Part 37

The Hotel de Ville contains the portraits of the family, and a good life-like statue in marble, of Jerome, while king of Westphalia.

In the Grotto Napoleon, about a mile from the town, after winding through olive-groves, the ambitious boy delighted to pursue his youthful studies.

The public promenades, adorned with orange trees and almonds in bloom, the gardens filled with olives and a profusion of tropical fruits, afford a grateful sight, after escaping from the chilling winds of the continent.

All through the south of France I had noticed great activity in the movement of troops for embarkation for the East. In descending the Saone, our steamer’s deck was occupied by the conscripts, mostly young men, who were leaving home and quiet occupations for the first time perhaps, for the uncertain chances of war. They are distributed to points where actual duty is not required, replacing well-formed troops who are sent to the seat of war. Some thousands who had been held in reserve until needed are now sent from Corsica for the marine and land service.

Under the French system, every able-bodied male is liable to army duty, at twenty-one years of age. On a certain day, which is publicly proclaimed, the parties draw for their chances. In the absence of the young man, his mother or some other authorized person draws for him. He is then liable, and when the call is made he must either supply his place or serve; even after an absence of years, on his return, he is seized for the service. Eighty thousand men are thus drawn annually; the term of duty is seven years. The necessities of the nation have not required the number drawn; but now the balance or reserve of four or five years past is called upon here, more particularly to fortify the marine. The Corsicans from the mountains make good soldiers, and distinguish themselves as officers, and are a brave and warlike people. The sea-coast furnishes good sailors.

It is curious to observe the difference in the habits, customs, and governments of two islands which at their extreme points nearly touch each other, at least by a chain of small islands. In Sardinia the language is a patois, and changes in character from one point to another, partaking strongly of the Italian on one side; partially of the Arabic in the south; and in the west slightly of the Spanish; while here the French is commonly understood, though the Italian patois is the language of the people. But what can be expected where every restriction is placed upon communication?

I had my passport examined and _visé_ five times in Sardinia, at considerable expense, notwithstanding it bore the Ambassador’s visé of the kingdom of Sardinia at Paris, for which he had exacted his fee. All these checks upon intercourse, and these annoyances, only tend to put a little pocket-money into the hands of officials.

In Sardinia, tobacco is cultivated, but the Government seizes the product, and pays its price. The sale of cigars is a monopoly, consequently the quality is very bad, and the prices are double those of this place, where the people are exempt from the tax which exists on the article there, and also in France.

I was strongly reminded of the Basque provinces in the north of Spain, at Bilboa and St. Sebastian, where the people enjoy a similar privilege in the free sale and manufacture of the weed. There, as here, the poor employ themselves in making cigars, which are superior to those for which you pay double at the government shops on the peninsula. The consequence is that everybody smokes by common consent.

One of the most remarkable features in the Corsican race is the spirit of vengeance, which for centuries has existed among them, and which is most difficult to eradicate. Thanks to the government of the emperor, the carrying of arms is strictly prohibited here, and eight thousand gens d’armes are scattered over an island three hundred and sixty miles in circumference.

A most salutary, but arbitrary law, applicable to the case, arrests and imprisons the parents, family, and friends of an outlaw or bandit who has fled to the mountains, or is concealed. In this way his maintenance is cut off; and a reward is offered for his head. Frequent instances have been known where persons have harbored bandits through fear, and have performed the execution of the law, and divided the reward with the gend’armerie.

Instances were not rare, before such rigorous measures were adopted, of sending anonymous letters demanding sums of money, or submission to the consequences. Families exterminated each other. The mother guarded sacredly the linen of a murdered husband, until her son was capable of resenting the act, when his vengeance was excited by the blood-stained garment of the father. A gentleman acquaintance informed me, that when he came on the island, some years since, he gave a little soirée, to which were invited the _élite_ of the little town where he resided. His daughter had misplaced her handkerchief; observing another upon a hat, she took it up and discovered pistols, and could not conceive the object. When the party retired, the report of fire-arms was heard in all directions. The friends and servants of the parties opposed had chosen the opportunity for revenge.

This characteristic is said to have existed since the wars with the Genoese, and the feuds that grew out of those contests.

The people are hospitable and civil, and a stranger can now travel over the island in perfect safety, if he comports himself properly, and avoids exciting their prejudices.

Steam communication with the continent, and the light of civilization, are producing considerable changes in the condition of this people.

XCIII.

BASTIA, ISLAND OF CORSICA, _March 24, 1854_.

Having secured my place in the coupé, or front seat, of a small and rather rickety diligence, I started for Corte, a military station and town of some five thousand inhabitants, about the centre of the island, passing through a picturesque and mountainous country, some three thousand to four thousand feet above the level of the sea; the road was in good condition, but at times, in winter, it is impassable for the snow.

The mountain tops and tall pine forests, still covered with their white mantles, in striking contrast with the bloom and verdure of the valleys below, spread out like a map, presenting new beauties at each turn of the vehicle in ascending the zigzag route, upon the amphitheatred walled roads.

The Corsicans, under their great leader Paolo, defended themselves nobly in these mountain passes against their invaders, the Genoese; the loss of the French troops, before they were conquered, was estimated at twelve thousand men.

Aside from the temperature, I was forcibly reminded of the kingdom of Kandy in the island of Ceylon, which is about an equal distance from the coast, in the mountains, and which could not be conquered by the English until roads were constructed for the transportation of their troops.

The hardy Corsican mountaineers subsist upon the chestnuts which abound here; a species of cake, or bread, made from the flour, is their only aliment, aside from the milk of their sheep or goats. The skins and wool supply their covering; the cheese and surplus chestnuts are bartered in the towns for wine, and what they consider the luxuries of life. The varied temperature enables them to produce wine of good quality, olive oil, figs, oranges, raisins, lemons, apples, pears, and nectarines; but, in general, the Corsicans are not ambitious in culture, contenting themselves with small tracts of land; the necessaries of life are few indeed.

They are great aspirants for position in military pursuits, persevering and indomitable, and frequently rise to rank in the French army. Most of the villages can boast of one or more of their members who have distinguished themselves.

Notwithstanding all the efforts of government, assassinations are still committed, and the old family spirit of vengeance cannot be fully appeased; some important cases among the upper classes are now pending.

At a village in the mountains, where we halted, a case had recently occurred. A party of eight or ten were at play, of which they are fond, when an altercation took place; two of the number left, the landlord discharging a double-barrelled gun as they left the house; he deliberately reloaded, in the presence of the others, and, accusing a third of taking part in the affray, shot him dead; he then loaded again, embraced his family, and escaped in the mountains. The magistrate of the district, questioning those present, and calling them cowards, asked them why they did not prevent the crime; they replied that the persons assaulted were not friends or relatives of theirs.

In the vicinity of Corte there are some valuable quarries of blue marble. The Palais de Justice, now being erected here, has large and massive columns of that material transported thence.

From Corte, the road passes to the north-western part of the island, and to this place.

Bastia, a small and indifferent port, now in process of improvement, is a city possessing a population of some twenty-five thousand, heterogeneous races; it is the chief commercial point of the island, and the seat of government.

The old town, with its lofty stone buildings, narrow tortuous streets, built upon the hill-side, and rising from the water’s edge, is really curious; it reminded me of the Grecian island of Scios, and Joppa in Palestine, resembling at certain points a town of stairs.

The new part of the town struck me with astonishment; it had broad streets, with mammoth stone structures, five stories high, cream yellow, and white, with modern green sashes; a new public square, and a handsome Italian marble statue of Napoleon; good hotels, cafés, and baths; markets, finely supplied with fish, game, and fruits; besides a delightful climate, protected by the mountains from the northern blasts. It struck me as a sort of paradise, after what I had seen in the interior.

The secret of its prosperity is its trade with Leghorn and Marseilles, and it being the residence of a race possessing considerable enterprise. Many persons from Cape Corte, just above, and here also, have made fortunes in the West Indies.

The views from the heights, upon the Mediterranean, with the islands of Cabraya, Elba, and Monte Cristo, are very pretty, and a drive along the coast, bordered by amphitheatred walls for the culture of the grape and olive, is not without interest.

A few leagues from town, upon the mountain side, somewhat elevated, is a curious cave, much resorted to, and particularly worthy of a visit, since it is one of the most unique of its kind that I have ever seen. I taxed my memory to find something to compare with it; it is not the cave of Matanzas in extent, neither is it that of the island of Curaçoa, nor the Catacombs of Egypt, nor the Salt Mines of Cracow, which two latter are works of art; but it is a perfect gem of a grotto. At this season of the year it is very dry. It is private property, belonging to a government officer, who has erected near by a stone cottage with stalactite chimney-pieces of beautiful proportions, and miniature flower gardens among the rocks, and an observatory with a delightful prospect upon the sea and fishing villages; it is a rustic retreat for parties of pleasure in summer from Bastia. The grotto at its entrance is walled, and the door is bolted. Its guardian, for an established fee, will light it up with forty lamps; its depth is about one hundred and fifty feet. Stalactites form there in summer from the dripping of the water. The great variety of forms presented is really enchanting. One imagines himself for the moment in the illuminated chapel of a Gothic cathedral, with pillars supporting the roof, the half-formed pointed column rising gradually by crystallization, resembling with its lamp a huge church candlestick; the flowing white drapery falls upon the tomb of the departed, and the weeping willow is seen with its drooping branches. Forms the most grotesque are presented to the imagination. The stalactites are as white as alabaster; one could visit the cave without soiling his white kid gloves.

In going to the grotto, we leave the carriage road, which is only partially completed, and take the mule path for nearly a league, passing through the fishing village of Brando, where stands a small church dedicated to their saint, Our Lady of the Vasina, to whom annual pilgrimages are made on the 7th of September. The sailors of the island, in cases of peril or extreme danger, make certain vows; and it is curious to see the results and read the names and circumstances as related by each. The walls are curiously carved with figures and scenes. Here may be found an exploded gun, with a description of the miraculous escape of the holder by the intervention of the patron saint; white robes, and satin shoes, wreaths of flowers, and other insignia of the funeral rites displayed by females saved from the tomb at the last moment; representations of narrow escapes from shipwreck, the angry waves lashing the frail bark, the lightning falling upon the masts, and the Virgin appearing and conducting the vessel in safety; one person is falling from a citadel; others are escaping from the monsters of the deep.

They have a curious custom here, which would not answer in our country of progress. Their houses are of stone, and lofty, from four to five stories high, and arched throughout, little timber being used other than for flooring. Consequently fires are unknown. The contractor puts up his building, and sells the different stories, whereby there are as many owners as stories; the stairing is in common, consequently neglected and filthy. The gaping, dark entrances, without doors, in the night, seem to invite the perpetration of crime.

The modern buildings have doors, which are closed at night, as in Ajaccio, where assassinations drove the mayor to the issue of a general order for front doors, without exception.

I was strolling quietly last Saturday, which was Beggars’ Day, the only time in the week the police allow that class to ask alms publicly, amusing myself in distributing among a group of urchins a quantity of chestnut-flour cakes, which they were looking wistfully upon, when I found myself surrounded by a crowd of beggars, old, infirm, and lame, in tattered and torn rags, or garments of many colors. Distributing my coppers among them, I was glad to escape, and soon found myself near the entrance gate of the city.

Upon looking up, I saw the Republican motto, effaced under the Empire, but still peeping through--“Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité.”

Conviction, the most positive, strikes the mind, of the entire incapacity of such masses of ignorance, superstition, and poverty to appreciate the blessings of pure republicanism, as it is enjoyed in our favored land.

Their republicanism means license and anarchy. The moral and social condition of the people must first be improved, and the blessings of general education diffused; their early prejudices for monarchy must first be eradicated. In a word, to be a good republican, one must be educated, or driven by the tyranny of rulers to adopt a home in a country where the rights of all classes are respected.

The surplus agricultural population of the Italian states of Parma, Modena, and Lucca, migrate after the harvest to this island, where there is a demand for manual labor. They are now returning in swarms with their hard-earned savings out of thirty sous per day. It is computed that some twenty thousand visit the island annually; and being exceedingly frugal, they take considerable sums away with them, which helps to impoverish the people here.

Having seen the birthplace of Napoleon, as described in my last letter, from Ajaccio, and being familiar with most of the localities of his exploits, I cannot resist visiting his place of imprisonment upon the island of Elba. There are also extensive iron mines, which are represented as very remarkable.

XCIV.

SIENNA, ITALY, _April 7, 1854_.

I reached Leghorn just in time to catch the little steamer Gilio, of one hundred and fifty tons burden, which composes the entire Tuscan government marine, with the exception of a few small feluccas. She makes regular trips to the island of Elba, for the conveyance of troops and their supplies. After passing the usual strict examination at the Custom House for the contraband articles of cigars and fire-arms, as Leghorn is a free port, and going through the farce of signing passports, I embarked for Porto Ferrayo. This strongly fortified place bears some resemblance to Malta, and appears almost impregnable; the streets are well paved with flat stones; the houses rise upon the side hill, and are approached by flights of stairs and passages; the crown of the lofty, craggy cliffs is surmounted by immense fortifications, well mounted and manned. The town has a population of five thousand, and about one thousand troops. By means of a fosse, the tide-water is permitted to surround the city. From an angle of the wall on the summit of the citadel is a small observatory, erected by Napoleon, which gave him views from all points of the compass. The house where he lived, a few miles from the city, still stands, and is now the property of Prince Demidoff, who is erecting a palace which will contain all the relics which have been preserved of the Emperor. The island of Elba is only about sixty miles in circumference, and about fourteen hundred troops are kept there by the Tuscan government. The bays and shores are picturesque, and the valleys are fertile. There is great suffering this year in consequence of the failure of the grape, wine being their principal resource. I procured a conveyance to Longone, a free port on the south side of the island, now a fishing town. The immense citadel commanding the height was built by the Spaniards while in possession. It is now dismantled, and unoccupied, except as barracks for the land guard, and is fast going to decay, looking mournful and desolate. Trees are growing where once was heard the busy tread of the military, and goats are feeding and cabbages growing where once was piled the shot for the enemy. From Longone to Rio there is no carriage road, so I mounted a pony, with a guide to run beside him, and passed over a path through a hilly country, to the great iron mines. I had heard of the richness and abundance of the ore; I had seen the extensive mines of Dannemora, also mines in England and America, where the work is mostly subterranean; but was not prepared to find an inexhaustible mountain of iron, where three hundred men were employed in cutting down and blasting out the ore, which ranges in richness from forty-five to eighty per cent.; four hundred donkeys were wending their way by zigzag paths, laden with this valuable product.

The village has an active appearance, but is of a dirty red color; there were vast inclosures for the ore, like huge coalyards, where it was piled preparatory to loading for different ports for smelting. The brick-dust colored earth, which remains after the excavation, has a shining and dazzling appearance, from the particles of minerals in it. The gardens of the valleys on the margin of a small rivulet, with their orange and lemon trees, form a striking contrast in the view. The Grand Duke farms out the privilege to a company for twelve millions of livres, about one million eight hundred thousand dollars. From Elba I returned to Leghorn, which city has been materially improved and enlarged since my last visit; but being still in a state of siege, and protected by Austrian troops, the same civil liberties are not enjoyed there as formerly. The little island of Monte Cristo, lying sixty miles north of Elba, is thirteen miles in circumference. It has been purchased by a wealthy Englishman, who has retired thither with his family, and is now erecting his buildings upon it, employing many Italians from the mainland in carrying out his improvements. He is building a yacht at Leghorn, after the model of the America, and putting in an engine, which will be a pretty affair. From Leghorn by railway a half hour’s ride brings us to the old city of Pisa, with its memorable Leaning Tower, Duomo or Cathedral, Baptistry, and Campo Santo; the latter is considered sacred from its containing a portion of the earth brought from Jerusalem, in which repose the dead. It was agreeable to me to visit the spots I had frequently trod during a long sojourn in this old city, and to find numbers of those I had formerly known, still pursuing quietly the same course without change. A branch railroad took me to Lucca, to call upon some old acquaintances, and, on my return, I proceeded to Florence, the capital, and residence of the Grand Duke, and the seat of the arts of Tuscany. However captivated, and even infatuated, one may be upon a first visit to the solid, massive, and majestic palaces, with their beautiful frescoes, their well-filled galleries of sculpture and paintings, the colossal bronze statues of the public fountains, the decorations of the churches, the chaste and delicate mosaic work of the altars, it is not to be expected that I should now go into raptures upon a third visit to Italy.... The eye tires in gazing upon vast collections of works of art, and finds relief in escaping to the beautiful and extensive ducal gardens of the palace, where one may enjoy the works of nature amid long avenues of shady trees, listening to the sound of bubbling fountains, with groups of nymphs, heroes, gods and goddesses, in marble, as mute, silent auditors. Returning from a ramble, I took my favorite seat in the café Doney, much resorted to by strangers, and reflected upon the events which occurred during the revolution of 1848--the granting of constitutional privileges, the liberty of the press, the marching of troops against the enemy, the illuminations of victory at night, the songs of patriotism, the wailing and lamentation at the defeat of the Italian troops in Lombardy, the funeral mausoleums, and the lighted candles over the uniforms and arms of the victims in the churches, the transparencies and anathemas of the clergy, the mournful procession of the masses by torchlight with the crucifix at the head. All had passed away, liberty was crushed; the Austrian troops now occupy the ground and keep down revolution; the police are active and vigilant. One cannot drive to the Casino, a favorite forest ride, without showing his passport at the gate. Within three days from one’s arrival, a protectional passport must be procured, at an expense of twelve pauls, or a dollar and twenty-five cents. In my reflective mood, up tripped a flower-girl, in her picturesque Florentine costume, with flowing Leghorn hat and red ribbon, basket in hand, and presented a bouquet, with the salutation “Come sta signore, Come sta su Amico?” It was pleasant to be recognised and awakened from my reverie; but the excellent person of whom she inquired, and who had occupied so frequently the same seat beside me at table, had finished his mortal career.