Gertrude Forde - A Ladys Tour in Corsica, Vol. 1 (of 2)

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Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/ladystourincorsi01ford Project Gutenberg has the other volume of this work. Volume II: see http://www.gutenberg.org/files/44994/44994-h/44994-h.htm

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A LADY'S TOUR IN CORSICA.

BY
GERTRUDE FORDE.

IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.

LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON,
NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1880.

(All rights reserved.)

PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
BECCLES AND LONDON.

PREFACE.

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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.

CONTENTS OF VOL. I.

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CHAPTER	PAGE
I.	Perils in Corsica
II.	The Town of Bastia
III.	The Grotto of Brando
IV.	To Isola Rossa
V.	The Cur of Calvi
VI.	The Haute Balagne
VII.	The Country of Serafino and Massoni
VIII.	Some more about Bandits
IX.	Corte and its Hotel
X.	An Encounter with Street Urchins
XI.	Manners and Customs at Corte
XII.	San Rocco by the Restonico
XIII.	A Thirteen Hours' Drive
XIV.	A Bandit Village
XV.	The Town of Ajaccio
XVI.	Napoleon's House
XVII.	The Chapel of St. Anthony
XVIII.	Les Iles Sanguinaires
XIX.	Jours de Fte at Ajaccio
XX.	A Raw Lunch
XXI.	Bergers and Gamins

A LADY'S TOUR IN CORSICA.

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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 island.

Snakes exist in some numbers, but the majority are harmless; and, of those whose bite is dangerous, there need be no fear on the part of the traveller, as they are in a far greater hurry to get out of his way, than he of theirs.

As regards the semi-savagery, that is perhaps a matter of opinion. The Corsican comes of a race of heroes: he is proud, conservative, and reticent; phlegmatic until roused, then dangerous.

The lower orders are full of intelligence, but their domestic surroundings are utterly bare and unrefined, and the comparative luxury of our working class is unknown to and apparently undesired by them. In one respect the Corsican is certainly uncivilized; he is, as a rule, quite indifferent to the value of money, and prefers his own inherent idleness, or supposed dignity, to any pecuniary advantage. A gun is generally in his hand, a spade never; and he will often starve before he will work, beg, or cheat.

Rich lands lie uncultivated, and houses fall to ruins in Corsica, because the inhabitants are too lazy to spend a few hours daily in toil.

On the other hand, especially coming from Italy, the land of cheats par excellence , it is refreshing to be in a country where there is neither whining beggar, overreaching landlord, nor humbugging tradesman.

A traveller may go from one end of Corsica to the other, and if he behave courteously himself, will probably never meet with a discourteous word, from the time he sets foot on the island until he leaves it.

At the same time, it cannot be denied that the Corsicans, though polite and even friendly to strangers, have a weakness for shooting one another. It is nonsense to suppose the vendetta is crushed out; it is as lively as ever in some parts.

The almost inaccessible mountains are still the resort of escaped bandits (outlaws)pursued by the weak arm of the lawwho, occasionally bringing down their gend'arme, are never known to interfere with a stranger. Their object is not robbery, but concealment from justice, and the crime for which it follows them is generally the result of some private feud.

In all this, I speak of the lower orders, the Corsicans purs et simples . The upper classes are not Corsican at all, save in their love for their country.

A Corsican gentleman essays to speak French like a Parisian, and imitates both the French manners and character. He is generally lively and talkative, and has quite cast away the ignorant apathy of his poorer brethren regarding the value of money. He is the advocate of commerce and railways, and all modern improvements, and dreadfully ashamed of such barbarous national customs as the vendetta, generally flatly denying that such a thing exists at the present day, and boldly telling you that not a bandit is now to be found in the mountains.

When we expressed our intention of visiting this unknown land, many were the warning voices raised to intimidate us by alarmed friends, and we felt that we were bold women to stick to our project. One by one, the terrible prophecies poured in, like so many shadows of Job's messengers, until the stoutest heart might have been excused a quiver.

The plague, malaria, sunstroke, serpents, brigands, bugsthese were a few of the horrors held out by sensible people, some of them travellers, for our consideration.

Notwithstanding these reports, however, we persevered; and the result showed how much faith is to be given in such cases to friendly advice.

Each of the threatened perils turned out, more or less, nothing but a phantom.

The truth of the matter is, that Corsica is a remarkably easy country in which to travel, totally without difficulties or dangers of any sort, to the person who is only careful to select a good coachman as his pioneer.

On the other hand, the accommodation is often extremely rough, and it is by no means the place for an invalid or a fastidious person.

The cooking is nearly always good, and the dinners excellent; but the village inns are sometimes filthy, and the bedrooms horrible. There is only one good hotelreally excellentin the whole island, and that is at Ajaccio; and people who travel in Corsica must be prepared, not only for broken windows, sour bread, and no butter, but for bad smells, black floors, and a total absence of all the decencies of life. They will also occasionally find an army of black beetles in their rooms, and sometimes something worse.

Sundry and manifold remedies we tried against this last and most terrible plague; but all in vain.

One friend, a consul, counselled the use of carbolic soap, and we accordingly each invested in a slab of this not over inviting article, submitting ourselves to a scent like that of puppy dogs on washing day. But the enemy didn't mind it in the least.

Another, military, friend believed strongly in Keating's powder, and informed me how, one night in Poland, upon a threatened attack of vermin, he had put it to a severe test. He had thrown up an earthwork of Keating in a ring round the bed, reposing within peacefully unmolested until morning. The enemy had stormed the bastion, but failed to make a breach, being repulsed with heavy loss; and, when day broke, retired discomfited and utterly routed, leaving their dead upon the plain. But clearly the Polish bug has not the indomitable energy and insular enterprise of his Corsican relative. Our carefully prepared entrenchments were utterly futile; and the foe, when present, speedily gained possession of the battle-field, causing ignominious flight. But in many instances, where the village inn looked of the poorest and lowest, our anticipations, in respect of uncleanliness, were agreeably disappointed.

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