakes, brigands, and other horrors. There is not a brigand on the i

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CHAPTER II. THE TOWN OF BASTIA.

Soon after four o'clock, our small vessel laboured its way into Bastia harbour, and a crowd of little boats came alongside to convey us and our effects to shore. I looked down, and saw the most wonderful sea, a deep Prussian blue, tossing against the steamer's sides; looked above, and saw a long, level shore, backed by low hills, the large town of Bastia rising gently from the water's edge, with complex streets and tall, factory-like houses. In a few minutes we were landed on Corsican soil; and,

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CHAPTER III. THE GROTTO OF BRANDO.

Notwithstanding the cold wind and the uncertain weather, we could not leave Bastia without an expedition in the Cap Corse direction. Cap Corse is the northern peninsula of Corsica, stretching out into the Mediterranean for many miles, like a long tongue. At its extremity are fine rocks and one or two lighthouses, but these we were fated not to see. We started from the hotel in good time, leaving behind No. 1, who preferred the quaintness of the Bastia architecture, and wished to sketch in the st

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CHAPTER IV. TO ISOLA ROSSA.

Our first long expedition in the island was what may be called the north-western tour, embracing the best part of a circle, and comprising St. Florent, Ile Rousse and Calvi; thence on to Corte. This tour I think is a good one to begin with, as it is on the whole less interesting and beautiful than the others. After the first day's drive, it does not abound so very much in beauties, and it does abound to a remarkable degree, even for Corsica, in dirt. Yet, although not so wildly beautiful as some

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CHAPTER V. THE CURÉ OF CALVI.

Driving through an irregular little street with overhanging houses, our coachman suddenly stopped before a dirty stone staircase. This, he informed us, was the entrance to our hotel. We were suspicious; and the event proved how just were our suspicions. It seemed incredible that a large town like Calvi should furnish no better inn than this wretched looking one; besides which, we had been distinctly advised to go to a certain Madame Puoggi in the Haute Ville, and this was the Basse Ville. But it

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CHAPTER VI. THE HAUTE BALAGNE.

The road from Calvi to Belgodere, usually the third day's journey from Bastia, mounts nearly the whole way, Calvi being on the sea level, and the village of Belgodere high up amongst the hills. It passes along one of the most famous routes in Corsica, that which runs through the mountains overlooking the Haute and Basse Balagne. The Balagne shares with Cap Corse the reputation of being the richest and best cultivated district in Corsica, and consists of a splendid valley, apparently from three t

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CHAPTER VII. THE COUNTRY OF SERAFINO AND MASSONI.

The next morning, at half-past seven, we left pretty Belgodere among its wild hills, saying good-bye to the simple-hearted proprietors of the clean little rooms, to the courteous old octogenarian, and to the four cats. All night long the nightingales had been shouting, from under a clear sky, through our open windows; but the clouds began to lower as we started, and a showery day ensued. For several hours we continued mounting towards the Col Colombano, the cultivated Basse Balagne lying at our

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CHAPTER VIII. SOME MORE ABOUT BANDITS.

Some of the Corsican bandits have been, not only objects of admiration, but of love, to their fellow-countrymen in general, who willingly contributed to their support. Even if their first adoption of lawless life were not due to their dislike of a foreign government—for long not quite palatable to the free wild people of the interior—yet their after-life consisted of a series of skirmishes against, and contests with, a police towards whom the majority of the islanders owed some grudge or other.

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CHAPTER IX. CORTE AND ITS HOTEL.

From Ponte alle Lecchia the road follows the course of the foaming river Vecchio for a long way, along a wide valley, where the green hills circling round are somewhat monotonous for a time, but presently turn into handsome grey and white limestone cliffs, hanging in one place in wild and curious peaks above the passing carriage. After the large village of Cabouralino, the scenery becomes tamer again, the ground more cultivated, flocks of black and white silky haired goats with silvery bells pas

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CHAPTER X. AN ENCOUNTER WITH STREET URCHINS.

Corte has one terrible drawback—nay, two: its extreme dirt and its impudent children. I have heard it said that the position of the town gives it the advantage of being both a good summer and winter residence, the climate being never too hot or too cold. It may never be too hot, but it must undoubtedly be a very cold place in winter, from its elevation among the numerous snow mountains that surround it. This, of course, is a matter of taste. But I should doubt extremely its being in any degree h

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CHAPTER XI. MANNERS AND CUSTOMS AT CORTE.

A good deal of historical interest is attached to Corte. From the earliest times it has been the seat of the national government, and the centre of the more important popular demonstrations. The old town and citadel have undergone more sieges and been worn by more numerous assaults than even Calvi or Bonifacio. Here Paoli lived, and, from his modest home, regulated the government of his country; and here was the home of the patriot Gaffori. An anecdote is told in connection with the latter which

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CHAPTER XII. SAN ROCCO BY THE RESTONICO.

The environs of Corte abound in lovely walks. Surrounded as it is by mountain, ravine, and river, this is no wonder. Certainly, one not easily rivalled, is to be found in the valley of the Restonico, one of the two rivers which rush seething and boiling just below the town. We strolled into this beautiful vale quite by accident, after hastily skirting the streets, to avoid those "horrid boys." The road, which was rough but broad, wound for miles through a narrow gorge, bordered on both sides by

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CHAPTER XIII. A THIRTEEN HOURS' DRIVE.

At Corte we bade adieu to our not too fascinating Bastia coachman; and the journey to Ajaccio we performed by diligence. The diligences that run between Corte and Ajaccio are not numerous, nor very convenient. Only one, going every other day, has a good banquette. The daily diligence, which is a poor stuffy little concern, goes, by way of a Hibernianism, at ten o'clock every night; and all the journey is performed in the dark. As we, however, came to see the country, we waited for the "diligence

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CHAPTER XIV. A BANDIT VILLAGE.

Bocognano is, par excellence, the village of the bandits. It was formerly the home of the brothers Bella Coschia, the latest and most famous of the bandits of the present generation. It is difficult to get at the truth regarding these two men, but there is little doubt that they have never had much to recommend them. Out of their own village they are generally admitted to have been regular ruffians; although, in Bocognano, they are declared to be most pleasing fellows. There is a little shyness,

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CHAPTER XV. THE TOWN OF AJACCIO.

English people are apt, at Ajaccio, to incur a good deal of public obloquy and well-merited contempt by their pronunciation of the name. In their Northern ignorance, they are accustomed to pronounce the two c 's soft; and find considerable difficulty in schooling their tongues to the popular sneeze-like intonation. In this dilemma, I bethought me of a plan adopted by a fond and phonetic mother I had known years ago, to cure a failing common amongst those of tender years, viz., the adding of an a

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CHAPTER XVI. NAPOLEON'S HOUSE.

One of the first sights to be visited in Ajaccio is the house belonging to the Buonaparte family, and in which Napoleon was born. Every Corsican is, of course, proud to the backbone of the great national hero; and as Corte seems to breathe the presence of the wise, heroic, unselfish Paoli, so Ajaccio is full of the footmarks of the world-famed conqueror, the second son of Carlo Buonaparte, the Corsican solicitor. The emperor, during his lifetime, did not perhaps do much for his country. He loved

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CHAPTER XVII. THE CHAPEL OF ST. ANTHONY.

There are not many excursions round Ajaccio; but the Chapelle de Saint Antoine, about seven miles off, is well worth a visit. The road winds for five or six miles among green hills and through ilex avenues to the base of the slope, where you are obliged to dismount and continue the rest of the way on foot. It is an exceedingly rutty and bad road, although tolerably flat, and we did well in providing ourselves with a little light open carriage, drawn by a pair of energetic ponies. In this vehicle

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CHAPTER XVIII. LES ILES SANGUINAIRES.

Another pleasant excursion and drive from Ajaccio is to the Iles Sanguinaires, about nine miles' distance. A good bye-road has been made to this place, flat and sandy, and following the edge of the Mediterranean the whole way. The islands lie to the south-west of the town, and probably owe their title to their dangerous position. St. Nicodemus appears, for some reason (certainly not, one would think, from the natural timidity and vacillation of his character, so foreign to theirs), to be a favou

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CHAPTER XIX. JOURS DE FÊTE AT AJACCIO.

The 10th, 11th, and 12th of May were grand days at Ajaccio; regattas going on the first two days, and horse races on the third. For some days beforehand preparations were being made, triumphal arches put up, and posts hung with Chinese lanterns. For once, the Corsican natives seemed to wake up, and an unwonted number of men were to be seen, in their excitement standing upright, instead of lounging before their doors or lying asleep upon the quay. Saturday, the first day of the regatta, was rathe

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CHAPTER XX. A RAW LUNCH.

It was a lovely sunny morning when we three, in high spirits, set out on our expedition to the forest of Bavella, and the south of the island. Our open carriage was exceedingly comfortable, with a hood in case of bad weather; the bay horses went well, and the coachman appeared irreproachable. There is no feeling in the world so exhilarating and delicious as that experienced in starting off on a Bohemian tour, without luggage, without responsibilities, unhampered by fear of railway time-tables or

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CHAPTER XXI. BERGERS AND GAMINS.

The next morning was showery, but not devoid of sun; and, leaving No. 1 to rest in the hotel, Nos. 2 and 3 set out early for a country walk. Our first object was to escape our juvenile foes; our second to get upon the sea-shore, which, we had heard, was covered with beautiful shells. We managed (it being school time, and so a portion of the little savages out of the way) to effect the first; but the second was not so easy of attainment as it sounded. Everywhere, except just beneath the town, the

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A LADY'S TOUR IN CORSICA.

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CHAPTER I. EN ROUTE FOR BAVELLA—AN ECCENTRIC LANDLORD.

Sainte Lucie di Tallano is the halting-place for the forest of Bavella. From thence you can mount up to the Bocca; starting early, and spending the whole day in the forest, returning again to sleep at Sainte Lucie. There is another route, sometimes followed, by which you drive down the other side of the forest to Sollenzara, on the east coast; but, as this place is reported to be exceedingly dirty, and is, besides, not healthy after the winter months, if it is then, it is not to be recommended.

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CHAPTER II. THE FOREST OF BAVELLA.

Bavella is so high up amongst the mountains, that, unless the day be cloudless, it is useless to make the ascent, as every view is otherwise lost. We were favoured by the most perfect day imaginable; and from morning till evening, not a mist wreath came to hide a single peak or confuse a single line of the mountain ranges. We got up at daybreak, and breakfasted on dry bread and coffee at 5.30 a.m. At 6 a.m. we were in our carriage, brought round by the ever-punctual Antonio, and driving up the s

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CHAPTER III. SARTENE.

The route to Sartene from Tallano descends for some distance on the Propriano route, and is not particularly interesting. After passing the queer old Pisan bridge, however, it branches off to the left, into a soft green shady road, faced by a handsome conical mountain, and bordered by ilexes, cork-trees, and clustering flowers. The rest of the way is a continual ascent until Sartene is reached. Steep boulders, growing grander and more massive, and half covered with a scarlet leek parasite that i

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CHAPTER IV. THE LION OF ROCCAPINA.

From Sartene to Bonifacio is a drive of about seven hours, including an hour's baiting in the middle of the day. The scenery at first is not very fine, and leads through many a bleak and rugged hill, varied by gigantic boulders, and half-stifled ilex and arbutus. Some of these boulders were remarkable for their strange hollowness, and would have made excellent bandit caves, had they been a little more hidden by the cystus and arbutus which bordered the way. About half-way to the pass of Roccapin

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CHAPTER V. BONIFACIO.

The town of Bonifacio proper is within the citadel walls, and two roads ascend to the heights. One is wide and handsome, winding round the lofty walls and entering the citadel by a strong drawbridge with fine old chains; the other is a stony zigzag, too narrow and too steep for any vehicle, and only available for men, women, and mules. This also leads by a lesser drawbridge into the well-defended town. On entering through the main gates of the city, you find yourself in a wide street, which will

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CHAPTER VI. CURIOSITIES OF BONIFACIO.

The history of Bonifacio is rich in stories of romantic sieges and heroic deeds of valour. In 833 a Tuscan Margrave, on his road home from Africa, first built a fortress there, calling it after his own name, Bonifacius; he and his family becoming for nearly a hundred years the feudal lords of Corsica. In the beginning of the thirteenth century, the Genoese cast a prudent eye towards Bonifacio, and seizing upon it, they raised its almost impregnable fortifications, making it henceforth one of the

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CHAPTER VII. A SERMON BY THE WAYSIDE.

We were glad enough to reach Sartene on our return, after a hot and dusty drive. We had ordered a relay of horses from Ajaccio next day, to meet us half-way between Sartene and the capital, so as to do the whole return distance in two days; and we quite looked forward to our snug little rooms at l'Hotel de l'Univers. But, alas! for the futility of human hopes! No sooner did "shades of eve prevail, and the moon tell out her wondrous tale," than Nos. 2 and 3 found themselves surrounded by a black

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CHAPTER VIII. TO VICO.

A few days' quiet at Ajaccio, was quite sufficient for us. The hotel, lately so lively, was now completely deserted, and even the white-capped chamber-maids had taken flight until next season. We had the large rooms completely to ourselves, and found them melancholy. The town, too, was hot and stuffy. Everybody was moving up to their summer houses, and the close air was depressing. We were glad to arrange another tour to the north-west of the island, including the forests of Aïtone and Valdoniel

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CHAPTER IX. EVISA AMONG THE HILLS.

Before eight o'clock next morning we were descending the gorge opposite the house, in order to mount it on the other side, and visit the picturesque convent. Our coffee and dry bread had been served to us at half-past seven by the "chamber-maid." This important person was represented by a pretty rosy-cheeked girl of twelve, who combined her chamber duties with those of waitress, and who, at this stage of the morning, was attired in a déshabille of nightdress body and coloured petticoat, with bar

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CHAPTER X. GIANT FORESTS.

The day fixed for our forest expedition to Aïtone and Valdoniello was wet and cloudy, and it was with many misgivings that we breakfasted at 7 a.m., and before eight o'clock started for our long day. The carriage, Antonio informed us, could take us the first five or six miles; but after that, the road became too much out of repair for anything less than a waggon, and we must continue our way on mules. We had already, the evening before, seen the guide who was to escort us into the forest, and en

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CHAPTER XI. PORTO, LA PIANA, AND CARGHESE.

The next day, after our long expedition, we rose late, and with depressed spirits watched the sheets of rain that came driving across the valley, hiding the mountain tops, and pelting against our sitting-room windows. However, at eleven o'clock there were signs of a slight improvement in the weather, and we hastily got under way, and bidding adieu to our polite and smiling mademoiselle, started on the drive to Carghese. We had been warned against Carghese as the dirtiest place in Corsica; and, a

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CHAPTER XII. FROM CARGHESE TO AJACCIO.

When we left our rooms next morning, the skies were black with rain, and the downpour obliged us to put off our start till 11 a.m.; when the pelting had turned into a gentle spattering, such as travellers in Corsica must learn to despise. From Carghese to Calcataggio was a steep mount, for some time following the windings of the sea-shore, and then hanging above it, but never out of sight of the blue waters. The promontories were low and uninteresting; but, through the gleams of sunshine dancing

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CHAPTER XIII. BOCOGNANO BUGBEARS.

After an affectionate farewell to Hôtel Germania, its comforts and its cleanliness, bearing each of us a sweet-smelling bouquet of rosebuds, geraniums, and heliotrope, presented by the young waiter to his last customers with a mournful air, we left sunny little Ajaccio for the last time, accompanied by our old friend Antonio, for whom we had been careful to bargain. It was a heavy thundery-looking day, though rainless, and, underneath their white snow caps, the shadows of Monte Nebbio and Monte

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CHAPTER XIV. THE FOREST OF SORBA.

When at last cold dawn had passed away, and given place to rosy morning, such a view was gleaming in through the little open window as seemed almost to compensate for horrors past. What mattered it now, in the clear brilliant sunshine, that a monstrous black beetle, overcome by slumber or reflection, was looking down serenely from the wall just above; or that, on lifting a shoe from the floor, two more hopped out merrily? A pure cone of glistening snow was rising from a belt of pines and chestnu

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CHAPTER XV. THE INZECCA.

After a comfortable night in our clean, though poverty-stricken little rooms, we started before 8 a.m., on a cloudy morning, for the Inzecca. The road wound above the torrent bed, and past Christalisione, descending rapidly, and gradually becoming enclosed on either side by steep rocky crags of great height. Behind us rose a distant fine range of snowy peaks, soon, however, shut out by the surrounding walls. The road was exceedingly bad and rutty, and after we had passed our cantonnier friends o

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CHAPTER XVI. THE LAST OF ANTONIO.

The breakfast next morning at Vivario was so deliciously and unwontedly clean and refined in appearance, as to tempt us to linger over its luxuries, and almost to forget the rain sweeping against the windows outside. The loaf on a plate (instead of on a dirty, sticky, American-cloth table-cover), toast in a rack, sugar-tongs, honey, and, greatest of all delights, a tiny pat of goat's butter, just made, and laid upon a little green china leaf, like a large pearl! After all our vicissitudes of foo

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CHAPTER XVII. TO BASTIA FROM CORTE.

It was seven o'clock on a tremendously hot sunny morning when we started for our last day's journey, to Bastia. Our lofty banquette was shared by the driver, and was a veritable perch, ten or twelve feet from the ground, into which the only feasible way of climbing was by seizing hold of some ropes depending from the diligence top, and swinging oneself up, acrobat fashion. A large group of gamins had assembled to witness our departure; and, notwithstanding the handsome rooms and clean accommodat

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CHAPTER XVIII. HISTORY OF CORSICA.

The history of Corsica, from the earliest times down to the middle of the eighteenth century, is an unparalleled history of bloodshed, misery, and heroism. As far as is known, the first colonization of the island was the work of Phocæans; but, about 260 B.C. , it fell into the hands of the Romans. The conquest of Corsica, even in these early days, and attempted by so formidable a power as that of Rome, was, however, no light matter; and for about one hundred years the brave little island kept he

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