CHAPTER XIX.

SAMPIERO'S SON, ALFONSO--TREATY WITH GENOA.

At the news of Sampiero's fall, the bells were rung in Genoa, and the

city was illuminated. The murderers quarrelled disgracefully over their

Judas-hire; that of Vittolo amounted to one hundred and fifty gold

scudi.

Sorrow and dismay fell upon the Corsican nation; its father was slain.

The people assembled in Orezza; three thousand armed men, many weeping,

all profoundly sad, filled the square before the church. Leonardo of

Casanova, Sampiero's friend and fellow-soldier, broke the silence. He

was about to pronounce the patriot's funeral oration.

This man was at the time labouring under the severest personal

affliction. Unheard-of misfortunes had overtaken him. He had shortly

before escaped from prison, by the aid of a heroic youth, his own son.

Leonardo had been made prisoner by the Genoese, who had thrown him into

a dungeon in Bastia. His son, Antonio, meditated plans of rescue night

and day. Disguised in the dress of the woman who brought the prisoners

their food, he made his way into his father's cell. He conjured his

father to make his escape and leave him behind; though they should put

him to death, he said, he was but a stripling, and his death would

do him honour, while it preserved his father's arm and wisdom for

his country; their duty as patriots pointed out this course. Long and

terrible was the struggle in the father's mind. At last he saw that he

ought to do as his son had said; he tore himself from his arms, and,

wrapped in the female dress, passed safely out. When the youth was

discovered, he gave himself up without resistance, proud and happy.

They led him to the governor, and, at his command, he was hung from the

window of his father's castle of Fiziani.

Leonardo, the generous victim's fate written in stern characters on his

face, rose now like a prophet before the assembled people--

"Slaves weep," he said, "free men avenge themselves! No weak-spirited

lamenting! Our mountains should re-echo nothing but shouts of war. Let

us show, by the vigour of our measures, that he is not all dead. Has he

not left us the example of his life? The Fornari and the Vittoli cannot

rob us of that. It has escaped their ambuscades and their treacherous

balls. Why did he cry to his son, Save thyself? Doubtless that there

might still remain a hero for our country, a head for our soldiers, a

dreaded foe for the Genoese. Yes, countrymen, Sampiero has left to his

murderers the stain of his death, and to the young Alfonso the duty of

vengeance. Let us aid in accomplishing the noble work. Close the ranks!

The spirit of the father returns to us in the son. I know the youth.

He is worthy of the name he bears, and of the country's confidence.

He has nothing of youth but its glow--the ripeness of the judgment

is sometimes in advance of the time of life, and a ripe judgment is

a gift that Heaven has not denied him. He has long shared the dangers

and toils of his father. All the world knows he is master of the rough

craft of arms. Our soldiers are eager to march under his command, and

you may be sure their instinct is true--it never deceives them. The

masses guess their men. They are seldom mistaken in their choice of

those whom they think fit to lead them. And, moreover, what higher

tribute could you pay to the memory of Sampiero, than to choose his

son? Those who hear me have set their hearts too high to be within the

reach of fear.

"Are there men among us base enough to prefer the shameful security of

slavery to the storms and dangers of freedom? Let them go, and separate

themselves from the rest of the people. But let them leave us their

names. When we have engraved these names on a pillar of eternal shame,

which we shall erect on the spot where Sampiero was assassinated, we

will send their owners off, covered with disgrace, to keep company

with Vittolo and Angelo at the court of Fornari. But they are fools

not to know that arms and battle, which are the honourable resource of

free and brave men, are also the safest recourse of the weak. If they

still hesitate, let me say to them--On the one side stand renown for

our standard, liberty for ourselves, independence for our country; on

the other, the galleys, infamy, contempt, and all the other miseries of

slavery. Choose!"

After this speech of Leonardo's, the people elected by acclamation

Alfonso d'Ornano to be Chief and General of the Corsicans. Alfonso was

seventeen years old, but he was Sampiero's son. The Corsicans thus,

far from being broken and cast down by the death of Sampiero, as their

enemies had hoped, set up a stripling against the proud Republic of

Genoa, mocking the veteran Genoese generals, and the name of Doria;

and for two years the youth, victorious in numerous conflicts, held the

Genoese at bay.

Meanwhile the long war had exhausted both sides. Genoa was desirous of

peace; the island, at that time divided by the factions of the Rossi

and Negri, was critically situated, and, like its enemy, disposed for

a cessation of hostilities. The Republic, which had already, in 1561,

resumed Corsica from the Bank of St. George, now recalled the detested

Fornari, and sent George Doria to the island--the only man of the

name of whom the Corsicans have preserved a grateful memory. The first

measure of this wise and temperate nobleman was to proclaim a general

amnesty. Many districts tendered allegiance; many captains laid down

their arms. The Bishop of Sagona succeeded in persuading even the young

Alfonso to a treaty, which was concluded between him and Genoa on the

following terms:--1. Complete amnesty for Alfonso and his adherents.

2. Liberty for them and their families to embark for the Continent.

3. Liberty to dispose of their property by sale, or by leaving it

in trust. 4. Restoration of the seigniory of Ornano to Alfonso. 5.

Assignment of the Pieve Vico to the partisans of Alfonso till their

embarkation. 6. A space of sixty days for the settlement of their

affairs. 7. Liberty for each man to take a horse and some dogs with

him. 8. Cancelling of the liabilities of those who were debtors to the

public treasury; for all others, five years' grace, in consideration of

the great distress prevailing in the country. 9. Liberation of certain

persons then in confinement.

Alfonso left his native island with three hundred companions in the

year 1569; he went to France, where he was honourably received by King

Charles IX., who made him colonel of the Corsican regiment he was at

that time forming. Many Corsicans went to Venice, great numbers took

service with the Pope, who organized from them the famous Corsican

Guard of the Eight Hundred.

BOOK II.--HISTORY.

CHAPTER I.

STATE OF CORSICA IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY--A GREEK COLONY ESTABLISHED

ON THE ISLAND.

It was not till the close of the war of Sampiero that the wretched

condition of the island became fully apparent. It had become a mere

desert, and the people, decimated by the war, and by voluntary or

compulsory emigration, were plunged in utter destitution and savagery.

To make the cup of their sorrows full, the plague several times visited

the country, and famine compelled the inhabitants to live on acorns

and roots. Besides all this, the corsairs roved along the coasts,

plundered the villages, and carried off men and women into slavery.

It was in this state George Doria found the island, when he came over

as governor; and so long as he was at the head of its affairs, Corsica

had reason to rejoice in his paternal care, his mildness and clemency,

and his conscientious observance of the stipulations of the treaty,

by which the statutes and privileges of the Terra del Commune had been

specially guaranteed.

Scarcely had George Doria made way for another governor, when Genoa

returned to her old mischievous policy. People in power are usually so

obstinate and blind, that they see neither the past nor the future.

Gradually the Corsicans were again extruded from all offices, civil,

military, and ecclesiastical--the meanest posts filled with Genoese,

the old institutions suppressed, and a one-sided administration

of justice introduced. The island was considered in the light of a

Government domain. Impoverished Genoese _nobili_ had places given them

there to restore their finances. The Corsicans were involved in debt,

and they now fell into the hands of the usurers--mostly priests--to

whom they had recourse, in order to muster money for the heavy imposts.

The governor himself was to be looked on as a satrap. On his arrival

in Bastia, he received a sceptre as a symbol of his power; his salary,

paid by the country, was no trifle; and in addition, his table had

to be furnished by payments in kind--every week a calf, and a certain

quantity of fruits and vegetables. He received twenty-five per cent. of

all fines, confiscations, and prizes of smuggled goods. His lieutenants

and officials were cared for in proportion. For he brought to the

island with him an attorney-general, a master of the ceremonies, a

secretary-general, and a private secretary, a commandant of the ports,

a captain of cavalry, a captain of police, a governor-general of the

prisons. All these officials were vampires; Genoese writers themselves

confess it. The imposts became more and more oppressive; industry was

at a stand-still; commerce in the same condition--for the law provided

that all products of the country, when exported, should be carried to

the port of Genoa.

All writers who have treated of this period in Corsican history, agree

in saying that of all the countries in the world, she was at that time

the most unhappy. Prostrate under famine, pestilence, and the ravages

of war; unceasingly harassed by the Moors; robbed of her rights and her

liberty by the Genoese; oppressed, plundered; the courts of justice

venal; torn by the factions of the Blacks and Reds; bleeding at a

thousand places from family feuds and the Vendetta; the entire land one

wound--such is the picture of Corsica in those days--an island blessed

by nature with all the requisites for prosperity. Filippini counted

sixty-one fertile districts which now lay desolate and forsaken--house

and church still standing--a sight, as he says, to make one weep.

Destitute of any other pervading principle of social cohesion, the

Corsican people must have utterly broken up, and scattered into mere

hordes, unless it had been penetrated by the sentiment of patriotism,

to an extent so universal and with a force so intense. The virtue of

patriotism shows itself here in a grandeur almost inconceivable, if

we consider what a howling wilderness it was to which the Corsicans

clung with hearts so tender and true; a wilderness, but drenched with

their blood, with the blood of their fathers, of their brothers, and

of their children, and therefore dear. The Corsican historian says,

in the eleventh book of his history, "If patriotism has ever been

known at any time, and in any country of the world, to exercise power

over men, truly we may say that in the island of Corsica it has been

mightier than anywhere else; for I am altogether amazed and astounded

that the love of the inhabitants of this island for their country has

been so great, as at all times to prevent them from coming to a firm

and voluntary determination to emigrate. For if we pursue the course

of their history, from the earliest inhabitants down to the present

time, we see that throughout so many centuries this people has never

had peace and quiet for so much as a hundred years together; and that,

nevertheless, they have never resolved to quit their native island,

and so avoid the unspeakable ruin that has followed so many and so

cruel wars, that were accompanied with dearth, with conflagration, with

feuds, with murders, with inward dissensions, with tyrannous exercise

of power by so many different nations, with plundering of their goods,

with frequent attacks of those cruel barbarians--the corsairs, and

with endless miseries besides, that it would be tedious to reckon up."

Within a period of thirty years, twenty-eight thousand assassinations

were committed in Corsica.

"A great misfortune for Corsica," says the same historian, "is the

vast number of those accursed machines of arquebuses." The Genoese

Government drew a considerable revenue from the sale of licenses to

carry these. "There are," remarks Filippini, "more than seven thousand

licenses at present issued; and, besides, many carry fire-arms without

any license, and especially in the mountains, where you see nothing

but bands of twenty and thirty men, or more, all armed with arquebuses.

These licenses bring seven thousand lire out of poor, miserable Corsica

every year; for every new governor that comes annuls the licenses of

his predecessor, in order forthwith to confirm them afresh. But the

buying of the fire-arms is the worst. For you will find no Corsican

so poor that he has not his gun--in value at least from five to six

scudi, besides the outlay for powder and ball; and those that have

no money sell their vineyard, their chestnuts, or other possessions,

that they may be able to buy one, as if it were impossible to exist

unless they did so. In truth, it is astonishing, for the greater part

of these people have not a coat upon their back that is worth a half

scudo, and in their houses nothing to eat; and yet they hold themselves

for disgraced, if they appear beside their neighbours without a gun.

And hence it comes that the vineyards and the fields are no longer

under cultivation, and lie useless, and overgrown with brushwood, and

the owners are compelled to betake themselves to highway robbery and

crime; and if they find no convenient opportunity for this, then they

violently make opportunity for themselves, in order to deprive those

who go quietly about their business, and support their poor families,

of their oxen, their kine, and other cattle. From all this arises such

calamity, that the pursuit of agriculture is quite vanished out of

Corsica, though it was the sole means of support the people had--the

only kind of industry still left to these islanders. They who live

in such a mischievous manner, hinder the others from doing so well

as they might be disposed to do: and the evil does not end here; for

we hear every day of murders done now in one village, now in another,

because of the easiness with which life can be taken by means of the

arquebuses. For formerly, when such weapons were not in use, when foes

met upon the streets, if the one was two or three times stronger than

the other, an attack was not ventured. But now-a-days, if a man has

some trifling quarrel with another, although perhaps with a different

sort of weapon he would not dare to look him in the face, he lies down

behind a bush, and without the least scruple murders him, just as you

shoot down a wild beast, and nobody cares anything about it afterwards;

for justice dares not intermeddle. Moreover, the Corsicans have come to

handle their pieces so skilfully, that I pray God may shield us from

war; for their enemies will have to be upon their guard, because from

the children of eight and ten years, who can hardly carry a gun, and

never let the trigger lie still, they are day and night at the target,

and if the mark be but the size of a scudo, they hit it."

Filippini, the contemporary of Sampiero, saw fire-arms introduced into

Corsica, which were quite unknown on the island, as he informs us, till

the year 1553. Marshal Thermes--the French, therefore--first brought

fire-arms into Corsica. "And," says Filippini, "it was laughable to

see the clumsiness of the Corsicans at first, for they could neither

load nor fire; and when they discharged, they were as frightened as

the savages." What the Corsican historian says as to the fearful

consequences of the introduction of the musket into Corsica is as

true now, after the lapse of three hundred years, as it was then, and

a chronicler of to-day could not alter an iota of what Filippini has

said.

In the midst of all this Corsican distress, we are surprised by the

sudden appearance of a Greek colony on their desolate shores. The

Genoese had striven long and hard to denationalize the Corsican people

by the introduction of foreign and hostile elements. Policy of this

nature had probably no inconsiderable share in the plan of settling

a Greek colony in the island, which was carried into execution

in the year 1676. Some Mainotes of the Gulf of Kolokythia, weary

of the intolerable yoke of the Turks, like those ancient Phocæans

who refused to submit to the yoke of the Persians, had resolved to

migrate with wife, child, and goods, and found for themselves a new

home. After long search and much futile negotiation for a locality,

their ambassador, Johannes Stefanopulos, came at length to Genoa, and

expressed to the Senate the wishes of his countrymen. The Republic

listened to them most gladly, and proposed for the acceptance of the

Greeks the district of Paomia, which occupies the western coast of

Corsica from the Gulf of Porto to the Gulf of Sagona. Stefanopulos

convinced himself of the suitable nature of the locality, and the

Mainotes immediately contracted an agreement with the Genoese Senate,

in terms of which the districts of Paomia, Ruvida, and Salogna, were

granted to them in perpetual fief, with a supply of necessaries for

commencing the settlement, and toleration for their national religion

and social institutions; while they on their part swore allegiance

to Genoa, and subordinated themselves to a Genoese official sent to

reside in the colony. In March 1676, these Greeks, seven hundred and

thirty in number, landed in Genoa, where they remained two months,

previously to taking possession of their new abode. Genoa planted

this colony very hopefully; she believed herself to have gained, in

the brave men composing it, a little band of incorruptible fidelity,

who would act as a permanent forepost in the enemy's country. It was,

in fact, impossible that the Greeks could ever make common cause

with the Corsicans. These latter gazed on the strangers when they

arrived--on the new Phocæans--with astonishment. Possibly they despised

men who seemed not to love their country, since they had forsaken it;

without doubt they found it a highly unpleasant reflection that these

intruders had been thrust in upon their property in such an altogether

unceremonious manner. The poor Greeks were destined to thrive but

indifferently in their new rude home.

CHAPTER II.

INSURRECTION AGAINST GENOA.

For half a century the island lay in a state of exhaustion--the hatred

of Genoa continuing to be fostered by general and individual distress,

and at length absorbing into itself every other sentiment. The people

lived upon their hatred; their hatred alone prevented their utter ruin.

Many circumstances had been meanwhile combining to bring the profound

discontent to open revolt. It appeared to the sagacious Dodici--for

this body still existed, at least in form--that a main source of the

miseries of their country was the abuse in the matter of licensing

fire-arms. Within thirty years, as was noticed above, twenty-eight

thousand assassinations had been committed in Corsica. The Twelve

urgently entreated the Senate of the Republic to forbid the granting

of these licenses. The Senate yielded. It interdicted the selling of

muskets, and appointed a number of commissaries to disarm the island.

But as this interdict withdrew a certain amount of yearly revenue from

the exchequer, an impost of twelve scudi was laid upon each hearth,

under the name of the _due seini_, or two sixes. The people paid, but

murmured; and all the while the sale of licenses continued, both openly

and secretly.

In the year 1724, another measure was adopted which greatly annoyed the

Corsicans. The Government of the country was divided--the lieutenant

of Ajaccio now receiving the title of Governor--and thus a double

burden and twofold despotism henceforth pressed upon the unfortunate

people. In the hands of both governors was lodged irresponsible

power to condemn to the galleys or death, without form or procedure

of any kind; as the phrase went--_ex informata conscientia_ (from

informed conscience). An administration of justice entirely arbitrary,

lawlessness and murder were the results.

Special provocations--any of which might become the immediate occasion

of an outbreak--were not wanting. A punishment of a disgraceful kind

had been inflicted on a Corsican soldier in a small town of Liguria.

Condemned to ride a wooden horse, he was surrounded by a jeering crowd

who made mirth of his shame. His comrades, feeling their national

honour insulted, attacked the mocking rabble, and killed some. The

authorities beheaded them for this. When news of the occurrence reached

Corsica, the pride of the nation was roused, and, on the day for

lifting the tax of the _due seini_, a spark fired the powder in the

island itself.

The Lieutenant of Corte had gone with his collector to the Pieve of

Bozio; the people were in the fields. Only an old man of Bustancio,

Cardone by name, was waiting for the officer, and paid him his tax.

Among the coin he tendered was a gold piece deficient in value by the

amount of half a soldo. The Lieutenant refused to take it. The old

man in vain implored him to have pity on his abject poverty; he was

threatened with an execution on his goods, if he did not produce the

additional farthing on the following day; and he went away musing on

this severity, and talking about it to himself, as old men will do.

Others met him, heard him, stopped, and gradually a crowd collected

on the road. The old man continued his complaints; then passing from

himself to the wrongs of the country, he worked his audience into

fury, forcibly picturing to them the distress of the people, and the

tyranny of the Genoese, and ending by crying out--"It is time now to

make an end of our oppressors!" The crowd dispersed, the words of the

old man ran like wild-fire through the country, and awakened everywhere

the old gathering-cry _Evviva la libertà!_--_Evviva il popolo!_ The

conch[A] blew and the bells tolled the alarm from village to village. A

feeble old man had thus preached the insurrection, and half a sou was

the immediate occasion of a war destined to last for forty years. An

irrevocable resolution was adopted--to pay no further taxes of any kind

whatever. This occurred in October of the year 1729.

On hearing of the commotion among the people of Bozio, the governor,

Felix Pinelli, despatched a hundred men to the Pieve. They passed

the night in Poggio de Tavagna, having been quietly received into

the houses of the place. One of the inhabitants, however, named

Pompiliani, conceived the plan of disarming them during the night. This

was accomplished, and the defenceless soldiers permitted to return to

Bastia. Pompiliani was henceforth the declared head of the insurgents.

The people armed themselves with axes, bills, pruning-knives, threw

themselves on the fort of Aleria, stormed it, cut the garrison in

pieces, took possession of the arms and ammunition, and marched without

delay upon Bastia. More than five thousand men encamped before the

city, in the citadel of which Pinelli had shut himself up. To gain time

he sent the Bishop of Mariana into the camp of the insurgents to open

negotiations with them. They demanded the removal of all the burdens of

the Corsican people. The bishop, however, persuaded them to conclude

a truce of four-and-twenty days, to return into the mountains, and to

wait for the Senate's answer to their demands. Pinelli employed the

time he thus gained in procuring reinforcements, strengthening forts

in his neighbourhood, and fomenting dissensions. When the people saw

themselves merely trifled with and deceived, they came down from the

mountains, this time ten thousand strong, and once more encamped before

Bastia. A general insurrection was now no longer to be prevented; and

Genoa in vain sent her commissaries to negotiate and cajole.

An assembly of the people was held in Furiani. Pompiliani, chosen

commander under the urgent circumstances of the commencing outbreak,

had shown himself incapable, and was now set aside, making room for

two men of known ability--Andrea Colonna Ceccaldi of Vescovato, and

Don Luis Giafferi of Talasani--who were jointly declared generals of

the people. Bastia was now attacked anew and more fiercely, and the

bishop was again sent among the insurgents to sooth them if possible.

A truce was concluded for four months. Both sides employed it in

making preparations; intrigues of the old sort were set on foot by

the Genoese Commissary Camillo Doria; but an attempt to assassinate

Ceccaldi failed. The latter had meanwhile travelled through the

interior along with Giafferi, adjusting family feuds, and correcting

abuses; subsequently they had opened a legislative assembly in Corte.

Edicts were here issued, measures for a general insurrection taken,

judicial authorities and a militia organized. A solemn oath was sworn,

never more to wear the yoke of Genoa. The insurrection, thus regulated,

became legal and universal. The entire population, this side as well as

on the other side the mountains, now rose under the influence of one

common sentiment. Nor was the voice of religion unheard. The clergy

of the island held a convention in Orezza, and passed a unanimous

resolution--that if the Republic refused the people their rights, the

war was a measure of necessary self-defence, and the people relieved

from their oath of allegiance.

CHAPTER III.

SUCCESSES AGAINST GENOA, AND GERMAN MERCENARIES--PEACE CONCLUDED.

The canon Orticoni had been sent to the Continent to seek the

protection of the foreign powers, and Giafferi to Tuscany to procure

arms and ammunition, which were much needed; and meanwhile the truce

had expired. Genoa, refusing all concessions, demanded unconditional

submission, and the persons of the two leaders of the revolt; but when

the war was found to break out simultaneously all over the island, and

the Corsicans had taken numbers of strong places, and formed the sieges

of Bastia, of Ajaccio, and of Calvi, the Republic began to see her

danger, and had recourse to the Emperor Charles VI. for aid.

The Emperor granted them assistance. He agreed to furnish the Republic

with a corps of eight thousand Germans, making a formal bargain and

contract with the Genoese, as one merchant does with another. It was

the time when the German princes commenced the practice of selling

the blood of their children to foreign powers for gold, that it might

be shed in the service of despotism. It was also the time when the

nations began to rouse themselves; the presence of a new spirit--the

spirit of the freedom and power and progress of the masses--began to be

felt throughout the world. The poor people of Corsica have the abiding

honour of opening this new era.

The Emperor disposed of the eight thousand Germans under highly

favourable conditions. The Republic pledged herself to support them,

to pay thirty thousand gulden monthly for them, and to render a

compensation of one hundred gulden for every deserter and slain man. It

became customary, therefore, with the Corsicans, whenever they killed

a German, to call out, "A hundred gulden, Genoa!"

The mercenaries arrived in Corsica on the 10th of August 1731; not all

however, but in the first instance, only four thousand men--a number

which the Senate hoped would prove sufficient for its purposes. This

body of Germans was under the command of General Wachtendonk. They had

scarcely landed when they attacked the Corsicans, and compelled them to

raise the siege of Bastia.

The Corsicans saw the Emperor himself interfering as their oppressor,

with grief and consternation. They were in want of the merest

necessaries. In their utter poverty they had neither weapons, nor

clothing, nor shoes. They ran to battle bareheaded and barefoot. To

what side were _they_ to turn for aid? Beyond the bounds of their own

island they could reckon on none but their banished countrymen. It was

resolved, therefore, at one of the diets, to summon these home, and the

following invitation was directed to them:--

"Countrymen! our exertions to obtain the removal of our grievances have

proved fruitless, and we have determined to free ourselves by force

of arms--all hesitation is at an end. Either we shall rise from the

shameful and humiliating prostration into which we have sunk, or we

know how to die and drown our sufferings and our chains in blood. If

no prince is found, who, moved by the narrative of our misfortunes,

will listen to our complaints and protect us from our oppressors,

there is still an Almighty God, and we stand armed in the name and

for the defence of our country. Hasten to us, children of Corsica!

whom exile keeps at a distance from our shores, to fight by the side

of your brethren, to conquer or die! Let nothing hold you back--take

your arms and come. Your country calls you, and offers you a grave and

immortality!"

They came from Tuscany, from Rome, from Naples, from Marseilles. Not

a day passed but parties of them landed at some port or another, and

those who were not able to bear arms sent what they could in money and

weapons. One of these returning patriots, Filician Leoni of Balagna,

hitherto a captain in the Neapolitan service, landed near San Fiorenzo,

just as his father was passing with a troop to assault the tower of

Nonza. Father and son embraced each other weeping. The old man then

said: "My son, it is well that you have come; go in my stead, and take

the tower from the Genoese." The son instantly put himself at the head

of the troop; the father awaited the issue. Leoni took the tower of

Nonza, but a ball stretched the young soldier on the earth. A messenger

brought the mournful intelligence to his father. The old man saw him

approaching, and asked him how matters stood. "Not well," cried the

messenger; "your son has fallen!" "Nonza is taken?" "It is taken."

"Well, then," cried the old man, "evviva Corsica!"

Camillo Doria was in the meantime ravaging the country and destroying

the villages; General Wachtendonk had led his men into the interior

to reduce the province of Balagna. The Corsicans, however, after

inflicting severe losses on him, surrounded him in the mountains

near San Pellegrino. The imperial general could neither retreat nor

advance, and was, in fact, lost. Some voices loudly advised that these

foreigners should be cut down to a man. But the wise Giafferi was

unwilling to rouse the wrath of the Emperor against his poor country,

and permitted Wachtendonk and his army to return unharmed to Bastia,

only exacting the condition, that the General should endeavour to gain

Charles VI.'s ear for the Corsican grievances. Wachtendonk gave his

word of honour for this--astonished at the magnanimity of men whom he

had come to crush as a wild horde of rebels. A cessation of hostilities

for two months was agreed on. The grievances of the Corsicans were

formally drawn up and sent to Vienna; but before an answer returned,

the truce had expired, and the war commenced anew.

The second half of the imperial auxiliaries was now sent to the island;

but the bold Corsicans were again victorious in several engagements;

and on the 2d of February 1732, they defeated and almost annihilated

the Germans under Doria and De Vins, in the bloody battle of Calenzana.

The terrified Republic hereupon begged the Emperor to send four

thousand men more. But the world was beginning to manifest a lively

sympathy for the brave people who, utterly deserted and destitute of

aid, found in their patriotism alone, resources which enabled them so

gloriously to withstand such formidable opposition.

The new imperial troops were commanded by Ludwig, Prince of Würtemberg,

a celebrated general. He forthwith proclaimed an amnesty under the

condition that the people should lay down their arms, and submit to

Genoa. But the Corsicans would have nothing to do with conditions of

this kind. Würtemberg, therefore, the Prince of Culmbach, Generals

Wachtendonk, Schmettau, and Waldstein, advanced into the country

according to a plan of combined operation, while the Corsicans withdrew

into the mountains, to harass the enemy by a guerilla warfare. Suddenly

the reply of the imperial court to the Corsican representation of

grievances arrived, conveying orders to the Prince of Würtemberg to

proceed as leniently as possible with the people, as the Emperor now

saw that they had been wronged.

On the 11th of May 1732, a peace was concluded at Corte on the

following terms--1. General amnesty. 2. That Genoa should relinquish

all claims of compensation for the expenses of the war. 3. The

remission of all unpaid taxes. 4. That the Corsicans should have

free access to all offices, civil, military, and ecclesiastical.

5. Permission to found colleges, and unrestricted liberty to teach

therein. 6. Reinstatement of the Council of Twelve, and of the Council

of Six, with the privilege of an Oratore. 7. The right of defence for

accused persons. 8. The appointment of a Board to take cognizance of

the offences of public officials.

The fulfilment of this--for the Corsicans--advantageous treaty, was to

be personally guaranteed by the Emperor; and accordingly, most of the

German troops left the island, after more than three thousand of their

number had found a grave in Corsica. Only Wachtendonk remained some

time longer to see the terms of the agreement carried into effect.

CHAPTER IV.

RECOMMENCEMENT OF HOSTILITIES--DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE--DEMOCRATIC

CONSTITUTION OF COSTA.

The imperial ratification was daily expected; but before it arrived,

the Genoese Senate allowed the exasperation of defeat and the desire of

revenge to hurry it into an action which could not fail to provoke the

Corsican people to new revolt. Ceccaldi, Giafferi, the Abbé Aitelli,

and Rafaelli, the leaders of the Corsicans who had signed the treaty

in the name of their nation, were suddenly seized, and dragged off to

Genoa, under the pretext of their entertaining treasonable designs

against the state. A vehement cry of protest arose from the whole

island: the people hastened to Wachtendonk, and urged upon him that

his own honour was compromised in this violent act of the Genoese;

they wrote to the Prince of Würtemberg, to the Emperor himself,

demanding protection in terms of the treaty. The result was that the

Emperor without delay ratified the conditions of peace, and demanded

the liberation of the prisoners. All four were set at liberty, but

the Senate endeavoured to extract a promise from them never again to

return to their country. Ceccaldi went to Spain, where he entered into

military service; Rafaelli to Rome; Aitelli and Giafferi to Leghorn,

in the vicinity of their native island; where they could observe the

course of affairs, which to all appearance could not remain long in

their present posture.

On the 15th of June 1733, Wachtendonk and the last of the German

troops left the island, which, with the duly ratified instrument of

treaty in its possession, now found itself face to face with Genoa.

The two deadly foes had hardly exchanged glances, when both were again

in arms. Nothing but war to the knife was any longer possible between

the Corsicans and the Genoese. In the course of centuries, mutual hate

had become a second nature with both. The Genoese citizen came to the

island rancorous, intriguing, cunning; the Corsican was suspicious,

irritable, defiant, exultingly conscious of his individual manliness,

and his nation's tried powers of self-defence. Two or three arrests and

attempts at assassination, and the people instantly rose, and gathered

in Rostino, round Hyacinth Paoli, an active, resolute, and intrepid

burgher of Morosaglia. This was a man of unusual talent, an orator, a

poet, and a statesman; for among the rugged Corsicans, men had ripened

in the school of misfortune and continual struggle, who were destined

to astonish Europe. The people of Rostino named Hyacinth Paoli and

Castineta their generals. They had now leaders, therefore, though they

were to be considered as provisional.

No sooner had the movement broken out in Rostino, and the struggle

with Genoa been once more commenced, than the brave Giafferi threw

himself into a vessel, and landed in Corsica. The first general diet

was held in Corte, which had been taken by storm. War was unanimously

declared against Genoa, and it was resolved to place the island under

the protection of the King of Spain, whose standard was now unfurled

in Corte. The canon, Orticoni, was sent to the court of Madrid to give

expression to this wish on the part of the Corsican people.

Don Luis Giafferi was again appointed general, and this talented

commander succeeded, in the course of the year 1734, in depriving the

Genoese of all their possessions in the island, except the fortified

ports. In the year 1735, he called a general assembly of the people in

Corte. On this occasion he demanded Hyacinth Paoli as his colleague,

and this having been agreed to, the advocate, Sebastiano Costa, was

appointed to draw up the scheme of a constitution. This remarkable

assembly affirmed the independence of the Corsican people, and the

perpetual separation of Corsica from Genoa; and announced as leading

features in the new arrangements--the self-government of the people

in its parliament; a junta of six, named by parliament, and renewed

every three months, to accompany the generals as the parliament's

representatives; a civil board of four, intrusted with the oversight of

the courts of justice, of the finances, and of commercial interests.

The people in its assemblies was declared the alone source of law. A

statute-book was to be composed by the highest junta.

Such were the prominent features of a constitution sketched by the

Corsican Costa, and approved of in the year 1735, when universal

political barbarism still prevailed upon the Continent, by a people

in regard to which the obscure rumour went that it was horribly

wild and uncivilized. It appears, therefore, that nations are not

always educated for freedom and independence by science, wealth, or

brilliant circumstances of political prominence; oftener perhaps by

poverty, misfortune, and love for their country. A little people,

without literature, without trade, had thus in obscurity, and without

assistance, outstripped the most cultivated nations of Europe in

political wisdom and in humanity; its constitution had not sprung from

the hot-bed of philosophical systems--it had ripened upon the soil of

its material necessities.

Giafferi, Ceccaldi, and Hyacinth Paoli had all three been placed at the

head of affairs. Orticoni had returned from his mission to Spain, with

the answer that his catholic Majesty declined taking Corsica under his

special protection, but declared that he would not support Genoa with

troops. The Corsicans, therefore, as they could reckon on no protection

from any earthly potentate, now did as some of the Italian republics

had done during the Middle Ages, placed themselves by general consent

under the guardian care of the Virgin Mary, whose picture henceforth

figured on the standards of the country; and they chose Jesus Christ

for their _gonfaloniere_, or standard-bearer.

Genoa--which the German Emperor, involved in the affairs of Poland,

could not now assist--was meanwhile exerting itself to the utmost to

reduce the Corsicans to subjection. The republic first sent Felix

Pinelli, the former cruel governor, and then her bravest general,

Paul Battista Rivarola, with all the troops that could be raised. The

situation of the Corsicans was certainly desperate. They were destitute

of all the necessaries for carrying on the war; the country was

completely exhausted, and the Genoese cruisers prevented importation

from abroad. Their distress was such that they even made proposals for

peace, to which, however, Genoa refused to listen. The whole island was

under blockade; all commercial intercourse was at an end; vessels from

Leghorn had been captured; there was a deficiency of arms, particularly

of fire-arms, and they had no powder. Their embarrassments had become

almost insupportable, when, one day, two strange vessels came to

anchor in the gulf of Isola Rossa, and began to discharge a heavy

cargo of victuals and warlike stores--gifts for the Corsicans from

unknown and mysterious donors. The captains of the vessels scorned all

remuneration, and only asked the favour of some Corsican wine in which

to drink the brave nation's welfare. They then put out to sea again

amidst the blessings of the multitude who had assembled on the shore to

see their foreign benefactors. This little token of foreign sympathy

fairly intoxicated the poor Corsicans. Their joy was indescribable;

they rang the bells in all the villages; they said to one another that

Divine Providence, and the Blessed Virgin, had sent their rescuing

angels to the unhappy island, and their hopes grew lively that some

foreign power would at length bestow its protection on the Corsicans.

The moral impression produced by this event was so powerful, that the

Genoese feared what the Corsicans hoped, and immediately commenced

treating for peace. But it was now the turn of the Corsicans to be

obstinate.

Generous Englishmen had equipped these two ships, friends of liberty,

and admirers of Corsican heroism. Their magnanimity was soon to

come into conflict with their patriotism, through the revolt of

North America. The English supply of arms and ammunition enabled the

Corsicans to storm Aleria, where they made a prize of four pieces of

cannon. They now laid siege to Calvi and Bastia. But their situation

was becoming every moment more helpless and desperate. All their

resources were again spent, and still no foreign power interfered. In

those days the Corsicans waited in an almost religious suspense; they

were like the Jews under the Maccabees, when they hoped for a Messiah.

CHAPTER V.

BARON THEODORE VON NEUHOFF.

Early in the morning of the 12th of March 1736, a vessel under British

colours was seen steering towards Aleria. The people who crowded to the

shore greeted it with shouts of joy; they supposed it was laden with

arms and ammunition. The vessel cast anchor; and soon afterwards, some

of the principal men of the island went on board, to wait on a certain

mysterious stranger whom she had brought. This stranger was of kingly

appearance, of stately and commanding demeanour, and theatrically

dressed. He wore a long caftan of scarlet silk, Moorish trowsers,

yellow shoes, and a Spanish hat and feather; in his girdle of yellow

silk were a pair of richly inlaid pistols, a sabre hung by his side,

and in his right hand he held a long truncheon as sceptre. Sixteen

gentlemen of his retinue followed him with respectful deference as

he landed--eleven Italians, two French officers, and three Moors. The

enigmatical stranger stepped upon the Corsican shore with all the air

of a king,--and with the purpose to be one.

The Corsicans surrounded the mysterious personage with no small

astonishment. The persuasion was general that he was--if not a foreign

prince--at least the ambassador of some monarch now about to take

Corsica under his protection. The ship soon began to discharge her

cargo before the eyes of the crowd; it consisted of ten pieces of

cannon, four thousand muskets, three thousand pairs of shoes, seven

hundred sacks of grain, a large quantity of ammunition, some casks of

zechins, and a considerable sum in gold coins of Barbary. It appeared

that the leading men of the island had expected the arrival of this

stranger. Xaverius Matra was seen to greet him with all the reverence

due to a king; and all were impressed by the dignity of his princely

bearing, and the lofty composure of his manner. He was conducted in

triumph to Cervione.

This singular person was a German, the Westphalian Baron Theodore von

Neuhoff--the cleverest and most fortunate of all the adventurers of

his time. In his youth he had been a page at the court of the Duchess

of Orleans, had afterwards gone into the Spanish service, and then

returned to France. His brilliant talents had brought him into contact

with all the remarkable personages of the age; among others, with

Alberoni, with Ripperda, and Law, in whose financial speculations he

had been involved. Neuhoff had experienced everything, seen everything,

thought, attempted, enjoyed, and suffered everything. True to the

dictates of a romantic and adventurous nature, he had run through all

possible shapes in which fortune can appear, and had at length taken it

into his head, that for a man of a powerful mind like him, it must be a

desirable thing to be a king. And he had not conceived this idea in the

vein of the crackbrained Knight of La Mancha, who, riding errant into

the world, persuaded himself that he would at least be made emperor of

Trebisonde in reward for his achievements; on the contrary, accident

threw the thought into his quite unclouded intellect, and he resolved

to be a king, to become so in a real and natural way,--and he became a

king.

In the course of his rovings through Europe, Neuhoff had come to Genoa

just at the time when Giafferi, Ceccaldi, Aitelli, and Rafaelli were

brought to the city as prisoners. It seems that his attention was now

for the first time drawn to the Corsicans, whose obstinate bravery made

a deep impression on him. He formed a connexion with such Corsicans as

he could find in Genoa, particularly with men belonging to the province

of Balagna; and after gaining an insight into the state of affairs in

the island, the idea of playing a part in the history of this romantic

country gradually ripened in his mind. He immediately went to Leghorn,

where Orticoni, into whose hands the foreign relations of the island

had been committed, was at the time residing. He introduced himself

to Orticoni, and succeeded in inspiring him with admiration, and with

confidence in his magnificent promises. For, intimately connected, as

he said he was, with all the courts, he affirmed that, within the space

of a year, he would procure the Corsicans all the necessary means for

driving the Genoese for ever from the island. In return, he demanded

nothing more than that the Corsicans should crown him as their king.

Orticoni, carried away by the extraordinary genius of the man, by his

boundless promises, by the cleverness of his diplomatic, economic, and

political ideas, and perceiving that Neuhoff really might be able to

do his country good service, asked the opinion of the generals of the

island. In their desperate situation, they gave him full power to treat

with Neuhoff. Orticoni, accordingly, came to an agreement with the

baron, that he should be proclaimed king of Corsica as soon as he put

the islanders in a position to free themselves completely from the yoke

of Genoa.

As soon as Theodore von Neuhoff saw this prospect before him, he began

to exert himself for its realisation with an energy which is sufficient

of itself to convince us of his powerful genius. He put himself

in communication with the English consul at Leghorn, and with such

merchants as traded to Barbary; he procured letters of recommendation

for that country; went to Africa; and after he had moved heaven and

earth there in person, as in Europe by his agents, finding himself in

possession of all necessary equipments, he suddenly landed in Corsica

in the manner we have described.

He made his appearance when the misery of the island had reached the

last extreme. In handing over his stores to the Corsican leaders,

he informed them that they were only a small portion of what was to

follow. He represented to them that his connexions with the courts of

Europe, already powerful, would be placed on a new footing the moment

that the Genoese had been overcome; and that, wearing the crown, he

should treat as a prince with princes. He therefore desired the crown.

Hyacinth Paoli, Giafferi, and the learned Costa, men of the soundest

common sense, engaged upon an enterprise the most pressingly real in

its necessities that could possibly be committed to human hands--that

of liberating their country, and giving its liberty a form, and

secure basis, nevertheless acceded to this desire. Their engagements

to the man, and his services; the novelty of the event, which had so

remarkably inspirited the people; the prospects of further help; in

a word, their necessitous circumstances, demanded it. Theodore von

Neuhoff, king-designate of the Corsicans, had the house of the Bishop

of Cervione appointed him for his residence; and on the 15th of April,

the people assembled to a general diet in the convent of Alesani, in

order to pass the enactment converting Corsica into a kingdom. The

assembly was composed of two representatives from every commune in the

country, and of deputies from the convents and clergy, and more than

two thousand people surrounded the building. The following constitution

was laid before the Parliament: The crown of the kingdom of Corsica is

given to Baron Theodore von Neuhoff and his heirs; the king is assisted

by a council of twenty-four, nominated by the people, without whose and

the Parliament's consent no measures can be adopted or taxes imposed.

All public offices are open to the Corsicans only; legislative acts can

proceed only from the people and its Parliament.

These articles were read by Gaffori, a doctor of laws, to the assembled

people, who gave their consent by acclamation; Baron Theodore then

signed them in presence of the representatives of the nation, and

swore, on the holy gospels, before all the people, to remain true to

the constitution. This done, he was conducted into the church, where,

after high mass had been said, the generals placed the crown upon his

head. The Corsicans were too poor to have a crown of gold; they plaited

one of laurel and oak-leaves, and crowned therewith their first and

last king. And thus Baron Theodore von Neuhoff, who already styled

himself Grandee of Spain, Lord of Great Britain, Peer of France, Count

of the Papal Dominions, and Prince of the Empire, became King of the

Corsicans, with the title of Theodore the First.

Though this singular affair may be explained from the then

circumstances of the island, and from earlier phenomena in Corsican

history, it still remains astonishing. So intense was the patriotism

of this people, that to obtain their liberty and rescue their country,

they made a foreign adventurer their king, because he held out to them

hopes of deliverance; and that their brave and tried leaders, without

hesitation and without jealousy, quietly divested themselves of their

authority.

CHAPTER VI.

THEODORE I., KING OF CORSICA.

Now in possession of the kingly title, Theodore wished to see himself

surrounded by a kingly court, and was, therefore, not sparing in his

distribution of dignities. He named Don Luis Giafferi and Hyacinth

Paoli his prime ministers, and invested them with the title of Count.

Xaverius Matra became a marquis, and grand-marshal of the palace;

Giacomo Castagnetta, count and commandant of Rostino; Arrighi, count

and inspector-general of the troops. He gave others the titles of

barons, margraves, lieutenants-general, captains of the Royal Guard,

and made them commandants of various districts of the country. The

advocate Costa, now Count Costa, was created grand-chancellor of the

kingdom, and Dr. Gaffori, now Marquis Gaffori, cabinet-secretary to his

Majesty the constitutional king.

Ridiculous as all these pompous arrangements may appear, King Theodore

set himself in earnest to accomplish his task. In a short time he had

established order in the country, settled family feuds, and organized

a regular army, with which, in April 1736, he took Porto Vecchio and

Sartene from the Genoese. The Senate of Genoa had at first viewed

the enigmatic proceedings that were going on before its eyes with

astonishment and fear, imagining that the intentions of some foreign

power might be concealed behind them. But when obscurities cleared

away, and Baron Theodore stood disclosed, they began to lampoon him in

pamphlets, and brand him as an unprincipled adventurer deep in debt.

King Theodore replied to the Genoese manifestoes with kingly dignity,

German bluntness, and German humour. He then marched in person against

Bastia, fought like a lion before its walls, and when he found he

could not take the city, blockaded it, making, meanwhile, expeditions

into the interior of the island, in the course of which he punished

rebellious districts with unscrupulous severity, and several times

routed the Genoese troops.

The Genoese were soon confined to their fortified towns on the sea. In

their embarrassment at this period they had recourse to a disgraceful

method of increasing their strength. They formed a regiment, fifteen

hundred strong, of their galley-slaves, bandits, and murderers, and let

loose this refuse upon Corsica. The villanous band made frequent forays

into the country, and perpetrated numberless enormities. They got the

name of Vittoli, from Sampiero's murderer, or of Oriundi.

King Theodore made great exertions for the general elevation of the

country. He established manufactories of arms, of salt, of cloth; he

endeavoured to introduce animation into trade, to induce foreigners

to settle in the island, by offering them commercial privileges, and,

by encouraging privateering, to keep the Genoese cruisers in check.

The Corsican national flag was green and yellow, and bore the motto:

_In te Domine speravi_. Theodore had also struck his own coins--gold,

silver, and copper. These coins showed on the obverse a shield wreathed

with laurel, and above it a crown with the initials, T. R.; on the

reverse were the words: _Pro bono et libertate_. On the Continent,

King Theodore's money was bought up by the curious for thirty times

its value. But all this was of little avail; the promised help did not

come, the people began to murmur. The king was continually announcing

the immediate appearance of a friendly fleet; the friendly fleet never

appeared, because its promise was a fabrication. The murmurs growing

louder, Theodore assembled a Parliament on the 2d of September, in

Casacconi; here he declared that he would lay down his crown, if the

expected help did not appear by the end of October, or that he would

then go himself to the Continent to hasten its appearance. He was in

the same desperate position in which, as the story goes, Columbus was,

when the land he had announced would not appear.

On the dissolution of the Parliament, which, at the proposal of the

king, had agreed to a new measure of finance--a tax upon property,

Theodore mounted his horse, and went to view his kingdom on the other

side the mountains. This region had been the principal seat of the

Corsican seigniors, and the old aristocratic feeling was still strong

there. Luca Ornano received the monarch with a deputation of the

principal gentlemen, and conducted him in festal procession to Sartene.

Here Theodore fell upon the princely idea of founding a new order

of knighthood; it was a politic idea, and, in fact, we observe, in

general, that the German baron and Corsican king knows how to conduct

himself in a politic manner, as well as other upstarts of greater

dimensions who have preceded and followed him. The name of the new

order was The Order of the Liberation (_della Liberazione_). The king

was grand-master, and named the cavaliers. It is said that in less

than two months the Order numbered more than four hundred members,

and that upwards of a fourth of these were foreigners, who sought the

honour of membership, either for the mere singularity of the thing, or

to indicate their good wishes for the brave Corsicans. The membership

was dear, for it had been enacted that every cavalier should pay a

thousand scudi as entry-money, from which he was to draw an annuity

of ten per cent. for life. The Order, then, in its best sense, was an

honour awarded in payment for a loan--a financial speculation. During

his residence in Sartene, the king, at the request of the nobles of

the region, conferred with lavish hand the titles of Count, Baron, and

Baronet, and with these the representatives of the houses of Ornano,

Istria, Rocca, and Leca, went home comforted.

While the king thus acted in kingly fashion, and filled the island

with counts and cavaliers, as if poor Corsica had overnight become

a wealthy empire, the bitterest cares of state were preying upon him

in secret. For he could not but confess to himself that his kingdom

was after all but a painted one, and that he had surrounded himself

with phantoms. The long-announced fleet obstinately refused to

appear, because it too was a painted fleet. This chimera occasioned

the king greater embarrassment than if it had been a veritable fleet

of a hundred well-equipped hostile ships. Theodore began to feel

uncomfortable. Already there was an organized party of malcontents in

the land, calling themselves the Indifferents. Aitelli and Rafaelli had

formed this party, and Hyacinth Paoli himself had joined it. The royal

troops had even come into collision with the Indifferents, and had been

repulsed. It seemed, therefore, as if Theodore's kingdom were about to

burst like a soap-bubble; Giafferi alone still kept down the storm for

a while.

In these circumstances, the king thought it might be advisable to go

out of the way for a little; to leave the island, not secretly, but

as a prince, hastening to the Continent to fetch in person the tardy

succours. He called a parliament at Sartene, announced that he was

about to take his departure, and the reason why; settled the interim

government, at the head of which he put Giafferi, Hyacinth Paoli,

and Luca Ornano; made twenty-seven Counts and Baronets governors of

provinces; issued a manifesto; and on the 11th of November 1736,

proceeded, accompanied by an immense retinue, to Aleria, where he

embarked in a vessel showing French colours, taking with him Count

Costa, his chancellor, and some officers of his household. He would

have been captured by a Genoese cruiser before he was out of sight of

his kingdom, and sent to Genoa, if he had not been protected by the

French flag. King Theodore landed at Leghorn in the dress of an abbé,

wishing to remain incognito; he then travelled to Florence, to Rome,

and to Naples, where he left his chancellor and his officers, and went

on board a vessel bound for Amsterdam, from which city, he said, his

subjects should speedily hear good news.

CHAPTER VII.

GENOA IN DIFFICULTIES--AIDED BY FRANCE--THEODORE EXPELLED HIS KINGDOM.

The Corsicans did not believe in the return of their king, nor in the

help he promised to send them. Under the pressure of severe necessity,

the poor people, intoxicated with their passion for liberty, had gone

so far as even to expose themselves to the ridicule which could not

fail to attach to the kingship of an adventurer. In their despair they

had caught at a phantom, at a straw, for rescue; what would they not

have done out of hatred to Genoa, and love of freedom? Now, however,

they saw themselves no nearer the goal they wished to reach. Many

showed symptoms of discontent. In this state of affairs, the Regents

attempted to open negotiations with Rivarola, but without result, as

the Genoese demanded unconditional submission, and surrender of arms.

An assembly of the people was called, and its voice taken. The people

resolved unhesitatingly that they must remain true to the king to whom

they had sworn allegiance, and acknowledge no other sovereign.

Theodore had meanwhile travelled through part of Europe, formed

new connexions, opened speculations, raised money, named cavaliers,

enlisted Poles and Germans; and although his creditors at Amsterdam

threw him into a debtors' prison, the fertile genius of the wonderful

man succeeded in raising supplies to send to Corsica. From time to

time a ship reached the island with warlike stores, and a proclamation

encouraging the Corsicans to remain steadfast.

This, and the fear that the unwearying and energetic Theodore might

at length actually win some continental power to his side, made the

Republic of Genoa anxious. The Senate had set a price of two thousand

genuini on the head of the Corsican king, and the agents of Genoa

dogged his footsteps at every court. Herself in pecuniary difficulties,

Genoa had drawn upon the Bank for three millions, and taken three

regiments of Swiss into her pay. The guerilla warfare continued. It was

carried on with the utmost ferocity; no quarter was given now on either

side. The Republic, seeing no end of the exhausting struggle, resolved

to call in the assistance of France. She had hitherto hesitated to have

recourse to a foreign power, as her treasury was exhausted, and former

experiences had not been of the most encouraging kind.

The French cabinet willingly seized an opportunity, which, if properly

used, would at least prevent any other power from obtaining a footing

on an island whose position near the French boundaries gave it so high

an importance. Cardinal Fleury concluded a treaty with the Genoese

on the 12th of July 1737, in virtue of which France pledged herself

to send an army into Corsica to reduce the "rebels" to subjection.

Manifestoes proclaimed this to the Corsican people. They produced

the greatest sorrow and consternation, all the more so, that a power

now declared her intention of acting against the Corsicans, which,

in earlier times, had stood in a very different relation to them.

The Corsican people replied to these manifestoes, by the declaration

that they would never again return under the yoke of Genoa, and by a

despairing appeal to the compassion of the French king.

In February of the year 1738, five French regiments landed under the

command of Count Boissieux. The General had strict orders to effect,

if possible, a peaceable settlement; and the Genoese hoped that the

mere sight of the French would be sufficient to disarm the Corsicans.

But the Corsicans remained firm. The whole country had risen as one man

at the approach of the French; beacons on the hills, the conchs in the

villages, the bells in the convents, called the population to arms. All

of an age to carry arms took the field furnished with bread for eight

days. Every village formed its little troop, every pieve its battalion,

every province its camp. The Corsicans stood ready and waiting.

Boissieux now opened negotiations, and these lasted for six months,

till the announcement came from Versailles that the Corsicans must

submit unconditionally to the supremacy of Genoa. The people replied

in a manifesto addressed to Louis XV., that they once more implored

him to cast a look of pity upon them, and to bear in mind the friendly

interest which his illustrious ancestors had taken in Corsica; and they

declared that they would shed their last drop of blood before they

would return under the murderous supremacy of Genoa. In their bitter

need, they meanwhile gave certain hostages required, and expressed

themselves willing to trust the French king, and to await his final

decision.

In this juncture, Baron Droste, nephew of Theodore, landed one day at

Aleria, bringing a supply of ammunition, and the intelligence that the

king would speedily return to the island. And on the 15th of September

this remarkable man actually did land at Aleria, more splendidly and

regally equipped than when he came the first time. He brought three

ships with him; one of sixty-four guns, another of sixty, and the third

of fifty-five, besides gunboats, and a small flotilla of transports.

They were laden with munitions of war to a very considerable amount--27

pieces of cannon, 7000 muskets with bayonets, 1000 muskets of a larger

size, 2000 pistols, 24,000 pounds of coarse and 100,000 pounds of fine

powder, 200,000 pounds of lead, 400,000 flints, 50,000 pounds of iron,

2000 lances, 2000 grenades and bombs. All this had been raised by the

same man whom his creditors in Amsterdam threw into a debtors' prison.

He had succeeded by his powers of persuasion in interesting the Dutch

for Corsica, and convincing them that a connexion with this island

in the Mediterranean was desirable. A company of capitalists--the

wealthy houses of Boom, Tronchain, and Neuville--had agreed to lend

the Corsican king vessels, money, and the materials of war. Theodore

thus landed in his kingdom under the Dutch flag. But he found to his

dismay that affairs had taken a turn which prostrated all his hopes;

and that he had to experience a fate tinged with something like irony,

since, when he came as an adventurer he obtained a crown, but now could

not be received as king though he came as a king, with substantial

means for maintaining his dignity. He found the island split into

conflicting parties, and in active negotiation with France. The people,

it is true, led him once more in triumph to Cervione, where he had been

crowned; but the generals, his own counts, gave him to understand that

circumstances compelled them to have nothing more to do with him, but

to treat with France. Immediately on Theodore's arrival, Boissieux had

issued a proclamation, which declared every man a rebel, and guilty of

high treason, who should give countenance to the outlaw, Baron Theodore

von Neuhoff; and the king thus saw himself forsaken by the very men

whom he had, not long before, created counts, margraves, barons, and

cavaliers. The Dutchmen, too, disappointed in their expectations, and

threatened by French and Genoese ships, very soon made up their minds,

and in high dudgeon steered away for Naples. Theodore von Neuhoff,

therefore, also saw himself compelled to leave the island; and vexed to

the heart, he set sail for the Continent.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE FRENCH REDUCE CORSICA--NEW INSURRECTION--THE PATRIOT GAFFORI.

In the end of October, the expected decisive document arrived from

Versailles in the form of an edict issued by the Doge and Senate

of Genoa, and signed by the Emperor and the French king. The edict

contained a few concessions, and the express command to lay down

arms and submit to Genoa. Boissieux gave the Corsicans fifteen days

to comply with this. They immediately assembled in the convent of

Orezza to deliberate, and to rouse the nation; and they declared in a

manifesto--"We shall not lose courage; arming ourselves with the manly

resolve to die, we shall prefer ending our lives nobly with our weapons

in our hands, to remaining idle spectators of the sufferings of our

country, living in chains, and bequeathing slavery to our posterity.

We think and say with the Maccabees: _consiglio supremo_)--a body of

nine men, answering to the nine free provinces of Corsica--Nebbio,

Casinca, Balagna, Campoloro, Orezza, Ornano, Rogna, Vico, and Cinarca.

In the Supreme Council was vested the executive power; it summoned the

Consulta, represented it in foreign affairs, regulated public works,

and watched in general over the security of the country. In cases

of unusual importance it was the last appeal, and was privileged to

interpose a veto on the resolutions of the Consulta till the matter in

question had been reconsidered. Its president was the General of the

nation, who could do nothing without the approval of this council.

Both powers, however--the council as well as the president--were

responsible to the people, or their representatives, and could

be deposed and punished by a decree of the nation. The members of

the Supreme Council held office for one year; they were required

to be above thirty-five years of age, and to have previously been

representatives of the magistracy of a province.

The Consulta also elected the five syndics, or censors. The duty of the

Syndicate was to travel through the provinces, and hear appeals against

the general or the judicial administration of any particular district;

its sentence was final, and could not be reversed by the General. The

General named persons to fill the public offices, and the collectors of

taxes, all of whom were subject to the censorship of the Syndicate.

Justice was administered as follows:--Each Podestà could decide in

cases not exceeding the value of ten livres. In conjunction with the

Fathers of the Community, he could determine causes to the value of

thirty livres. Cases involving more than thirty livres were tried

before the tribunal of the province, where the court consisted of a

president and two assessors named by the Consulta, and of a fiscal

named by the Supreme Council. This tribunal was renewed every year.

An appeal lay from it to the Rota Civile, the highest court of justice,

consisting of three doctors of laws, who held office for life. The

same courts administered criminal justice, assisted always by a jury

consisting of six fathers of families, who decided on the merits of

the case from the evidence furnished by the witnesses, and pronounced

a verdict of guilty or not guilty.

The members of the supreme council, of the Syndicate, and of the

provincial tribunals, could only be re-elected after a lapse of

two years. The Podestàs and Fathers of the Communities were elected

annually by the citizens of their locality above twenty-five years of

age.

In cases of emergency, when revolt and tumult had broken out in some

part of the island, the General could send a temporary dictatorial

court into the quarter, called the War Giunta (_giunta di osservazione

o di guerra_), consisting of three or more members, with one of

the supreme councillors at their head. Invested with unlimited

authority to adopt whatever measures seemed necessary, and to punish

instantaneously, this swiftly-acting "court of high commission" could

not fail to strike terror into the discontented and evil-disposed; the

people gave it the name of the _Giustizia Paolina_. Having fulfilled

its mission, it rendered an account of its proceedings to the Censors.

Such is an outline of Paoli's legislation, and of the constitution of

the Corsican Republic. When we consider its leading ideas--self-government

of the people, liberty of the individual citizen protected and

regulated on every side by law, participation in the political life of

the country, publicity and simplicity in the administration, popular

courts of justice--we cannot but confess that the Corsican state was

constructed on principles of a wider and more generous humanity than

any other in the same century. And if we look at the time when it took

its rise, many years before the world had seen the French democratic

legislation, or the establishment of the North American republic under

the great Washington, Pasquale Paoli and his people gain additional

claims to our admiration.

Paoli disapproved of standing armies. He himself said:--"In a

country which desires to be free, each citizen must be a soldier, and

constantly in readiness to arm himself for the defence of his rights.

Paid troops do more for despotism than for freedom. Rome ceased to be

free on the day when she began to maintain a standing army; and the

unconquerable phalanxes of Sparta were drawn immediately from the ranks

of her citizens. Moreover, as soon as a standing army has been formed,

_esprit de corps_ is originated, the bravery of this regiment and that

company is talked of--a more serious evil than is generally supposed,

and one which it is well to avoid as far as possible. We ought to

speak of the intrepidity of the particular citizen, of the resolute

bravery displayed by this commune, of the self-sacrificing spirit which

characterizes the members of that family; and thus awaken emulation

in a free people. When our social condition shall have become what

it ought to be, our whole people will be disciplined, and our militia

invincible."

Necessity compelled Paoli to yield so far in this matter, as to

organize a small body of regular troops to garrison the forts. These

consisted of two regiments of four hundred men each, commanded by

Jacopo Baldassari and Titus Buttafuoco. Each company had two captains

and two lieutenants; French, Prussian, and Swiss officers gave them

drill. Every regular soldier was armed with musket and bayonet, a pair

of pistols, and a dagger. The uniform was made from the black woollen

cloth of the country; the only marks of distinction for the officers

were, that they wore a little lace on the coat-collar, and had no

bayonet in their muskets. All wore caps of the skin of the Corsican

wild-boar, and long gaiters of calf-skin reaching to the knee. Both

regiments were said to be highly efficient.

The militia was thus organized: All Corsicans from sixteen to sixty

were soldiers. Each commune had to furnish one or more companies,

according to its population, and chose its own officers. Each pieve,

again, formed a camp, under a commandant named by the General. The

entire militia was divided into three levies, each of which entered

for fifteen days at a time. It was a generally-observed rule to rank

families together, so that the soldiers of a company were mostly

blood-relations. The troops in garrison received yearly pay, the others

were paid only so long as they kept the field. The villages furnished

bread.

The state expenses were met from the tax of two livres on each family,

the revenues from salt, the coral-fishery, and other indirect imposts.

Nothing that can initiate or increase the prosperity of a people was

neglected by Paoli. He bestowed special attention on agriculture;

the Consulta elected two commissaries yearly for each province,

whose business it was to superintend and foster agriculture in their

respective districts. The cultivation of the olive, the chestnut, and

of maize, was encouraged; plans for draining marshes and making roads

were proposed. With one hand, at that period, the Corsican warded off

his foe, as soldier; with the other, as husbandman, he scattered his

seed upon the soil.

Paoli also endeavoured to give his people mental cultivation--the

highest pledge and the noblest consummation of all freedom and all

prosperity. The iron times had hitherto prevented its spread. The

Corsicans had remained children of nature; they were ignorant, but

rich in mother-wit. Genoa, it is said, had intentionally neglected the

schools; but now, under Paoli's government, their numbers everywhere

increased, and the Corsican clergy, brave and liberal men, zealously

instructed the youth. A national printing-house was established

in Corte, from which only books devoted to the instruction and

enlightenment of the people issued. The children found it written in

these books, that love of his native country was a true man's highest

virtue; and that all those who had fallen in battle for liberty had

died as martyrs, and had received a place in heaven among the saints.

On the 3d of January 1765, Paoli opened the Corsican university. In

this institution, theology, philosophy, mathematics, jurisprudence,

philology, and the belles-lettres were taught. Medicine and surgery

were in the meantime omitted, till Government was in a position to

supply the necessary instruments. All the professors were Corsicans;

the leading names were Guelfucci of Belgodere, Stefani of Benaco,

Mariani of Corbara, Grimaldi of Campoloro, Ferdinandi of Brando,

Vincenti of Santa Lucia. Poor scholars were supported at the public

expense. At the end of each session, an examination took place before

the members of the Consulta and the Government. Thus the presence of

the most esteemed citizens of the island heightened both praise and

blame. The young men felt that they were regarded by them, and by the

people in general, as the hope of their country's future, and that they

would soon be called upon to join or succeed them in their patriotic

endeavours. Growing up in the midst of the weighty events of their own

nation's stormy history, they had the one high ideal constantly and

vividly before their eyes. The spirit which accordingly animated these

youths may readily be imagined, and will be seen from the following

fragment of one of the orations which it was customary for some student

of the Rhetoric class to deliver in presence of the representatives and

Government of the nation.

"All nations that have struggled for freedom have endured great

vicissitudes of fortune. Some of them were less powerful and less

brave than our own; nevertheless, by their resolute steadfastness they

at last overcame their difficulties. If liberty could be won by mere

talking, then were the whole world free; but the pursuit of freedom

demands an unyielding constancy that rises superior to all obstacles--a

virtue so rare among men that those who have given proof of it have

always been regarded as demigods. Certainly the privileges of a free

people are too valuable--their condition too fortunate, to be treated

of in adequate terms; but enough is said if we remember that they

excite the admiration of the greatest men. As regards ourselves, may

it please Heaven to allow us to follow the career on which we have

entered! But our nation, whose heart is greater than its fortunes,

though it is poor and goes coarsely clad, is a reproach to all Europe,

which has grown sluggish under the burden of its heavy chains; and it

is now felt to be necessary to rob us of our existence.

"Brave countrymen! the momentous crisis has come. Already the storm

rages over our heads; dangers threaten on every side; let us see to

it that we maintain ourselves superior to circumstances, and grow

in strength with the number of our foes; our name, our freedom, our

honour, are at stake! In vain shall we have exhibited heroic endurance

up till the present time--in vain shall our forefathers have shed

streams of blood and suffered unheard-of miseries; if _we_ prove weak,

then all is irremediably lost. If we prove weak! Mighty shades of our

fathers! ye who have done so much to bequeath to us liberty as the

richest inheritance, fear not that we shall make you ashamed of your

sacrifices. Never! Your children will faithfully imitate your example;

they are resolved to live free, or to die fighting in defence of their

inalienable and sacred rights. We cannot permit ourselves to believe

that the King of France will side with our enemies, and direct his arms

against our island; surely this can never happen. But if it is written

in the book of fate, that the most powerful monarch of the earth is to

contend against one of the smallest peoples of Europe, then we have new

and just cause to be proud, for we are certain either to live for the

future in honourable freedom, or to make our fall immortal. Those who

feel themselves incapable of such virtue need not tremble; I speak only

to true Corsicans, and their feelings are known.

"As regards us, brave youths, none--I swear by the manes of our

fathers!--not one will wait a second call; before the face of the

world we must show that we deserve to be called brave. If foreigners

land upon our coasts ready to give battle to uphold the pretensions of

their allies, shall we who fight for our own welfare--for the welfare

of our posterity--for the maintenance of the righteous and magnanimous

resolutions of our fathers--shall we hesitate to defy all dangers,

to risk, to sacrifice our lives? Brave fellow-citizens! liberty

is our aim--and the eyes of all noble souls in Europe are upon us;

they sympathize with us, they breathe prayers for the triumph of our

cause. May our resolute firmness exceed their expectations! and may

our enemies, by whatever name called, learn from experience that the

conquest of Corsica is not so easy as it may seem! We who live in this

land are freemen, and freemen can die!"

CHAPTER XI.

CORSICA UNDER PAOLI--TRAFFIC IN NATIONS--VICTORIES OVER THE FRENCH.

All the thoughts and wishes of the Corsican people were thus directed

towards a common aim. The spirit of the nation was vigorous and

buoyant; ennobled by the purest love of country, by a bravery that had

become hereditary, by the sound simplicity of the constitution, which

was no artificial product of foreign and borrowed theorizings, but the

fruit of sacred, native tradition. The great citizen, Pasquale Paoli,

was the father of his country. Wherever he showed himself, he was met

by the love and the blessings of his people, and women and gray-haired

men raised their children and children's children in their arms, that

they might see the man who had made his country happy. The seaports,

too, which had hitherto remained in the power of Genoa, became desirous

of sharing the advantages of the Corsican constitution. Disturbances

occurred; Carlo Masseria and his son undertook to deliver the castle of

Ajaccio into the hands of the Nationalists by stratagem. The attempt

failed. The son was killed, and the father, who had already received

his death-wound, died without a complaint, upon the rack.

The Corsican people had now become so much stronger that, far from

turning anxiously to some foreign power for aid, they found in

themselves, not only the means of resistance, but even of attack and

conquest. Their flag already waved on the waters of the Mediterranean.

De Perez, a knight of Malta, was the admiral of their little fleet,

which was occasioning the Genoese no small alarm. People said in

Corsica that the position of the island might well entitle it to become

a naval power--such as Greek islands in the eastern seas had formerly

been; and a landing of the Corsicans on the coast of Liguria was no

longer held impossible.

The conquest of the neighbouring island of Capraja gave such ideas

a colour of probability; while it astonished the Genoese, and showed

them that their fears were well grounded. This little island had in

earlier times been part of the seigniory of the Corsican family of Da

Mare, but had passed into the hands of the Genoese. It is not fertile,

but an important and strong position in the Genoese and Tuscan waters.

A Corsican named Centurini conceived the idea of surprising it. Paoli

readily granted his consent, and in February 1765 a little expedition,

consisting of two hundred regular troops and a body of militia, ran

out from Cape Corso. They attacked the town of Capraja, which at first

resisted vigorously, but afterwards made common cause with them. The

Genoese commandant, Bernardo Ottone, held the castle, however, with

great bravery; and Genoa, as soon as it heard of the occurrence,

hastily despatched her fleet under Admiral Pinelli, who thrice suffered

a repulse. In Genoa, such was the shame and indignation at not being

able to rescue Capraja from the handful of Corsicans who had effected

a lodgment in the town, that the whole Senate burst into tears. Once

more they sent their fleet, forty vessels strong, against the island.

The five hundred Corsicans under Achille Murati maintained the town,

and drove the Genoese back into the sea. Bernardo Ottone surrendered in

May 1767, and Capraja, now completely in possession of the Corsicans,

was declared their province.

The fall of Capraja was a heavy blow to the Senate, and accelerated

the resolution totally to relinquish the now untenable Corsica. But

the enfeebled Republic delayed putting this painful determination into

execution, till a blunder she herself committed forced her to it. It

was about this time that the Jesuits were driven from France and Spain;

the King of Spain had, however, requested the Genoese Senate to allow

the exiles an asylum in Corsica. Genoa, to show him a favour, complied,

and a large number of the Jesuit fathers one day landed in Ajaccio. The

French, however, who had pronounced sentence of perpetual banishment on

the Jesuits, regarded it as an insult on the part of Genoa, that the

Senate should have opened to the fathers the Corsican seaports which

they, the French, garrisoned. Count Marbœuf immediately received

orders to withdraw his troops from Ajaccio, Calvi, and Algajola; and

scarcely had this taken place, when the Corsicans exultingly occupied

the city of Ajaccio, though the citadel was still in possession of a

body of Genoese troops.

Under these circumstances, and considering the irritated state of

feeling between France and Genoa, the Senate foresaw that it would have

to give way to the Corsicans; it accordingly formed the resolution to

sell its presumed claims upon the island to France.

The French minister, Choiseul, received the proposal with joy. The

acquisition of so important an island in the Mediterranean seemed no

inconsiderable advantage, and in some degree a compensation for the

loss of Canada. The treaty was concluded at Versailles on the 15th

of May 1768, and signed by Choiseul on behalf of France, and Domenico

Sorba on behalf of Genoa. The Republic thus, contrary to all national

law, delivered a nation, on which it had no other claim than that of

conquest--a claim, such as it was, long since dilapidated--into the

hands of a foreign despotic power, which had till lately treated with

the same nation as with an independent people; and a free and admirably

constituted state was thus bought and sold like some brutish herd.

Genoa had, moreover, made the disgraceful stipulation that she should

re-enter upon her rights, as soon as she was in a position to reimburse

the expenses which France had incurred by her occupation of the island.

Before the French expedition quitted the harbours of Provence, rumours

of the negotiations, which were at first kept secret, had reached

Corsica. Paoli called a Consulta at Corte; and it was unanimously

resolved to resist France to the last and uttermost, and to raise the

population _en masse_. Carlo Bonaparte, father of Napoleon, delivered

a manly and spirited speech on this occasion.

Meanwhile, Count Narbonne had landed with troops in Ajaccio; and the

astonished inhabitants saw the Genoese colours lowered, and the white

flag of France unfurled in their stead. The French still denied the

real intention of their coming, and amused the Corsicans with false

explanations, till the Marquis Chauvelin landed with all his troops in

Bastia, as commander-in-chief.

The four years' treaty of occupation was to expire on the 7th August

of the same year, and on that day it was expected hostilities would

commence. But on the 30th of July, five thousand French, under the

command of Marbœuf, marched from Bastia towards San Fiorenzo, and

after some unsuccessful resistance on the part of the Corsicans, made

themselves masters of various points in Nebbio. It thus became clear

that the doom of the Corsicans had been pronounced. Fortune, always

unkind to them, had constantly interposed foreign despots between them

and Genoa; and regularly each time, as they reached the eve of complete

deliverance, had hurled them back into their old misery.

Pasquale Paoli hastened to the district of Nebbio with some militia.

His brother Clemens had already taken a position there with four

thousand men. But the united efforts of both were insufficient to

prevent Marbœuf from making himself master of Cape Corso. Chauvelin,

too, now made his appearance with fifteen thousand French, sent to

enslave the freest and bravest people in the world. He marched on the

strongly fortified town of Furiani, accompanied by the traitor, Matias

Buttafuoco of Vescovato--the first who loaded himself with the disgrace

of earning gold and title from the enemy. Furiani was the scene of a

desperate struggle. Only two hundred Corsicans, under Carlo Saliceti

and Ristori, occupied the place; and they did not surrender even when

the cannon of the enemy had reduced the town to a heap of ruins, but,

sword in hand, dashed through the midst of the foe during the night,

and reached the coast.

Conflicts equally sanguinary took place in Casinca, and on the Bridge

of Golo. The French were repulsed at every point, and Clemens Paoli

covered himself with glory. History mentions him and Pietro Colle as

the heroes of this last struggle of the Corsicans for freedom.

The remains of the routed French threw themselves into Borgo, an

elevated town in the mountains of Mariana, and reinforced its garrison.

Paoli was resolved to gain the place, cost what it might; and he

commenced his assault on the 1st of October, in the night. It was the

most brilliant of all the achievements of the Corsicans. Chauvelin,

leaving Bastia, moved to the relief of Borgo; he was opposed by

Clemens, while Colle, Grimaldi, Agostini, Serpentini, Pasquale Paoli,

and Achille Murati led the attack upon Borgo. Each side expended all

its energies. Thrice the entire French army made a desperate onset, and

it was thrice repulsed. The Corsicans, numerically so much inferior,

and a militia, broke and scattered here the compact ranks of an army

which, since the age of Louis XIV., had the reputation of being the

best organized in Europe. Corsican women in men's clothes, and carrying

musket and sword, were seen mixing in the thickest of the fight. The

French at length retired upon Bastia. They had suffered heavily in

killed and wounded--among the latter was Marbœuf; and seven hundred

men, under Colonel Ludre, the garrison of Borgo, laid down their arms

and surrendered themselves prisoners.

The battle of Borgo showed the French what kind of people they had

come to enslave. They had now lost all the country except the strong

seaports. Chauvelin wrote to his court, reported his losses, and

demanded new troops. Ten fresh battalions were sent.

CHAPTER XII.

THE DYING STRUGGLE.

The sympathy for the Corsicans had now become livelier than ever. In

England especially, public opinion spoke loudly for the oppressed

nation, and called upon the Government to interfere against such

shameless and despotic exercise of power on the part of France. It was

said Lord Chatham really entertained the idea of intimating England's

decided disapproval of the French policy. Certainly the eyes of the

Corsicans turned anxiously towards the free and constitutional Great

Britain; they hoped that a great and free nation would not suffer a

free people to be crushed. They were deceived. The British cabinet

forbade, as in the year 1760, all intercourse with the Corsican

"rebels." The voice of the English people became audible only here

and there in meetings, and with these and private donations of money,

the matter rested. The cabinets, however, were by no means sorry that

a perilous germ of democratic freedom should be stifled along with a

heroic nationality.

Pasquale Paoli saw well how dangerous his position was, notwithstanding

the success that had attended the efforts of his people. He made

proposals for a treaty, the terms of which acknowledged the authority

of the French king, left the Corsicans their constitution, and

allowed the Genoese a compensation. His proposals were rejected; and

preparations continued to be made for a final blow. Chauvelin meanwhile

felt his weakness. It has been affirmed that he allowed the Genoese to

teach him intrigue; Paoli, like Sampiero and Gaffori, was to be removed

by the hand of the assassin. Treachery is never wanting in the history

of brave and free nations; it seems as if human nature could not

dispense with some shadow of baseness where its nobler qualities shine

with the purest light. A traitor was found in the son of Paoli's own

chancellor, Matias Maffesi; letters which he lost divulged his secret

purpose. Placed at the bar of the Supreme Council, he confessed, and

was delivered over to the executioner. Another complot, formed by the

restless Dumouriez, at that time serving in Corsica, to carry off Paoli

during the night from his own house at Isola Rossa, also failed.

Chauvelin had brought his ten new battalions into the field, but they

had met with a repulse from the Corsicans in Nebbio. Deeply humiliated,

the haughty Marquis sent new messengers to France to represent the

difficulty of subduing Corsica. The French government at length

recalled Chauvelin from his post in December 1768, and Marbœuf was

made interim commander, till Chauvelin's successor, Count de Vaux,

should arrive.

De Vaux had served in Corsica under Maillebois; he knew the country,

and how a war in it required to be conducted. Furnished with a

large force of forty-five battalions, four regiments of cavalry, and

considerable artillery, he determined to end the conflict at a single

blow. Paoli saw how heavily the storm was gathering, and called an

assembly in Casinca on the 15th of April 1769. It was resolved to fight

to the last drop of blood, and to bring every man in Corsica into the

field. Lord Pembroke, Admiral Smittoy, other Englishmen, Germans, and

Italians, who were present, were astonished by the calm determination

of the militia who flocked into Casinca. Many foreigners joined the

ranks of the Corsicans. A whole company of Prussians, who had been in

the service of Genoa, came over to their side. No one, however, could

conceal from himself the gloominess of the Corsican prospects; French

gold was already doing its work; treachery was rearing its head; even

Capraja had fallen through the treasonable baseness of its commandant,

Astolfi.

Corsica's fatal hour was at hand. England did not, as had been hoped,

interfere; the French were advancing in full force upon Nebbio. This

mountain province, traversed by a long, narrow valley, had frequently

already been the scene of decisive conflicts. Paoli, leaving Saliceti

and Serpentini in Casinca, had established his head-quarters here; De

Vaux, Marbœuf, and Grand-Maison entered Nebbio to annihilate him

at once. The attack commenced on the 3d of May. After the battle had

lasted three days, Paoli was driven from his camp at Murati. He now

concluded to cross the Golo, and place that river between himself and

the enemy. He fixed his head-quarters in Rostino, and committed to

Gaffori and Grimaldi the defence of Leuto and Canavaggia, two points

much exposed to the French. Grimaldi betrayed his trust; and Gaffori,

for what reason is uncertain, also failed to maintain his post.

The French, finding the country thus laid open to them, descended from

the heights, and pressed onwards to Ponte Nuovo, the bridge over the

Golo. The main body of the Corsicans was drawn up on the further bank;

above a thousand of them, along with the company of Prussians, covered

the bridge. The French, whose descent was rapid and unexpected, drove

in the militia, and these, thrown into disorder and seized with panic,

crowded towards the bridge and tried to cross. The Prussians, however,

who had received orders to bring the fugitives to a halt, fired in the

confusion on their own friends, while the French fired upon their rear,

and pushed forward with the bayonet. The terrible cry of "Treachery!"

was heard. In vain did Gentili attempt to check the disorder; the rout

became general, no position was any longer tenable, and the militia

scattered themselves in headlong flight among the woods, and over the

adjacent country. The unfortunate battle of Ponte Nuovo was fought

on the 9th of May 1769, and on that day the Corsican nation lost its

independence.

Paoli still made an attempt to prevent the enemy from entering the

province of Casinca. But it was too late. The whole island, this side

the mountains, fell in a few days into the hands of the French; and

that instinctive feeling of being lost beyond help, which sometimes,

in moments of heavy misfortune, seizes on the minds of a people with

overwhelming force, had taken possession of the Corsicans. They needed

a man like Sampiero. Paoli despaired. He had hastened to Corte, almost

resolved to leave his country. The brave Serpentini still kept the

field in Balagna, with Clemens Paoli at his side, who was determined

to fight while he drew breath; and Abatucci still maintained himself

beyond the mountains with a band of bold patriots. All was not yet

lost; it was at least possible to take to the fastnesses and guerilla

fighting, as Renuccio, Vincentello, and Sampiero had done. But the

stubborn hardihood of those men of the iron centuries, was not and

could not be part of Paoli's character; nor could he, the lawgiver

and Pythagoras of his people, lower himself to range the hills with

guerilla bands. Shuddering at the thought of the blood with which a

protracted struggle would once more deluge his country, he yielded to

destiny. His brother Clemens, Serpentini, Abatucci, and others joined

him. The little company of fugitives hastened to Vivario, then, on the

11th of June, to the Gulf of Porto Vecchio. There they embarked, three

hundred Corsicans, in an English ship, given them by Admiral Smittoy,

and sailed for Tuscany, from which they proceeded to England, which

has continued ever since to be the asylum of the fugitives of ruined

nationalities, and has never extended her hospitality to nobler exiles.

Not a few, comparing Pasquale Paoli with the old tragic Corsican

heroes, have accused him of weakness. Paoli's own estimate of himself

appears from the following extract from one of his letters:--"If

Sampiero had lived in my day, the deliverance of my country would

have been of less difficult accomplishment. What we attempted to do in

constituting the nationality, he would have completed. Corsica needed

at that time a man of bold and enterprising spirit, who should have

spread the terror of his name to the very _comptoirs_ of Genoa. France

would not have mixed herself in the struggle, or, if she had, she would

have found a more terrible adversary than any I was able to oppose to

her. How often have I lamented this! Assuredly not courage nor heroic

constancy was wanting in the Corsicans; what they wanted was a leader,

who could combine and conduct the operations of the war in the face

of experienced generals. We should have shared the noble work; while I

laboured at a code of laws suitable to the traditions and requirements

of the island, his mighty sword should have had the task of giving

strength and security to the results of our common toil."

On the 12th of June 1769, the Corsican people submitted to French

supremacy. But while they were yet in all the freshness of their

sorrow, that centuries of unexampled conflict should have proved

insufficient to rescue their darling independence; and while the

warlike din of the French occupation still rang from end to end of

the island, the Corsican nation produced, on the 15th of August, in

unexhausted vigour, one hero more, Napoleon Bonaparte, who crushed

Genoa, who enslaved France, and who avenged his country. So much

satisfaction had the Fates reserved for the Corsicans in their fall;

and such was the atoning close they had decreed to the long tragedy of

their history.

[A] Thus referred to by Boswell in his _Account of

Corsica_:--"The Corsicans have no drums, trumpets, fifes, or

any instrument of warlike music, except a large Triton shell,

pierced in the end, with which they make a sound loud enough

to be heard at a great distance.... Its sound is not shrill,

but rather flat, like that of a large horn."--_Tr._

BOOK III.--WANDERINGS IN THE SUMMER OF 1852.

"Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita

Mi ritrovai per una selva oscura,

Che la diritta via era smarrita.

Ahi quanto a dir qual era è cosa dura.

Questa selva selvaggia, ed aspra, e forte--

Ma per trattar del ben, ch 'ivi trovai

Dirò dell' altre cose, ch' io v'ho scorte."

DANTE.

CHAPTER I.--ARRIVAL IN CORSICA.

Lasciate ogni speranza voi ch' entrate.--DANTE.

The voyage across to Corsica from Leghorn is very beautiful, and more

interesting than that from Leghorn to Genoa. We have the picturesque

islands of the Tuscan Channel constantly in view. Behind us lies the

Continent, Leghorn with its forest of masts at the foot of Monte Nero;

before us the lonely ruined tower of Meloria, the little island-cliff,

near which the Pisans under Ugolino suffered that defeat from the

Genoese, which annihilated them as a naval power, and put their

victorious opponents in possession of Corsica; farther off, the rocky

islet of Gorgona; and near it in the west, Capraja. We are reminded of

Dante's verses, in the canto where he sings the fate of Ugolino--

"O Pisa! the disgrace of that fair land

Where Si is spoken: since thy neighbours round

Take vengeance on thee with a tardy hand,--

To dam the mouth of Arno's rolling tide

Let Capraja and Gorgona raise a mound

That all may perish in the waters wide."

The island of Capraja conceals the western extremity of Corsica; but

behind it rise, in far extended outline, the blue hills of Cape Corso.

Farther west, and off Piombino, Elba heaves its mighty mass of cliff

abruptly from the sea, descending more gently on the side towards

the Continent, which we could faintly descry in the extreme distance.

The sea glittered in the deepest purple, and the sun, sinking behind

Capraja, tinged the sails of passing vessels with a soft rose-red.

A voyage on this basin of the Mediterranean is in reality a voyage

through History itself. In thought, I saw these fair seas populous with

the fleets of the Phœnicians and the Greeks, with the ships of those

Phocæans, whose roving bands were once busy here;--then Hasdrubal,

and the fleets of the Carthaginians, the Etruscans, the Romans, the

Moors, and the Spaniards, the Pisans, and the Genoese. But still more

impressively are we reminded, by the constant sight of Corsica and

Elba, of the greatest drama the world's history has presented in modern

times--the drama which bears the name of Napoleon. Both islands lie

in peaceful vicinity to each other; as near almost as a man's cradle

and his grave--broad, far-stretching Corsica, which gave Napoleon

birth, and the little Elba, the narrow prison in which they penned

the giant. He burst its rocky bonds as easily as Samson the withes of

the Philistines. Then came his final fall at Waterloo. After Elba, he

was merely an adventurer; like Murat, who, leaving Corsica, went, in

imitation of Napoleon, to conquer Naples with a handful of soldiers,

and met a tragic end.

The view of Elba throws a Fata Morgana into the excited fancy, the

picture of the island of St. Helena lying far off in the African seas.

Four islands, it seems, strangely influenced Napoleon's fate--Corsica,

England, Elba, and St. Helena. He himself was an island in the ocean

of universal history--_unico nel mondo_, as the stout Corsican sailor

said, beside whom I stood, gazing on Corsica, and talking of Napoleon.

"_Ma Signore_," said he, "I know all that better than you, for I am his

countryman;" and now, with the liveliest gesticulations, he gave me an

abridgment of Napoleon's history, which interested me more in the midst

of this scenery than all the volumes of Thiers. And the nephew?--"I say

the _Napoleone primo_ was also the _unico_." The sailor was excellently

versed in the history of his island, and was as well acquainted with

the life of Sampiero as with those of Pasquale Paoli, Saliceti, and

Pozzo di Borgo.

Night had fallen meanwhile. The stars shone brilliantly, and the waves

phosphoresced. High over Corsica hung Venus, the _stellone_ or great

star, as the sailors call it, now serving us to steer by. We sailed

between Elba and Capraja, and close past the rocks of the latter. The

historian, Paul Diaconus, once lived here in banishment, as Seneca did,

for eight long years, in Corsica. Capraja is a naked granite rock. A

Genoese tower stands picturesquely on a cliff, and the only town in

the island, of the same name, seems to hide timidly behind the gigantic

crag which the fortress crowns. The white walls and white houses, the

bare, reddish rocks, and the wild and desolate seclusion of the place,

give the impression of some lonely city among the cliffs of Syria.

Capraja, which the bold Corsicans made a conquest of in the time of

Paoli, remained in possession of the Genoese when they sold Corsica to

France; with Genoa it fell to Piedmont.

Capraja and its lights had vanished, and we were nearing the coast of

Corsica, on which fires could be seen glimmering here and there. At

length we began to steer for the lighthouse of Bastia. Presently we

were in the harbour. The town encircles it; to the left the old Genoese

fort, to the right the Marina, high above it in the bend a background

of dark hills. A boat came alongside for the passengers who wished to

go ashore.

And now I touched, for the first time, the soil of Corsica--an island

which had attracted me powerfully even in my childhood, when I saw

it on the map. When we first enter a foreign country, particularly if

we enter it during the night, which veils everything in a mysterious

obscurity, a strange expectancy, a burden of vague suspense, fills the

mind, and our first impressions influence us for days. I confess my

mood was very sombre and uneasy, and I could no longer resist a certain

depression.

In the north of Europe we know little more of Corsica than that

Napoleon was born there, that Pasquale Paoli struggled heroically

there for freedom, and that the Corsicans practise hospitality and the

Vendetta, and are the most daring bandits. The notions I had brought

with me were of the gloomiest cast, and the first incidents thrown in

my way were of a kind thoroughly to justify them.

Our boat landed us at the quay, on which the scanty light of some

hand-lanterns showed a group of doganieri and sailors standing. The

boatman sprang on shore. I have hardly ever seen a man of a more

repulsive aspect. He wore the Phrygian cap of red wool, and had a white

cloth tied over one eye; he was a veritable Charon, and the boundless

fury with which he screamed to the passengers, swearing at them, and

examining the fares by the light of his lantern, gave me at once a

specimen of the ungovernably passionate temperament of the Corsicans.

The group on the quay were talking eagerly. I heard them tell how

a quarter of an hour ago a Corsican had murdered his neighbour with

three thrusts of a dagger (_ammazzato, ammazzato_--a word never out

of my ears in Corsica; _ammazzato con tre colpi di pugnale_). "On

what account?" "Merely in the heat of conversation; the sbirri are

after him; he will be in the _macchia_ by this time." The _macchia_

is the bush. I heard the word _macchia_ in Corsica just as often as

_ammazzato_ or _tumbato_. He has taken to the _macchia_, is as much as

to say, he has turned bandit.

I was conscious of a slight shudder, and that suspense which the

expectation of strange adventures creates. I was about to go in search

of a locanda--a young man stepped up to me and said, in Tuscan, that he

would take me to an inn. I followed the friendly Italian--a sculptor of

Carrara. No light was shed on the steep and narrow streets of Bastia

but by the stars of heaven. We knocked in vain at four locandas;

none opened. We knocked at the fifth; still no answer. "We shall not

find admittance here," said the Carrarese; "the landlord's daughter

is lying on her bier." We wandered about the solitary streets for an

hour; no one would listen to our appeals. Is this the famous Corsican

hospitality? I thought; I seem to have come to the City of the Dead;

and to-morrow I will write above the gate of Bastia: "All hope abandon,

ye who enter here!"

However, we resolved to make one more trial. Staggering onwards, we

came upon some other passengers in the same unlucky plight as myself;

they were two Frenchmen, an Italian emigrant, and an English convert.

I joined them, and once more we made the round of the locandas. This

first night's experience was by no means calculated to inspire one with

a high idea of the commercial activity and culture of the island; for

Bastia is the largest town in Corsica, and has about fifteen thousand

inhabitants. If this was the stranger's reception in a city, what was

he to expect in the interior of the country?

A band of sbirri met us, Corsican gendarmes, dusky-visaged fellows

with black beards, in blue frock-coats, with white shoulder-knots, and

carrying double-barrelled muskets. We made complaint of our unfortunate

case to them. One of them offered to conduct us to an old soldier who

kept a tavern; there, he thought, we should obtain shelter. He led

us to an old, dilapidated house opposite the fort. We kept knocking

till the soldier-landlord awoke, and showed himself at the window.

At the same moment some one ran past--our sbirro after him without

saying a word, and both had vanished in the darkness of the night.

What was it?--what did this hot pursuit mean? After some time the

sbirro returned; he had imagined the runner was the murderer. "But

he," said the gendarme, "is already in the hills, or some fisherman has

set him over to Elba or Capraja. A short while ago we shot Arrighi in

the mountains, Massoni too, and Serafino. That was a tough fight with

Arrighi: he killed five of our people."

The old soldier came to the door, and led us into a large, very dirty

apartment. We gladly seated ourselves round the table, and made a

hearty supper on excellent Corsican wine, which has somewhat of the

fire of the Spanish, good wheaten bread, and fresh ewe-milk cheese.

A steaming oil-lamp illuminated this Homeric repast of forlorn

travellers; and there was no lack of good humour to it. Many a health

was drained to the heroes of Corsica, and our soldier-host brought

bottle after bottle from the corner. There were four nations of us

together, Corsican, Frenchman, German, and Lombard. I once mentioned

the name of Louis Bonaparte, and put a question--the company was struck

dumb, and the faces of the lively Frenchmen lengthened perceptibly.

Gradually the day dawned outside. We left the casa of the old Corsican,

and, wandering to the shore, feasted our eyes upon the sea, glittering

in the mild radiance of the early morning. The sun was rising fast, and

lit up the three islands visible from Bastia--Capraja, Elba, and the

small Monte Christo. A fourth island in the same direction is Pianosa,

the ancient Planasia, on which Agrippa Posthumus, the grandson of

Augustus, was strangled by order of Tiberius; as its name indicates,

it is flat, and therefore cannot be distinguished from our position.

The constant view of these three blue islands, along the edge of the

horizon, makes the walks around Bastia doubly beautiful.

I seated myself on the wall of the old fort and looked out upon the

sea, and on the little haven of the town, in which hardly half a dozen

vessels were lying. The picturesque brown rocks of the shore, the green

heights with their dense olive-groves, little chapels on the strand,

isolated gray towers of the Genoese, the sea, in all the pomp of

southern colouring, the feeling of being lost in a distant island, all

this made, that morning, an indelible impression on my soul.

As I left the fort to settle myself in a locanda, now by daylight, a

scene presented itself which was strange, wild, and bizarre enough.

A crowd of people had collected before the fort, round two mounted

carabineers; they were leading by a long cord a man who kept springing

about in a very odd manner, imitating all the movements of a horse.

I saw that he was a madman, and flattered himself with the belief

that he was a noble charger. None of the bystanders laughed, though

the caprioles of the unfortunate creature were whimsical enough. All

stood grave and silent; and as I saw these men gazing so mutely on the

wretched spectacle, for the first time I felt at ease in their island,

and said to myself, the Corsicans are not barbarians. The horsemen at

length rode away with the poor fellow, who trotted like a horse at the

end of his line along the whole street, and seemed perfectly happy.

This way of getting him to his destination by taking advantage of his

fixed idea, appeared to me at once sly and _naïve_.

CHAPTER II.

THE CITY OF BASTIA.

The situation of Bastia, though not one of the very finest, takes

one by surprise. The town lies like an amphitheatre round the little

harbour; the sea here does not form a gulf, but only a landing-place--a

_cala_. A huge black rock bars the right side of the harbour, called

by the people Leone, from its resemblance to a lion. Above it stands

the gloomy Genoese fort, called the Donjon. To the left, the quay

runs out in a mole, at the extremity of which is a little lighthouse.

The town ascends in terraces above the harbour; its houses are high,

crowded together, tower-shaped, and have many balconies: away beyond

the town rise the green hills, with some forsaken cloisters, beautiful

olive-groves, and numerous fruit-gardens of oranges, lemons, and

almonds.

Bastia has its name from the fortifications or bastions, erected there

by the Genoese. The city is not ancient; neither Pliny, Strabo, nor

Ptolemy, mentions any town as occupying its site. Formerly the little

marina of the neighbouring town of Cardo stood here. In the year 1383,

the Genoese Governor, Lionello Lomellino, built the Donjon or Castle,

round which a new quarter of the town arose, which was called the

Terra Nuova, the original lower quarter now receiving the name of Terra

Vecchia. Both quarters still form two separate cantons. The Genoese now

transferred the seat of their Corsican government to Bastia, and here

resided the Fregosos, Spinolas, Dorias--within a space of somewhat more

than four hundred years, eleven Dorias ruled in Corsica--the Fiescos,

Cibbàs, the Guistiniani, Negri, Vivaldi, Fornari, and many other nobles

of celebrated Genoese families. When Corsica, under French supremacy,

was divided into two departments in 1797, which were named after the

rivers Golo and Liamone, Bastia remained the principal town of the

department of the Golo. In the year 1811, the two parts were again

united, and the smaller Ajaccio became the capital of the country.

Bastia, however, has not yet forgotten that it was once the capital,

though it has now sunk to a sub-prefecture; and it is, in fact, still,

in point of trade, commerce, and intelligence, the leading city of

Corsica. The mutual jealousy of the Bastinese and the citizens of

Ajaccio is almost comical, and would appear a mere piece of ridiculous

provincialism, did we not know that the division of Corsica into the

country this side and beyond the mountains, is historical, and dates

from a remote antiquity, while the character of the inhabitants of

the two halves is also entirely different. Beyond the mountains which

divide Corsica from north to south, the people are much ruder and

wilder, and all go armed; this side the mountains there is much more

culture, the land is better tilled, and the manners of the population

are gentler.

The Terra Vecchia of Bastia has nowadays, properly speaking, become the

Terra Nuova, for it contains the best streets. The stateliest of them

is the Via Traversa, a street of six and seven-storied houses, bending

towards the sea; it is only a few years old, and still continues to

receive additions. Its situation reminded me of the finest street I

have ever seen, the Strada Balbi and Nuova in Genoa. But the houses,

though of palatial magnitude, have nothing to boast of in the way of

artistic decoration, or noble material. The very finest kinds of stone

exist in Corsica in an abundance scarcely credible--marble, porphyry,

serpentine, alabaster, and the costliest granite; and yet they are

hardly ever used. Nature is everywhere here abandoned to neglect; she

is a beautiful princess under a spell.

They are building a Palace of Justice in the Via Traversa at present,

for the porticos of which I saw them cutting pillars in the marble

quarries of Corte. Elsewhere, I looked in vain for marble ornament;

and yet--who would believe it?--the whole town of Bastia is paved with

marble--a reddish sort, quarried in Brando. I do not know whether it

is true that Bastia has the best pavement in the world; I have heard it

said.

Despite its length and breadth, the Via Traversa is the least lively of

all the streets of Bastia. All the bustle and business are concentrated

in the Place Favalelli, on the quay, and in the Terra Nuova, round

the Fort. In the evening, the fashionable world promenades in the

large Place San Nicolao, by the sea, where are the offices of the

sub-prefecture, and the highest court of justice.

Not a single building of any architectural pretensions fetters the eye

of the stranger here; he must find his entertainment in the beautiful

walks along the shore, and on the olive-shaded hills. Some of the

churches are large, and richly decorated; but they are clumsy in

exterior, and possess no particular artistic attraction. The Cathedral,

in which a great many Genoese seigniors lie entombed, stands in the

Terra Nuova; in the Terra Vecchia is the large Church of St. John

the Baptist. I mention it merely on account of Marbœuf's tomb.

Marbœuf governed Corsica for sixteen years; he was the friend of

Carlo Bonaparte, once so warm an adherent of Paoli; and it was he who

opened the career of Napoleon, for he procured him his place in the

military school of Brienne. His tomb in the church referred to bears

no inscription; the monument and epitaph, as they originally existed,

were destroyed in the Paolistic revolution against France. The Corsican

patriots at that time wrote on the tomb of Marbœuf: "The monument

which disgraceful falsehood and venal treachery dedicated to the

tyrant of groaning Corsica, the true liberty and liberated truth of

all rejoicing Corsica have now destroyed." After Napoleon had become

Emperor, Madame Letitia wished to procure the widow of Marbœuf

a high position among the ladies of honour in the imperial court;

but Napoleon luckily avoided such gross want of tact, perceiving how

unsuitable it was to offer Mme. Marbœuf a subordinate charge in

the very family which owed so much to the patronage of her husband.

He granted Marbœuf's son a yearly pension of ten thousand francs;

but the young general fell at the head of his regiment in Russia. The

little theatre in Bastia is a memorial of Marbœuf; it was built at

his expense.

Another Frenchman of note lies buried in the Church of St. John--Count

Boissieux, who died in the year 1738. He was a nephew of the celebrated

Villars; but as a military man, had no success.

The busy stir in the markets, and the life about the port, were what

interested me by far the most in Bastia.

There was the fish-market, for example. I never omitted paying a

morning visit to the new arrivals from the sea; and when the fishermen

had caught anything unusual, they showed it me in a friendly way, and

would say--"This, Signore, is a _murena_, and this is the _razza_, and

these are the _pesce spada_, and the _pesce prete_, and the beautiful

red _triglia_, and the _capone_, and the _grongo_." Yonder in the

corner, as below caste, sit the pond-fishers: along the east coast of

Corsica are large ponds, separated from the sea by narrow tongues of

land, but connected with it by inlets. The fishermen take large and

well-flavoured fish in these, with nets of twisted rushes, eels in

abundance--_mugini_, _ragni_, and _soglie_. The prettiest of all these

fish is the murena; it is like a snake, and as if formed of the finest

porphyry. It pursues the lobster (_legusta_), into which it sucks

itself; the legusta devours the scorpena, and the scorpena again the

murena. So here we have another version of the clever old riddle of the

wolf, the lamb, and the cabbage, and how they were to be carried across

a river. I am too little of a diplomatist to settle this intricate

cross-war of the three fishes; they are often caught all three in the

same net. Tunny and anchovies are caught in great quantities in the

gulfs of Corsica, especially about Ajaccio and Bonifazio. The Romans

had no liking for Corsican slaves--they were apt to be refractory; but

the Corsican fish figured on the tables of the great, and even Juvenal

has a word of commendation for them.

The market in the Place Favalelli presents in the morning a fresh,

lively, motley picture. There sit the peasant women with their

vegetables, and the fruit-girls with their baskets, out of which the

beautiful fruits of the south look laughingly. One only needs to visit

this market to learn what the soil of Corsica can produce in the matter

of fruit; here are pears and apples, peaches and apricots, plums of

every sort; there green almonds, oranges and lemons, pomegranates; near

them potatoes, then bouquets of flowers, yonder green and blue figs,

and the inevitable _pomi d'oro_ (_pommes d'amour_); yonder again the

most delicious melons, at a soldo or penny each; and in August come

the muscatel-grapes of Cape Corso. In the early morning, the women and

girls come down from the villages round Bastia, and bring their fruit

into the town. Many graceful forms are to be seen among them. I was

wandering one evening along the shore towards Pietra Nera, and met a

young girl, who, with her empty fruit-basket on her head, was returning

to her village. "_Buona sera--Evviva, Siore._" We were soon in lively

conversation. This young Corsican girl related to me the history of

her heart with the utmost simplicity;--how her mother was compelling

her to marry a young man she did not like. "Why do you not like him?"

"Because his _ingegno_ does not please me, _ah madonna_!" "Is he

jealous?" "_Come un diavolo, ah madonna!_ I nearly ran off to Ajaccio

already." As we walked along talking, a Corsican came up, who, with a

pitcher in his hand, was going to a neighbouring spring. "If you wish a

draught of water," said he, "wait a little till I come down, and you,

Paolina, come to me by and bye: I have something to say to you about

your marriage."

"Look you, sir," said the girl, "that is one of our relations; they

are all fond of me, and when they meet me, they do not pass me with

a good evening; and none of them will hear of my marrying Antonio."

By this time we were approaching her house. Paolina suddenly turned

to me, and said with great seriousness--"Siore, you must turn back

now; if I go into my village along with you, the people will talk ill

of me (_faranne mal grido_). But come to-morrow, if you like, and be

my mother's guest, and after that we will send you to our relations,

for we have friends enough all over Cape Corso." I returned towards

the city, and in presence of the unspeakable beauty of the sea, and

the silent calm of the hills, on which the goat-herds had begun to

kindle their fires, my mood became quite Homeric, and I could not help

thinking of the old hospitable Phæacians and the fair Nausicaa.