I ILLINOIS Production Note Digital Rare Book Colloctions Rare Book & Manuscript Library University of Illinois Library at Urbana—Champaign 2019 ‘UniVSOfIIL 71071 Library SCENERY OF THE ISLAND OF CORSIC NAPOLEON ’S BIRTHPLACE. 335. journal of 3. Landscape Painter BV vanI Lear (Author of the Nonsense Stones). It] 40 full page and 110 t L; [In 2170775, 1 l finelv c7z~ gm?.1511’,1’1{()ya.184 1/; 111.). Cloth, uncut. Lo Offered at $1 .00 117711 in L07 710’012, we ham 11g 1' re slightly rubbed, olherwise tof journals They describe, 1d f0 rr word as the) ore. written, ' 1n pressions of the Latuze of the landscape hose portions 01 C or be. through ' w hich tra led A slight sketch of Corsu. an history together 'th some information concerning its geograph ‘ts inhabitants e1: s anhich to many readers will 9f interest, hut w htit not so easy to moorporate with the journals, Will be found separately ann ed —T he Author JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [a l AJACCIO. JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER CORSICA. BY EDWARD LEAR. “ N0 apology shall be made for presenting the World with an account of Corsica.” An Account nfCarsz'c/z; JAMES BOSWELL, 1768. “So, then, you were determined to come and see Corsica? You have done rightly to hasten your visit, for in a very few years, thanks to the hand of progress and civilisation, they who come to seek for Corsica will not find iti”— T/ze Cm-u'am [37/01/2375, a Dramatic Romance “ If the diurnal record of the traveller be not always the form of narrative most agreeable to the reader, it is, or ought to be, male faithful than any other, and consequently more useful to those who visit the countries (I “rihcrl, especially when those countries have been little explored."—'I'WWL’ZA~ in [Kart/zen; (ii-tare, COL. LEAKE, VOL 1. LONDON: ROBERT JOHN BUSH, 32, CHARING CROSS. 1870. 177712 [egg/u (3/ Yl'm/s/ul/mz [5 li’tas‘gi’r,t'(/.] it ‘6 Pylliifi‘ .5 1,: 1'0 FRANKLIN LUSHINGTON, ESQ., OF THE INNER TEJIPLE, FORMERLY MEMBER OF THE SUPREME COUNCIL OF JUSTICE, IN THE IONIAN ISLANDS, AND STILL EARLIER THE COMPANION OF MY TRAVELS IN GREECE, THESE ILLUSTRATED 7()URNALS ZN CORSICA ARE INSCIUBEZ), BY H1s AFFECTIONATE FRIEND, EDWARD LEAR. London, 1869. PREFACE. IN the years 1846, 1849, and 1852, I published illustrated journals of tours in Central and Southern Italy, and in Albania, three books which met with a successful reception from the Public, and were very kindly noticed by the Press. The present volume consists of journals written with the same intent and plan as those which preceded them. They describe, nearly word for word as they were written, my impressions of the nature of the landscape in those portions of Corsica through which I travelled. It is possible that the literary part of this book may not prove of equal interest with that of the publica— tions above named; not, indeed, from any want of merit in the subject, but because I have now no longer the help of friends who then kindly assisted me by their criticisms, especially the late Robert A. Hornby, Esq, and Richard Ford, Esq. But the aim of all these journals should be looked on as the same, simply to be aids to the knowledge of scenery which I have visited and delineated. I passed last winter at Cannes, intending to return early in the spring to Palestine, for the purpose of completing drawings and journals for a work already partly advanced ; but circumstances having prevented me from carry— ing out this plan, I decided on going to Corsica, rather perhaps 011 account of its being a place near at hand and easily reached, than from any distinct impression as to the nature of the country, or from any particular interest in its history, inhabitants, or scenery. It is true that the Corsican mountains are sometimes visible from Cannes at sunrise, and latterly I had read M. Prosper Merimee’s beautiful little tale of “ Colomba,” the scene of which lies in Cor— sica ; but I confess to having been chiefly led to think of going there by that necessity which the wandering painter—whose life’s occupation is travelling viii PREFACE. for pictorial or topographic purposes—is sure to find continually arising, that of seeing some new place, and of adding fresh ideas of landscape to both mind and portfolio— “ For all experience is an arch, wherethrough Gleams the untravell’d world, whose margin fades, F or ever and for ever when I move.” It was growing late in the spring when I had decided on going to Corsica, and time did not allow of my procuring books (though plenty have been written on the subject) or maps. Valery’s “Voyages en Corse,” published so long back as 1837, was the only guide I could obtain; nor did I happen to fall in with any one who knew the Corsica of 1868. M. Prosper Merimée's visit to the island had occurred many years back (though he most kindly procured me letters of introduction which proved of great value). One friend wrote that though there were roads, there were no carriages; another that a yacht was the only means of seeing a place, the interior of which was intolerable for want of accommodation. My ignorance was not bliss, and I would have got knowledge if I could ; but as there was no remedy, and as I intended to pass some eight or ten weeks there, I prepared to go to Corsica as I should have done to any other land of unknown attributes, where I might find the necessity of roughing it daily or nightly, or the contrary; it cannot, I thought, be worse than travelling in Albania or Crete, long journeys through both of which countries I have survived. A few words on the arrangements preliminary to such travelling may be allowed. Some there are who declaim against carrying much luggage, and who reduce their share of it to a minimum. From these I differ, having far more often suffered from having too little “ roba ” than too much. Clothing for travelling comfortably in hot or cold climates, such as must be experienced in the plains and mountains of an island so varied in formation as Corsica, and for different phases of social life during an extended tour; great amount of drawing material, folios, paper, &c.; an indian~rubber bath; above all, a small folding camp or tent bed, of good use in many a long journey in Albania, Syria, &c., and in which I am sure of sleep anywhere; these, mostly contained in a brace of strong saddle—bags, form a goodly assortment of luggage, and eventually I found it to be not one iota too much. Then, as to travelling alone, the prospect of which is dreadful to some, I PREFACE. ix almost always do so by preference, because I cannot otherwise devote every moment to my work, or so arrange plans as to insure their success. Some- times, indeed, I have made exceptions to this rule, yet only in cases where my fellow—travellers were not only as eager draftsmen as myself, and where I, being their senior, as well as instructor in sketching, could define and follow all my own plans exactly and without hindrance. Strictly speaking, how- ever, it is long since I made any tours really alone, as various sharp illnesses have taught me the great inconvenience of doing so; and Ihave frequently been thankful for the care of a good servant who has travelled with me for many years. George Kokali, a Suliot, speaking several languages, sober, honest, and active, saves me all trouble and gives none; now carrying a weight of cloaks and folios and “daily bread ” for a twenty—mile walk or more, anon keeping off dogs and bystanders when I am drawing, or cooking and acting as house—servant when stationary; a man of few words and constant work. Those who go to Corsica hoping to study antiquities will be disappointed; for the manifold charms of classical countries are wanting there; the long lines of Grecian plains, so crowded with spots full of historic and poetic memories, vast and beautiful remains such as those of Sicily, Syria, or Egypt, do not exist in it; neither will he find the more modern beauties of architecture, the varied forms of tower or castle, mosque, cathedral, or monastery, with which Albania or ltaly abound. On the other hand, the ever varying beauties of light and shade in mountain and valley, the contrast of snowy heights and dark forests, the thick covering of herb and flower, shrub and tree, from the cyclamen and cystus to the ilex, oak, beech, and pine, these are always around him, and he will find that every part of Corsica is full of scenes stamped with original beauty and uncommon interest. Equally will the tourist through the Corsica of our days fail in finding any- thing of romance there, except in the traditions of the past. If it were, in travelling through Calabria twenty years since, a disappointment to find no pOinted hats, and no brigand costume, how much more so is it to find that Corsica, once the very fountain-head of romance, no longer possesses any, that you may walk from Capo Corso to the Straits of Bonifaeio in the undis— turbed monotony of security, and that all gloomy atmosphere of risk and X PREFACE danger has for years past been dispersed by the broad daylight of. French administration and civilisation? With old customs and costumes, mystery and murder have alike disappeared from the Corsica of 1868, A slight sketch of Corsican history, together with some information concerning its geography, its inhabitants, &c,, matters which to many readers will prove of interest, but which it was not easy to incorporate with the “Journal,” will be found separately annexed; and copious details are added in the shape of notes extracted from books I have read since my return from the island (we list, page 269), from which may be gathered impressions of the improved state of Corsica now, contrasted with that it was in at the time of the Visits of earlier authors. A certain monotony of narrative must needs be the result of monotony of travel; and the recital of a tour made in a carriage, cannot, I imagine, be made very attractive, if the writer simply records his own impressions. Many of the illustrations, however, were made in short pedestrian excursions, particularly in the forests, at some distance from the high road. One drawback to my Visit, but one I could not avoid, was its shortness: far too little time was devoted to delineating so large a space of country. To these remarks I will add, that in spite of the want of classical interest throughout Corsica, the memory of my visit to it becomes fresher and more interesting as time goes on ; nor do I despair of returning to it, to see some portions of the island I much regret not having visited—Niolo, the Casinca, the Coscione, Rostino, and the coast from Calvi to Porto. Of the Corsicans, too, I would gladly add a word as to their general courtesy and good breeding, and their hospitable welcome in places where no inns exist; and, among other pleasant recollections, this should not pass unnoticed, namely, that there are no beggars in Corsica, a fact contrasting agreeably with the persecutions met with in some other countries. N O’l‘E.-—W1'z‘/z i/zc wasp/fan qf xix (If My [(2732 flaky, and tau of 2715’ mgr/wilds, [/16 TU/lU/f 0f [/15 mighty i/[zzslmlzbm flaw {1LT}; drawn an wuoa’ [2y Myra/fl from my org/7m! r/ct/c/mr. Am! I glad/y lzz/ce t/zz'r oppur/mz/Zy if l/izz/z/e/Izg‘ [lid]. lam/21w, I’LL/yard I’mzm’ma/cir, Bax/airman, and [Ll/c ‘j’. D. C0017”, for [/12 mm and armmiy 7022/1 w/zz'c/z Z/uj/ flaw mgmzm/ Me (balm/1g: rub/117122! to f/m'r tart. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. A_,,. MAP OF CORSICA... AJACCIO (Plate 1.) AJACCIO (Plate II.) ST. ANTOINE (Plate 111,) OLMETO (Plate IV.) SARTE’NE (Plate V.) SCENERV NEAR SARTENE (Plate VI.) SARTENE (Plate VII.) PORT OF BONIFACIO (Plate VIII.) BONIFACIO (Plate IX.) PORTO VECCHIO (Plate X.) ON THE TRAVO (Plate XI.) PASS OF BAVELLA (Plate XII.) FOREST OF BAVELLA (Plate XIII.) FOREST OF BAVELLA (Plate XIV.) FOREST OF BAVELLA (Plate XV.) CARGHESE (Plate XVI.) LA PIANA (Plate XVII.) COAST NEAR LA PIANA (Plate XVIII.) GULF OF PORTO (Plate XIX.) SCENERY NEAR PORTO (Plate XX.) FOREST OF A'ITONE (Plate XXI.) FOREST OF VALDONIELLO (Plate XXIl.) FOREST OF VALDONIELLO (Plate XXlll.) VICO (Plate XXIV.) MONTE D’ORO (Plate XXV.) BOCOGNANO (Plate XXVI.) CORTE (Plate XXVII.) CORTE (Plate XXVIII.) CORTE (Plate XXIX.) VESCOVATO (Plate XXX.) BASTIA (Plate XXXI.) VALE OF LURI (Plate XXXII.) ST. FLORENT (Plate XXXIII.) ST. FLORENT (Plate XXXIV.) ILE ROUSSE (Plate XXXV.) CALVI (I’latl; XXXVI.) AVAPESSA (Plate XXXVII.) PONTE DEI. VECCHIO (Plate XXXVIII.) FOREST OF SORBA (Plate XXXlX.) FOREST 0F AlARlllANt) (Plate x1.) Pamwma/t’t‘r Pégurd Pl'éanzmi Pféarmm’ ., Piézmzmi Barlouwm; Pammmakfir Panuema/cér 13411707171117; 1))(ZaIOZ/7’é’au Pibzzraud Badanrmlz Sadat/wan 1911402171217: Badomrtzzt Pmmema/t'ér Pmmmzza/ci/ Pz'éarzma’ [)ibarami Piéartmd I’zlmwzmi Pz'ézznzmi [ ’zzzmt’mtzkir l’mmcma/cfir Pamzwna/uér Pamzw/zzz/air [75:11:th [‘z'éanmd Pégard Pz’bthld I’igard Badm/Vezm 5+“. 1). C (infer f7. 1). C 00])67 Pamwmn/fiér [ ’(l‘g‘m‘a’ 7, D. Coo/$07 7. l). Cull/567 7. 1), Confer '7. l). Con/my To face Inga I To fan Title-pagt'. ., Page 24 VIGNETTRS. LES iLES SANGUINAIRES CEME’J‘ERY NEAR AJACCIO HEAD-DRESS OF AJACCIO WOMEN NAPOLEON’S GROTTO VALLEY OE THE PRUNELLI BOCCA DI SAN GIORGIO TOMB AT OLMETO RIVER SCENERY NEAR SARTENE TOMBS AT SARTENE THE LION ROCK AT ROCCASPINA SCENERY IN SPEDALE FOREST CHAPEL NEAR SOLENZARO PLAINS OF FIUMORBO.,, FOREST OF BAVELLA FOREST OF BAVELLA ZONZA SANTA LUCIA DI TALLANO GROSSETO... TOWER OF PORTO PIGS SCENERY NEAR EVISA I, EVISA FOREST OF VALDONIELLO PINUS LARICCIOH. VICO THE ILEX TREE OE MELLILI ,, PASS OF MONTE ITORO CITADEL OF CORTE CASABIANDA ALERIA ERBALUNGA VALE OF LURI SENECA‘S TOWER BASTIA ALGAYOLA... . - CALVI IN THE VALLEY 01“ THE ASCO MOUEELON ROCKS ()F OHISONI SANTA MARIA ZIECHIT: ,, 7‘ fl. Coo/fer I’m; ”Ema/cc) r Bar/on rm 71 Bmz’ou rm 7/ :7, I). Caviar 7. D. Con/er 7, D. C (mfg;- 1 ’amzez/m/vir Bzzzz’aztrmzt l’amu’l/Ia/eir Badmn‘mzt [Sadam’mu Pamzemzz/eir 7. D. Cay/£7 7. DI C caper Baa/012717;” Badem‘mn Bade/17ml; 7. I). C ou/m‘ Badgm‘mn Brzdom‘mn lizzdmzrmn Baa/Unreal; Pall/Minafl’ér Badoura’mz Ba {aura/m 7‘ D, Coy/tr :7. D. Coo/:97 I’amzenmlvér Pamwma/I’fir Pmmema/zir PmmM/mkér f7. 1). Coo/MW [Manama/1177 Pamzema/cir I’zzmzema/cér [Ea-.{om'mu Endowed/I [fadunrczz/z lhzzz’am'mn CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. Passage from Nice to Corsica—Les lles Sanguinaires, and Entrance to the Gulf of Ajaccio— Cemetery—First Impressions on Landing at AjaccioiIIelix Tristis—Hotels—HOtel (le Londresr Dress of Corsicansi’l‘he Cours Grandval leautiful Scenery near the City— N apoleon‘s Grotto—Picturesque V egetation~VValk along the Shore to the Campo Santo- Loneliness of the Neighbourhood of Ajaccioiltalian Dialect in use by the People—whiter- mation about Carghe’sé, the Greek Colony in Corsica—Unfavourable \Veather~The Eastern Harbour of Ajaccio~Jf0mb of Pozzo di Borgo—Scattered Tombs or Monuments—The Place Letitia—M. Galloni d’Istria, his Assistance and Information—Speculations as to the Best Mode of Seeing all Corsica—Decide on Hiring a CarriagegThe Three Students, and their Purchases—Arrangements as to Route, Baggage, Ste—Celebration of Easter in Ajaccio— Views from the Walks near Napoleon’s Grotto, their great BeautyiPlague of Little Boys —\Iiss C. and her Interest in Corsica—Morning Studies above the Cours Grandval Broceio, or Cream-cheese—Gourdszhe House where Napoleon I. was Born illetters of Introduction I PAGE CHAPTER II. Trial Trip in a Carriage—The Lower Penitencier at CastelluccioiSt. Antonio, its Grand Scenery and Granite BouldersiVisits with Miss C.—The PrefectureAMouftlons——Leave Ajaccio for the South of the Island—Peter the CoachmaniMiss C.’s Pl'etllctlDl]s——-Canlp0 (lell’ ()rog Valley of the I’runelli, and Beautiful Scenes!Caumi“ Hotels” in Corsican Village?—Mrs. Paoloni and her Inn; its Accommodation, &c.iThe C01 (li San Giorgiov“Maquis” and \Vild Flowers#Valley of the TaravoiDescent t0 GrossctoiThe “ Hotel (les Antis ; ’7 Civil People and Good Fareillex TreesiQuiet Civility of CorsicansiBeautiful Drive by the River, and Ascent to Bicchisano——Winding Mountain Road to Casalabriva, and Descent to OlmetoiThe “Hotel”*I’icturesqueness of the Town and its SituationiTombsiolive Slopes and W oody Scenery—RainiVisit to :1 Sick EnglishmaniiLeave OlmetoirCharming Scenerinulf of Valinco#P1—opriano and its Port-V alley 0f the Tavaria Extremely fine Lantlscape—iLong Ascent to Sarte’neiDescription of the Towni“ Hetel d’Italie ”~Fatima of Sarténé»—Views of Sarténé and the ValleyiM. Vico, and his advice about farther TraVeL ling ; Bavella, &c.iConstant Work for the PaintergA Day by the Rocks of the Tavaria; )7 quisite Subjects for Picturengranite Rocks and Foliage by the Rivcr~Mourning in CorsicaiFatima’s Opinions about Household Cleanliness . . . . . , 28 CHAPTER III. Leave Sarténe'viLanrlscape at Early MorningiValley of the Ortolaercrrlure of Corsicai\\’illiging People of the Hotel—Dr. Montepagano, the MairevView of Ilonifacio from the Cliffs opposite, and great Beauty of its Aspect#The Conscripts’ Farewell FeteiStaircases at I'lonifacioiVValk with Dr. Montepagano, and Visit to the Convent of Ia Santa Trinitz‘tW Leave BonifacioiRoad—Groves of Olives-“Maquis”riVVild FlOWCI‘SiRCJClI l’orto Vecchitewlts Decayerl AppearanceiMadamc Gianelli’s Hotel M. Quenza, the Maire» xiv C(')NTE1\"I‘S. PACE \Vild and Beautiful Views of Porto Vecchio, its Gulf and HillsfiExcellent Roads in Corsica ; Security; Good Breedingr of People—Climate of Porto VecchioiVisit to the Forest of Spedale—Cork VVoods¥M. Quenza a good Companion—Blackbirdsfisccnery of the Moun< tains of Spedalefilts Pine Forests, and extensive ViewsfiReturn to Porto VecchiowEnto- mology in its Neighbourhoodfilts Reputed Unhealthiness in Summer~Leave Porto Vecchio ~The Bastia DiligencefiPlains of Fiumorbo, their broad and beautiful Character~The River Vabolesco, and the Mountains beyond—Migliacciara, its Hotel and Surrounding Sceneryi—Road through Cork \Voods and Thick Vegetation; Tracks of “Maquis”~(}ulfs of Pinarello and Tower of FauteafiRoad Alon;r the ShoreiFlowerseBirds~Porto Favone, its quiet BeautyiPeter the Coachman becomes DisagreeableisolenzarofiHotel of the Widow Orsola Information about the Forest of Bavella and the Road to AleriafiM. Mathieu— Beautiful River Scene and Chapel . , . . . . . . r . . 54 CHAPTER IV. Set out for Aleria—Pass the Fiumorbo RiverfiBeauty of Wide Plains at early MorningfiHamlet Of GhisonaccioaCTultivation of the Plain rounl the Site of AleriafiThe Penitencier of Casa- biandafiM. BenielliiPosition of ancient Aleria; its magnificent ProspectfiThe Tavignano and distant Mountain Range~Hospitable Reception at Casahianda~VValk towards the Baths of Pietrapola, and Return to Migliacciara The Bastia Diligence and Supper~Leave Miglia- CCiara The River TravofiBeautiful Eflects of Light and Shade on the Plains of Fiumorbo fiRetnrn to Solcnzar0~XVidow Orsola’s Hotel-Leave Solenzaro for the MountainsiGrand Scenery of the Pass to the Forests of BavellaiSteep Ascentfilmmense Hewn Pine Trunks riRocca PinsutafiPeter the C<)aclrinan¥Reacli the Becca di LaronefiMagnifrcent Amphi‘ theatre of Crags and Forest~Descent to the Forest of BavellafiThunderstorm and Rain* i Difficulty of Ascent to the Maison dell’ AlzaiPeter the PassionateriPleasant Reception by , i M. Mathieu~A Day in BavcllmiGlorics of the Forest—Leave the Maison dell’ Alza— Splendour of the Great Pine \Voods and Crags—Descent from Bavella to the Village of Zonza ——Pass through San Gavino and LeviéfiArrive at Santa Lucia di TallanoiHotel, and Visit from Don G. Giacomone~Dr. Bennet, of Mentone—Churches and Convents of Santa Lucia di Tallano—I‘Iospitable Breakfast at Don G. Ciacomone’s—His Family and House—Wines of Tallano—lieave Santa Lucia, and descend to the Valley of the TavariafiReturn to Sarte’néiPeter’s Homily upon Patience‘Fatiina’s Polished Floors—Her Confidences and MisfortunesfiView of Sartené from above the Town~Return by Propriano to OlmetofiVisit to Mr. B.—\Valk to Casalabriva~Meet Miss C.——Scenery of the TaravoiCippo the Goat ——Return to Grosseto , , . . . . , . r CHAPTER V. Ilex Woods of Grosseto—Return to CauroiMdme. Paoloni’s Good Cheer—Set out for Bastclicai> Peter the Coachman’s ill treatment of his Horses—-l\’linisters of Finance#\Voody Valley iCharcoal BurnersaExtent of “Maquis”iForest House and MilliPeter, being left to his own devices, cruelly beats his Horsesa'l‘hey back to the edge of the Precipice, into which they and the Carriage fall~Fulfilmcnt of Miss C.’s PredictionsfiAssistancc procured from the Forest HouseiThe Painter walks on to Bastelica, and returns with a Car and Mulesi Situation of Bastelica¥\\’ell-bred Children~Night passed in the Forest HouseiReturn by a Mule Car to Cauro and Ajaccioistay at the HOtel de Londresihl. Lambert—Plans to Visit the great Forests of A'itone, and Valdoniello, and the Greek ColonyiM. Ge'ry, the Préfet of Corsica Search for a second Carriage, and hire one from Jean Carburo the Vaudois iDinner at the PrefectureiLeave Ajaccio for the Forests and North-\Vest Coasts—Flora the Dog, and Domenico the new Driver~Asceut to, and View from San Sebastimww Calcatoggio: Descent to Sea Shore—Midday Halt~Valley and Plain of the Liamonei Sagona Promontory of Carghe'séiThe Village HoteliThe Greek Priest and the Colony# Cultivation of the neighbouring LandsiGreek seldom spoken now at Carghe’séiGrthh of CactusiPapa Miehele’s Information*Cardens and NightingalcsfiCheerful Aspect of Carghe’séeThe “Greek” Church—The Gendarmerie, and Introductions to Persons at the ForestsiLeave Carghe’séeiMountain Scenery, and Green “Maquis”—Magnificent Views about La PianaiThe Village, and its clean and good little Inn . . . . ; 109 CONTENTS. XV CHAPTER VI. PA( Glorious SceneryiLcave La Pianar—Iixtraordinary Pass among RocksfiDescent to Gulf of Porto Finest Portion of Corsican Coast Landscapei'l‘ower of Porto—Great Titnber\Vorlle View of the Plains and Mountains—Leave Casabianda—Memories of the Roman Campagnae~Ui1du~ lilting PlainWDCSCrted Tracts of CountryiL’ee Eaters~Approach to Cervione/Cultivatioiy7 Pleasant Lanes and Green FoliageiReach Cervione—Its I’ositioniThe Innfi~lxetuln to the ’11stia Ixoadgluin off towaids Vescov‘atoi\\all; up to the lowuw beautiful Appmach 7\tlntclotl§ Peasants 1et11111i11g IIOIDCfiPlCttIICSIIHC Appearance of Vescovato—M. Glavie g Lmlninr1 rellis C om eisation , . . . . . . . . . ‘ . 169 CHAPTER IX. Leave Vescovato—M Gra\ie7s SadnessiReturn to the Iiastia Ixoad Valley and Btltl‘VC of the Colo—l tang (le I3l“t1‘fll21—( ity of M (heat Cultivation, and Inciease of I opulation fl I)1l1frtnccsi(1emctcly—Aime at Lastia Lively Appea1ance of IiastiaiIIotel dc l‘Ianeei Description of the Town and I’ortiGourds and ChainsiPlans for the rest of (‘orsican Tours Xvi CONTENTS. PAGE —~A Day in the Vicinity of Bastia—l’hfficulty of Drawing in a High Road ~Leave Bastia for Cap Corse—Sea-shore Road—Distant,View of Elba—Capo Sagro—Siscow-Valley of Luri -~Village of Piazza di LuriiMadame Cervoui’s tidy and pleasant House—Luri is to be the farthCSt point I visit in the North of C013lCfl7‘Vlllte \Vine of Luri—Silkworms‘lndustry of Cap C01‘se«AVisit to Seneca’s Tower —A scent-~Great Beauty Of the Valley—Road to Pino— Tablet in the Rock-Capuchiu Convent—View from it—M. Tomei—Leave Piazza di Luri and return to Bastia . l , , r . . . . . . . . . 188 CHAPTER X. Leave BastiaiAseentiGardenstiew over the Plain of Bigugliai Range of the Nebbio Hills? Gulf of St. Florent Pass between RocksiTown of St. Florent—Hotel des Passageursi Arrival of IroncladsiSolitude around St. Flei-entil’icturesque Housestxeellent Cheer at M. Donzella’s InniNew Beds~—Leave St. Florent—Seenery 0n the North of Corsica? Approach to lie Rousse ; its Picturesque Bay and Rocksilnterior of the Town ‘Hotcl De GiovanniiThe demure \Vaitress—Leave ile RousseiAlgayola, its deserted appearancei Beautiful Scenery of the BalagnaiVillage of Lumio lay of Calvi, and approach to the Town 7Legend of the Imprudent BishopiForsaken Condition of Calvi ; its Fortifications—Civility of Corsican Innl [hi \ITUV¥}..»I.'.WPII fihflaflulln; Iia \ 1 9141 J 1; iIrIIll ‘ III “an. A, viz/OAS" [30 U72: as: <5 «.........,....-‘...._.—._ SCALE OF ENGLISH MILES. m 7 .6 ‘ n: - ’ , 47/105011]?le I {rpm (luau/z COPIED BY PERMISSION OF M. LE COMTE GRANDCHAMPS,FROM LA CORSE ET SA COLONISATION.&C. JOURNAL lLANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. CHAPTER I. Passage from Nice to CorsicafiLes lles Sanguinaires, and Entrance to the Gulf of Ajaccio—Cemctery‘ First Impressions on Landing at AjaccioiHelix Tristis—Hotels—Hotel de LondresiDress of CorsicansAThe Cours Grandval-—Beautiful Scenery near the City—Napoleon’s G rotto—Pieturesque Vegetation—\Valk along the Shore to the Campo Santo—Loneliness of the Neighbourhood of AjaeeioAItalian Dialect in use by the I’eople~Infornration about Carghe'sé, the Greek Colony in Corsica—Unfavourable \Veather~T he Eastern Harbour of AjacciogTomb of Pozzo di Eorgo— Scattered Tombs or MonumentsiThe Place LetitiaiM. Galloni d’Istria, his Assistance and Information—Speculations as to the Best Mode of Seeing all CorsicawDecide on Hiring a Carriage ~The Three Students, and their PurchasesiArrangeinents as to Route, Baggage, &c.—Celebra— tion of Easter in Ajaccio —Views from the \Valks near Napoleon’s Grotto, their great Beautyi Plague of Little Boys—Miss C. and her Interest in Corsica—Morning Studies above the Cours GrandvaliBroccio, or Creamcheese—GourdsiThe House where Napoleon I. was Born-vLetters of Introduction. April 8, I868.—It seems a pity to leave Cannes just as the most pleasant and beautiful season is beginning; but if a sketching tour is to be made in Corsica, this is the right and perhaps the only time to choose, at least if all parts of the island are to be visited; earlier, the snow would have made the higher districts unavailable to the landscape painter; later, the heat would prevent work being easy or possible. So I close my rooms in M. Guichard’s house, and say good—bye for the present to the cheerful town and its quiet bay, with the beautiful Esterelles on the horizon. Off by rail to Nice, whence every week a steamer starts for Corsica, going alternately to Ajaccio on the west coast, and to Bastia on the east. This week Ajaccio is the point, and the “Insulaire” is to leave the port at eight P.M., a roomy and well appointed steamboat, fares thirty-one and twenty—one francs for first and second class places. I go from the pier at seven, and on reaching the boat meet with a pleasant surprise in finding my friend J. A. 5., with Mrs. ]. S. and the little Janet already on board. Meanwhile clouds cover the sky#so bright and clear all day—the wind rises before we are fairly off at 8.30, and instead of the smooth sea, full moon- ' light, and other delicacies of a night voyage fondly hoped for, the most ugly forebodings are heard concerning a rough passage, whereby the landscape H 2 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [April 9. painter, always a miserable sailor, begins to repent of his decision to draw all Corsica, and, were it possible, would fain return to land. But it is too late; and the only alternative is to cultivate sulkiness and retreat instantly to bed ; the cabin will be at least a tolerably quiet one, for of passengers there are but few. Neither on deck is any living being left but two fat and perpetually backwards—and-forward trotting poodles. April 9,—The night voyage, though far from pleasant, has not been as bad as might have been anticipated. He is fortunate, who, after ten hours of sea passage can reckon up no worse memories than those of a passive condition of suffering—of that dislocation of mind and body, or inability to think straight— forward, so to speak, when the outer man is twisted, and rolled, and jerked, and the movements of thought seem more or less to correspond with those of the body. Wearily go by “ The slow sad hours that bring us all things ill,” and vain is the effort to enliven them as every fresh lurch of the vessel tangles practical or pictorial suggestions with untimely scraps of poetry, indistinct regrets and predictions, couplets for a new “ Book of Nonsense," and all kinds of inconsequcnt imbecilitiesaafter this sort— Would it not have been better to have remained at Cannes, where I had not yet visited Theoule, the Saut de Loup, and other places? Had I not said, scores of times, such and such a voyage was the last I would make P _ To-morrow, when “ morn broadens on the borders of the dark,” shall I see Corsica’s “snowy mountain tops fringing the (Eastern) sky P” Did the sentinels of lordly Volaterra see, as Lord Macaulay says they did, “ Sardinia’s snowy mountain—tops,” and not rather these same Corsican tops, “ fringing the southern sky P” Did they see any tops at all, or if any, which tops P Will the daybreak ever happen P Will two o’clock ever arrive P Will the two poodles above stairs ever cease to run about the deck P Is it not disagreeable to look forward to two or three months of travelling quite alone P Would it not be delightful to travel, as J. A. S. is about to do, in company with a wife and childP Does it not, as years advance, become clearer that it is very odious to be alone P Have not many very distinguished persons, CEnone among others, arrived at this conclusion P Did she not say, with evident displeasure—— “ And from that time to this I am alone, And I shall be alone until I (1iCV’?,,,,. Apri19.] PASSAGE FROM NICE TO CORSTCA. (A Will those poodles ever cease from trotting up and down the deck ? Is it not unpleasant, at fifty—six years of age, to feel that it is increasingly probable that a man can never hope to be otherwise than alone, never, no, never more ? Did not Edgar Poe’s raven distinctly say, “Nevermore ?” Will those poodles be quiet ? “ Quoth the raven, nevermore." Will there be anything worthseeing in Corsica ? Is there any romance left in that island ? is there any sublimity or beauty in its scenery ? Have I taken too much baggage ? Have I not rather taken too little? Am I not an idiot for coming at all ?— Thus, and in such a groove, did the machinery of thought go on, gradually refusing to move otherwise than by jerky spasms, after the fashion of mechanical Ollendorff exercises, or verb—catechisms of familiar phrases——— Are there not Banditti ? Had there not been Vendetta ? Were there not Corsican brothers? Should I not carry clothes for all sorts of weather? Must THOU not have taken a dress coat ? Had HE not many letters of introduction? Might WE not have taken extra pairs of spectacles ? Could YOU not have provided numerous walking boots 9 Should THEY not have forgotten boxes of quinine pills? Shall WE possess flea—powder? Could YOU not procure copper money? May THEY not find cream cheeses? Should there not be innumerable moufflons ? Ought not the cabin lamps and glasses to cease jingling ? Might not those poodles stop worrying ?——~— thus and thus, till by reason of long hours of monotonous rollingand shaking, a sort of comatose insensibility, miscalled sleep, takes the place of all thought, and so the night passes. At sunrise there are fine effects of light and cloud ; but, alas for my first impression of that grand chain of Corsican Alps about which I have heard so much, and which were to have been seen so long before reaching the island ! Nothing is visible at present beyond the leaden, unlovely waves, except a low line of dark gray-green coast, and above this there are glimpses from time to time between thick folds of cloud, disclosing for a moment mysterious phantom heights of far snow and rock, or here and there some vast crag dimly seen and less remote, imparting a sensation of being near a land of lofty mountains, but none of any distinetness or continuity of outline. R 2 4 ,IOURNAI. ()F A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSTCA. [April 9. As the steamer approaches the island, cape after cape is passed, and on one a village is seen, which the pilot tells me is Carghe'sé, the Greek settle— ment, of which I had heard from M. Prosper Merimée. The coast is deeply indented in bays and gulfs, and so far as cloud allows of seeing inland, seems remarkable for its greenness. About ten we arrive at the pointed rocky islets called Les iles San— guinaires, and passing between them and the Punto della Parata, enter the ' Gulf of Ajaccio.(1) The islands, on one of which there is a lighthouse, are picturesque; but the weather has now become cold and windy, and the gulf, presumed by the enthusiastic to be ever “ lake—like” and placid, is anything but calm or beautiful ; on the contrary, its aspect is gloomy, and its inquietude LES fuss sANGUINAiREs, disgusting. Thick clouds hide all the hills, and this beginning of Corsican travel is certainly far from propitious. we proceed along the north side of the gulf, and pretty near the shore. (1) The Gulf of Ajaccio is one of the most magnificent formed by nature . . . Its sheltered and excellent port might become one of the first arsenals of Europe. The capital City of Corsica is, however, but an embryo, placed in a desert, with numerous new promenades, detached rows of Government buildings, and hardly any streets, at garrison, eniployés, and very few inhabitants. In spite of a certain pompous exterior, Ajaccio, which should Contain a population of 40,000, does not succeed, &c.' Vale/3V, L, p. 152. Ajaccio lies at the northern end of a gulf reckoned among the finest in the world. Its two coast lines are of unequal length; the northern one is shorter, and runs on in a westerly direction as far as the I’unto della Parata, a point of land opposite which are the lsole Sanguinarie ; the southern side of the gulf trends from N. to S. with many curves, as far as Cape Muro, sailing round which you come into the bay of Valinco. . . . The new town, with the citadel, was founded by the Bank of St. George of Genoa, in the year I492.~—Grzgm’0m‘zm, p. 346. The Port of Ajaccio, situated at the head of the gulf of the same name, is ineontestahly the greatest April 9.] ARRIVAL AT AJACCIU. 5 Close at the water’s edge is a line of buildings, some so small as to be not unlike bathing machines; others re- sembling tiny dwellings, or rather those little places of worship, Ebene— zers or Houses of Sion, observable in many English villages; but these are neither. They are tombs, small chapels, or sepulchral monuments, forming the Campo Santo, or ceme- tery of Ajaccio, (1) but the pilot tells me that it is a more general usage in Corsica for the inhabitants to bury their relatives either on their own family property or in some conspicuous spot near their dwellings, thus never removing far from the living the memories of those who were with them in life. Presently we near the head of the gulf, Where Ajaccio stands out gloomy and gray on a point of land that forms an inner and an outer harbour. The city does not appear promising CEMETERY, N ILAR AJACCIU. in a picturesque point of View, though on this boisterously windy morning, in Corsica. It would easily shelter a whole fleet, and the bottom is excellent throughout. It includes three anchorages ; one at the side of the citadel of Ajaccio, the second opposite the city, the third at the head of the gulf, 1,500 m‘étres from Ajaccio. ——Gv’amz’z/zmuflr, p. 90. The Gulf of Ajaccio, like many others, has been compared to the Bay of Naples; but, I think, without much reason, except for the colouring lent by a brilliant and transparent atmosphere to both sea and land. iFflTL’J‘IL’I‘, p. 217. [I agree with Mr. Forcster.——E. L.] (l) The neighbouring heights of Ajaccio are covered with detached little white cupolas, standing picturesquely above vineyards and other vcrdure. These cupolas, which have something of an oriental look, and recall Mussulman cemeteries, serve as tombs for different familiesisuch is the custom of the country—011 their own land. The brightness of these little buildings contrasts sadly with the gloom of the houses of the living.— VII/my, i p. 181. - , ..;.~*r.:-:?.~.,f ‘55 7‘ v. A“ " ’L...‘ 6 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [April 9. when all is sombre and sunless, and when the surrounding scenery is blotted and half hidden by clouds, it is premature to judge; finer weather may change my opinion. i Before eleven we are anchored not far from the city; boats come off to take the passengers, and I fancy that every one of these leave the “ Insulaire” with pleasant recollections of its clean and good arrangements, and its careful and attentive captain and pilot, possibly, too, of the pair of funny little poodles continually trotting about its deck. On a nearer approach Ajaccio(1) does not seem to me to present any special beauty or interest ; no charm either of colour or architecture in public or other buildings salutes the eye of the painter. There are lines of respect- (1) Ajaccio is the prettiest town in Corsica. It has many very handsome streets and beautiful walks, a citadel, and a palace for the Genoese governor. The inhabitants of this town are the genteelest people in the island, having had a good deal of intercourse with the French. In Ajaccio are the remains of a colony of Greeks settled in Corsica, &C.—BDS’ZU[‘[[, p. 25. The general plan of the town is very simple. One broad street leads from the sea to the barracks ; another nearly as wide, but much shorter, cuts the former at right angles ; besides these there are many subordinate streets extremely narrow and dirty. —177t'/;.r0n, p. 3. Ajaccio is situated on a tongue of land, the point of which is occupied by the castle. Next to this follows the town, extending also in both directions along the gulf. . . The houses are high, but without any fine architecture; the gray Venetian blinds, which are preferred in Corsica instead of the bright green ones of Italy, are characteristic features; they give a dull and monotonous expression to the houses. All the more considerable houses of the Corso stand on the right hand side (entering from the Bastia road), the little theatre, the prefecture, and the barracks. I was surprised by the rural stillness in all these streets of Ajaccio; their names only appeal to the traveller, and tell the story of Napoleon—Corns and Rue Napoleon, Rue Fesch, Rue Cardinal, Place Letitia, Rue Roi de Rome. . . Parallel with the Cours Napoleon runs the Rue Fesch ; the former leads on to the broad Place du Diamant, which commands a fine view of the gulf and its southern shore; the latter ends in the market-place and leads to the harbour. These, and one which runs at right angles to the other two, are the chief streets of Ajaccio; small by-lanes unite them, and traverse the tongue of land. . . Ajaccio is a land and sea town at the same timemyou live in the midst of nature—A Grtgm'ow'ztr, p. 347. Ajaccio is the oldest town in Corsica. In 1420 Alphonso of Arragon was welcomed there At that time it stood further towards the end of the gulf, but for reasons of health it was rebuilt in its present situation about 1490. In 1506 it was ineffectually besieged by pirates, and taken by the French in 1553. In 1794 Ajaccio was taken by I’aoli, and evacuated by the English in 1796. Napoleon I. has endowed his native town with benefits ; he created its fountains, constructed its quays, and finished the road from Ajaccio to Bastia. . . . The softness of the climate, the beauty of the gulf, the purity of the sky, and the majestic aspect of the mountains which surround and shelter it from the north, all indicate it as a haunt of those—idle 0r invalid—who love to frequent the cities of the south. In summer the gulf and land breezes temper the heat, and sea-bathing would be at Ajaccio as salubrious as at Cette or Marseilles. During the night the atmosphere is of an incomparable clearness. and the air from the mountains brings with it the perfumes of the “ maquis.” In one word, Ajaccio unites all that can attract and retain strangers ; all that is required is to embellish it, &c. . . Fashion, good hotels, and doctors in repute, would do the rest. . . . It is difficult to meet elsewhere with more picturesque and varied scenery : the highest mountains of Corsica stand like an amphitheatre around the Gulf of Ajaccio, the loftiest and farthest peaks cutting the sky in sharp and defined lines ; the landscape, severe and grand, is enlivened by the boats of the gulf and the smoke of the brushwood or maquis from fires lighted by shepherds 0n the hills. Sepulchral Chapels relieve the dark verdure of the myrtle and olive, and the snowy summits of the d’Uro and Rotondo rising afar off complete this magnificent picture.— Grana’r/zmnpr, p. 25. The commercial future of Ajaecio depends on the utilisation of the valleys of the Gravona and the l’runelli ; but, separated as this city is by the highest mountains from the eastern side of the island, its influence on Corsica will always be limited. The great size of the gulf makes it difficult to defend, April 9.] FIRST IMPRESSIONS ON LANDING AT AJACCIO. 7 able—looking, lofty, and bulky houses—they may be likened to great ware— houses, or even to highly magnified dominoes—with regular rows of windows singularly wanting in embellishment and variety; but there is no wealth of tall campanile or graceful spire, no endless arches or perforations or inde- scribable unevennesses, no balconies, no galleries, as in most parts of Italy,_in the dull lines of buildings here; no fragmentary hangings, no stripes, no prismatic gatherings of inconceivable objects, far less any gorgeous hues, as in eastern worlds. Perhaps the place I thought of at first as being likest to Ajaccio was Rapallo, on the Riviera di Levante, a town, if I remember rightly, one of the least gay or ornamented on that beautiful coast. Still more striking is the absence of colour, and of any peculiarity of costume in the dress of both sexes.(1) Almost all are in black, or very dark brown, and, to a new comer who has travelled in the East and South, everything has a dull and commonplace, not to say a mournful, air. The boatmen who convey me, my man, and luggage, to the shore, are quiet and solemn; and, on reaching the landing-place—ah, viva! once more the solid ground l—the sober propriety of demeanour in the groups standing round is remarkable; the clamour and liveliness of an Italian port, the wildness and splendour of an Eastern quay are alike wanting; the coun— tenances of both men and women are grave, and the former have an inactive and lazy manner; so that, whether or not I am prejudiced by the damp and overcast gloom of the day, my first impressions of the Gulf of Ajaccio and of the capital of Corsica are not of a lively character. Among the notes I have had forwarded to me by the last post from friends in England who knew of my coming to this island, are some written by a naturalist, who mentions, among other creatures peculiar to Corsica, the Helix irz'slz'r; and, in my present mood, I feel that the melancholy snail was right when he chose a sympathetic dwelling. \ No trouble whatever is given at the Custom House; 'the officials are civil and obliging. I walk on up a broad street, leading to an open place or square—where, or near which, I am told, the best hotels are to be found ——in search of a lodging; to the right a street stretches along the quay, to the left appears to stand the more populous part of the city. On the way See. The future development and prosperity of Ajaecio depend on the drainage and cultivation of the plains of Campo dcll’Oro, and on the impetus given to the neighbourhood by the presence of rich or invalid visitors.iGram/r/zmlzgfir, p. 27. The cathedral, finished about 1585, in the form of a Greek cross, with a majestic cupola, recalls the good Italian architecture of that period. They show in it the font of white Luni marble where Napoleon was baptised the 215t of July, 1771, nearly two years after his birth, a custom not uncommon in Corsica —Vrz[t’7'y, i., p. 156. (l) In the dress of the men of Corsica, the pointed velvet bonnet has almost entirely disappeared, and has given place to the woollen cap, to which the round cap of cloth is fast succeeding. The dress of the women is no longer what it was, the Corsican cloth, velvet, &c., have given way to woollens oi finer texture or muslins, and it is rarely only that in the present day women are met with dressed in their original and picturesque costume—Gallet/i, p 54. <41//,/,4~..V Imam/w ,,;u_..,. 4“,”, .. 2 ,L, . 8 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [Apr-119. I pass a large fountain, with lions; how gloomily dressed are the women filling their water—jars! but they carry them gracefully, and are well made—— their features regular, and rather of a Greek type, except that the nose is longer.(‘) At the top of the street (the Rue Napoleon) is the Place du Diamant (the large open space above alluded to), three—sided; the fourth, open to the sea, containing the equestrian statue of Napoleon and those of his four brothers. And now, for the weather shows signs of clearing, the opposite or southern side of the gulf is for the first time visible. Out of this Grande Place du Diamant the Cours Napoleon opens. In it are barracks, the Prefecture, the theatre, the post, &c., and the Hotel de l’Europe; and at one of its corners stands the Hotel de France, to which I go, but only to find that it contains no vacant rooms. My next trial was at the Hotel de Londres, which stands in a small street at the north—west corner of the Place du Diamant, and is by no means so well situated as the last I had entered. Each of these inns occupies a single flat in a large square building. Here, although the entrance and staircase are very objectionable, being extremely dirty, and encumbered by small children who cling parasitically to the steps and balustrades, and though it is at once evident that the arrangements of the floor used as the hotel leave much to be desired, I find one very clean room looking to the front for myself, and one on the other side of the establishment for my servant. These are the only two unlet; my own is far too near the kitchen to be agreeable—abundant noises, odours, and flies may be expected—yet, for one may go farther and fare worse, I order my luggage to be brought up—stairs, and settle myself for a sojourn of some days, the more readily that my first impressions of the owners of the inn are prepossessing. Valery’s volume is the only book I have with me as a guide to Corsica, and from that I gather that Ajaccio will be my best point as head—quarters while I remain in the island. I P.M.—My host, M. Ottavi, has produced an excellent breakfast—fresh whitings, omelette, the famous broccio or cream cheese of Corsica, &c.; and it must be allowed that the assiduity of the landlord and his wife go far to atone for the shortcomings of their “salles a manger"—-—as various many-tabled roomlets or boxes are with dignity named. Other apartments there are, and of a larger size, but these are used by officers of the garrison, and other regular pensioners of the restaurant?) Since breakfast, I have (1) Occasionally one meets with handsome females, but they cannot generally be called so. They have, however, eyes of singular brightness, and long glossy hair. 786725071, p. 36. (2) It may be stated here that I had no reason to repent my decision, and that I cannot speak in too high terms of the Hotel de Londres, or of its proprietors, M. and Mdme. Ottavi. Their constant atten» tion to the wants of their inmates as far as the limited nature of their hotel allowed, the extreme cleanli- ness of their rooms, the good qualities of their cookery, their reasonable charges, and their untiring civility and cheeriness, it is a pleasure to remember. Nor should the first-rate coffee of Madame be for- gotten (the Ottavi had long kept an hotel at Algiers), nor the industry and good humour of Boniface, the waiter. April 9.] DRESS OF CORSICANS. , 9 been out to the Prefecture; but M. Géry, the Pre’fet, to whom M. Merimée has kindly procured me two introductory letters, is in France; so I leave these at the office of the Secretary—general, M. Galloni. The Prefecture, which stands back from the Cours Napoleon, in a garden, is the handsomest public building I have seen in Ajaceio. The backs of the houses here have many picturesque accompaniments denied to their bald staring fronts; from my window in the hotel, as I look at the back or north side of the houses fronting the sea on the Place du Diamant, there are clusters of wooden balconies, little flights of glittering pigeons, and pigeon—houses to suit, mysterious zig—zag lines of jars up and down the walls, unaccountably linked together like the joints of some mighty serpent, and various other small incidents of interest. On the whole, however, I feel happy that there is little or nothing for me to do in the way of street-scenery drawing at Ajaccio. HEAD-DRESS OF AJACCIO \VOMEN. The day becomes finer; crossing the spacious place by the equestrian statue of the first Emperor Napoleon, I go down to the sea by a broad car— riage road, which, at its outset, is sheltered by a pleasant avenue of plane trees, and afterwards leads on to the Capella de’ Greci, and to the public cemetery which I had remarked in steaming up the gulf. I wander on—as is my way in coming to new places—in order that by seeing a little on all sides, the best sites for making characteristic drawings may be ascertained; along this shore there are many beautiful bits, but chiefly about the small mortuary chapels, where cypress—trees and various shrubs flourish, and in the frequent combination of granite rocks with the sea and opposite gulf shore. Very few people seem about, though the city is so close by; the cut of the peasant— women’s dress is much like that of the Ionians, the skirt full, with many small plaits or folds, the boddice and short jacket close—fitting—a graceful costume, but in nearly all cases of a dark hue, brown or purple, more usually black. The elder women— many of whose faces recall the portraits of Madame Mere mostly wear a black handkerchief tied closely over the head; but the younger, 2.1/49. ,v AL IO JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [April 9. who are not so frequently pretty as they are particula1lyg 0“,1accful wear two handl ke1chiefs, the one tied round the forehead and fastened behind the head (and of this kerchief only a portion of the front is seen), the other over the top of the head, fastened below the chin and falling on the back of the neck in a point like the head—dress represented in old Italian pictures. As for the men, they have a look as of porters or tradesmen out of work, carrying their hands in their pockets with what seems an idle and disconsolate air, and are in no wise picturesque or remarkable. Leaving the shore drive‘for there is a broad and good road all along the sea-side for some miles—I ascend by a short cut to the Cours Grandval, a noble promenade leading from the Place du Diamant, opposite to the Rue Napoleon, of which in fact it may be called a continuation, since from its termination you may see the harbour and the quay at the other extremity, to the hills which shelter Ajaccio on its west side. This Cours Grandval is really fine; a wide carriage road with a footpath on each side, and in its position, high above the sea, most beautiful ; and now that the clouds are lifting, disclosing a vast semicircle 0f lofty mountains at the head of the gulf, besides a pro— longed line of lower heights on its southern side, I begin to foresee that my opinions concerning Corsican scenery have yet to be formed—all the more that as I walk on I find a magnificent luxuriance of vegetation filling up, not only every portion of the gardens and of parts of the uncultivated space 011 each side of the Cours Grandval, but of the hills beyond, where a profusion of olive growth waves low down, and a rich carpeting of underwood or shrubbery clothes their sides higher up. Close to this beautiful, but appa— rently little—frequented promenade, stand the four houses lately built, known as “ Les Cottages ” (and calling at one of these, Dr. Ribton’s, I learn that my friends the J S’s are at the Hetel de l’Europe). Nearly Opposite these four dwellings stands the fine house of M. Conti, Receveur—ge’ne’ral; and beyond them a large convent school seems at present nearly the only other building 011 the Cours Grandval, except a solitary house at its termination, where, so to speak, the city ends and the country begins. Going down again to the shore, I wander on to the Capella de’ Greci.(‘) Now that the features of this gulf scenery are beginning to be discernible, though even yet the summits of all the higher mountains are cloud—covered, a grand and lofty serenity seems its character. Somehow, a kind of lonely (l ) F1om the pietty chuich Del Carmine, Called the G1eel< chuieh,the1e is a superb View of the Gulf, the lles Sanguinan es, and the mountains, which stietch as fa1 as Cape Muro The Chuich has its name because in its neighbomhood weie huiied many Greeks \\ he fought in a Genoese a1my defeated by the Co1sicans. It was built at the commencement of the last centuiy by Paul Emile Pozzo tli Bongo. —sz[ery,i. ,.p 168. Charming is the walk 011 the northern side of the gulf, along the strand. . . . . There are many small chapels scattered about, of manifold shapes, round, quadrangular, domed, in the form of a sarcophagus, in that of a temple, surrounded by white walls, and among cypresses and weeping willows. There the dead have their country seats ; they are family vaults, their position on the coast in full View Apr-Hg] \VALK BY THE SHORES OF THE GULF. II sadness forms part of the landscape, and it is difficult to realise the fact that i one is in the near neighbourhood of a city. The vegetation is surprisingly ‘ beautiful and vigorous, especially that of the cactus, broom, cistus, myrtle, asphodel,.and lentisk; the almond-tree in full flower, and the fig—tree in leaf, showing how much warmer is the climate here than at Cannes or Nice, , where as yet not a leaf of these trees is out. i But—I speculate professionally—what can I make of Ajaccio itself as a drawing? What though some of the very best views of the city are to be i found along this walk by the shore and towards the end of the Cours I Grandval, how are its blocks of houses seven stories high, square as ware— houses, white evenly spotted with black, to be wrought into material for the i] picturesque P Possibly, at sunrise, when the light will be behind the buildings «l and all their poverty of good detail hidden, its general form may then be ‘ utilised as a single dark mass. Returning to the town and through the Place du Diamant, I walk along Grandval and the Rue Napoleon; from it, numerous narrow lanes descend to is more appearance of life in this broad street than in any other part of the city, I find little to admire in its uniform lines of tall houses, and am not sorry to come to the end of it, opposite what needs must be, when the mountains l the Cours Napoleon, which runs eastward and at right angles to the Cours i l l the inner or east harbour, and to the Rue Fesch. But although perhaps there ll are unveiled—for all are now once more invisible—very grand views of the Gulf—head and the surrounding shores. But how rural now that I have explored most parts of Ajaccio—does i this city seem! How little activity and movement in its streets! How abounding with children, and how destitute of men I How scantily furnished is the sea with craft 1 How lazy seem a great portion of its inhabitants! The brisk little French soldiers alone redeem the dulness of the town scenes, their bright red trousers almost the only gleam of colour in a world of black and brown ; their lively walk and discourse nearly the only signs of gaiety. City, quotha ! might it not, 0 sympathetic Helix irz'sfz's, rather be called a village ? Although my friends were out when I called at the Hotel de l’Europe, the landlady begged me to see all the rooms in her inn, consisting, like the other hotels here, of one large flat containing various apartments. The situation of the Hetel de l’Europe certainly has advantages which the de ‘ Londres cannot boast of; but for all that, I do not regret having selected ll to live in the latter. , i" At 6.30, having prowled and wandered till too tired to search any longer of the beautiful gulf among the green bushes. and their elegant form, produce a very cheerful and foreign picture. The Corsican is not fond of being buried in the public churchyard ; agreeably to the ways of the ancient patriarchs, he desires to be interred in his own land, among his own dear ones. From this cause the whole island is dotted over with little mausoleuins, which Often enjoy the most charming situations. and enhance the pieturesqueness of the lilllleCt‘tpC.**(;/‘L$’U7’U’UII4J‘, 1). 404. 12 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [April IQ. for the picturesque, I return to Ottavi’s, to rest, write, and think what can be extracted from Ajaccio as food for pencil and paint. The Gulf mountain lines seem unmanageable from their great length, and difficult to represent except by portions; but perhaps a clear sky may show things differently to—morrow : “ Bakalum” (we shall see), as the Turk says; and being here for a purpose, all that is possible in topographic illustration must be tried. By the crowding of officers and others here, and by the narrowness of the allotted space, I am reminded of the inn at Cattaro in Dalmatia, and of its ,3» \tW—r’xv— NAPOLEONis GROTTO. multitudinous frequenters and noises. The cook here, however, is a loftier artist than he at the foot of the Montenegrin mountain; so the discomfort has its compensations. After the dry air of Cannes and Nice, how warm and damp does this feel I April 10, 5 A.M.—It is blowing a hurricane, and pouring with rain. A pleasant beginning for study in Corsica, O painter! But at seven the rain ceases, and gleams of sunshine gladden the gulf. I walk out, up to the end of the Boulevard or Cours Grandval, to make if possible a commencement of work, but find the wind far too high for any drawing. The solitary house, the last on the left hand on the road, now uninhabited, belonged, they tell me, to Cardinal Fesch, and here at one period April 10.] SCENERY NEAR NAPOLEON’S GROTTO. 13 the Buonaparte family resided during summer, the great detached group of granite rocks a little farther on, known now by the name of “Napoleon’s Grotto,” being, I suppose, at that time within the bounds of the garden.(‘) At present these form, one may say, the terminus of the Cours Grandval, and are very picturesque, their gray sides shaded by light olive trees, and surrounded by a wild growth of cactus and all sorts of verdure. At this hour the grotto, and all the neighbourhood of the old Buonaparte house, are gay with French soldiery, and resounding with bugles and drums, this being the practising ground for those art—students. From all about this spot are seen some of the best views of Ajaccio, and of the central chain of mountains, for the ground rises from the city to the end of the Cours Grandval, and commands most extensive prospects eastward; the city, wholly in shadow, looks its best in early morning, as I guessed it would. Beyond the grotto, winding gravel paths lead downward to a most charming little dell; you descend through a wilderness of heath, cistus, broom, and asphodel, till you come to gardens of fig and olive, when, passing one or two tiny cottages, you find yourself on the farther side of the little valley, whence other pleasant paths cross and border the hill sides down to the Campo Santo on the sea-shore carriage—road. Everywhere throughout these rambles there is a sensation of freedom—rarely do you see a creature— nothing interrupts the quiet. A flock of sheep and a shepherd are the only living things I have seen since I left the Cours Grandval; the sheep are the first I have met with in Corsica, diminutive little beasts, all jetty black; black, too, is the dress of their guardian. On by the sea to the Campo Santo; the tombs which had appeared like dwellings from the steamer are very numerous and of every kind, from the large plain or ornamented chapel to the simple headstone or cross. Generally they exhibit good taste, often standing in a small detached garden, walled or railed round, and planted with shrubs and flowers. Many of these plots of ground are evidently kept with care. Beyond them a large space is marked (1) At about a mile from Ajaccio one meets with two stone pillars, the remains ofa doorway lead- ing up to a dilapidated country-house, formerly the property of Cardinal Fesch. . . This house was generally the summer residence of Madame Buonaparte and her family. Surrounded almost by the wild olive, the cactus, the clematis, and almond, is a very singular and isolated granite rock, called Napoleon’s Grotto. . . The remains of a summer-house beneath the rock are still visible; the entrance to it is nearly closed by a very luxuriant fig-tree. It was once Napoleon’s favourite retreat, in which he fol- lowed his studies during the vacation allowed by the college of Brienne.ib’mm;z, p. 9. I went to see the Casone, a large garden covered with olive trees and Indian figs, and in it is a grotto which enjoys some celebrity. Formed by great rocks, opposite the sea, and not unpieturesque, it has been held as the spot where Napoleon used to meditate as an infant, and some enthusiastic travellers have Visited it as such. I am sorry to destroy their illusions, but the Casone, an old Villa of the jesuits, which after their suppression passed to the State, was never possessed by the Buonaparte family except as national propertyil/zz/cry, i., p. 168. Near Ajaccio, in the old Jardin Casone, belonging to the Buonaparte family, is the grotto formed of great blocks of granite stone, where Napoleon I., when a child, often passed whole days studying his 165$0l15i”6'fl[/€/[/7 p. 150. I4 IOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA [April 10. ~ i out for a public cemetery, the practice of separate sepulchres in the vicinity of cities being. I am told, now prohibited, or about to be so in a short time. Passing these homes of the dead, the road runs on towards the Iles San— r- guinaires, here in full view, but wind and cloud forbid all drawing to—day, so, giving up further exploring, I return ; only two or three peasants in rude carts, 5 and some half a score on foot, all dressed in triste black, passing me on my way back to the city, so quiet and little frequented are these environs of Ajaccio. At the Hotel de l’Europe I find my friends the J. S.’s preparing to migrate to—day to Dr. Ribton’s. The longer I stay in Ajaccio the more I am \ surprised at the crowds of children, not so much in its streets as in the l passages and doorways and on the stairs of the houses. These they lay claim to as their own particular property, and seem to think it odd if you ask them to allow you to pass; nevertheless, it should be added that these little urchins are invariably civil and good—humoured. Another surprise to me is that everybody talks an Italian which is quite easy to understand, especially by one used to the dialects of Southern Italy——a facility of com— munication I was not prepared for, as I had heard the Corsican dialect described as a mere jargon, whereas it is not at all so. 11 A.M.—To breakfast in one of the small salle a manger boxes. M. Ottavi is Corse, but has passed most of his life in Algiers; Madame is of Strasbourg, but a Pole in origin: both spare no pains to please, and are profuse of good food and wine—the latter a strong red sort, and not unlike a Burgundy in flavour. An elderly Corsican breakfasts in the same “salle,” who asks what part of the island I intend to see; having, as yet, no fixed plan, I mention the Greek colony of Carghe’se as one of the places I had some idea of visiting first. “But," says my acquaintance, “you would find that place 277316!” (To myself I added, Helix Zrz'sz‘z's/ If the capital is lz’z'sz‘e, why not the remote Villages ?) One of the Carghe’se’ Greeks, it seems, has married this gentleman’s daughter, and he obligingly offers me an introduction to him. “You will, however,” he adds, “find no costumes in the present day at Cargllésé; the people there, who originally came from Maina, in the Morea, have for a long time past intermarried with Corsicans, and, although among themselves they keep up their own language, they can hardly, except in that one particular, be any longer called Greek.” This is disappointing intelligence; for I have been looking forward to brilliant Greek costumes as a set-off to the paucity of colour here. I decline the friendly offer of this gentleman—a M. Martinenghi—to inscribe my name in the cercle, or club; for, should the weather become clear, there will be little enough time for drawing before June, none at all extra for “ dawdling ” r “ society y’——terms at certain times nearly equivalent.(1) (‘) [I have been sorry since my return from Corsica, that my short stay there did not admit of seeing more of Corsican society ; what little I had the advantage of knowing was pleasant, hearty, and full of April 10.] EASTERN SIDE OF AJACCIO. IS [Vows—The air is as damp and chill as it used to be at Mountain Civitella di Subiaco after a two days’ rain; but I would it were as certain as it was wont to be there, that weeks of clear sunshine would follow this “ soft weather ”—there, where rain was so regularly succeeded by a bursting forth of light over that wild space of landscape from Olevano to Segni, one of the most beautiful scenes I have ever known. How would it be to pass whole months here, as of old one did in those Italian hills? Would isolation and undisturbed study atone now, as then, for the want of society and much else? Meanwhile, I write out all M. Prosper Merimée’s and Mr. Hawker’s notes for use, till, the rain holding up, I try to see the Secretary-general, but he is iizdzlvposz‘o, and in bed. So I come back and give myself up to the fixed conviction that this is truly the land of the Hell}: z‘rz‘sfz'y, the melancholy snail. Later, a most violent wind blows; yet who can stay for ever indoors? So I set out eastward, to explore some new ground, with G., cloaks, and a folio, in case there should be an opportunity of pencilling anything beyond the blackness of attire of men, women, and children, and the multitudinous congregating of the latter at doors and on stairs. All about the eastern or inner harbour many interesting drawings might be made, weather per- mitting; but the boats partake of the unpicturesqueness of all things artificial in Corsica. Oh, for a few of the beautiful rainbow-tinted boats of Malta or Gozo! But here, like the goats and the sheep, and the dress of the human beings, the boats, too, are all black! (Mems., zoological and others :—Observe 1st. Goat tied to tail of a horse; goat greatly disquieted by being obliged to gallop. 2ndly. Swallows in small parties, flitting about, battling with the fierce wind, or sitting puffily—ruffled upon the telegraph wires, saying, “ We have come to Corsica too soon.” 3rdly. Many of the peasant women hereabouts wear low-crowned straw hats, like those in use at Antibes, but not so flat.) High up, on one of the many hills—for the Gulf of Ajaccio is entirely backed by heights—is a lofty monument, and a wayside man informs one that it is the tomb of Count Andrea Pozzo di Borgo,(‘) who was a native intelligence and good taste ; and by the warm welcome I received at the only two gentlemen’s houses where I stayed, I am convinced that the old hospitable virtues of the island are unalterediE. L] (l) The house of the ancient family of M. Pozzo di Borgo is solid and well situated; they show the one-windowed room where he was born.~— Valcry, i., p. 177. Pozzo di Borgo died in Paris, February I 5, 1842.777 Gx'rgqizmvizzs. Two grenadiers deserted from a French regiment, auxiliaries of the Genoese, and fled to Alata, living in the Macchie, but secretly sustained by a goatherd. M. de Mozieres, colonel of the regiment, having obtained a clue to their hiding-place, went to the shepherd’s house, and interrogated his son Giuseppe on the subject, the young man finally accepting four louis d’ors as a bribe to betray the retreat of the deserters, which he did by pointing with his finger to certain rocks behind which they lay. The father of the young man, returning to his cabin, learned the treason, and having prepared his son for death shot him with his own hand.Haggai/will; p. 397. [One of M. Prosper Merimee’s beautiful tales is founded on this incident—1C. L] 16 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [April 11. of Alata, a village adjoining. Turning off from the main or Bastia road, one less wide leads to the left, and I follow it, as somewhat more sheltered ; it goes, they tell me, to two large convict establishments or pmz'z‘aizcz'w’s, called Castelluccio, and beyond that to Milelli, another old Buonaparte country house; also to the chapel and rocks of St. Antoine, and to one or two more distant Villages. And if there is no possibility of work, owing to the wind, at least this walk is interesting, as showing much beautiful land- scape all around—in depths of olive—grown valleys, in cultivation near at hand, and in glimpses of the eastern mountains, where, amid gloomy cloud, many grand and transient effects gleam out. The peasants, or, possibly gentry (for all who pass me are dressed alike), are mostly riding the wiry little ponies for which the island is noted. Some of these persons wear hood-cloaks, like those used in Crete; but generally they wear black cloth caps, black beards, and black velveteen dresses. Far down in the leafy valleys, and high up on the hill-sides, everywhere peer forth from the olive or ilex groves solitary tombs, many of them domed, and very much like Mahometan welys; others are quaint little temple-like structures, or plain chapels. (Sec notes pp. 5 and 10.) But it becomes too tiresome to fight on against this furious wind, so by 5 PM. I am again back at the city, and sit awhile with the S’s—all three of us indulging in disrespectful remarks on the climate of Ajaccio in April, 1868, and half wishing we had never Visited the native land of Helix Zi’z'xz‘z'r. Last of all I went to the Piazza Letitia, one side of which is formed by what was the family dwelling of the Buonapartes when Napoleon I. was born, in 1769. But this, the very greatest lion of Ajaccio, it is too late to see this evening; yet one cannot contemplate even the outside of the house without feelings of singular interest. Nor, till now, did I know that the family occupied a palazzo of such size and of so much appearance of well—to—do condition. April II, 5 A.M.—All is cloud and mist, and small seems the chance as yet of settled fine weather, though rain has fallen all night. But it clears later, as it did yesterday, and allows me a couple of hours for drawing at the end of the Cours Grandval, and at the Grotto of Napoleon, where the lichen-grown granite boulders are a picture, and the growth of vegetation on all sides charming. My work, however, is cut short by a sharp storm of hail, and for nearly ten minutes a fall of sleety snow makes the grotto a welcome refuge. (As usual, they tell me “such weather in April was never before known in Ajaccio l” but was not the same said to me, April 12, 1864, concerning the weather in Crete?) At 9, to the Prefecture, where I find M. Galloni d’Istria, the Secretary- general. This gentleman, whose time during the absence of M. 10 Prefet is April 11.] HOW TO SEE ALL CORSICA. I7 so fully occupied that I hardly expected him to be able to devote much atten- 3 tion to the casual bearer of introductory letters, receives me with the greatest . friendliness ; and the interest he takes in my desire to see Corsica thoroughly, i and to portray its scenery, is very encouraging; for the advice of one so inti- mately acquainted with every part of the island is invaluable. He suggests I should go to Sarténé, Bonifacio, and Porto Vecchio (whence I may visit 1 the forests of Spedale named to me by M. Merimée), then cross the mountains J from Solenzaro, and return again to Sarténé by the pass and forest of Bavella. 1 By this route, he tells me, I shall traverse some of the finest inland Corsican l scenery, as well as visit the most interesting towns in the southern part of the j] island, and that the whole of the tour can be made in a carriage, provided ll it be a light one; for the broad Route Impériale, or diligence road, does 1 not cross the mountains at Bavella; the last part of the journey, moreover, ’l is not so certain to be effected if any heavy fall of snow should occur in the 1 high forest passes. Nor did the active help of M. Galloni d’Istria cease here. 1 He gave me a first—rate map of the island, and promises letters of introduction 1 to persons residing in the places through which I must go while making the l; first tour he has thus indicated, and on my return to Ajaccio, he will ‘. provide letters to all other parts of the island Imay wish to visit. It does t‘ not always happen that an artist’s topographical tour should be so completely H. entered into and so warmly assisted by an official personage; and I leave l M. Galloni d’Istria, feeling not only much obliged to himself, but also to lli M Prosper Merime’e for having so kindly procured letters for me to M. le Préfet. :4 Returnng to the hotel, after a visit to the J. S.’s, the next step is to decide ' finally in what mode of travelling I can best manage to make characteristic i drawings of so large an island as Corsica during the short time at my disposal. l Four plans present themselves, and it becomes urgent that I should fix on one of these, and carry it into execution. First —To go to the principal towns by Diligence—certainly a cheaper plan than any other. But as these public vehicles go by night as well as by day, the 1 object of my visit—to study scenery— would be but halfgained, nor, indeed, so l much as half, for a diligence could not be stopped for the sake of drawing a l” landscape, though never so beautiful; and many disadvantages, to wit, jolting, ‘ “ crowding, and dirt, would assuredly more or less interfere with work after . some twenty-four hours’ journey. Moreover, from Porto Vecchio or Solenzaro ‘ no Diligence roads cross the island, and once arrived at the first-named of l‘ those places, further progress would be stopped, as there are no vehicles for hire at all on the east side of the island, excepting at Bastia. Plan No. I . is therefore abandoned. l Secondly—To hire horses and ride; doubtless, great freedom of action is ensured by such an arrangement. Yet against it there are numerous persona] objections not to be overruled. So exit plan No. 2. ‘ C 18 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [AprilIL Thirdly—Luggage might be sent on by Diligence, and I might walk, my servant carrying folios and food for the day, a plan I have constantly worked out in Greece, Italy, Crete, &e. But in Corsica this system could hardly be effected, for, from what I can learn, the towns are sometimes farther apart than even the longest day’s walk could manage, and with no halting place between them; very often too much time would thus be wasted in such a plan, because great portions of the island would probably not present any interest for the pencil. To go on foot through some of the forest scenery may be necessary; but a quicker proeess for seeing and drawing the greater part of Corsica in ten weeks must be adopted. Fourthly—There remains this plan, on which, after looking at the matter in all its bearings, I finally decideinamely, to hire a two—horse carriage for the whole time of my stay, paying for it so much daily, and using it for long or'for short journeys, either as there may be much or little to draw, or according to the distance of halting places. In this way I should be free to make drawings in the neighbourhood of the principal towns, or to make excursions from them to various points ; and if any scene on the high road could not easily be returned to, owing to too great distance, I might halt my vehicle while I worked, or perhaps oftener send it on and walk; on the other hand, I could drive as quickly as possible through districts in which there is little of the picturesque. This plan of travelling, though apparently the most expensive, will economise time, and in the end, I believe, will prove the cheapest; for my object in coming to COrsica being that of carrying away the greatest possible number of records of its scenery, the saving some outlay will not compensate for a meagre portfolio, and I might ultimately discover the least costly process to be also the least satisfactory. In support of which hypothesis a fable taught me long years ago by one dead and gone recurs to my memory. Once upon a time three poor students, all very near-sighted, and each possessing a single pair 0f horn-rimmed spectacles, set out to walk to a remote university, for the purpose of competing for a professorship. On the way, while sleeping by the road~side, a thief stole their three pairs of horn—rimmed spectacles. Waking, their distress was great: they 'stumbled, they fell, they lost their way ; and night was at hand, when they met a pedlar. “ Have you any spectacles .7” said the three miserable students. “Yes,” said the pedlar, “ exactly three pairs ; but they are set in gold, and with magnificent workmanship; in fact, they were made for the king, and n they cost so much “Such a sum,” said the students, “is absurd; it is nearly as much as we possess." “ I cannot,” the pedlar replied, “take less; but here is an ivory—handled AprilII.] STORY OF THE THREE STUDENTS. 19 frying-pan which I can let you have for a trifling sum, and I strongly recommend you to buy it because it is such an astonishing bargain, and you may never again chance to meet with a similarly joyful opportunity.” Said the eldest of the three students, “I will grope my way on as I can. It is ridiculous to buy a pair of this man’s spectacles at such a price.” “And I,” said the second, “am determined to purchase the ivory—handled frying—pan; it costs little, and will be very useful, and I may never again have such an extraordinary bargain.” But the youngest of the three, undisturbed by the laughter of the two others, bought the gold-rimmed sumptuous spectacles, and was soon out of sight. . ‘ Thereon, No. I set off slowly, but, falling into a ditch by reason of his blindness, broke his leg, and was carried back, by a charitable passer—by in a cart, to his native town. No. 2 wandered on, but lost his way inextricably, and, after much suffering, was obliged to sell his ivory-handled frying-pan at a great loss, to enable him to return home. No. 3 reached the University, gained the prize, and was made Professor of Grumphiology, with a house and fixed salary, and lived happily ever after. Moral.—To pay much for what is most useful, is Wiser than to pay little for what is not so. Two other matters have to be settled before starting “to see all Corsica.” First, the direction in which to travel, and the time at which to undertake certain tours; and, secondly, the'division of baggage, with regard to daily and nightly comfort. The first question has been already partly settled by M. Galloni d’Istria's advice, for it is doubtless best to commence with the southern coasts of the island, as in all probability the heat will be soonest felt there; and thence, if possible, to see all that is necessary of the eastern plains, as, at the end of May, they begin to be malarious and unwholesome, that is, for a working painter; since it is one thing to travel rapidly through feverish air, and quite another to sit drawing in it for several hours, or to halt in it when heated, &c. Tours to the higher forests, and the centre of the island, may be postponed till all risk of snow and rain are passed. Next as to baggage. Not knowing in the least what sort of accommo- dation is to be met with, I shall carry a good supply. Dividing my “roba,” and leaving part of it with my host, M. Ottavi, I shall take lots of drawing material, and clothing for hot and cold weather, besides my small folding bed; so that, with my servant’s help, I may at least be as comfortable as in Albanian khans, Cretan cottages, or Syrian sheds. For it is certain that at fifty-six “ roughing it ” is not so easy as at thirty or forty, and if good rest at night is not to be procured, the journey may as well be given up, for C 2 20 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [AprillL there would be an end of work. Last of all, a fitting carriage and driver are to be found, and price, &c,, agreed on. Here is a visit from M. Martinenghi; he kindly offers to show me some pictures in his possession, some by Salvator Rosa, &c., and appears con— founded at the little enthusiasm I express on the subject, and at my declining the proposal. In this hotel there resides an English lady—a Miss C.—~who has not only been here for some months, but has visited many parts of the island; and before I set off I shall venture on a visit to her, to get some hints about my journey. Nomz.—V\/hat is going to happen ?*a remarkable clattering noise fills the air. I look out of window, and behold a torrent of children—a hundred, at least—all carrying bits of wood, which they knock, and bump, and rattle against all the railings, doorsteps, and walls, as their procession passes on. Now, in most southern places where Christians are desirous of celebrating Easter by triumphant noises, pistols and crackers are fired off at the proper time; every one who has been in Rome at that season is aware of the uproar made on the Saturday preceding Easter Day; and in the Maltese villages, at Alexandria, and other eastern cities, the hullabaloo is fearful. But here, in Corsica, no firearms of any sort are at present allowed to be in the hands of the people, and so the popular piety finds vent in this singular outburst of rattling pieces of wood, which, I am told, has a dim reference to Judas Iscariot, the thumps on the rails and stones being typical of what the faithful consider that person’s bones, were he living, should reeeive.(’) At I PM. I go out to the broad Cours Grandval, and pass most of the afternoon in making drawings near the Grotto of Napoleon. For the day is now finer, the clouds higher, and the mountains at intervals nearly clear. The view over Ajaccio from this point is indeed fine ; the noble range of snowy heights beyond the head of the gulf rise magnificently above the city, and the ugliness of its detail is lost in the midst of so large and glorious a picture, of which it forms so small a part. The colour of this landscape, too, is very beautiful ; the deep—green clustering foliage in the middle distance, and the gray olives, the purple nearer the hills, and the dazzling white snow—line more remote, the calm blue of the sea (to—day really lake~like), and the exquisite variety of vegetation in the foreground, combine to make one of the most delightful of scenes-one, however, by no means easy to convey a just idea of on paper. (56? Plate 1.) I feel that I am beginning to be fascinated by Corsica, and to discover that it is far fuller of landscape beauty than I had thought ; those long vistas (1) I remember how, being in Ajaccio on Good Friday, all the town resounded at noon with the discharge of guns and pistols from every window and every shop, in order to celebrate the glory of the Resurrection with greater distinction. One would have thought the town besieged and being taken by assault —Vn/r13', i., p. [56, - A“ , . 4' 1.. .. .q-‘a -.. .-—,...__,,..,._,.,_._.m.,—-.,:n “Hr. _ April 12.] SCENERY ABOVE THE COURS GRANDVAL 21 of valley and mountain must needs contain stores of interest and novelty, and far away the high silver Alp—like points speak of grand and majestic scenery, well worth an effort to visit, all of which has been hidden until now by the thick cloud-covering of the distant hills. At 5.30, after a peep at the I. S.’s in their new dwelling at Dr. Ribton’s, in one of the four cottage villas, I went up the hill on the north side of the town, immediately above the Hatel de Londres ; there are very charming walks among olive trees here, as well as on an open kind of common, where cactus growth and granite boulders form a thousand ready—made foregrounds. This is one of the most striking views I have yet seen in the neighbourhood of Ajaccio ; far below lies spread out the whole city and the broad gulf, across which you look to the high range of hills stretching out to Capo Moro, while to the east the gorge of Bocognano and the lofty snow—topped walls which shut in the valley of Bastelica rise in great splendour and beauty. The line of the hill cape opposite is, however, one only to be managed in a picture with delicacy, by breaking it with cloud shadows, for its uniform length is wanting in variety of outline. Pitifully barren of interest is the city as to architecture. In what place along the two Riviere, or the Gulf of Spezzia~or, indeed, in what part of Italian coast scenery in general—«should one not feel a desire to sketch some arch, some campanile, or even the whole town or village ? Here, on the contrary, you seek to avoid drawing a space literally filled by great warehouse- like buildings, unrelieved in the slightest way except by parallel lines of windows. This, and the gloomy darkness of the dress of both sexes, are certainly drawbacks to Ajaccio in a picturesque sense. At dinner, M. Ottavi tells me that from fifteen to twenty—five francs daily may be asked for a two—horse carriage. But he is to enquire further. April 12, 6 A.M.—-At the end of the Cours Grandval. The morning is lovely, and there is a delicious fresh and light mountain—air sort of feeling in the atmosphere. The distant heights are absolutely clear, a wall of opal, and to—day, for the first time, I see this remarkable view in perfection. No amount of building, even should this part of Corsica become eventually as villa— covered as Mentone or Cannes, Torquay or Norwood, can ever affect the character of this exquisite prospect, which depends on elements far above all risk of change; on the wide extent of its horizon and on the great majesty of the two dark ranges of hills opposite, connected by a line of heights still loftier, conveying a forcible impression of the solemn inner mountain life of the island; on the broad and generally placid gulf; on the long and marked form of the hills to the south side of it; and on the wide expanse of water towards the western sea. All these cannot alter. The olive—grown slopes, the almond groves, the gardens, and the breadth of shrubby wilderness and high cactus may disappear, but the general aspect of the distance cannot 41 A m, Mada. age/WV; -NM. .. N N JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [April 12. change. Why, I ask myself, do people compare this Gulf to the Bay of Naples? To me it seems that no two places more dissimilar can exist. Scarcely any one comes to this part of the neighbourhood of Ajaecio; a few boys and girls are seen searching for wild asparagus, and one or two individuals with surprising chimney-pot hats taking a morning walk. SO till nine I draw quietly, and, after a talk with the J. S.’s, return to the town and get letters from the post. If I wanted any confirmation of my resolve not to go about the island in diligences, I could have none better than an examination of the vehicles which start at II A.M. for Sarte’ne’ and Bonifacio, for Vice, and for Bastia via Corte. To be shut up in one of these might be endured if duty or necessity so ordered; but on no other consideration whatever. On coming back to the hotel the plague of little boys bursts forth again in a new phase. It pleases some twenty to have instituted a blockade inside the street—door of the house, and the fun is to hold it closed against the battering and hammering of some twenty outside, wholly irrespective of the interests of the frequenters of the establishment; and this lasts till the outer party conquer and the door is beaten in, when the calamity ceases, and a passage up—stairs becomes possible. At no time does the impression of multitudinous little—boyhood leave me in Ajaccio; no sooner am I up—stairs than I happen to look beyond the houses of the Place du Diamant towards two high and slanting walls following the direction of the steep hill—side hard by. Now, in any other place where I ever was, such walls would be infested by cats, or pigeons, or swallows; but here I count twenty-eight little boys, all crawling up the wall—tops after the fashion of lizards, and sliding down again—which pastime goes on all day long. M. Galloni d’Istria pays me a visit, and obligingly goes over the ground I am about to visit on the Government map with me. He quite concurs with me as to the advantage of a carriage tour, and recommends me to stay first at Sarténé, one of the four Sous—prefectures of the island, and where, by means of letters he will supply me with, I can learn more definitely from M. le Sous- Inspecteur of Forests, what may be the condition of the high passes as to snow in the neighbourhood of the Forest of Bavella, through which I am to return to Ajaccio. He recommends me to Visit the plains on the east side as early as I can, on account of their great unhealthiness late in the season, and to leave the high forests on the west and in the centre of the island till the snow is melted and the chesnut woods out in leaf. I decide, therefore, to start on the 14th or 15th, if, meantime, I can find a carriage to suit me. 2 P.M.—To the Necropolis on the sea-shore road. Many of these tomb— temples are very pleasing in form, and the View from the last of them looking back to the gulf head and mountains is striking. They stand all along the shore, at the foot of the hills which form the northern side of the gulf, ending 4‘ (-7 - .. ”up .4” ~-—M,.,_,.,‘__.is...,:~._v,,./-._,aw I An‘ill . ’ HAGUE oF LITTLE BOYS. 23 1 3 in Punto Parata, separated by the carriage—road from the granite rocks that stretch out into the sea, a sad but picturesque landscape, and one somewhat recalling the Via Appia or other sepulchre—bordered roads. (See Vignette, p. 5.) Beyond the Campo Santo all along the road—side the growth of myrtle, lentisk, cactus, and asphodel, is luxuriant beyond description; and the lles Sanguinaires form numberless combinations with such foregrounds. Masses of pale granite, covered in part with cystus, are at the outer edge of the road, and run out into the gulf in spurs, white foam breaking over them and catching the sunlight, while the pointed islets on the horizon gleam darkly purple against the deepening sky tints. (5w Vignette, p. 4.) Returning, there are more persons walking, as it is a fete day, than I have yet seen in the neighbourhood of Ajaccio. The head-dress of the women, so graceful and becoming, is generally, among those not in mourning, of buff or purple, with a broad white border. The short Greek speneer and fluted dress is most frequently worn, though there are a few of more modern or fashion- able cut. I observe hardly any girls whom one might call beautiful, but- nearly all have a very pleasing expression and a look of intelligence. Among the gloomily dressed men, a group of French soldiers here and there in red and blue form a pictorial relief. In the town the small—boy plague has gone into another form to—day, besides the passage—swarming and door-blocking. Crowds of urchins have taken to rushing to and fro with small barrows with shrilly shrieking wheels; each barrow contains three small Corsicans, and is pushed and pulled by twice as many more. After dinner I visit Miss C., whose acquaintance indeed is well worth culti— vating. Her interest in Corsica and all it contains is extreme. The collection of plants and natural history she has made in the island, and her drawings of the numerous fish found here, must have fully occupied her leisure through the winter; she has already accomplished some long mountain excursions, and really knows the island well. A person uniting great activity of mind, physical energy, good judgment and taste, as this lady appears to do, and bent on introducing Corsica to the English South-seeking public, may really become instrumental in bringing about great changes in Ajaccio. April 13, 5 A.M.—Off once more to the cactus and asphodel lands beyond the Cours Grandval, to finish or proceed with drawings; mountains perfectly clear—gorgeous purple, silver, and blue. I doubt if any double range can be finer, what though the refinement of Greek outline and the contrast of plains be wanting. If the city were tolerably supplied with picturesque architecture, few finer subjects for a painting could be found, so good is the middle distance of trees, so rich and varied the foreground vegetation. I work, too, this morning at another drawing nearer the city, and quite on the shore (My ,,!.;_1,. saw... y. .40, “.4161; V, V; 24 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSIC'A. [Apri113. Plate 2); in the first hours of morning this View is very imposing, the vulgar detail of the houses being hidden in shade, and the high snow mountains appearing to rise directly above them. M. Galloni has not yet sent the promised budget of letters ; neither have I found a carriage; so it seems clear that a start to-morrow cannot be accom- plished. The landlord here asks me if he shall give me a letter of intro- duction to some “banditti,” a few of whom are still known to live in the Macchie, or woods of the interior. “They are rich,” says M. Ottavi, “ils ne manquent rien—they have plenty of sheep and do nobody any harm." But Madame 0., on the contrary, says, “Ah, je vous prie done, ne vous en allez pas, ils vous abimeront l—do not go, I implore you, they will destroy you 1" At breakfast time my host and hostess generally supplies one of the broches, or broccieC), a sort of cheese or preparation of milk, for which Corsica is famous; it is made of sheep's milk, and is precisely the same as the Ricotta of Italy. Generally it is eaten with sugar. With fresh fish, broccie, and the good ordinary red wine for daily fare, might not a painter do well to come here— air and landscape being such as they are? Already I begin to feel infected by Corsica—mania, the more that the quiet of the country adjoining this city reminds me of Olevano and Civitella and other mountain places where I studied painting in early days. Assuredly Ajaccio is a place where activity and bustle are little known; very seldom you see a carriage in its streets, barring those of the postal service; and even carts are rare objects. By—and-by comes the man who is to let me the carriage and two horses. We agree on the price, fifteen francs a day—«this is to include all expenses of driver and horses, and I am to pay neither more nor less, whether I remain stationary or use the trap daily. To—morrow I am to make a trial excursion. It is discovered that my man Giorgio (of whom, in some twelve or thirteen years' service, there exists no tradition of his having been known to forget anything), has left my flask on board the steamer, so we must take to gourds, which, indeed, are the popular and appropriate media for carrying fluid in Corsica. Almost every peasant carries one, slung to his shoulder by a string; those in common use are generally of large size, but there are others smaller, very pretty and delicate, and these, when polished and finished with silver stoppers and chains, are really elegant. 2 P.M.—\Vhat is there to do? There is “ Napoleon’s house " to be seen; or rather that in which he was born. So, not being in an industrious mood (1) After the cheese they make the renowned brom‘a, in the following way. The milk which drains from the cheese is heated in a copper with a certain quantity of pure milk, and is stirred with a large spoon. The pure mill: becomes condensed by slow degrees, care being taken to skim off the scum produced by the boiling, and then the condensed part is taken up in the large spoon and placed in moulds, which are made of fine rushes woven together, and is left for some time to drain and to cool. The price of the fresh Cheese Varies from twenty to forty centimes the pound. The [Marc/0, which is more highly appre- ciated, is sold at from forty to sixty centimcs the pound—Gallery, p. 49. i 1 // f ‘ ‘ ‘ \ I , h ‘ l m H ”9% W 1 i ‘ w m, ‘1' ‘ i’g) .' “1“,“ ‘ I ‘ Vi} ‘ | ‘ - HM Apri113.] THE HOUSE WHERE NAPOLEON I. \VAS BORN. 25 (and, indeed, the cloudiness of the day prevents colouring out of doors, as I had intended), I go to the Place Letitia, a small square, of which, as I before mentioned, the Casa Buonaparte forms almost the whole of one side. Although I confess to having gone to this sight with a kind of routine or duty feeling, the visit gave me very great pleasure. The house—there is now an inscription above the door recording that Napoleon I. was born there, with the date of his birth—is much more roomy and pleasantly habitable than its exterior would lead one to expect, and it is easy to see that it was one of a superior class in Ajaccio a century back.(1) Nearly all the furniture passed into the possession of the Ramolini (Madame (I) The house in which Napoleon Buonaparte was born is among the best in the town ; it forms one side of a miserable little court leading out of the Rue Charles. It is very accurately given in the recent work of Las Cases. At present it is inhabited by M. Ramolino, one of the deputies for the department of Corsica. Among other curiosities which this residence contains is a little cannon that was the favourite plaything of Buonaparte’s childhood. It weighs thirty French pounds. —Bt7zrmz, p. 4. The house where Napoleon was born is to the imagination the first monument in A jaccio. Before it, a little square, planted at the four corners with acacias, has received the name of Place Letizia ; the house, in height only a single storey above the ground floor, is little changed, and indicates the dwelling of a well-to-do family. It was pillaged in 1793 by peasants opposed to the Republic, after the flight of Madame Létizia and her children to her country-house of Melilli, while Napoleon was at Bastia. A fine portrait of Napoleon in imperial costume, by Gerard, is in the salon next to the bed-room, and it was in this salon that Napoleon was born. The little bronze cannon, a plaything of his infancy, disap- peared some years ago ; they tell me it was stolen, and that no trace has been found of it. The European house of Napoleon has passed into the hands of strangers to his race; no furniture of the time exists there, no inscription is read above the door; and by-and-by this house will not be distinguishable from any others in the City.in[L’7j/, i , p. 160. From the street of St. Charles you emerge on a small rectangular place. An elm tree stands before an old«fashioncd, yellowish gray, stuccoed, three-storeyed house, with a flat roof, and a gallery on it, with six windows to the front, and worn»out looking doors ; on the corner of this house you read the inscrip- tion, “ Place Letitia. ” No marble tablet tells the stranger who comes from Italyiwhere the houses of great men announce themselves by inscriptionsithat he stands before the house of Buonapa1te. T he house, but little alte1ed since his time, is, if not a palace, yet, at any rate, the dwelling of a family of rank and consequence. This 1s declared by its exte1ior , and it may be called really a palace, in com« parison with the village-cabin in which l’aoli was born. It is roomy, comfortable, cleanly. But all furniture has disappeared from the rooms, &c. In this house, the cradle of a race of princes, the excited fancy seeks them in all the rooms, and sees them assembled round their mother; ordinary children, like other men’s; schoolboys toiling at their Plutarch or Caesar, tutored by their grave father and their great-uncle Lucien ; and the three young sisters growing up careless and rather wild. . . There are Joseph, the eldest son; Napoleon, the second born; Lucien, Louis, Jerome; there are Caroline, Elise, and Pauline ; all the children of a notary of moderate income, who is incessantly and vainly carrying on lawsuits with the Jesuits of Ajaccio to gain a contested estate which is necessary to his numerous family, for the future of his children fills him with anxiety. \Vhat will they be in the world P and how shall they secure a comfortable subsistence? And, behold 1 these same children, one after the other, take to themselves the mightiest crowns Of the earthfitear them from the heads of the most unapproachablc kings of Europe, wear them in the sight of all the world, and cause themselves to be embraced as brothers and brothers-in-law by emperors and kings ; and great nations fall at their feet, and deliver theil land and people, blood and possessions, to the sons of the notary of Ajaccio. ‘ hapoleon 1s Emopean Empe1or, Joseph, lxing of Spain , L ouis, King of Holland; Jerome, King of Westphalia , Pauline and Elise, l’1incesses of Italy , Caroline, Queen of Naples. So many crowned potentates were born and educated in this little house by a lady unknown to fame, the daughter of a citizen of a small and seldom mentioned country town, Letitia Ramolino, who, at the age of fourteen, married a man equally unknown. There is not a tale in the “ Thousand and One Nights ” would sound more fabulous than the history of the Buonaparte family !7« 1852, Cz’rgW‘ot/mr, pp. 35X, 352. Uninhabitcd, and without a vestigc of furniture, except some faded tapestry on the walls, the desolate ,, , as”) I e‘, M; ,1/ “Vat—,mvawg’ul Val—Ag. -4. e.‘ 1/ I , 26 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [AprilI3. Letitia’s family), who inherited the property; but there are still in the apartments mirrors, old framework of chairs (like the walls, they appear to have been formerly covered with red or gilt tapestry), marble chimney— pieces, and large fireplaces, one or two highly ornamented chests, an ancient spinet-piano, the sedan—chair of Madame, her bedstead, and a few portraits; all beside, as far as I saw, is bare unfurnished wall, and much of what I have named has been collected by the present emperor of the French from various places. The long gallery, the terrace and courtyard at the back of the house, the dining-room, every part of the building has its interest of association, and by walking through the apartments one is carried back to the days when the most wonderful man of modern times lived in it as a boy. To me, who years ago was in the habit of frequently visiting one branch of the Buonaparte family, the place is doubly interesting; and when I remember the group of the late Prince Canino’s numerous children, of whom in those days I saw so much, I seem to be more able to realise the circle of the first Napoleon's mother and her little ones. The elderly person who showed me the house had lived in the service of Princess Caroline Buonaparte— Murat, Queen of Naples, and was interested at hearing me speak of the houses at Musignano and l’Arrieia, where I was wont to be so kindly received in former days. No Buonaparte now resides at Ajaccio, except the Princess Mariana, wife of Prince Louis Lucien, a younger brother of Charles Lucien, late Prince of Canino. There is plenty of food for reflection in a visit to the Casa Buonaparte in Ajaccio. 3 P.M.—I wander through this town, so like a village in its outskirts, and sit on a wall to write journal notes and cast up accounts. There is a statue of General Abbatucci close by, with posts, chain-connected, at a little distance all round it. I count fifty-three children swinging on these chains, and rather more swarming up some carts not far off. Certainly, the multitude of children is a striking feature in Ajaccio street scenery, and M. Ottavi tells me that numbers of the male population emigrate to the continent for a part of the year, so that the apparent comparative fewness of grown-up men or youths may be thus accounted for. After walking a mile or two I turned back when near the Palazzo Bacciocchi, a handsome building which stands in gardens towards the head of the gulf, and thence, repassing the town, regained my favourite and gloomy air of the birthplace of the great emperor struck me even more than the deserted apart- ments at Longwood from which his spirit took its flight—Forever, p. 216. The house has been renovated by the present emperor, the old family furniture has been sought out and brought back, and everything has been replaced as much as possible in the same position as when the rooms were occupied by the Buonapartes in former days—Brunet, p. 255. On the subject of the antiquity of the Buonaparte family, M. Valery, citing as his authority the historian Limperani, states that a deed, by which in the year 947 certain seigueurs gave some property at Venaco to an Abbot of Montecristo, was witnessed by one of that family, and that the name is spelled Bonaparte. Filippini mentions one Gabriel Buonaparte, chanoine de St. Roch, as a theological lecturer at the end of the sixteenth century—Valery, i., p. 158. Apri113.] AN ARTIFICIAL FOREGROUND. 27 spot at the end of the Cours Grandval. Here, in spite of the cold and chilly afternoon, I find Mrs. J. S. making a good View of the scene, for she hath an able hand and eye; but I, too idle to recommence work, employ myself in constructing an artificial and beautiful foreground of cactus-leaves and asphodel—stalks stuck endways into a tall pyramid of stones for that lady to copy, who, far from applauding, not only censures my performance as absolutely deficient in natural grace, but absolutely declines to make a faithful portrait of it in her sketch. Back to the hotel, after sitting some time with J A. S., and here I find that M. Galloni d’Istria has very kindly sent me the promised budget of introductory letters for Olmeto, Sarte’ne’, Bonifacio, and Porto Vecchio. All to—day, after the first hour or two of early sunshine, has been gloomy and cloudy. Hglz'x trisz‘z's prevails. « a; A)v<.~>"’- “asleep, ., 41/ m. . (only. 28 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [April 14. CHAPTER II. Trial Trip in a CarriageiThe Lower Penitencier at CastelluccioiSt. Antonio, its Grand Scenery and Granite BouldersAVisits with Miss C.—The Prefecture#MoufflonsiLeave Ajaccio for the South of the IslandAPeter the Coachman—Miss C.’s Predictions—rCampo dell’ OroiValley of the Prunelli, and Beautiful ScenesACaurofi“ Hotels 7’ in Corsican VillagesiMrs. Paoloni and her Inn ; its Accommodation, &c.iThe Col di San Giorgioi“ Maquis ’7 and Wild FlowersiValley of the Taravo—Descent to Grosseto—The “Hotel (les Amis ; ” Civil People and Good FareiIlex TreesAQuiet Civility of CorsicansiBeautiful Drive by the River, and Ascent to BicchisanoA— Winding Mountain Road to Casalabriva, and Descent to Olmeto—The “ Hotel”—Picturesqueness of the Town and its SituationiTombstIive Slopes and Woody ScenerwaainiVisit to 8. Sick EnglishmaniLeave Olnneto—-Charmingr Scenery—Gulf of ValincoiPropriano and its Port~Valley of the Tavarizk-Extremely fine LandscaPCALong Ascent to Sarte’né#Description of the Town¥ “ Hotel d’ Italic ”iFatima of Sarte’né—Views of Sarténé and the ValleyiM. Vico, and his advice about farther Travelling ; Bavella, &c.7Constant Work for the PainterfiA Day by the Rocks of the Tavaria ; Exquisite Subjects for PicturesiGranite Rocks and Foliage by the RiveriMourning in CorsicaiFatinia’s Opinions about Household Cleanliness. April 14,—— Still thick cloud, not a mountain—top visible: Corsican topography thriveth not. Nevertheless, at seven I go out to the cactus land and granite rocks, for one can make foreground studies; but no, it begins to rain, and I have to return. Is there, as I said this time four years ago in Crete, no settled weather here in April ? So I sit down to write letters, especially one to M. Galloni d’Istria, thanking him for his assistance. Miss C. went yesterday to Bastelica, but as yet those high regions are too heavily laden with snow; so that she came back instead of staying there. This lady is very obliging in answering my innumerable questions about numerous places in Corsica. At 9, when it rains less, I call at Dr. Ribton’s to see the J. S.’s. You enter their “ salle a manger ” straight from the road, a system which—all the world being seated at breakfast—is destructive to the peace of the delicate—minded intruder. Says a Frenchman to me, and truly—speaking of the slow—walking people in the Piazza here—“ils se promenent, ces Corses, comme des estropiés, ou comme des limaeons—these Corsicans walk like cripples or snails ”—Hc/zhc z‘rz'sz‘z's to wit. And, certainly, on a wet day it would be hard to find so dull a place as Ajaccio. Suli, in Albania, is gay by comparison, Wady Haifa, in Nubia, bustling; for those are places of by—gone times, whereas we are here in a “city.” An inevitable necessary, money, is next to be obtained through a letter of credit to M. Conti, Receveur-général; and after that comes a visit to Miss C., who prophesies that I shall repent employing the people of whom I have hired the carriage. Meanwhile the carriage in question comes; it '\\ ‘ , QE‘Z'BBMQ ‘77 u S: x ““ § PLATE 111. ST. ANTOINE. April 14.] ST. ANTONIO AND ITS SCENERY. 29 seems a comfortable and strong trap, and I do not think fifteen francs a day will be dear if the driver and horses are good ; of the latter G. remarks, “ eiuou (bo'dv wowmbi—they are like rats ”—and small they certainly are. 2 P.M.—After hard rain all the morning it is now moderately fine, so I set off to try the vehicle, the driver of which I own has a face—if there be any truth in physiognomy—not at all indicative of good character. The trap does not go badly—which, as it may be one’s daily home for a couple of months, it is pleasant to know—and the two poor little horses shuffle along quickly enough. We take the road to Castelluccio, the upper Penitencier, or convict establish- ment, but turn off at the lower building, whence a bridle road goes on to St. Antonio, a place Miss C. recommends me to visit as one of the most picturesque hereabouts. All around the Penitencier convicts are working, and fast changing these bare or maquis—covered hills into vineyards.(‘) Leaving the carriage here, I follow a winding track, which, leading to the rocks of St. Antonio, very soon leaves all traces of habitation and humanity, and might be exceedingly “ remote from cities ” instead of close to a capital. The walk along the hills is delightful, and the “maquis,” of which I have heard and read so much, full of charm—orchids, cyclamen, laVender, myrtle, cystus, absolutely a garden of shrubs and flowers. As the path approaches the mountain which stands immediately above the chapel of St. Antonio, the Views of this “wild waste place” become wondrously grand. Such granite crags and boulders I think I have only seen at Philae and in the peninsula of Sinai; and from the little platform, whence the whole mountain side is visible, with the western sea beyond, the strangely desolate prospect is greatly im— pressive. The chapel, a small and ancient building, can only be portrayed together with the rocks from one or two positions; but the cliff or mountain is in itself a world of study, an endless storehouse of chasms, boulders, and peaks. Many new and great ideas of landscape may be gained by the painter who visits St. Antonio. (See Plate 3.) Returning to the trap, I drive to the town, and, at G.’s request, go to the fish-market, which is really well worth a visit, for the strange beauty of colour and the novelty of form of the fish there. Then a little more study at the “grotto gardens ” and a visit to J. A. S. wind up the day. At I or 2 to-morrow I hope to start on my way to the south of the island, sleeping the first night at Cauro. (1) The wild shrubberies, by the natives called “ maquis,” clothe great parts of the country through which we passed. This term is generally applied to the wild vegetation so common in this island. It seems to be a corruption of the Italian wort “ macehia.”ib’msmz, p. 13. A large portion of the surface of CorsicaiI may say, all that is not a primeval forest, or under cul-‘ tivatinn#is covered with what they call “ maquis.” I do not like to use the word brushwood or scrub, for such are very common words to apply to groves of underwood composed of myrtle, nrbutus, cystus, rock-roses, and Mediterranean heath; and yet of such is the interminable “inaqnis” composed.# Banner, 1). 251. The Corsican mountains are covered with the arbutus or strawberry tree, which gives a rich, glowing 30 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [Apri115. April 15, 5 A.M.—-Heavy rain has fallen all night, and there is much more snow on the mountains, a sign probably of settled fine weather. For a short time I drew at the “grotto gardens,” from which beautiful spot the landscape never tires; this morning the mountains are of the very darkest purple, and the freshness of the flowers and foliage after rain delicious. The drums and bugles of the soldiery make an odd accompaniment to scenery so tranquil and poetical. At Dr. R.’s, where I call to say good—bye to the J. S’s, I find S. far from well, and leave them uneasily with a feeling that his inability to travel may detain them here longer than they anticipate. Arrangements for the afternoon’s start, bill settling, &c., occupy me till noon, and then follows a visit with Miss C. (with whom the Helix lm’sz‘z's has nothing in common, for she is always merry and active) to the Hotel de France, where the F. W. family are staying; thence, with two more ladies, we adjourn to the house of the Princess Louis Lucien, or, as she is more generally called, the Princess Mariana Buonaparte. This lady. who has still the remains of great beauty. has much charm of manner, and is much liked by those who know her. Her rooms, pleasant in situation, were full of interesting portraits of the Buonaparte family. Her pleasure in speaking of Musignano, where she found I had formerly been used to study, was very evident, and my offer to send her a small view of the house was received with delight. Our party then go to the Prefecture, where Miss C. wants to show us some young moufflons or muffoli; there are two of them, lambs or kids, call them as you will, well made, active little creatures, shy and wild, notwithstanding their early captivity. The moufflon, an animal partaking of the goat nature and of that of the sheep, inhabits only the highest and most savage districts of Corsica, and comes down to lower levels only when compelled to do so by winter’s heavy snows. It was 2.30 before the trap came to the hotel, and careful packing commenced; one of my saddle—bags (or bisacchi) and the portable bed are stowed behind, well secured against rain by two wild boar skins; inside the carriage, my servant’s package and my leather hand-bag for small objects (Valery’s volume, my only guide, included) leave good room for self, besides , a large folio in the old Coliseum—a case or sack so called by my servant from its extreme antiquity and venerable look, used for holding drawing materials or food in many expeditionsuand G. on the outside seat with appearance as far as the eye can reach (p. 46). Theophrastus, in his history of plants, expatiates on the wonderful size of the Corsican trees, to which, he says, the pines of Latium were nothing at all. He also says the trees were immensely thick here. Kai 32mm 77"]V 118mm Barreiau Kai. asnep fiypiwye’ynv 1;? {My ~the whole island seemed crowded and savage with woodsiflorwefl, p. 47. \Vhat struck us most, independently of the general effect, was the extraordinary verdure and exuberance of the vegetation, which overspread the surface of the country far up the mountain sides, not only as contrasted with the sterile aspect of the coasts of the continent we had just left, but in being, in itself, different from anything which had before fallen under our observation in other countrics, whether forest, underwood, or grassy slope.——Forcrter, p. 31. Apri115.] LEAVE AJACCIO FOR THE SOUTH OF THE ISLAND. 31 the coachman, whose appearance is objectionable, and whose name is Peter, complete the arrangement. The kindly Miss C. has sent me a flask in place of the one lost, and calls from the window, cheerfully, “You should have taken my man jean ! all your luggage will fall off! your horses will tumble! every- thing will go wrong I" Absit omen! and finally we start at 3.30. The way is along the Cours Napoleon, and out of the city towards the head of the gulf, leaving on the left the roads to Castelluccio, Alata, and Bastia, and passing the Villa Bacciocchi and its gardens, with some scattered all these environs of Ajaccio are considered villas and mulberry plantations unhealthy in summer—time, on account of the marshy ground at the end of the gulf, parent of malaria fever. From this side of Ajaccio the view of the city is rather wanting in interest, though with a “composition” of boats it might be made more worthy; perhaps from near the Lazzaretto, or Fort id’Aspretto it is best. The blackness of the crows on the shore, and that of the dress of the peasantry, alike wanting in liveliness, are the foreground accompaniments. Leaving the coast the road passes along the Campo di Loro (or dell’ Oro),(‘) a flat plain with here and there those wide spreading marshes, so unfriendly to the health of the city. The rivers Gravona and Prunelli, which flow from the high mountains of Renoso and dell’, Oro, by the valleys of Bocognano and Bastelica to the sea, are crossed by long bridges. In winter time, when the snow lies on the heights at the head of these valleys, many beautiful pictures might be made here among the broad green meadows ; just now, heavy storm clouds obscure the distance; flocks of blackest sheep and a world of glittering silver—blossomed asphodels are the chief objects noteworthy. From the river Prunelli, where the road turns inland, and begins to rise, the scenery becomes more rugged and severe, reminding me of that of the valley of the Kalama in Albania, hemmed in by hills of no great height, above which are glimpses of far purple and snow. At 5 the ascent becomes steeper and winding, and I avoid the high road to walk by short cuts, pleasant paths by heath—like slopes above a stream, beside which groups of large and as yet leafless chesnut trees are scattered. Every (1) The Campo dell’ Oro was the scene of the heroic exploit recorded by German‘es, of the twenty- one shepherds of Bastelica who came down from the mountains and routed 800 Greeks and Genoese of the garrison of Ajaecio. lntercepted at length by infantry embarked on the little river of Campo dell7 Oro, and surrounded by the marshes of Ricanto, they were all killed excepting one, a young man, who, stretched among his comrades, and with his face discoloured with blood, feigned death. Discovered by the Genoese hussars, who decapitated these noble victims, he was condemned by the Commissioner of Genoa to die, having first been led through the streets of Ajaccio carrying six heads, those of his rela- tives. He was afterwards quartered and exposed on the wallsi Ville/y, i., p. 183. The valleys of the Gravona and the Prunclli, the waters of which discharge themselves into the Gulf of Ajaccio, are barely cultivated; the plains situated at their months are unhealthy and marshy. It would be easy to drain and irrigate them, and thus increase their value tenfold. Besides, the neigh- bourhood of Ajaccio would excite not merely the emulation of ordinary labour, but also the spirit of speculation and calculations regarding the future, for sooner or later that city will become a rendezvous for those who seek health or pleasure,——Gi'andr/mm]>r, p. 30. 32 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [Apri115. turn of the way up the hill shows changes of lovely green scenery, dells of crowded flex, and a bosky richness of foliage, with now and then knots of tall trees on slanting turf, such as Stothard might have painted; and then, looking back, the whole Gulf of Ajaccio is spread out to the western sun, and the capital of the island, the rocky hill of St. Antonio, and the long lines of the hills on the northern side of the gulf, fill up the picture.(‘) Higher up still, the View into the valley of the Prunelli becomes most grand, and from a point in the road near some wayside houses (they call the place Barraconi), the mountains shutting in the valley are particularly imposing, and I am sorry that it is too late (6 PM.) to do more than jot down a memorandum VALLEY OF THE PRUNELLI. of the exquisite effect of sunset which just now makes this scene so fine. As the sun goes down, the high snowy summit of Mont Renoso seems on fire, seen through a rose—coloured veil of mist above the nearer dark purple moun— tain; below this, in deepest shadow, are great masses of rock, and at their foot lies the rich hollow valley and village of Suarella—a scene which I trust to return to. 6.3o.—The village of Cauro is reached slowly, and by a stiff last pull, just as the sunset hues of gold and crimson—bright as those blazing dying day glories on the Nile—have turned to lilac and cold gray. The chief part of the village and its church stands back above the high road on the right (you may see it glittering against the hill-side as you stand at the grotto of Napoleon at Ajaccio, or at the end of the Cours Grandval), that with which I have to do (1) At Cauro I had a fine View of Ajaccio and its environsx—lg’or'zw/L p. 355. .. , - , .__.__ __ ..,_ ._,_. .. v a -v ,_ , ~., ‘~ .——— gee—e .__ ,_..:.1'""".“‘ ..._;.,._.._..—...P;:.—_ . .WM April 15.] THE HOTEL PAOLONI AT CAURO. 3 3 is a row of mean—looking houses by the wayside on the left, and I am curious to know what sort of accommodation Corsican mountain travel will really exhibit. Two of the dwellings are lodging—houses, or, as they are called in this island, “hotels," a term applied here to the least pretentious of inns, such as we might call pothouses in an English village, and of these two the first applied to is full, and cannot take me in. Nor does there seem much better fortune at the second “hotel,” at the door of which two very civil landladies inform me, with many regrets, that their three rooms are taken up by a party of officials on a tour of inspection of boundaries, and that they have but their own apart- ment left, which they will give up. This, as a beginning of Corsican journeys, is not encouraging; but there is no help for it, for it is too late to go on or to go back ; and, besides, having undertaken “ to see all Corsica,” the matter must be gone through as it best may. So the ”roba ” is brought up to the third floor by a rickety ladder—stair, and in a little while my man sets up my bed, to the extreme amazement of the two hostesses, and makes things tolerably comfortable in one corner, while a mattrass in the farther one is to do for himself. The hostesses, with all the family, are to sleep in the kitchen, and Peter, the coachman, inside the trap. Meanwhile, Mdme. Angela Paoloni, the chief landlady, brings notice that M. the Inspector, and the other officials, are about to sit down to supper, and she intimates plainly that unless I and my servant do so too, no other opportunity may present itself; so that the occasion is seized without delay. Miss C. had already told me that there would rarely be a chance of master and man eating separately, and that in her journeys she and her maid had always been co—partners at meals. In a small but clean-looking front room there was a large round table, which every one sat down to. The quality of the food served was quite unexpected in so rough-looking a roadside hostelry; there was a tolerably good soup, and after it the inevitable boiled beef and pickles, then a stew, a timballo, roast lamb and salad, and a superb broccio. Capital wine, and plenty of it, was supplied. i ‘@&~;- A U A Hardly had I sat down to supper than I found I had committed an error, into which a little previous thought might have prevented my falling; yet, with the very best intentions, a man may sometimes “rush in where angels fear to tread.” One of the party spoke French with a Parisian accent, the others were Corsicans. “Vous étes donc Francais, Monsieur?” said I; a remark which directly produced a sudden chill and pause, and after that came this reply—“ Monsieur, nous sommes tous Franeais,” I had yet to learn that the words “French” and “Corsican ” are not used by the discreet in this island ; you should indicate the first by “ Continental,” and the second by “ Insulaire” or “du pays.” It is as well, indeed, to recollect that there are old men still living who can remember the hopes of Corsican independence even up to I) f g =:;: I! r 4 ATM 34 JOURNAL OI“ A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [April 16‘ the end of the last century, and, consequently, all allusions by a stranger to differences of race are as well avoided, now that both people are under one government. The fact, too, that I spoke Italian with greater facility than French evidently puzzled my supper companions, and when I asked questions about the country, there was a kind of occult distrust observable; travellers in Corsica—in out-of—the—way places atleast—are rare; might I not be a revolu— tionary agent P I asked about the wines made in the island, but when ill—luck urged me to speak about Sardinian produce, dumbness or short replies ensued, and at once I found that Sardinia was a tabooed subject. The better I spoke Italian and the more I hesitated in French, the less respectable I became, and since at the commencement of travelling in a new country one has all to ask and learn, my numerous inquiries were received and answered with caution, and my evil genius having suddenly prompted me to ask something about the Straits of Bonifacio, there was again a full stop, and a sensation as if all Caprera—cum—Garibaldi were about to burst into the room. After this I confined myself strictly to observations on the nature of the supper and upon the climate of Ajaccio, and as the conversation afterwards was chiefly on local or municipal topics, I was glad to get away to rest for an early start to—morrow. Earnestly entreating my servant to snore as little as possible (he can hardly occasion more disturbance than F. L, and I used to suffer in Greek khans from old Andrea), I congratulate myself on my forethought in bringing my little military bed, and think that if Corsican travel brings no greater hardship than this of its first day, it may be very bearable. April I6.——Mdme. Angela Paoloni, of the “ Hotel ” or “ Cafe Restaurant du Cours,” at Cauro, did not certainly overcharge for her supper and lodging, and for coffee this morning#to wit, three francs per head. A desire to oblige, and a homely sort of friendly manner, are also what I have to note clown respectng this the first Corsican country inn I have come to. By 6 AM. Peter and the trap are ready, but as the road is an ascent as far as the Col San Giorgio, eight kilometres onward, and, as the morning is lovely, I set Off walking, after having searched in vain for some spot whence I could make a characteristic drawing of Cauro; moreover, the landscape looking westward from above the Village, though very beautiful, is of such magnitude and so full of detail as to be quite out of the pale of an hour or two's sketching. \Vhen the day is but just commenced, and the amount of what may be available for work is as yet unknown, it is not prudent to sit down to make a drawing, the time given to which may be proved later in the day to have been ill bestowed, in comparison with what should have been given to scenes which the painter is then reluctantly compelled to pass by in haste. 7‘ ‘ ’ < '- ' lat-ism“: April [6.] VEGETATION AND WILD FLO‘VICRS. 35 All the way up to the Col San Giorgio (the road throughout is broad and good, and the ascent not very steep) a succession of beautiful mountain scenery delights the eye; and from a spot whence the majestic Monte d’Oro forms the principal point above all the surrounding heights, it is impossible not to pause to get a drawing. Yet the fine distance hardly attracts the attention more than the near at hand details of the excessively rich foliage which is the characteristic clothing of all the hills. This “maquis,” or robe of green, covering every part of the landscape except the farthest snowy heights, is beyond description lovely, composed as it is of myrtle, heath, arbutus, broom, lentisk, and other shrubs, while, wherever there is any open BUCCA DI SAN (”ORG“). space, innumerable crimson cyclamen flowers dot the ground, and the pic— turesque but less beautiful hellebore flourishes abundantly. Here groups of ilex or chesnut rise above the folds of exquisite verdure; there, but rarely, you pass a plot of cultivation, ora vineyard, in which stands one of those branch-woven towers supported on four poles, and not unlike a Punch and Judy box, called Torri di Baroncello, such as one used to see in days of Calabrian sojourn.(1) The freshness of the morning mountain air adds to the pleasure of this walk, and as it increases higher up, this compensates for the (l) The leafy huts, called l’ergoliti. formed by four young pine-stems fixed on small elevations in the middle of the Vineyards, with a sort of first floor and a roof of clay, have a picturesque effect. In them abides the Garde Champétre, called, absurdly, Baroncello.rVa/er , i., p. 181. In the vineyards curious watchmen’s boxes are frequently seen . . . called Pergoliti. They consist of four young pine-stems, hearing a little straw-thatched hut, in which the watchman can lie down, high in the air.—angmi’n7rz'u.r, p. 400. i»: 5} . aid/UM H- .14'4» ‘,. 36 jOURNAIi OF A TANDSCAI’IC PAINTER IN CORSICA. [;\pril16. gradually barer scenery of the col, just below the summit of which, marked by a single roadside house, is a plentiful fountain of excellent water. From the Col San Giorgio the road now turns eastward to descend into the great valley through which the river Taravo flows from the Col di Verde, joined on its way by streams from Zicavo, Sta. Maria, &c., into the Gulf of Valinco. The wide hollow, or basin, presents quite a new prospect full of variety and beauty ; on the farther side of it you see the village of Bicchisano, and above that, the road will pass the highest hills that bound the valley, and again dip down to the sea at Propriano, between Olmeto and Sarténé. Meanwhile, the descent to the next village, Grosseto, where Peter the coachman says we must make at midday halt, and whence the road instead of following up the valley towards the mountains runs directly across it, continually increases in beauty; the wild outspread of mountain form beyond, the profuse luxuriance of foliage, the refreshing greenness on all sides are really enchanting; a continual succession of park scenes, groups of large chesnuts and venerable ilex trees, great shadowy snow-topped pine-grown heights far away, or huge g‘anite masses close to the road, giving a constant interest to the scenery.(’) Often I could have liked to make a drawing, but thought it better not to delay at present, for the day’s journey may be a long one, and the landscape is of a character to require sustained and attentive work. A landscape painter might well pass months in this valley of foliage, villages, mountain, and riveri 9 A.M.— Grossetoiiis reached, and Peter not a little surprises me by saying it is quite necessary to remain the night there, declaring that the village of Bicchisano is twenty—two kilometres, or some fourteen miles, farther en, but on inquiry I find the distance to be but fourteen kilometres, and that if I prefer doing so I may easily, when the horses have well rested, say by eleven o'clock, get on to Olmeto before evening. Grosseto is a Village of scattered houses, and of the most quiet and rural appearance. Among five or six of its dwellings grouped together is one, neatly white, with “ Hetel des Amis ” inscribed on it, to which we have driven ; a little beyond the inn, and standing alone, is the church, sheltered by fine ilex-trees, and a picture in itself (the ilex grows to an extreme size hereabouts), behind it are more evergreen groves and pastures, and the road which leads by Santa Maria Zicche' to Zicavo. Some time must pass before breakfast, which G. has ordered, can be ready, and I would gladly employ the time in sketching; but, as is usual when an artist is obliged to stop anywhere for some such commonplace cause as horse- (1) I seek in vain for any well-known district of Italy to give an adequate idea of such Corsican mountain valleys as these. The Apennines would approximate to them in many places. But these Corsican wountains and valleys seemed to me far grander, wilder, and more picturesque, from their chesnut groves, their brown precipices, foaming torrents, and scattered blackish villages.— Cz'igvm'nw'm, p. 411. V A. ‘ er - "-.~-""~“‘ ,*. , .,, w...“ 4. b... April 16.] THE HOTEL AT GROSSETO. 37 baiting, eating, or sleeping, the spot to which destiny nails him happens to be the least picturesque in the neighbourhood, and on the present occasion, without going back some distance, it is not easy to hit upon a subject for drawing, unless one made an elaborate study of an evergreen oak. The whole of this beautiful valley seems full of “ silent woody places,” but all the scenery is ofa grave, or as some would say a Poussinesque character, for the sombre foliaged cork and ilex give ever a sad and dark tone to landscape, and a hasty sketch can convey but little idea of its character. The village church is the only subject I can commence on, but, perversely enough, this can be done as I wish but from one single spot, to wit, in the road ; so I send for a chair and draw in public. But there is no fear of being disturbed; a few men, all grave—looking, and dressed in shabby black and brown, stand round, but are quite well-behaved, and do not interrupt me, while groups of children look on silently at a greater distance. These Cor- sicans all appear to me intelligent; I cannot recall having as yet seen a dull or stupid countenance in man, woman, or child ; nor is the intelligent expres— sion one of sharp cunning, but rather of thought and good sense, always, however, with a shade of gravity—very little gaiety have 1 yet seen in Corsica. During this morning’s progress I do not think I saw more than eight or ten peasants, and of those, three were close to a mill hard by this village, yet this is the high road to the south of the island, and the Diligence stops to bait at the “ Hotel des Amis ” daily. At 9.30 I go into the little wayside inn, and through a dirty entrance and by a bad wooden staircase arrive at a middle room, which seems that used by the family, and on each side of this are Very clean and tidy little chambers, vastly better than the outside of the house would lead one to expect. In one of these, where prints of the Emperor and Empress, and of some of the acts of Napoleon 1., adorn the walls, and in every part of which there are evident marks of attention to neatness and cleanliness, a small table iscovered with a clean cloth, and breakfast is soon brought. The hostess, a homely but pleasant— mannered widOW, with two rather nice—looking daughters, and a son who acts as waiter, apologise in few words for having little variety of eatables. Tra— vellers, they say, come very unexpectedly, and for long intervals not at all ; so that, excepting at the times of arrival of the Diligences, they seldom have food in the house beyond such as they now set on the table, namely, eggs and salame (or ham sausage), a plate of good trout, and an indifferent steak, but, above all, a famous broccio, for which, on G. asking if they had any, they had despatched a messenger half an hour ago to some sheepfolds nearer the hills. Assuredly, after much that one has heard of wild and savage Corsica, the interior accommodation of this little inn surprises me, and the particular civility and desire to please, unaccompanied by any servility, are as satisfac- tory as the Widow Lionardi’s charges, three and a half francs for breakfast for ,, . ,M.‘ma.~‘__ , 3.. as... A -r~ __ A r~~ . ~- - -. , ' 38 JOURNAL OI“ A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [April 16. me and my servant, a good bottle of wine, besides coffee, for myself being included in the sum. II A.M.—Off again, the road following the course of a clear stream, which makes its way to the Taravo, at times by the edge of steep banks and preci~ piees, which I prefer coasting on foot, because there are no parapets, and Peter the coachman drives “whiles ” more crookedly than is agreeable. The weather just now is delightful, and it is no small pleasure to walk below the beautiful ; shady treeskgroups of immense aged evergreen oaks—through this charming ‘ valley, where the first cuckoo of the year is heard, and all along which the scenery, of a grave hue, reminds me frequently of that in “Epirus’ valleys,” although both this and that has each its own particular characteristic— Corsica, the broad carriage road which I see ahead for miles; Greece or Albania, pastoral incident and the brightness of gay costume. Now the stream becomes more picturesque, dashing and foaming over granite boulders, ,) like the Tavy or the Lyd; farther on it runs through a deep hollow filled I with trees and such trees l And then it falls into the Taravo, the main river of this fine valley, over which a bridge carries the high road. Hence the landscape generally is less like southern scenery than Welsh or Scotch, though now and then a bit of Greece seems before me, where, as here, the evergreen , oak is so characteristic a tree. One or two of these spots completely recall the wood scenes of Eriligova, in Thrace. Would that here there were the village girls of those parts, with their gold and coin chains, their red caps, and their festoon’d flower head—dresses! Meanwhile it is much to sit below huge brown—armed trees, full foliaged, shading a green slope of freshest turf and fern, less green, indeed, than coloured with cranesbill, cyclamen, and forget—me—not; my man the while gathering huge bunches of watercresses from the streams about, aidful of supper supply at the next halt. \Vhere that halt will be does not seem certain, for the sky is becoming cloudy and threatening, and Bicchisano, still far up on the opposite hill, seems to have no especial attraction, though doubtless in fine weather the views from its high position and those of the snow-powdered rocks close above it, would be worth a stay to study. .J In winding up the ascent above the Taravo Peter seems less and less to control his horses, which are apt to make for the side of the road with an ; abruptness that would be alarming were there such precipices as those nearer J Grosseto; but Peter, whom I suspect to have been frequently more or less asleep, apostrophises them with a lively fervour—“ What, then, did you think that wall a house and stable? Do you want water, and run to that rock to find a fountain?” At 12.30 Bicchisano, the mountain village extolled by some as a good summer residence, is reached; it appears to be a collection of hamlets, and there is said to be one of the best little inns here on the road between Ajaccio April16.] DESCENT T0 OLMETO. 39 and Bonifacio, but the day has now become cold and windy, and as there would not be a chance of exploring the upper valley of the Taravo, I resolve to drive on to Olmeto, a decision clinched by a sharp storm of sleet and rain, which adds to my desire to exchange this high and shivering situation for a warm one, which Olmeto is considered to be. A long ascent leads from Bicchisano (I) to another village, Casalabriva, pass— ing obliquely up the south side of the valley of the Taravo, commanding a constantly widening View towards Capo di Porto Pollo, on the Gulf of Valinco, in front, and looking back to the high central range near Mont Renoso, now of a dark smalt—blue under the shadow of heavy Clouds, with here and there strips of fierce light on the snow. The promontories or spurs which, descend- ing from the mid—island heights form the walls of these deep and long valleys, are evidently constant characteristics of Corsican scenery on its west side. Throughout this ascent the road winds in and out along the mountain side, now carried round deep recesses or gorges full of enormous ilex, anon passing great masses of granite, shaded by great trees growing from their crevices; at several points clear fountains gush out by the wayside, but neither habitation nor human being was visible for the two hours employed in this part of the journey. The top or col ofthis long climb is reached at 2.40 P.M., and turning abruptly round the hill, the long lines of the green valley of Taravo disappear, and Peter halts at Casalabriva, a more compact Village than Grosseto or Bicchisano, but, with the exception of some rocks and evergreen oaks at its entrance, not promising in appearance. Nor, even were the weather fine, should I care to draw the place, the houses of which have no pretensions to the picturesque, though there are some peculiarities in their structure which speak volumes as to their discomfort and uncleanliness.(2) From this height(3) the road descends very rapidly into the next valley which adjoins that of the Boracci, a stream flowing into the Gulf of Valinco (1) At Biechisano, a town of 800 inhabitants, there is a charming View from its new chapel and promenade. The prospect extends over a vast cultivated valley, with a glimpse of the sea and the Gulf of Taravo. (2) [l regret not having visited Sollaearo, which is not far from Casalabrivaqu. L.] Sollacaro, a village of 600 inhabitants, is distinguished for its View and for the number and variety of its historical associations. It was at Sollaearé, during one of the sojourns of Paoli, that Boswell Visited him, and he speaks (Barium/l, p. 354) of the house of the Colonna, in which he lived, as much decayed, and admitting both wind and rain. Here, too, it was that the widow came to General Paoli with her second son, “ I have lost my eldest in the defence of his country, and I have come twenty leagues to bring him who remains, that he may serve you.”7 Valm’y, i., p. 197. Sollaeard was a Village always celebrated in the history of the island. It was the residence of the Signori dllstria, and at some distance from the Village stands their feudal castle, almost entirely destroyed. The ancient house of Vincitello d’Istria still exists on a high perpendicular rock in the village. The dungeons into which that tyrant threw his prisoners may still be seemea/[z’l/l, p. 155. But Sellacard may have more interest for the public of the present day from its connection witha romance of Alexandre Dumas, and the play founded upon it, than from t’aoli’s having held court, or Boswellls Visit to him there. —[r‘or.extm’. (3) [t is called the Col Celaceia separating the valley of the Taravo from that of the Boracci, and is 576 metres in height. UL. .,.L._‘._‘,‘av,£ . 40 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [April 16. ”and for a while hereabouts I fancy that I see the hills of Sardinia “fringing the southern sky," but am not sure whether the vision be land or cloud—and sending on Peter and the trap to whatever hotel there may be at Olmeto, I walk down the steep zig—zags leading to that little town, which stands perhaps half way down between the col and the shore. Thick wood, mostly evergreen, is the characteristic of this valley, which, unlike that of the Taravo, is narrow and closely shut in by heights, the tops of which are bare; and their sides are covered with dense maquis, as well as groves of flex and wild olive, and these, as the nook in which Olmeto is built expands lower down into the broad vale of the Boracci, are exchanged for rich plantations of cultivated olive, fruit trees, and corn. 3.30 P.M.—Olmeto, which from this approach you do not see till you are close upon it, is wholly unlike those villages of Corsica I have hitherto seen, and resembles many a hill town in Italy; compact, and very picturesque, its houses looking towards the south and east, and hanging as it were in a steep hollow of hill which entirely shelters it from the west Wind ; it is gifted with galleries and inequalities, and varieties of light, and shade, and colour, delightful to the painters eye. The entrance is gloomy and dirty; a narrow street runs through the village from end to end, and it is thronged with people, all in dark dresses, and all sitting or standing idle, Nearly at the end of the street is Peter with the trap, at the door of the hotel—a most forlorn looking structure, entered by a flight of steps, eminently suggestive of possible bone fractures, being composed of very high and slippery stones without any parapet; and at the top of this is a small ante— chamber of equally forbidding appearance, leading to a sitting—room similarly unprepossessing. Half one end of this is occupied by a large open fireplace, with chimney—corners, where a wood—fire is blazing, a not unnecessary set off against the cold and damp 0f the clay, and in which a little boy who perpetu- ally coughs is crouchcd on a small stool. A very tiny bed—room, far cleaner than the appearance of other parts of the house would warrant one to expect, just allows of my camp—bed being set up in it, and my servant can be put up on a sofa in the “ salle a manger ;"’ so, as dinner is promised by the landlady at sunset, I consider myself settled at Olmeto for the present. The hostess indeed, Mdme, Paolantonuccio, seems to be well satisfied with her hotel, and she tells me two gentlemen have been living for more than a month in it. Meanwhile I go out in search of a point to make a drawing of Olmeto, which is in truth a beautiful place, and for general position, details, and sur— rounding scenery, as picturesque in every sense as any Italian town I ever saw- \Vhen you have passed out of the west end of the single street———there is a very large fountain here, as at the other extremity of the town—you perceive high above you, among the great towering rocks, one of those solitary scpulchre—chapels so remarkable in this island ; and beyond it, a cross on a --, H---’ _ _\«.’-‘ 7.. WM__..__..._.~ April 16.] PICTURESQUENESS OF OLMETO. 41 slight elevation above the high road, at once marks the precise spot from which a view of Olmeto must be made. Thither I went, and laboured at a large drawing, until showers of rain stopped my work. No more beautiful site than that of Olmeto can be pictured. Immediately below the town the ground dips steeply down, covered with corn or turf, or TOM B A'I‘ OLMETO. in terraces of vineyard, varied with large groups of fine olive trees, resembling those thick clustering masses below Delphi in North Greece ; and these stretch away to gardens and other olive grounds down to the shore. Above the village a vast growth of vegetation climbs the heights, and besides huge rounded boulders of granite and dark bosky shades of olive and flex, there are tangles of every shrub the island produces, the wild olive or oleaster being one of the most elegant. Across the valley all the lofty hills seem one solid mass 42 JOURNAL 01“ A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [:\pi‘il17. of “ maquis," Vivid green where lit by gleams of sunlight, or streaked with dark purple and gray as clouds rest on the upper heights or flit across the sky. And in the midst of this setting of every shade of green the little town of Olmeto stands out full of picturesque accidents of form and light and shade, its lower houses growing as it were out of granite crags, and surrounded by fruit trees. Nor does there lack foreground to this picture in the shape of rocky masses, creeper-and—lichen—grown, and imbedded in foliage of innumer— able kinds. Certainly, if Corsica turns out thus increasingly beautiful from day to day, I shall have more than enough to do; but may weather be more propitious I (5&7 Plate 4.) Every part of the heights close to the town abounds with little picture— subjects—here a chapel, there a tomb exactly like “ Absalom’s Pillar ” in the Valley of Jehoshaphat ; the dress of the peasantry alone is uninteresting in all this catalogue of picturesqueness. Before sunset, however, I am glad to leave it all, as damp and chill increases, and to come to the hotel, where, having ejected four eats, a dog, and the coughing boy, the rest of the evening is passed. The fare, as usual in these untoward—looking hostelries, is far better than could be expected, though woe to the traveller who cannot eat omelettes! Mdme. Paolantonuccio, however, piques herself on abstruse and scientific cookery—eggs dressed with tomatoes, and other surprises, besides boiled and roast lamb, and the unfailing and excellent broccio, and wine of capital quality, the neighbourhood of Sartene producing some of the best in Corsica. A young man brings in the dinner, the hostess being employed in serving the two English gentlemen, who it seems are still in the village, though at another house. One of these two he describes as hopelessly ill, and I think I had better send or call to-morrow to know if any help can be given to a countryman in so out—Of—the—way a place. April 17, 5.30 A.M.—This inn, wretched enough as to its exterior and its entrance, is, after all, not intolerable, and again I note in the people of the house the obliging manner which thus far into Corsica I have invariably met with. The View from Olmeto is one marked by extremely delicate beauty. The olives on the slopes below the town more than ever remind me of those at Delphi at this hour, when the landscape is in deep shadow—for, alas! clouds are rapidly rising on all sides, and I fear rain. Most observable is the thickness and redundance of the vegetation here, the mingling of gray granite and green “maquis.” But what could make M. Valery (Vol. i., page 200) write that Olmeto, a Village clustered among rock and woods half way up a mountain, reminded him of Nice, a place of boulevards and promenades at the edge of the sea P The weather holds up sufficiently to allow of my working a good bit on «\v i%« PLATE IV. OLMETO. April 17.] LEAVE OLMETO FUR SARTENF. 43 the detail of the drawing I commenced yesterday, but cloud and gloom increase every minute. \Vhile thus occupied, a good many of the men of Olmeto, going out toward their vineyards, pass where I sit, and some few stand still to see me draw. All are civil; very dusky looking and slow, clad in the universal black or dark brown, and blackly bearded. But, on the whole, the people here appear a rougher set than those I have seen, and some of the children shout out, “' O Anglais i” As yet, however, since I landed in Corsica, I have not met with a single beggar. At 7.30 there is but just time to return to the hotel before a violent down- pouring commences, and they say it will probably not cease all day. A conviction of dampness impresses me at this place; and to—day, as well as yesterday, I observe very many people coughing. Fires, they tell me, are generally in use, and I cannot help thinking that the high hill which quite screens the town from the west, depriving it of afternoon sun, must be pre— judicial to dwellers in Olmeto, though, on the other hand, it saves them from the mistral. After breakfast there is nothing better to do than to draw portions of the town out of a side window, and I send a card to the sick Englishman to learn if he would like to see me, in case I can in any way help him. To this a messenger brings word that he will gladly do so at noon, on which I am taken to a small house not far off, and by a very dirty staircase reach a floor, where in a room, far more comfortable within than its exterior predicted, was the sick man, whom, to my extreme surprise, I found to be Mr. B., the eldest son of Lord E. B. Already in ill health, he had come to this island in search of a warm winter climate ; but by a fall from his horse had received a serious internal injury from which it is next to impossible that he can recover. Though suffering greatly at times it did not appear to me that he was in want of anything, and he had with him one who seems an attentive and good domestic or companion. \Vhen I left him I promised to return and dine with him at seven, if the weather did not hold up, which, they say, it is not likely to do, though I am not without hopes of it. Meanwhile I come back to the hotel and find sleep the best occupation. At 2 G. wakes me, saying “La'rrpetfieo 6 mupéq—the weather is curing itself ”—and certainly the rain has not only ceased, but the clouds are breaking, and a decision must be come to at once, since 3 or 3.30 is the very latest at which I may start from here in time to get to Sarténe, my next halt. I write, therefore, to Mr. 13., stating that I am going to leave Olmeto, and then ordering Peter to get the trap ready, leave him and G. to follow, and set off on foot. Madame I’aolantonuccio recommends me to go at Sarténé to the Hotel d’Italie, where her son is cook. All the way down to the sea-level the road from Olmeto zig—zags and curves through beautiful scenery, of similar character as to luxuriant foliage with . \v' w..- 1...... 44 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [April [7. that higher up, but opening out more and more to broad green slopes and corn~ fields dotted with olives, and spreading into wide distances of Claude Lorraine landscape, either looking west or towards the hills at Fozzano,(‘) in the valley of the Boracci. At every step there are studies for pictures, if only in the hedges, which are in some places literally blue with a beautiful climbing vetch. The bridge over the Boracci, which runs into the sea here through some low marshy ground, green and pleasant to see, but exceedingly unwholesomc as to air, is passed at 4 PM. At the head of the Gulf of Valinco,(2) which, spite of the bright sun now once more shining, has a sad and deserted look, the road follows the shore, and soon reaches Propriano, which stands on the sea, and appeared to me a dull and uninteresting place, containing some very tall and particularly ugly houses; once a week the steamer which goes from Ajaccio to Bonifacio touches here, but it seems a place of small traffic. Striking inland, the road, after an uninteresting ascent, soon dips into the valley of the Tavaria, and here all at once the scenery becomes most beautiful in character, but unlike that I have passed through hitherto. Some of the scenes on the broad part of the river, which runs below exquisitely wooded hills, might be in Scotland or in Wales, and there are masses of granite and tufts of foliage perfect as foreground studies. One of the hills to the (1) Fozzano, a village of 700 inhabitants, the very hotbed of vendetta, is divided into two parts, composed of the most distinguished families, whose wealth and position enable them to continue this curse. These “ vendette " (or vengeance), dating back forty or fifty years, have ruined this village, once one of the richest in Corsica. . . The aspect of this place at war with itself was shocking; every peasant walked about armed; the houses were fortified and barricaded, and the windows blocked up with bricks. A fourth of the whole population is in “vendetta ; ” between the families of the upper and lower village (di sotto e di sopra) such furious hostility exists that their members remain shut up in their dwellings, while even their children cannot go to school, for they would not be spared. More- over, these little rustic urchins know very well how to fire off their own pistols, and sometimes they have even their own private “ vendette.” On April 10, 1834, for instance, Louis Coli, a boy of thirteen years, shot another boy of Ajaccio in the head, taking him, while standing at a window, for one of his comrades with whom he had (piarrelled.——Va/m;1/, i., p. 202. Arbellara and Fozzano form part of the canton of Olmeto. Both have acquired a bad celebrity from the sanguinary and inveterate enmities which have long existed between their wealthiest and most dis- tinguished families. At present, in appearance at least, they enjoy perfect peace; but, oh, may such calm endure, and not be but the precursor of fresh tempests! In these villages are houses which resemble fortresses, and which are surrounded by walls serving as ramparts.icallzfli, p. I 57. [Fozzano is said to be the scene of M. Merime’e’s beautiful romance of “ Colomba.”ili. Li] (‘1) The Gulf of Valinco, into which the Taravo and the Rizzanesi flow, the two most important rivers of the west of Corsica. Like the Gravona and the Prunclli, they descend from the highest central mountains ; their slopes are wooded and cultivated. The port of I’ropriano, the outlet for the produce of these valleys, is not safe; and the best anchorage in the Gulf of Valinco is at Porto Polloidraml- c/zzzmfir, p. 28. The basins of the Taravo and the Rizzanesi are separated from Bonifacio by several small uncul~ tivated and wild Valleys, which labour would fertilise, but which are now only frequented by flocks of sheep.—G7'am/c/zampr, p. 29. Porto Propriano, open to S.VV. winds, is not safe. Porto Pollo will be the most frequented of the ports on the western side after fle Rousse. The Port of Bonifacio, frequented by ships of small tonnage only, which carry on what trade exists between Corsica and Sardinia, is difficult to enter, and narrowed constantly more and more by detritus 0f ravines.761'a72r/r/znmpr, p. 92. Not far from the bridge over the Boracci, at the end of the Gulf of Valinco, stands Propriano, remarkable for its pretty houses, its commerce, and the number of its warehouses. —~Ga//clt/, 13. I56. April 17.] APPROACH TO SARTENE. 45 right of the valley, with craggy outline and hanging woods, forms infinite fine pictures, and I have seen nothing in Corsica hitherto so classic and poetical. Beyond these succeed. levels of cystus and asphodel, and then, after passing the opening of the valley of Tallano, the River Tavaria, which flows down it, is left, and the road begins the long ascent to Sarténe’, which stands at a great height, and has been visible since I came over the hill close to Propriano. Sarténé,(‘) one of the four Sous—prefectures of Corsica, and a large, important place, is truly grand as approached from this side, though its architecture seems of questionable picturesquencss ; nevertheless, as a whole, it has an imposing look, and resembles Bova, in South Calabria, more than any place I can compare it to, though wanting in the castle-like groups of buildings which so adorn that Italian town. At Sarténé, the massive square houses are more detached; and in that respect it has a certain look of Arghyro-Kastro, in Albania. As the road winds up the very long ascent to the town, the views of the great valley below, so varied with graceful lines and undulations of cultivated ground, and so rich in wood, and of the splendid snowy heights of the long range of mountains opposite, terminating in the lofty regions of the great Monte Incudine, are exceedingly noble, and perhaps give me greater pleasure than all I have hitherto seen of the landscape in this island. The town is approached by a fine bridge over a torrent, and from this point the whole valley, down to the Gulf of Valinco, is seen—one of the wildest and loveliest of prospects, and such as I had not at all anticipated to find in Corsica. (See Plate 5.) Sarténé seems to be a populous place, with many large houses; but it was past sunset when I reached it, and I went at once to the “ Hotel d’Italie.” For the Ajaccio diligence, which leaves Sarténé at 6.30 P.M., had come thundering down the hill an hour before we arrived at the top of it, and, I suppose, to avoid any possibility of my being smuggled into any opposition locanda, the son of Madame Paolantonuccio, had come down to meet me, (1) Valery, writing of his visit to Sarte’né in 1834, says‘This town of 2,700 inhabitants, in afertile territory, considered the granary of Corsica, had been for a long time one of the most peaceable parts of the island. At present, however, it only breathes war and vengeance. Hostilities recommenced on September 16, 1830, and (says M. Valery, after describing a succession of battles in 1833 and 1834, productive of bloodshed, death, and increased hatred) it is difficult to conceive the existence of such a state of society with French government; they have regulated half Europe, but are powerless against the nature, manners, and passions of the Corsicans.#Va/ery, i., p. 223. Sarte’ne’ suffered terribly from the Saracens. After repeated incursions, the Moors surprised the town in the year 1583, and in one day carried off 400 persons into slavery, probably a third of the population. i Gregvrow'us, p. 416. After the French revolution of 1830, Sartené was for years the scene of a horrible civil war. It had been split ever since the year 1815 into two parties, the adherents of the family Rocca Serra, and those of the family of Ortoli. The former are the wealthy, inhabiting the Santa Anna quarter; the latter the poor, inhabiting the Borgo. Both factions entrenched themselves in their quarters, fastened their houses, shut their windows, made sallies at intervals, and shot and stabbed one another with extreme rage. 'l‘he Rocca Serras were the white or Bourbonists, the Ortoli the red or liberals ; the former had denied their opponents entry into their quarters, but the ()rtoli, beingr determined to force it, marched one day 46 ~IOURNAI. ()F A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [April 18. and ensured my going to the right place by piloting me there himself (Did I not, when I met that public conveyance, feel glad that I had not chosen to travel in it, knowing that the whole Of the beautiful scenery from here to Grosseto would have been passed in the dark, seeing that the diligence only arrives at Cauro to—morrow morning at 7 A.M. !) At the hotel—as usual, occupying only one floor of a house, in this instance a good sized one—I found several decent apartments untenanted, and was accompanied to the one I chose for myself by the landlady, a person of most astonishing fatness; her face was nice and pleasant, but in figure she was like nothing so much as Falstaff disguised as the “ Fat \Voman of Brentford.” This bulky hostess looked on me with great favour, on finding that I was well acquainted with her native place. Como, and went into raptures when I talked about Varese and other Lombard localities. Never— theless, at one moment I thought our acquaintance was to be of no long duration ; for, having discovered me in the act of putting up my camp—bed—— which at first, I believe, she thought was a photographic machine, or sonic— thing connected with art—she suddenly became aware of its nature, and, calling Giovanni and others of her household, shouted out, “ Ecco un signore chi sdegna i letti di Corsica l~here is one who despises the Corsican beds l" and I did not know what might have followed this discovery, till my servant assured her that this was my constant habit, and by no means referred to her particular hotel, by which announcement the amiable Fatima allowed herself to be pacified. Later, the supper she provided was excellent, and she could not be satisfied without bringing far more dishes than were required, with fruits and smaller delicacies, such as olives, pickles, butter, &c., and the best of Tallano wine. April 18.~Coffee was very obligingly got ready some time before sunrise, and the early part of the morning went in making a drawing below the town, with flags flying to the limits of Santa Anna. The Rocea Serras instantly fired from their houses, killing three men and wounding others, and this was the signal for a bloody battle. 0n the following day many hundred mountaineers came with their guns, and besieged Santa Anna. The Government sent a military force; but, although this to all appearance produced tranquillity, the two parties still kept assailing one another, and killed several men of their adversaries. The variance still continues, although the Roeea Serra and Ortoli have met amicably at the festival of Louis Napoleon’s election to the Presidency for the first time after an enmity of thirty~three years, and allowed their children to dance together. These ineradieable family feuds present the same spectacle in Corsica as the Italian cities, Florence, Bologna, Verona, I’adua, and Milan, offered to the world in olden times; but these family feuds are far more striking and terrible in Corsica, because they are carried on in such small places, in villages often possessing scarcely a thousand inhabitants, who are, moreover, indissolubly bound to one another by the bonds of blood and the rights of hospitality. At Sarte’né politics produced civil war ; elsewhere, this is produced by some personal injury, or by any the most trifling circumstance. For a dead goat there once died sixteen men, and a whole canton was up in arms. A young man throws a bit of bread to his dog, the (log of another man snaps it up, thence arises a war between two parishes, and the consequence is murder and death on both sidesiGregg/Wiring p. 417. The town of Sal-tone is situated in the basin of the Rimanese; its annals go no further back than PLATE V. SARTENE. April 18.] WALKS ABOUT SARTENIZ. 47 some short way down the hill (from a spot whence a wonderfully fine picture might be made), until the sun, shining above the houses, prevented farther work. These views of Sarténe’ are most majestic and poetical; and, more- over, while the buildings of the town are in shadow, the commonplace nature of their details is hidden. The great isolated blocks of granite which seem thrown about on all sides on purpose to serve as foreground, the excess of wild vegetation, the silence of the deep valley or plain, and the clear lines of snow crowning all, combine to make a thousand bewitching subjects. After 7 or 8, a walk on the other side of the city, and a long scramble among thick woods, where the ground is literally red with cyclamen, show me more of the Sarte’né scenery; from the eastern side of the town you look into the quietest of profound valleys, above which the lofty line of what I suppose to be the Incudine mountain range shines crystal clear and bright against a cloudless sky. I shall certainly remain here to—morrow, at least, and try to get as many records as I can of the landscape, which is of a class rarely met with in such perfection, so fertile and so varied, so full of giant rocks, of abundant foliage, and sublime mountain forms. But it is necessary to give M. Galloni d’Istria’s letters to the Sous-préfet and to M. Vico, Sous—Inspecteur of Forests, from whom I am to gain infor- mation about the woods of Bavclla, which are to be visited from the east side of the island ; so I return to the town. The streets of Sarténé are not gifted with any charm of liveliness; the lofty square houses are built of blocks of rough granite, dark gray in colour, and many of them are so massive as to look more like prisons than private dwellings. Signor Vico, a most obliging person, gives Inc every information about the roads. From Solenzaro, he says, my light carriage can cross the heights of Bavella, at which place I am to have an introduction to the government agent, who resides in the forest, and thence I may return by Zonza. Levie, and Tallano, to Sartené. The whole distance across the mountains he repre— sents as about seventy or seventy—five kilometres—forty—five miles, more or less—and provided no new fall of snow occurs, I shall find no difficulty in crossing. He confirms M. Galloni’s opinion, that the Bavella forest scenery is among the finest in the island. At 10 I am back at Fatima’s hotel for breakfast. That person evidently the sixteenth century. In 1583 it was taken by assault by Hassan, King of Algiers. About 1732 the town suffered much from the incursions of pirates, and the eleven Villages depending on it were reduced to oneiG/‘a/zdr/zampx, p. 28. In the district of Sarténé are also some remains of men/rim and (lo/mam, those ancient mythical stones which are found in the islands of the Mediterranean and in Celtic countries. They consist of columnar stones erected in a circle, and are here called stazzone. CMgo/vw’m, p. 427. ‘ In Sarte’né (writes the Abbe Galletti, proudly), are found shops of every kind, cafes, and hotels after the fashion of the Continent iG'IIZ/ttlf, p. 158. The poetical Gregorovius, p 414, says the streets of Sarténe are peopled with demons, and calls it a large paése in melancholy isolation among melancholy inorintains. I .. WI, 48 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [April 18. has regrets for her native land, and my acquaintance with the towns and villages of her early days continues to give me great interest in her eyes. She is most profuse of good things; her wine of the best quality; her table cleanly and carefully set out; and her attentions unfailing. But she laments the little traffic of Sal‘téllé, and says, what must be true enough, that many articles of perishable nature cannot be kept, because so few passengers come to eat them. Her principal custom seems derived from pensionati, civilians, government officials, &c. (the officers of the garrison—for Sarte’ne’ has a small garrison—go to the opposition hotel), and she makes such efforts to please all that she assuredly merits success. At II I start down the hill for a walk of nine kilometres (about six miles) to get recollections of the river scenery of the Tavaria, and of the great granite boulder foregrounds. The cuckoo sings cheerily, and the cystus flowers scent the air. Up to the seventh kilometre there is comparatively little to interest ; but thenceforward, when you have passed, a wayside fountain where aged and broken ilex trees and a carpet of fern make a picture, all is charming. Little, however, can be represented of this extremely beautiful scenery by the pencil alone; the colouring of the river and that of the densely—foliaged cork and flex groves, and of the granite fragment—strewn hills—which have a sort of velvety and speckled texture or quality—are Characteristics only to be given by hard study with the brush. Returning, drew some of the great rock foregrounds. How difficult it is to give ever so slight an impression, on a small scale, of objects as full of detail as of grandeur—0f those huge wrinkled Philae—like masses of granite; of that mingling of tall evergreen oak and rock; that smooth bright green turf, dotted with flocks of black sheep! Worked till I was weary, and yet again, upon a View of Sartéilé, on my way up. The specky grayncss of the hill on which the town stands is strongly contrasted with those parts that are covered with green-brown maquis. The long ascent to Sarte’né—I cannot call it tedious, so varied is the scenery, so delightful at this hour the song of innumerable blackbirds, so opportune the many little rock fountains for refreshment—was accomplished by 7.15 RM. The last look before you turn towards the street leading into the town it is difficult to cut short—to pass the bridge, without lingering to gaze down the long, long valley westward to the sea. All through the day I have observed the civility of the passers—by, mostly bearded men in black or brown, with brown cloth caps, riding on spirited little horses, the few women with them always riding astride, and always dressed in black; not a vestige of costume exists. Every one saluted me as I sat drawing. One called out, “We are glad you are making our Corsica known by drawing it!” Another said, “Perhaps when you foreigners know us better, you will cease to think us such savages as we are said to be I ” April 19.] SCENERY NEAR THE TAVARIA. 49 Fatima’s reception and supper were as cheery and good as heretofore. To—morrow I shall devote the whole day to the Tavaria scenery, and all things are to be in order to start at sunrise if possible. Api’iZ19.—At 5.30 AM. I walk down the hill, and drawing more or less by the way, gradually reach my farthest point, the bridge over the Tavaria, a distance of some eleven kilometres, or seven miles. Such a walk here, at early morning, is unboundedly full of pleasant items; the whistle and warble of countless blackbirds, and the frequent cuckoo’s note; flowers everywhere, especially the red cyclamen, blue vetch, yellow broom, tall white heath, pink cranesbill, and tiny blue veronica; the great rocks—at this hour in deep shadow——overgrown with ivy, moss, and a beautiful red lichen; the slopes of fern and cystus; all these are on each side, and below there is ever the grand valley scene. I must linger yet another day at Sarténe’ ; indeed, a week would be a short stay in these parts for an artist who really wished to study this fine order of Corsican landscape. About the seventh kilometre the road is lively by groups of peasants going up to the town on the fete day—lively, that is by movement, not by colour, for all are gloomily black, caps, beards, and dressesfitrotting on little ponies, many of which carry two riders. While I sit drawing above the Tavaria bridge, a shepherd leaves his large flock of black sheep and stands by me. At length he says, “Why are you drawing our mountains?” “ Per fantasia e piacere,” I reply, “for fun, and because it gives me pleasure to draw such beautiful places.” “ Puole,” quoth he, “ma cosa siggriffica 9"—“ That may be, but what is the meaning of it P”~“da qualche parte d‘Italia venite certo "—— “ You come, it is plain, from some part of Italy; do you go about mapping all our country P"—~“ facendo tutta la Corsica nostra dentr’ una carta geografica P” But I, who cannot work and talk at the same time, tell him so, on which he says, with an air of wisdom, “ Si capiscefiI understand,”—and goes away apparently in the belief that I am constructing a political survey of the island. At II it is time for breakfast, which G. has set, with cloaks and a folio for chair and table, below a large olive tree someway off the rOad; and Fatima the plentiful has outdone herself by a selection of good things, cold lamb, eggs, tunny, and Sta. Lucia di Tallano wine. I have seen few spots more full of poetical beauty than this, which, though close to the high road, would be completely a solitude but for hosts of birds, of which the woods are full, especially blackbirds, titmice, and bee—eaters, with many jays and ravens, whose home is in the crags high up on Monte Lungo. But after mid—day, all these woodland and mountain dwellers cease to sing or cry, and the l bright dead silence of southern noon succeeds to the lively freshness of morning. Once only a living stream of some eighty jet black goats suddenly passes along the green sward by the little brook, sneezing and shuffling after '14: JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [April 19, SCEN ERY NEAR SAR'rENn. RIVER their fashion, and disappearing behind the great crags of granite, leaving silence as they had found it; little greenish lizards playing about the flat stones being now the only sign of life all around~ “ For now the noonday quiet holds the hill ; The lizard, with his shadow on the stone, Rests like a shadow.77 The whole scene recalls to me many a morning in Greece, and repeats the “ days that are no more,” as I had not supposed they could be brought back. Let a landscape painter, having set out from Sai‘télié, turn off the high road to his left, where, a little beyond the ninth kilo— metre from the town, he comes upon some fine detached rocks, forming a screen to an opening that leads to a Vista of thick wood and noble mountain, and let him follow the winding goat tracks to the foot of the hill; there he will find on every side hundreds of foreground studies of incal- culable value. The granite fragments are usually of a pale dove or slate colour, mottled with thousands of vegetable tints, green, white, yellow, orange, and black lichen, tufts of a red kind of stonecrop, moss, and ivy; and of such masses of rock with a portion of the background to make a picture, he will find enough work for months of artist—life. One more pause before setting out townward, to draw by the river where the wood overhangs the cliffs and masses of granite, and where the clear water reflects the delicate hues of the pallid hill above it. Then as the sun sinks lower (for it is 4,3OP.M.), while the light and shadow on the rocks in the valley and on the exquisite mountain is constantly changing, and silvering the high crags and gilding the tufted trees, I go reluctantly. Since I made drawings at J‘.‘ I 4 [/;' a Liz/Mm SARTIZNL, {A R N1 SCENERY PLATE VI. UBRARY —‘—~«_ UNNERSITY 0F “UNO‘S v. April 20.] RETURN TO SARTEN 2. SI Mount Athos, in 1856, I have seen no heights so poetically wild, so good in form, and so covered with thick wood; and, altogether, as a wild mountain scene this has few rivals. A shepherd tells me they call the chief hill here Monte Lungo. (See Plate 6.) The ancient Coliseum sack is packed, and I set off on my return. Here, at the seventh kilometre, are twenty Corsicans on just ten horses, no more— a by no means ordinary spectacle—riding back from Sarténé. On the way up the long ascent I am met by the landlord of the Hotel de l’Univers at Sarténé; he says he had heard that my worship was coming, by a message from the Secretary—general, and “had not the son of that woman at Olmeto been so cunning as to seize your honour first, by artfully coming down the hill, you would have come to my hotel, which is wholly the best at Sarténé, and most fit for you to have gone to;” to which I can only reply by regrets, and by assuring my host of the Universe that Fatima's inn is as comfortable as need be. Many a spot on the way up to the town has a charm at this hour which it does not possess earlier in the day, for now the sun “mm M SJ‘R'IIW' has set, the contrast of the almost black ileX against the pallor of the fading blue mountains is lovely and wondrous; so, by reason of lingering to make notes and memoranda, I do not reach Sartcné till 7.45. April 20, 5.30 AM—The first part of the day is passed in completing drawings of the town and valley already commenced, and in making other small sketches characteristic ofa place I may perhaps never revisit, at least with leisure for drawing. One or two of these sketches are of the mortuary chapels or sepulchral monuments, which are very numerous and conspicuous about the IC 2 52 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [April 20. neighbourhood of Sarténé, and are often exceedingly picturesque, some high up peeping from thick woods of wild olive and cork, others in positions close to the road. Then Ipay a visit to M. Peretti, one of the Sous—prefets of the depart— ment, who was away when I came here first, a very agreeable and kindly person. To his inquiries as to what I thought of and how I liked Corsica I made a reply which savoured certainly more of the artist than the politician, namely, that I regretted extremely to find no Corsican costume in the island. “ Vous voulez done, Monsieur, recommencer avec la nationalité Corse 3” “ Do you wish to re—establish Corsican nationality P " he asked, laughing. Of the present condition of the island he speaks as having absolutely no affinity with that in existence at the commencement of this century, or rather up to the year 1852, when the general disarmament of the population took place— “robbery, banditism, vendetta, all beyond that period belongs to the past, and are exchanged in the present day for security and tranquillity." After visit to M. Vico, it becomes requisite to practise letter-writing and resignation indoors, for, cloudy all the morning, it now rains in torrents ; the weather, however, has been very propitious for drawing in Sarténé, and even this downfall may presage a clear day for to—morrow. 4.30 P.M.—The mists roll up from the higher mountains, and disclosing bright paths of coming sunset, enable me to go out once more to make some last sketches. All about the Cappuccini—a small convent just outside the town—there are beautiful bits of landscape ; but they are not easily attainable, because there is an inconvenient custom here of building up high stone walls, enclosing nothing at all; probably they mark divisions of property; at the same time they interfere much with the researches of painters not gifted with kid—like activity. Nevertheless there is hardly a path round Sarténe’ that does not lead to some surpassingly fine bit of landscape, and excepting Civitella and Olevano, I have known no such place for study combining so many features of grandeur and beauty. Perhaps in the finest parts of Calabria there is more analogy to the class of scenery here, but in that part of Italy there is a greater amount of culture and less variety of unbroken wildness. As the sun goes down, a band of golden light beams along the Gulf of Valinco, and a last shower breaks over the misty gray olive woods and the huge lichen—grown rocks; so at 6.30 I return to the Hetel d'Italie. I ask my hostess about the mourning which every one seems to wear here. She says, for a parent or a child you mourn for life, as also for brothers, sisters, husbands, and wives, unless you marry (or re—marry) after their death, on which event you cease to mourn, and a new life is supposed to commence. “Allora, i1 matrimonio taglia il duol—then marriage cuts the grief.” For an uncle or aunt you mourn ten years, and for a cousin seven, so that it is not wonder— ful that the world is so mournful as to dress in these parts. On the hostess April 20.] FATIMA’S HOUSEVVIFERY. 53 asking my opinion on various matters regarding Corsican inns, and on my gently suggesting that somewhat more cleanliness and attention in the matter of floors, stairs, &c. (for, indeed, the state of these contrasts strangely with that of the very clean linen, table service, &c.), would be very likely to have beneficial effect on the recommendation of English visitors, Fatima says excitedly: “Come posso far tutto? How can I do all things? In Corsica there are no servants; they consider service a dishonour, and will starve sooner than work.” Yet she promises to do something for the unwashed floors. “Can I,” she says, “prevent those who come to my hotel, and through whom chiefly I am able to keep it up, from bringing their dogs, and throwing all the bones and broken fragments of meat on the ground for them 9 Cosa volete che faccio P” Finally she hits on an ingenious compro- mise: “So béne che vi dev’ essere la pulizia, ma qui in Sarténé non e’ possibile——I know well that it is proper that things should be clean, but here cleanliness is impossiblevDunque, voglio colorire con color” oscuro tutt’ il fondo delle camere; cosi appunto non si scoprira le sporcheriel ——Therefore I will colour with a dark tint the floors of all the rooms, and so nobody will be able to see the dirt l” Peter the coachman, who has already asked for two supplies of money, comes for more, and it begins to be suspected that the horses do not altogether benefit by this so much as they should in the shape of orzo or barley, ~ ~ ~vfi~_—we‘z«.2; , :flv»..>k~.;—~w—. ‘- - .___~‘.‘ ‘I __,. ,a,_,,. \. 54 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CGRSICA. [AprilZL CHAPTER III. leave Sarte’néw Landscape at Early MorningfiValley of the OrtolaiVerdure of Corsicai\Vild Flowers -wI.ion Rock at RoccaspinaiCO/ast Roadilionely Village of Monaccianncultivated and Wild Countryi Low and Unhealthy TractiCrecks of Figari and Ventilegneilt‘irst Views of Bonifaeio iDescent to its Picturesque IIarbour~~Appearance of the Fortress and TowniGood Carriage l :\p1‘i121.] LANDSCAPE AT EARLY MORNING. 55 How grand at this hour is the broad light and shade of these mountains and valleys! (notwithstanding that such as leave their houses at ten or eleven A.M. complain of “want of Chiaroscuro in the south”) How curious are the chapel— tombs, so oddly and picturesquely placed, and frequently so tasteful in design, gleam— ing among the rocks and hanging woods! At first, after leaving Sarténe’, the road passes through splendid woods of clustering ilex, and then begins to descend by opener country, shallower green vales and scattered granite tors or boulders, here and there passing plots of cultivation, and ever farther away from the high central mountains of the island. Now the distance sweeps down to lower hills, all clothed in deep green “maquis,” and at every curve of the road are endless pictures of gray granite rocks and wild olive.(1) While I am thinking how pleasant it would be to get studies of this very peculiar scenery, by living at Sarténé, and walking seven or eight miles daily, Peter suddenly halts below the village of Giunchetto, which stands high above the road. “What is the matter P” says G.; but Peter only points to the village and crosses himself, and looks round at me. “ What has happened 9” I repeat. Peter whispers, “ In that village a priest has lately died, and without con— fessing himself.” In the midst of visions of landscape—“ \Vhat,” as Charles XII. said to his secretary, “What has this bomb to do with what I am dictating?” Farther on, near the eleventh kilometre, are some enormous granite blocks, with two or three stone huts by the road—side, and then follows a steep descent to the valley of the Ortola; looking back, you see 'l‘IIl‘Z LION RUL‘K r\’[' NUCL‘ASI’INA. I A J . , ., V , f ' . . ' . () A llLll waxed country, “1th some few lutelluptlons, reaches along the east and south coast; to ionifncioserBosnia/1 age. 4“--. ~ . 14'». 56 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [April 21. a world of mist—folded mountains in the northeast, while ahead are “maquisg” and cystus carpets, sown with myriads of stariwinkling white flowers, broom, and purple lavender. The descent to the Ortola valley abounds with beauty, and by its verdure reminds me of more than one Yorkshire dale—here, instead of the oak or ash, depths of aged evergreen oak and gray-branched cork-trees, shading pastures and fern. At 8, the river, a shallow stream, is crossed by a three—arched bridge; and here, near a solitary stone hut, are a few cattle and some peculiarly hideous pigs—the only living things seen since I left Sarte’ne’. Then, at the eighteenth kilometre, an ascent on the south side of the valley brings me in sight of the long point and tower of Cape Roccaspina and of the broad sea, above which I halt at 9 A.M., for the great Lion of Roccaspina may not be passed without getting a sketch of it. And, truly, it is a remarkable object— an immense mass of granite perfectly resembling a crowned lion, placed on a lofty ledge of the promontory, and surrounded by bare and rugged rocks. C) (Sm Vignette, p. 55.) The road now becomes a regular cornice coast—way, alternately descending and rising, always broad and good, and well protected by parapets; long spurs of rock jut out into the sea beyond odorous slopes of myrtle and cystus, while in some parts enormous blocks and walls of granite form the left side of the picture. Presently the road diverges more inland, and is carried through wild and lonely tracts of “maquis,” varied by patches of corn at intervals, and recalling the valleys of Philistia when you begin to ascend towards the Judaean hills from the plains near Eleutheropolis. Two flocks of goats—— of course, black—and a few black sheep and pigs, who emulate the appear— ance of wild boars, with one man and one boy, are the living objects which a distant hamlet (I think Monaccia) contributes to the life of the scene. Occasionally glimpses of the distant sea occur; but, as far as eye can reach, the wild green unbroken “maquis” spreads away on every side. At 1030 “half our mournful task is done,” and the mid—day halt at a house (one of some six or seven by the wayside) is reached. The appearance of these dwellings is very poor and wretched; and a gendarme informs me (1) Not far from the mouth of the Ortoli stands a solitary post-house, and opposite it a ledge of rock, on which the tower of Roccaspina stands. An oddly-shaped block of stone rises near it on the sharp edge of rock ; it bears a striking resemblance to a colossal crowned lion, and the common people call it “ Il leone coronato.” . . \Ve proceeded along the coast, which is interrupted by arms of the sea, and melancholy. Small rivers creep through molasses into the sea, upon the coast cliffs of which gray towers hold guard. The air is foul and unhealthy. I saw a few small hamlets on the side of the hill, and was told that they were empty, for that the inmates do not return to them from the mountains till the month of September. . . Two small gulfs, that of Figari and that of Ventilegne, resemble fiords, &c.——Gn§vmw‘m, p. 430, Failing the long-promised road from Ajaeeio to Bonifacio, the sea twice bars your onward way to that city. As the shore is steep, it is necessary to go a good way out into the Gulf of Ventilegne to find a shallow ford, and thus you gallop, very poetically, hut with no small discomfort, in the middle of the \x'aves.»7Va/a:y, i,, p. 229. April21.] APPROACH TO BONIFACIO. 57 that from the end of May till November they are all deserted, so unwhole— some is the air of this district; and that the few peasants at present here go up at that season to the villages of Piannattoli 0r Caldarello—small clusters of houses higher up on the hill—side. How little cheerful the aspect of this part of the island must be then, one may imagine from what it is even in its inhabited condition. On a rising ground close by are some of those vast isolated rocks which characterise this southern coast of Corsica—a good spot whereat to halt for Fatima’s breakfast. Looking southward, green lines of campagna stretch out into what is the first semblance of a plain that I have seen in this island, and which is exceedingly like portions of Syrian landscape. It was worth while to get a drawing of this, and I would willingly have stayed longer, but at I P.M. it is time to start again. The road continues across comparatively low ground by undulating inequalities, through wide “maquis”-dotted tracts, where here and there the tall giant—hemlock is a new feature in the more moist parts of the ground. Twice we descend to the sea at inlets or small creeks—Figari and Ventilegne— in each case passing the stream which they receive by a bridge, and at these points marshes and “ still salt pools” show the malarious nature of the district. Nor does the landscape painter fail to rejoice that he has chosen this method of “seeing all Corsica,” and that he is able to drive rapidly over this part of it, where there is no need of halt for drawing, for the higher mountains are far away from the south of the island, and the hills nearer the coast stretch seaward with a persistent and impracticable length of line not to be reduced to agree— able pictorial proportion. Once only, at 3 P.M., about seven kilometres from Bonifacio, I stop to draw, more to obtain a record of the topographic character of the south—west coast than for the sake of any beauty of scenery, of which the long spiky promontories hereabouts possess but little, although there is a certain grace in some of those slender points running far out into the blue water, and, though far inland, you may at times catch a glimpse of some heights of varied form; yet, be your drawing never so long or narrow, the length of the whole scene is with difficulty to be compressed within its limits. At 3.30 I send on Peter and the trap to Bonifacio, and walk, for so many hours of sitting still in a carriage cramps limbs and head. As the hills, from the ascent to which I had made my last drawing, are left behind, Boni— facio, the Pisan or Genoese city, becomes visible; extreme whiteness, cliffs as chalky as those of Dover, and a sort of Maltese look of fortified lines are the apparent characters at this distance of a city so full of interest and history. Opposite, towards the south, a thick haze continues to hide the coast of Sardinia, and this has been no light drawback to the day’s journey, since the sight of remote mountains and the blue straits would have gone far to relieve 41,- 58 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA, [Apr112L the “maquis” monotony, driving through which has occupied so much of the time passed between Sarténe’ and B0nifacio.(1) Meanwhile a space of three or four miles has to be done on foot, shut out from all distant view, as well as very uninteresting in its chalky white dryness of road, about which the only features are walls, with olives all bent to the northeast, and eloquently speaking of the force of the south—west wind along this coast. But at 4.30 RM. fields of tall corn and long-armed olives replace this ugliness, and the road descends to a deep winding gorge or valley, closely sheltered and full of luxuriant vegetation, olive, almond, and fig. After the boulders and crags of granite, which up to this time have been the foregrounds in my Corsican journey, a new world seems to be entered on coming to this deep hollow (where a stream apparently should run, but does not), for its sides are high cliffs of cretaceous formation, pale, crenelated, and with cavernous ledges, and loaded with vegetation. At 5 PM. the road abruptly reaches the remarkable port of Bonifacio, which forms one of the most delightful and striking pictures possible. Terminating a winding and narrow arm of the sea, or channel, the nearer part of which you see between overhanging cliffs of the strangest form, it is com- pletely shut in on all sides, that opposite the road by which alone you can reach it being formed by the great rock on which the old fortress and city are built, and which to the south is a sheer precipice to the sea, or rather (even in some parts of it visible from the harbour) actually projecting above it. At the foot of this fort—rock lies a semicircle of suburban buildings at the water’s edge, with a church. and a broad flight of shallow steps leading up to the top of this curious peninsular stronghold ; all these combine in a most perfect little scene, now lit up by the rays of the afternoon sun, and which I lose no time in drawing?) (See Plate 8.) A broad and good carriage road leads up to the city, huge grim walls enclose it, and before you enter them you become aware how narrow is the (I) Crossing the last point of land in Corsica towards the south-west, namely, Santa Trinita‘the tongue which ends in Capo di Fenoithe white chalk cliffs of Bonifacio come into view, and this most southern and most original town of the island, itself snow-white like the coast, placed high up on the rocks ; a surprising prospect in the midst of the wide and depressing solitude. a Grtgomt/z'm, p. 430. The territory of the town Of Bonifacio, built at the southern extremity of Corsica, is carefully culti- vated and covered with Olive groves. The inhabitants, by toil and perseverance, have made their stony soil fertile, although it is devastated perpetually by terrible winds. As you approach the upper part of the territory of Bonifacio, you observe that all the trees are bent in an easterly direction by the pre- vailing winds, and their horizontal branches follow the same. These winds, prevailing from the west to the east, are produced by the central mountain mass of Corsica; they are extremely violent at Cap Corso, and in the straits of Bonifacio, where navigation is often dangerous. Less strong at Calvi, they are unfelt at Ajaccio and I’ropriano ; they begin to prevail at Figari, and become very violent at Bonifacio.eiGi'mm’dm/izpr, p. 29. (7) The position of Bonifacio is extraordinary, and perhaps unique. On a calcareous rock, hori- zontal at its summit, almost perpendicular at its sides, and pierced with vast caves; its little peaceful port, an oval basin formed by nature ; its marvellous seavgrottoes ; its fortifications ; all these together make lionifacio the most curious city in Corsica; and to see it alone, the voyage thither would be worth PORT OF BONIFACIO. April 21.] INTERIOR ()F B()NII’ACIO. 59 little isthmus thatjoins the rock-site of Bonifacio to the main land; from a small level space close below the fort you see the opposite coast of Sardinia, and you look down perpendicularly into the blue straits which divide the two islands. Very narrow streets conduct from the fortifications to the inner town; the houses are lofty and crowded, and Bonifacio evidently possesses the full share of inconveniences natural to garrison towns of limited extent, with somewhat of the neglected and unprepossessing look of many southern streets and habitations. There was no difficulty in finding the Widow Carreghi’s hotel, but its exterior and entrance were, it must be owned, not a little dismal, and the staircase, steep, narrow, wooden, dark, dirty, and difficult, leading to the inn rooms on the third floor, was such as a climbing South American monkey might have rejoiced in. Nevertheless, once safe at the top of this ladder—like climb there are several little and very tolerably habitable rooms; and, as seems to be invariably the rule as to Corsican hostesses, the two here are very obliging and anxious to please. There was yet time to walk through the town, which Iwas surprised to find so extensive and populous. Some of the churches are ancient, and near the end of the rock (though the lateness of the hour, together with a powder magazine and obstructive sentry, prevented my getting quite to its extremity) a considerable plateau with barracks and other public buildings exists, and I can well imagine some days might be spent with great interest in this ancient place. As it was, I could but make a slight drawing from the edge of the precipice looking up to the harbour or sea—inlet, but from such examination it was evident that the most characteristic View of this singular and picturesque place must be made from the opposite side of the narrow channel, though it does not appear how, except by boat, such a point can be reached. Bonifacio is doubtless a most striking place and full of subjects for painting ; the bright chalky White of the rocks on which it stands, the deep green vegetation, and the dark gulf below it, add surprising contrasts of colour to the general effect of its remarkable position and outline. undertaking. And you may add to all this interest, those of old and heroic associations, of ancient MSS., and, above all, of the quiet and good population, which, unlike that of the rest of the island, has never carried arms, nor has it been a prey to “Vendetta.” Bonifacio, indeed, which had its own laws and coined its own money, was rather a confederate republic than a subject of Genoa. ()ne of the oldest cities in Corsica, it owes its foundation to the illustrious Boniface, the Pisan lord, Marquis of Tuscany, Count of Corsica, Governor for the Emperors, &c. Boniface landed on this coast A.1). 833, and built the castle. . . At the entrance of the town, opposite the street called Pizzalunga, is the house in which Charles V. lodged in 1541 ; the door is decorated with an arabesrlue on marble of ele- gant design. When Charles V. left the city, his host, Philip Cattacciolo, shot the horse the emperor had used, saying that after him no one else was worthy to mount him. . . In the same street, and nearly opposite, I was shown a room occupied by Napoleon I. . . The great tower (Torrione), now a pow- der-magazine, was the old castle, and the only fortress of the town at the time of the arrival of the Genoese Colony in 1195. La Manichella is the point nearest to Sardinia, from which it is but three leagues—Valery, i., p. 234.—[Valery gives many details of the life of Buonaparte While residing here for eight months as second commandant under M. Quenzaeil‘ldn] In order to conceal the famine which menaced them during the siege of the city by Alfonso of 60 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER 1N CORSICA. [April 22. Returning to the Widow Carreghi’s hotel, confusion prevailed throughout that establishment, owing to its being crowded at this hour by, not only the officers of the garrison, who take their food there, but an additional host of Offi— cial civilians, gendarmerie, &c., to—morrow being a day of great excitement, on 1 . J account of the conscription taking place, in consequence of which event the Sous-préfet is here from Sarténé, with numerous other dignitaries. It was - , not wonderful that the two obliging women, who seemed joint hostesses, were somewhat “ dazed " by the unbounded noise in the small and overfull rooms; nevertheless, they gotavery good supper for me and my man, only apologising l continually that “le circonstanzeH of the full house, and of the late hour at i which I had arrived, prevented their offering more food and in greater comfort I j and quiet. Everybody seemed to be aware that I was a travelling painter, ; and all proffered to show me this or that, the Sous—pre’fet, they said, had 3‘ ‘ gone out to meet me, and the Mayor, for whom I have left a card and a * , letter from M. Galloni d’Istria (he lives in the Carreghi house), would come ‘ and see me to-morrow. Another of the persons at the table gave me his ,1 _ address at Casabianda, and begged that, if I should come there, he might show me the ruins of Aleria. The whole party, “continentals” and “in— ‘ sulaires,” were full of civility. a . N; All night long there was singing and great noise in the streets, so that in ‘ ; l spite of my camp—bed very little sleep was attainable. , “r ‘ April 22.—How to obtain the best illustrations of Bonifacio? and in a , single day P—that is to say, all that can be got upon dry land ; for though I I, ,, am aware that the grottoes here are considered as some of the finest known, I ‘, have resolved not to go into any of them, for they are all situated outside ‘ the channel, in the cliffs on the open sea, and I mentally decide to relinquish whatever of seeing Corsica depends on entering a boat. Arragon in I441, and which afterwards became so horrible, the Bonifazini threw loaves over the walls, and the women actually sent to Alphonso a fresh cheese made of their own milk. Hunger soon made the trait of the Roman daughters7 filial piety common enough, for these intrepid and tender women ran, in the midst of dangers, to suckle the exhausted combatants, and there was not one of those who during the siege had not been revived by the generous draught. . . At last, after four months of dreadful sufferings, the Genoese gallcys brought 1‘Clief.—*I/iI/t’ljl, i., 246.—[Valery’s details of the 1 history of Bonifacio are full of interest.~E.L.] i The churches of Bonifacio attest its ancient importance, its manners, riches, and civilisation. S. M. Majeure, an elegant church of Pisan construction, &c. St. Dominique, the Old church of the Templars, of a light Gothic, with an octangular tower, is also very remarkable, and is the largest in ‘ Corsica. . . St. Francis dates from 1398, &c.~Vlz/ezjl, i., p. 239. l The rock on which Bonifazio is built is connected with the land; on two sides it is lashed by the surges of the straits; on the third it is washed by a narrow arm of the sea, which forms gulf, harbour, and fortifying moat at the same time, and is enclosed by most precipitious, indeed, inaccessible hills. The force of the water has crumbled away the shores all round, and produced the most grotesque forms. 5 Seen from below, that is, from the sea, which in many places has no edging of shore at all, this rock, rising quite precipitously from the waves, is most awe-inspiring. Bonifacio was founded by the Tuscan Marquis whose name it bears, in the year 833, after a naval victory over the Saracens, to oppose a dam to their piratical incurSions, as they were wont April 22.] DR. MONTEPAGANO THE MAIRE. 61 The attentive Carreghi hostesses bring me coffee at 5, in a tumbler, which, it seems, is the mode in South Corsican households, and they give as a reason for doing so, that the coffee keeps hotter in glass than earthen- ware, which I do not deny; though at this early hour the unexpected feeling suggested by this practicevto wit, of your being about to drink a glass of porter—is objectionable. It is not possible to praise this hotel for its clean- liness, and yet it does not seem fair to judge Corsican inns, as some do, as if they were in Lombardy or Tuscany, constantly frequented by strangers. Take any part of Italy or France, away from the routine line of travellers, and you will find the inns hardly as good as those here. 6 A.M.—The first work of to—day is to complete the drawings begun yesterday at the head of the port—rather a long task, as much accurate detail is necessary. It is not easy to realise that the sea is on the further side of the fortress as well as on this. The harbour is really beautiful at this hour, when everything isreflected in the water, and the Genoese tower, which commands a view far up the channel, stands picturesquely in the foreground. While I work there comes down the hill a large party of what G. calls peydkoo dvepwn'mflgreat people—to wit, M. le Sous—préfet, Dr. Montepagano the Maire, with others of the local notables and clergy, and on their arrival at where I sit, introductions, with much lifting of hats, ensue. The mayor seems a particularly agreeable man, and the whole party give an impression of being well-bred and pleasant, nor did they long interrupt my labours; every one offered to show me some portion of the city, or aid me in some way, but from the limited time at my disposal, I could only venture to name the convent of Sta. Trinita as a place I should like to visit, on account of its commanding a distant view of Bonifacio, and it was agreed that Dr. Monte— pagano should take me there at 2 RM. The next thing was to procure a view from the side of the channel opposite the city, and to this end I began, with G., an examination of paths to land from Spain, Africa, and Sardinia, on this side of the island. Of the fortifications erected by the Marquis, the great old tower, called 'l‘orrione, is still standing. Three other towers besides are erected upon the rock; Bonifacio carries them all in her armorial bearings. The town, as well as the island, subsequently came under the Pisans ; but the Genoese deprived them Of Bonifacio as early as the year 1193. A Bonifazine, Murzolaccio. wrote a separate history of his town in the year 1625 ; it was published at Bologna, and is extremely rare. The memorable siege of the town by Alfonso of Arragon, is related by Peter Cyrnaeus.767130707/[2/3 p. 432. The town of Bouifacio was founded towards the year 833 by Boniface, Count of Corsica. This town became a commune in the beginning of the eleventh century, and became subject to the republic of Pisa about the end of it. In 1195 the Genoese took Bonifacio, and massacred its population. Early in the sixteenth century the town withstood Alfonso of Arragon in a remarkable siege. In 1551it was taken by the Turks.AvGra/na’rkam/u, p. 30. ionifacio repulsed Alfonso, King of Arl'ag011,12111(l the Corsicans of Vincitello d’Istria in 1421. Later, in 1551, in the time of Sampiero, the Turks and French allied under Henry II., and, led by the famous Dragut, took the city by stratagem, after a long and memorable siege. . . In the suburbs of l‘lonifacio stands a long aqueduct, built by the Pisans, which furnishes water in abundance to that part of the city. , VON/6M. p. 163. ..__ A. .____ V‘b—ar-w . ~ 62 JOURNAL OF A LANDSCAPE PAINTER IN CORSICA. [Apri12:. and valleys in that direction, though the heat, and the contrast of the glaringly white soil with the dark vegetation, made the search as uncomfortable as at first it was profitless; for, pursuing a line parallel to the inlet, we diverged at times towards the water, but as often got entangled among vineyards and walls; till growing weary with climbing steep paths that led me no nearer to the point desired, and half blinded with the dazzling and hot white pathways, I was giving up the task. The Suliot, however, persevered, saying, “ e’m’powr‘) eivai yd 7172/13 d77[o-m'—-it is a shame to go back,” and left me to return in half an hour, having discovered a dell leading down to the water, where a ledge at the end of the rocks seemed to command a View of the other side of the channel. And so it turned out to be, though the path along the cliff edge was so narrow and precipitous, and so giddily overhanging the water, that even with assistance I could hardly manage to arrive at the required height. From this point there is a perfect view of this curious and interesting old Corsican city, and I know of no scene of the kind more strikingly beautiful. The exceedingly deep colour of the quiet narrow channel con- trasts wondrously with the pale hues of the rocks and buildings, and the strange lonely character of the fort, and of the projectng cliffs rising perpen— dicularly from the water’s edge, and striped with long ledges of singular form, is most impressive. A solitary cormorant flitting by is the only sign of life, and a complete silence adds to the charm of this wild spot, so full of memories of the sufferings of the Bonifacio people. I would gladly linger some days to explore more fully the position of this historic mediaeval city, so unique in appearance and site. When the wind lashes this inland channel, how grandly the foaming waves must beat against the sides and hollows of these cliffs, wrinkled and worn by long buffeting! (See Plate 9.) While I am drawing, the stillness is broken by two boats, which, from the dis— tant harbour come down the channel, those who are in them singing “ O peseator dell’ onde;”(1) at first the sound is feeble, but gradually swells into a loud chorus over the calm water and among the great caverns of the echoing cliffs. The boats steer for the cove near which I am sitting, and twenty individuals land on a ledge of rock just below me, where they place a barrel of wine and provisions, and prepare to pass the day. These are conscripts, chosen as soldiers only yesterday, and this their farewell fete before leaving their native Bonifacio, a place so peculiar in itself, and so remote from the outer world, that the attachment its inhabitants are said to bear towards it is easily understood. Leaving the cormorant perch or ledge, where I have made my drawing, I return to the town, and after a hot climb, first through the dells near the channel, choked with foliage, airless and stifling, and then by the blinding white stair-paths, reach Mdme. Carreghi’s hotel before noon. (‘) The fishing—boats began to sail with their lights, and the fishermen to sing the beautiful fishing song, “ O pescator (lell’ ou