Part 16
The Council-General, as many of my readers know, is a body elected by the people; each canton, of which there are sixty-one in Corsica, sending representatives in proportion to the population. The _préfet_, who is _ex-officio_ president, opens the session by a speech, in which he reviews the affairs of the department under the heads of finance, public works, education, &c., &c., and presents a budget, with detailed reports on the various branches of administration. All these are printed, with a short _procès-verbal_ of the debates, and the divisions when the Council-General comes to a vote. The proceedings are submitted to the Minister of the Interior, who approves or rejects the proposals made. Virtually, however, although the Council has no power to act on its resolutions until they are confirmed by the central government, whatever relates to the assessment of taxes, police, roads, and other works, all matters of local interest not only come under discussion in these provincial assemblies, but are shaped and decided by them. The services thus rendered must therefore be very valuable, and it is worth considering whether our over-worked House of Commons might not be relieved of some of its burthens, and the business better done, by similar representative bodies, entrusted with legislative powers so far as concerns matters of local interest. Such assemblies would well accord with our Anglo-Saxon institutions. But to give them a fair field, with sufficient weight, impartiality, and importance, a considerable area should be embraced in each jurisdiction. Durham might be united with Yorkshire; the three western counties, Somerset, Devon, and Cornwall, might form a province; North and South Wales, each one. And what a valuable body of statistics would be furnished by an annual report, corresponding with those which have led to these remarks!
We gather some general statistics from these documents and other sources.
By the census of 1851, the population of Corsica was 236,251 souls, of whom 117,938 were males, and 118,313 females. All but 54 were Roman Catholics. There were no less than 32,364 proprietors of land. The day-labourers were 34,427; government officials, 1229; clergy, 955; regular troops, _gendarmes_, &c., 5000. The number of students in all the public colleges and schools was from 16,000 to 17,000, of which 15,000 were male, and only from 2000 to 3000 females. The proportion of males frequenting the schools is greater than in France, it being as 137 to 100 in the winter, and 226 to 100 in the summer; while that of the girls is the reverse, being as 12 to 100 in the winter, and 21 to 100 in the summer. This disproportion between male and female scholars in Corsica is very remarkable.
The superficies of the island is estimated at somewhat less than two millions and a quarter of English acres. Of this surface, only a six-hundredth part is, on an average, under cultivation, an area which, it is said, might be doubled. Vast portions of the soil belong to the communes, and measures are in contemplation for their improvement.
Wheat produces, on an average of years, an increase of nine times the seed sown; barley and oats, twelve or thirteen; maize, thirty-eight to forty; and potatoes, twenty.
The rate of daily wages for the year 1851 was fixed by the Council-General at 75 _centimes_ for the towns of Ajaccio and Bastia, and 50 _centimes_ for all the other communes.
Among the most important subjects brought to notice by the _procès-verbal_ of 1851 is the state of agriculture in the island; on which the _Préfet_ finds little to congratulate the Council-General except an increase in the cultivation of lucerne and in the plantations of mulberry-trees. The obstacles to its progress are found in the insecurity of life, the want of inclosures, and the unbounded rights of common enjoyed by the shepherds; in the richest plains being uninhabited, and their distance from the villages; in the pestilential air of these plains, and the want of roads.—A stranger will be disposed to add to this list the indolence of the natives. So far as the obstacles to improvement can be surmounted by judicious legislation and encouragement, the _procès-verbals_ of the Council-General exhibit enlightened ideas far in advance of the opinions and habits of the people; and there is much good sense and right feeling in the observation with which the _Prèfet_, in one of his addresses, concludes his statement of the position of affairs:—
“Si la Corse,” he says, “devait passer subitement à l'état des civilisations avancées, elle courait risque de perdre dans cette transformation (et ce serait à jamais deplorable) tout ce qu'il y a de primitif, de généreux, d'énergetique dans ses mœurs séculaires. Je n'en citerai qu'un exemple. Le mouvement civilisateur trouve, à certains égards, résistance dans la force des sentiments de famille, dans la cohésion des membres qui la composent. Et, cependant, qui d'entre vous consentirait à acheter les progrès de la civilisation au prix du rélâchement de ces liens sacrés qui sont la clef de voûte de toute société organisée?”
Delivered from the scourge of _banditisme_ and the _vendetta_ by severe measures, supposed to be strongly opposed to the popular instinct, and with hopes held out of such further improvement in civilisation as the progress of ideas will admit, Corsica may, perhaps, have no reason to regret that she failed in her long struggles for national independence. But France will not have performed her duty to this outlying department of the empire till she promotes the manufactures and commerce of the island. It is a part of the protective system to which she clings to discourage all direct foreign trade, just as England formerly engrossed the commerce of her colonies. The result is that the poor Corsicans, compelled to purchase the commodities they require—manufactured goods, colonial produce, and even corn and cattle—in the French market, buy at enormously high prices. The balance of trade is much against them, their annual exports to France being only a million and a half of _francs_, while they import from thence articles of the value of three millions. The present Emperor of France is understood to entertain enlightened views on the subject of free trade; and it is to be hoped that, when he is able to carry them out, Corsica will share in the benefits of an unrestricted commerce.
CHAP. XXIII.
_Leave Ajaccio.—Neighbourhood of Olmeto.—Sollacaró.—James Boswell's Residence there.—Scene in the “Corsican Brothers” laid there—Quarrel of the Vincenti and Grimaldi.—Road to Sartene.—Corsican Marbles.—Arrive at Bonifacio._
We were quite as well served, and the accommodations were as good, at Ajaccio as in any provincial city of France. They gave us a delicate white wine made in the neighbourhood, an agreeable beverage, which, we thought, resembled _Chablais_; and a _confiture_ of cherries preserved in jelly, which was exquisite. I had told the story of our adventure with the poor girls from Corte to the mistress of the house, and, on Bridget's appearing the day after our arrival to claim her wardrobe, she informed me, with great joy, that our good hostess had taken her into her service.
On leaving Ajaccio, Sartene was our next point. The road crosses the Gravone and the Prunelle, flowing into the gulf through fertile valleys, and then winds through a wild and mountainous country, in which Cauro is the only village, till, surmounting the Col San Georgio, 2000 feet above the level of the sea, it descends into a rich plain, watered by the Taravo. In its upper course its branches water two romantic valleys, which formed the ancient fiefs of Ornano and Istria, the seats of powerful lords in the old times. Picturesque scenery, ruins of castles, and mediæval tales lend a charm to this region, in which we would gladly have wandered for some days, but that Sardinia was before us.
There are few finer spots in the island than the _paese_ of Olmeto, the principal village being surrounded by mountains, with a plain below, extending to the deep inlet of the Mediterranean, called the Gulf of Valinco, and rich in corn-lands, olive, and fruit trees. At Olmeto we were served with a dish of magnificent apples, some of them said to weigh two pounds. On the Monte Buturetto, 3000 feet high, are seen the ruins of the stronghold of Arrigo della Rocca; and, further on, near Sollacaró, another almost inaccessible summit was crowned by a castle, built by his nephew, Vincentello d'Istria—both famed in Corsican story.
It was at Sollacaró, standing at the foot of this hill, that our countryman, Boswell, first presented himself to Pascal Paoli, in a house of the Colonna's, with letters of introduction from the Count de Rivarola and Rousseau. Boswell remained some time with Paoli, who was then keeping a sort of court at Sollacaró, and admitted him to the most familiar intercourse. His conversations with the illustrious Corsican, jotted down in his own peculiar style, form the most interesting part of the account of his tour, published after his return to England. “From my first setting out on this tour,” he states, “I wrote down every night what I had observed during the day. Of these particulars the most valuable to my readers, as well as to myself, must surely be the memoirs and remarkable sayings of Pascal Paoli, which I am proud to record.”[37]
Boswell was treated with much distinction, and appears to have been flattered with the character, which ignorance or policy attributed to him, of being _Il Ambasciadore Inglese_. “In the morning,” he says, “I had my chocolate served up on a silver salver, adorned with the arms of Corsica. I dined and supped constantly with the general. I was visited by all the nobility; and when I chose to make a little tour, I was attended by a party of guards. One day, when I rode out, I was mounted on Paoli's own horse, with rich furniture of crimson velvet and broad gold lace, and had my guards marching along with me.” His vanity so flattered, and with what he calls Attic evenings, “_noctes, cœnæque Deûm_,” giving scope to his ruling passion, James Boswell must have been in the seventh heaven while Paoli's guest at Sollacaró.
But the most amusing part of the affair is the efforts he made to ingratiate himself with the lower classes of the Corsicans, his admiration of whom is sometimes chequered by a wholesome fear of their wild instincts. “I got a Corsican dress made,” he says, “in which I walked about with an air of true satisfaction. The general did me the honour to present me with his own pistols, made in the island, all of Corsican wood and iron, and of excellent workmanship. I had every other accoutrement.[38] The peasants and soldiers became quite free and easy with me. One day, they would needs hear me play upon my German flute. I gave them one or two Italian airs, and then some of our beautiful old Scotch tunes—‘Gilderoy,’ ‘The Lass of Patie's Mill,’ ‘Corn-riggs are bonny.’ The pathetic simplicity and pastoral gaiety of the Scotch music will always please those who have the genuine feelings of nature. The Corsicans were charmed with the specimens I gave them.
“My good friends insisted also on having an English song from me. I endeavoured to please them in this, too, and was very lucky in what occurred to me. I sung to them ‘Hearts of oak are our ships; hearts of oak are our men.’ I translated it into Italian for them; and never did I see men so delighted with a song as the Corsicans were with ‘Hearts of Oak.’ ‘_Cuore di querco_,’ cried they, ‘_bravo Inglese!_’ It was quite a joyous riot.”
Boswell's correspondence during this tour is also characteristic. He informs us that he walked one day to Corte, from the convent where he lodged, purposely to write a letter to Mr. Samuel Johnson.—“I told my revered friend, that from a kind of superstition, agreeable in a certain degree to him as well as to myself, I had, during my travels, written to him from LOCA SOLEMNIA, places in some measure sacred. That, as I had written to him from the tomb of Melancthon, sacred to learning and piety, I now wrote to him from the palace of Pascal Paoli, sacred to wisdom and liberty; knowing that, however his political principles may have been represented, he had always a generous zeal for the common rights of humanity.
“Mr. Johnson was pleased with what I wrote here; for I received, at Paris, an answer from him, which I keep as a valuable charter. ‘When you return, you will return to an unaltered and, I hope, unalterable friend. All that you have to fear from me is the vexation of disappointing me. No man loves to frustrate expectations which have been formed in his favour, and the pleasure which I promise myself from your journals and remarks is so great, that perhaps no degree of attention or discernment will be able to afford it. Come home, however, and take your chance. I long to see you and to hear you; and hope that we shall not be so long separated again. Come home, and expect such a welcome as is due to him whom a wise and noble curiosity has led where, perhaps, no native of this country ever was before.’”[39]
We have a certain sympathy for Boswell. He was the first Englishman on record who penetrated into Corsica, and none but ourselves, as far as we have any account, have followed his steps for nearly a century. Not to weary the reader, we have done him injustice in only making extracts from his work betraying the weak points of his character; for his account of Corsica is valuable for its research, its descriptions, and its history of the times. His _memorabilia_ of Pascal Paoli supply ample materials for any modern Plutarch who would contrast his character with that of his rival countryman, Napoleon Bonaparte. Commencing their political career in unison, widely as it diverged, both ended their lives in exile on British soil. Though Paoli's sphere was narrow, so was that of some of the greatest men in Grecian history; and, like theirs, it had far extended relations. The eyes of Europe were upon him; Corsica was then its battle-field, and the principles of his conduct and administration are of universal application.
But Sollacaró may have more interest for the public of the present day from its connection with a romance of Alexandre Dumas, and the play founded upon it, than from Paoli's having held court, or Boswell's visit to him, there. We have traced the wizard's footsteps, in one of his works of genius, at the Château d'If and Monte Cristo[40], we meet them again in the wilds of Corsica. Few of my readers can follow us there; but let them go to the “Princess's” when “The Corsican Brothers” is performed, and they will realise much that we have told them of the Corsican temperament and Corsican life. How true to nature is the reply of Fabian, in the first act, to the suggestion of his friend, “Then you will never leave the village of Sollacaró?”—“It seems strange to you that a man should cling to such a miserable country as Corsica; but what else can you expect? I am one of those plants that will only live in the open air. I must breathe an atmosphere impregnated with the life-giving emanations of the mountains and the sharp breezes of the sea. I must have my torrents to cross, my rocks to climb, my forests to explore. I must have my carbine, room, independence, and liberty. If I were transported into a city, methinks I should be stifled, as if I were in a prison.”
The scene of the first act is laid in an old mansion of the Colonna's at Sollacaró, perhaps that in which Boswell lodged. The action turns upon an antient feud between the Orlandi and Colonne, which is with difficulty extinguished by the intervention of Fabian, one of the Corsican brothers. A short dialogue tells the story:—
“FABIAN. ‘You come among us to witness a _vendetta_; well! you will behold something much more rare—you will be present at a reconciliation.’
“ALFRED. ‘A reconciliation?’
“FAB. ‘Which will be no easy matter, I assure you, considering the point to which things are come.’
“ALF. ‘And from what did this great quarrel originate, which, thanks to you, is on the eve of being extinguished?’
“FAB. ‘Why, I confess I feel some difficulty in telling you that. The first cause was—’
“ALF. ‘Was what?’
“FAB. ‘The first cause was a hen.’
“ALF. (_astonished_) ‘A hen!’
“FAB. ‘Yes. About ten years ago, a hen escaped from the poultry-yard of the Orlandi, and took refuge in that of one of the Colonne. The Orlandi claimed the hen. The Colonne maintained it was theirs. In the heat of the discussion, an Orlando was imprudent enough to threaten that he would summon the Colonne before the _Juge de Paix_, and put them on their oath. At this menace, an old woman of the Colonna family, who held the hen in her hand, twisted its neck, and threw it in the face of the mother of Orlando. “There,” said she, “if the hen be thine, eat it!” Upon this, an Orlando picked up the hen by the claws, and raised his hand, with the hen in it, to strike her who had thrown it in the face of his mother; but at the moment he lifted his hand, a Colonna, who unfortunately had his loaded carbine with him, without hesitation, fired, and shot him in the breast, and killed him.’
“ALF. ‘Good heavens! And how many lives has this ridiculous squabble cost?’[41]
“FAB. ‘There have been nine persons killed and five wounded.’
“ALF. ‘What! and all for a miserable hen?’
“FAB. ‘Yes.’
“ALF. ‘And it is, doubtless, in compliance with the prayers of one of these two families that you have interfered to terminate this quarrel?’
“FAB. ‘Oh! not at all. They would have exterminated one another to the very last man rather than have made a single step towards each other. No, no; it is at the entreaty of my brother.’” ...
The action of this scene consists in the formal but unwilling reconciliation of the two clans, represented by their chiefs, in the presence of a _juge de paix_; in token of which a hen was to be presented by the Orlando to the Colonna. The situation affords scope for ludicrous disputes whether it should be a white hen or a black one—dead or alive—which should hold out his hand first, and so on; mixed with the more serious question, whether they met on equal terms, only four Orlandi having been slain against five Colonne, but four Orlandi wounded to one Colonna—the Colonne “counting the wounded for nothing,” if they did not die of their wounds.
The main plot is beside our purpose. The scene changes to Paris, and the catastrophe may be imagined from the words of Fabian in the last act, which give, alas! too true a picture of what the social state of Corsica was.
“‘A Corsican family is the ancient hydra, one of whose heads has no sooner been cut off than there springs forth another, which bites and tears in the place of the one that has been severed from the trunk. What is my will, sir? My will is to kill him who has killed my brother!’
“‘You are determined to kill me, sir! How?’
“FAB. ‘Oh, be satisfied! Not from behind a wall, not through a hedge, as is the mode in my country, as is the practice there; but, as it is done here, _à la mode Française_, with a frilled shirt and white gloves;—and you see, sir, I am in fighting costume.’”
* * * * *
But we must return to our Rambles, trusting to the indulgent reader's forgiveness, if our pen sometimes rambles too. On leaving Olmeto, the road skirts the Gulf of Valinco, and, after touching the little port of Propriano, ascends to Sartene. This town, the seat of one of the five _sous-préfettures_ into which the island is divided, stands on the summit of a hill, the plain below being covered with olive-yards and fruit-trees, with vineyards on the slopes, and groves of ilex further up. The place has a melancholy aspect, all the houses being of the rudest construction, built of unhewn granite, black with age, and very lofty. It is divided into two quarters; one inhabited by wealthy families, among which, we were told, there are fifteen worth 200,000 _francs_ each; and the other by the lower class of people, a turbulent race, between whom and the patricians there have long been bloody feuds, breaking out into open war.
The country between Sartene and Bonifacio is wild and mountainous; and the road winding along the sides of the hills, many fine points of view are presented. To the northward, the eye rested on the lofty peak of Monte Incudine, and the long ridge of the Cascione, the high pasturages of which are occupied during the summer months by the shepherds of Quenza and other villages of the Serra. Southward, we have the coast, deeply indented, the blue Mediterranean, and, at about two hours from Sartene, the distant mountains of Sardinia, in faint outline. Now, there is in sight the grey tower of one of the old feudal castles, overgrown with wood, and rising among pinnacles of rock; vast forests clothe some of the mountain-sides, and everywhere we find the arbutus, the myrtle, and evergreen shrubbery. Here it contrasts well with the red and grey rocks we see around. That reddish rock is a compact granite, evidently admitting of a high polish. There are quarries by the side of the road, which is cut through it; and we are informed that it is sent to Rome for works of art.
Corsica is rich in valuable marbles, as yet turned to little account. Not far from Olmeto, in this route, in the canton of Santa Lucia, is found a beautiful granite, peculiar to the island. They call it _orbicularis_. It has a blueish cast, with white and black spots. I have observed it among the choice specimens with which the chapel of the Medici, at Florence, is so richly inlaid. The Corsican mountains present a variety of other fine granites, with porphyry and serpentine, in some of which agates and jaspers are incorporated. Of marbles proper, there are quarries in the island of a statuary marble, of a pure and dazzling whiteness, said to be equal to the best Carrara. Blocks of it, from five to eight feet thick, can be obtained from a single layer. Blueish-grey and pale yellow marbles are found near Corte and Bastia. But of metalliferous rocks and deposits the island cannot boast; a few iron mines, that of Olmeta in particular, one of copper, another of antimony, and one of manganese, form the scanty catalogue. It is to the island of Elba that we must look for mineral wealth.
Connected with the mineralogy of Corsica, I would just mention, in passing, that the island abounds in warm, sulphureous, and chalybeate springs, some of them strongly impregnated with carbonic acid gas. Those of Orezza, Puzzichello, and the Fiumorbo, are in great repute; and I collect from the _procès-verbals_ of the Council-General, that the mineral waters of Corsica are considered objects of much importance, considerable sums being annually voted for making baths, with roads to them, and encouraging parties engaged in opening them to the public.