CHAPTER XI.

PORTO, LA PIANA, AND CARGHESE.

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

We had been warned against Carghese as the dirtiest place in Corsica; and, after the experiences from which we had suffered, this was no mean warning. But, on the other hand, we had been told that the rocks of Porto and those of La Piana were the noblest sight in the island, and we felt that to return home without seeing them would be unbearable.

And, unless we sat in the empty carriage all night, or encamped out among the rocks, there was no method of seeing this route save by sleeping at Carghese.

The event justified us in our final decision, for Carghese was quite bearable; whereas, to have missed that day's excursion would have been an irreparable loss. I consider those Porto and Piana rocks the most beautiful sight in Corsica. They must be overwhelmingly magnificent on a clear day: even surrounded by mist clouds, and devoid of sunshine, they were wonderful to see.

For the first three or four hours of our drive, the rain kept off; and taking the opposite road to that of yesterday, we struck off to the left towards the coast line, and right among the rocks of Porto.

The road at first was cut out of barren mountain flanks, winding amongst bleak savage scenery, and Scottish-looking trout streams, with very Scotch mists rising from their banks, and veiling the hill-tops; with the village of Marignana on one side, and the desolate red heads of Porto gazing down over intervening hillocks on the other.

Presently came a few wooded hills to break the bare austerity of the scene, with boulder rocks, red and green and orange, beside the roadway; and, hanging right over our heads, the frowning and majestic Capo dei Signori, looming out of the mist in purple shadows.

One or two more windings led us into the narrow gorge, walled in on either side by the Porto rocks.

It is impossible to imagine anything more sublime than these blood-red precipices--more wonderful, more perpendicular, and more lofty here than where we had first seen them--almost shutting out the sky from our sight, and again falling beneath us in an unfathomable gorge that made one shudder to look into. The heads of these rocks were like a succession of Rhenish castles, so turreted, and tower shaped, and peaked were they; and Speloncato, with its three-pinnacled summit, was more striking in appearance and crimson in hue than any other.

This extraordinary blood-red colour is not enhanced by sunshine or peculiar lights; it is the real colour of the stone, of which broken bits lie about the road. The Corsican rocks are usually very vivid, and especially the red granite and the porphyry.

There was not a gleam of sunshine as we passed amongst the Porto rocks; and I do not know that I regret it. The savage beauty and desolate grandeur of such a scene is perhaps best seen under the chill of grey sky and distant thunder clouds.

Passing, after a time, out of this wild region, we emerged once more among more barren-looking hills, past the village of Asta and along a boulder-strewn brawling torrent, shaded by its fringe of foliage.

Here were some most extraordinary hollowed rocks. One, like a huge eggshell in shape, lay upon the gravel beside the stream. It was completely hollow, like a blown egg, the shell being only a few inches thick, with a natural opening at one side, about four feet high, and would have made a comfortable shelter for eight or ten men. Another, half-way up the hill-side, and something the same shape, only with a flat bottom, was called "La Petite Maisonnette," having been adopted by a wise shepherd as his home, and a little brick wall with a door, built on the open side.

A few more minutes brought us to the top of a hill, whence we looked down once more upon the sea. The Gulf of Porto lay, wide-stretching, at our feet; the sun, which had now come out for a short gleam, lighting up the many picturesque promontories which ran out into the blue distance, and sparkling on the yellow line on an opposite hill, marking the route to Calvi. A Genoese round tower lay upon the little headland beneath our feet, and, behind it, two or three houses. Antonio pulled up his horses for a moment at our request, and No. 3 took a hasty sketch.

"There, mademoiselle," said he, pointing with his whip in the direction of the round tower, "is the town of Porto."

"But where?" we asked. "We only see three houses."

Antonio smiled feebly. "There are only five in the town, I believe," said he.

The peninsula of Porto is almost as red as the rocks which take their name from it, and is in a most lovely situation. It was formerly a much larger and more important place than now, and at one time was a favourite resort of visitors. But, built in a corner as it is, on the sea-level, and surrounded by stagnant pool and slow river, it has now a dangerous reputation for fever, and in summer the heat is something intolerable to the few inhabitants.

The sun still kept out as we began to ascend towards La Piana, on a road surrounded by richest herbage, shaded by pale green chestnuts, through groves of arbutus and myrtle, and scattered crags of fairest form, getting peeps of bluest sea below, and distant purple coast lines. For about two hours we ascended, often over queer high bridges spanning a rushing cascade, until we entered the winding mountain defiles, walled in on either side by the perpendicular rocks of La Piana.

The first, seen for long before entering this defile, was most peculiar in form, bearing an exact resemblance to a triple crown. Anything more beautiful than these rocks it would be impossible to conceive, but it was a beauty very different from those of Porto.

Brilliant was their colouring, rosy red, pale green, and soft grey, but upon and between their detached castellated heights grew luxuriant shrubs and waving larch-trees; and, although they often literally overhung the road from a great height, there was neither frowning precipice nor gloomy gorge beneath our feet.

On the sea side, the spaces between these rocky piles, rising in wildest and most fantastic shapes to heaven (often in spikes and high cathedral spires), was filled in by fairy peeps of sea and circling sandy bay, a thousand feet below.

No place can be imagined more perfect for a mid-day halt than here among these perfect rock towers and grottoes; and here we had intended to rest and eat our modest lunch; but, with a steady downpour of rain beginning to shut out distant hill and even overhanging crag, and running in little rivers along the stony road, we had no choice but to go on to the uninviting village, two miles further on.

On one of the last of the La Piana rocks we were amused to see a happy family of six or seven goats clustered, taking refuge from the storm of rain. The rock, which was high but narrow, was intersected by a number of small horizontal shelves; and on these the goats, black and white and parti-coloured, had leaped, one on each, looking exactly like a collection of Swiss carvings on a tall bracket.

La Piana is a wretched little village, boasting, however, a situation that no doubt would have been lovely in less unlovely weather. The inn, a poverty-stricken looking hovel-cottage in the village street, appeared at first deserted; but, after Antonio had fished up its owners from the kitchen downstairs, opened its hospitable door at the top of a flight of dirty stone steps to receive us. We found ourselves in a small, dark room, lighted only by a window about two feet square, or rather, by a window hole, for glass there was none, and shutters, of which one was closed, kept out wind and driving rain.

As usual the inhabitants, consisting of an old man, two women, and a baby or two, came in to stare at us, smiling good-humouredly, and full of curiosity; but unable to speak a word of anything better than Corsican patois.

We managed, with some difficulty, and by careful docking of the terminations of our words (which is the chief characteristic of the national dialect), to make our small stock of Italian serve to express our wants; and at length, after the usual offer of raw ham, sat down to a very good omelette mixed with broccia, and a box of London-marked sardines.

We then petitioned for a fire; and presently our smiling hostess brought us an apron full of fir cones, and placing them on some chips upon the large open stone hearth, we had a brisk crackling blaze, over which to warm and dry our damp garments.

The next two hours, in the very dark grimy little room, with onion odours from below, and no view from the window-hole but equally grimy houses opposite, and ceaseless sheets of driving rain, were not enlivening; and our only amusement consisted in listening to the strange jargon of patois going on amongst the commonalty in the kitchen underneath, and in watching the picturesque effects made in the fire by the fir cones, as they panted and swelled their glowing orange bodies like living things incandescent. At four o'clock we could stand it no longer, and started anew for Carghese in rather better weather.

A little more than two hours' driving brought us there; first, through fine mountain scenery, but very soon through a tame and uninteresting route, surrounded by grassy hills, and across a long marshy tract, well cultivated and planted with wheat and vineyards, but malarious in looks and in fact. The gulfs of Chioni and Pero lay before us, and more than one round tower kept watch upon the neighbouring headlands.

Turning a corner, we suddenly came into view of Carghese, lying little above the sea-level, just before us, and presently drove up the main, tolerably wide, street, to the dirty looking Hôtel de l'Univers.

Carghese is a town of some size for Corsica, but is uninteresting and odoriferous. None of the population appear over civil, and the boys are scarcely _safe_ for ladies walking alone. They followed us, not only with mischievous hoots, like other gamins, but with scowls and mutterings, and more than one stone was furtively thrown unpleasantly near our backs after we had passed a corner, and without the slightest provocation, except that of an unaccustomed sight,--which provocation we sometimes see rousing our British youth to stone a squirrel or an escaped monkey, or condemns a tame-bred canary to get pecked to death by its untamed neighbours.

Carghese has an interest of its own from the fact that it is a Greek colony of very ancient date, which, until quite lately, has kept up its exclusive nationality, and shunned intermarriage with the sons and daughters of its adopted country.

Both in physique and in manners they differ, even yet, very considerably from the other islanders.

There seemed, from our cursory acquaintance, to be a great number of very dark and good-looking faces amongst them; and the children are decidedly handsomer than elsewhere; although in manliness of appearance and pleasantness of expression the Corsicans have the advantage.

Every one sings and whistles in Carghese; and the songs of the young men, as, for two or three hours after dark, they marched, arm in arm, up and down the village street in front of our hotel, were far less dismal and more tuneful than elsewhere, and only towards midnight did they collapse into the national minor howl.

There is little to be seen in Carghese, except the Greek priest, who is certainly worth a glance, as, with long white beard almost to his waist, black cassock and square cap, the tall stout old man parades the streets with no little dignity.

There is a fine round Greek church, lately built, and considered handsome, in this land where good architecture is conspicuous by its absence; and a Romish church, less fine,--but nothing else to interest, either natural or artificial.

During our walk through the town, we were followed by fifteen or twenty children, all greatly excited, who, for some minutes after we had re-entered our inn, remained crowded round the door without, shouting, "Inglese! Inglese!" with about the same amount of enthusiasm and common sense as the Ephesian silversmiths of old; and it was impossible to glance out of one's window without a corresponding rush from the juvenile crowd, who tumbled over one another in their eagerness to see the two surprising foreigners.

(N.B.--Next time I go up to London, and meet a Chinaman in Bond Street, or an African in Piccadilly, not so much as to glance out of the corners of my eyes at him.)

As No. 2 remarked, with her usual placidity of tone, to No. 3 on this occasion, "Couldn't you imagine we were two Christy Minstrels going down the street?"

After a very tolerable dinner, we sought our rooms with many misgivings. We had telegraphed our coming three days beforehand, so as to give our landlady plenty of time to scrape off a little of the natural dirt of the establishment before we arrived, if so disposed; but had been warned of the improbability of such a disposition on her part, owing to sheer ignorance on the subject of that rare Corsican virtue--cleanliness.

Even the taciturn Antonio would hold out little hope to us, and said he feared our accommodation would not suit us.

Our rooms were not re-assuring.

One led out of either end of the low dark salle à manger. They were small, with uneven, dirty, wooden floors, and almost destitute of furniture.

Mine boasted one broken chair, upon which it was unsafe to sit, whilst the washing apparatus was placed on the top of the only other piece of furniture in the room except the bed--a high chest of drawers, where a corner had with difficulty been cleared of its multitude of penny Madonnas and broken shells.

There was, of course, no looking-glass at all; and the jug and basin in both rooms consisted of an old green wine-bottle filled with dingy brown water, and placed in a species of shallow slop-basin. The windows were full of ventilating holes, and strips of filthy carpet adorned the floor by the bed-side, which strips we carefully took up and placed at the extremest corners of the rooms. All this was not inviting; and we discussed the advisability of sitting up all night, and getting a siesta next day; but finally braved the horrors of the little rooms, and found them far less horrible than their appearance warranted, and in all serious matters, fairly clean.

Great was our astonishment and proportionate our hearty gratitude to our bright-eyed hostess, when, next morning, she brought us in our hot coffee, and sour bread (apparently made in equal proportion of flour and sand), and eaten dry, perforce, as neither butter nor honey are attainable luxuries in inland Corsica.