individuals,—clothe the lower ranges of the mountains through all this
part of the island. Vizzavona, which we crossed on our way to Ajaccio,
and Aitona, lying to the south-west of the Niolo, belong to the State,
and the French Admiralty draw from them large supplies of timber shipped
to Toulon; especially the finest masts used in their navy. The Corsican
pine-forests have been famous from early times. Theophrastus[28]
mentions a ship built by the Romans with this timber, of such large
dimensions as to carry fifty sails; and Sextus Pompeius, seizing this
island as well as Sicily and Sardinia, drew from its forests the means
of maintaining his naval supremacy.
Our “man of the woods” appeared to have hardly earned, and well to
merit, the noble property in the possession of which he rejoiced. Yet he
described himself as poor in the midst of his seeming wealth,
impoverished to get together vast tracts of country, from which, at
present, he received no return. His object was to obtain a market for
sale of his timber, which he said could be floated down the rivers to
the sea-coast at a moderate expense. Having seen, as we had, the
Norwegian timber floating down rivers, precipitated over rapids, and
rafted over immense lakes, during a _flottage_ to the sea which it
sometimes takes two years to accomplish[29], we could find no difficulty
in believing that advantage might be taken of the rivers on either
watershed of the central chain in Corsica, to bear this, the only wealth
of these elevated regions, to the coast, which is nowhere more than
about fifty miles distant. Of the anchorage and depth of water at the
mouths of the rivers, I have no precise information, except so far that
Signor F—— assured us there would be no difficulty in shipping his
timber.
I had not counted on such an exhausting effort as climbing a thousand
feet nearly perpendicular on the rocky and rugged surface of a mountain
forest in Corsica demanded. Accustomed to traverse some of the finest
pine-forests of Norway in a light _carriole_ on excellent roads, or to
canter along their avenues on little spirited horses, its native breed,
without any feeling of fatigue, I had imagined our present enterprise to
be much easier than it proved. Indeed, had it not been that the tangled
roots of the pines, forming a network on the denuded surface of the
rocks, afforded secure footing and a firm hold, and that, clasping the
giant stems, one could take breath on the edge of the shelving cliffs, I
should never have scrambled, and pulled myself, up to the summit.
[Illustration: PINUS MARITIMA.]
[Illustration: PINUS LARICCIO.]
[Illustration: CONE OF THE PINUS LARICCIO.]
Our “man of the woods,” notwithstanding his great bulk, was agile as a
mountain-goat, leaping from crag to crag, and striking off in every
direction where he could show us trees of the largest growth. Marmocchi
mentions four species of the pine in his catalogue of the indigenous
trees growing in Corsica. Of two of these, _Pinus Pinea_ (the stone
pine), and _Pinus Sylvestris_ (our common Scotch fir), I did not remark
any specimens in the forests we had an opportunity of examining, nor do
they equal the others in grandeur and value. But both the _Pinus
Lariccio_ and the _Pinus Maritima_ are magnificent trees. They were
mingled in the forest I am now describing, the _Lariccio_ prevailing.
The _Pinus Maritima_, so well known to all travellers in Italy and
Greece, and to others by its picturesque effect in the landscapes of
Claude, has often its trunk clear of boughs till near the top, which
spreads out in an umbrella-shaped head, with a dense mass of foliage;
and, where the stem is not so denuded, the tree has the same rounded
contour of boughs. Both are figured and described in Lambert's
magnificent work on the GENUS PINUS; but, unfortunately, from very
insignificant specimens; those of the Pinus Maritima being taken from a
tree at Sion House, only twenty feet high. The spines of the Pinus
Maritima are longer than those of the Pinus Lariccio, and the branches
more pensile. The engravings for the present work are from specimens
brought from Corsica. Mr. Lambert's description, however, coincides with
my own observations in the Corsican forests. He says:—“The branches are
very numerous, and bear long filiform leaves. The cones are nearly the
same size as Pinus Rigida. They are so remarkably smooth and glossy,
that they at once distinguish their species. In shedding their seeds,
they seem to expand very little.”[30] Mr. Lambert considers it to be the
same species as the πεύκος, _Pinus Picea_ of Greece, which grow on the
high mountains, Olympus, Pindus, Parnassus, &c.; and quotes an extract
from Dr. Sibthorp's papers, published in Walpole's _Turkey_, remarking
that the πεύκος furnished a useful resin, used in Attica to preserve
wine from becoming acid, and supplying tar and pitch for shipping. “The
resinous parts of the wood,” he says, “are cut into small pieces, and
serve for candles.”
The _Pinus Lariccio_ is more disposed to retain its lower branches than
the Pinus Maritima, and has a more angular character both in the boughs
and the footstalks of its tassels. The spines are shorter. The boughs
slightly droop, but by no means in the degree of the spruce fir or the
_larch_. From this circumstance, however, it probably derives its name,
though it has nothing else in the slightest degree common with the
larch; and writers who speak of the “Corsican larch” betray their
readers into serious error. The Pinus Lariccio is figured in Mr.
Lambert's work from two specimens in the Jardin des Plantes at Paris,
about thirty feet high and three feet in girth, in 1823. Their age is
not mentioned. Don, quoted in this work, remarks that “this pine is
totally distinct from all the varieties of Pinus Sylvestris, with which,
however, it in some respects agrees. It differs in the branches being
shorter and more regularly verticellate. The leaves are one-third
longer; cones shorter, ovate, and quite straight, with depressed scales,
opening freely to shed the seed. The wood is more weighty, resinous,
and, consequently, more compact, stronger, and more flexible than Pinus
Sylvestris. Its bark is finer and much more entire.” The Pinus Lariccio
is also at once distinguishable from the Pinus Maritima growing in the
same forest, by the bark alone. Drawings are here given of (1) the
exterior and (2) interior coats, from specimens brought from Corsica.
They are very thick, and peel off in large flakes, the inner layer being
most delicately veined, and of a rich crimson hue.
[Illustration: BARK OF THE PINUS LARICCIO.]
“I observed,” says Mr. Hawkins, quoted by Lambert, “on Cyllene,
Taygetus, and the mountains of Thasos, a sort of fir, which, though
called πεύκος by the inhabitants, and resembling that of the lower
regions, has the foliage much darker, and the growth of the tree more
regular and straight. The elevated region on which it grew leads me to
suspect it must be different from the common πεύκος.”[31] Mr. Lambert
adds:—“The Pinus Lariccio is, I have no doubt, the tree here mentioned,
especially as it is known to grow in Greece, and has been found by Mr.
Webb near the summit of Mount Ida, in Phrygia.”[32] We are inclined,
however, to think that this remark requires confirmation by more exact
details.
The Pinus Lariccio grows to a greater height than the Pinus Maritima. In
this forest Signor F—— estimated some of the finest specimens of the
latter at from sixty to seventy feet in length, while those of the
Lariccio could not be less than 120 feet, and perhaps more, with an
average circumference of about nine feet. Some little experience enabled
us to confirm this estimate.
But these dimensions are often exceeded. In the neighbouring forest of
Valdianello, which, again, abuts on that of Aitona, the chief of the
government reserves, there lately stood a Pinus Lariccio, called by the
Corsicans “_Le Roi des Arbres_.” At five feet from the ground its girth
was upwards of nineteen feet. The height of the tree is not mentioned.
The king of the forest is dead, but it boasts a successor worthy of its
honours, the girth being, as Marmocchi relates on report, twenty-six
feet at one mètre (three feet three inches) from the ground, and only
reduced to twenty-one feet where the trunk is fifty-eight feet high.
Its entire height is 150 feet, and its branches cover a circumference
nearly 100 feet in diameter.
These dimensions are large for European pines, about averaging those of
the Norwegian. Growing in a rocky soil, I can easily believe that the
timber is, as represented, extremely durable. It was surprising to see
in Signor F——'s forest trees of such magnitude springing from fissures
in the granite cliffs, and from ledges of rocks having only a scanty
covering of barren soil. The growth must be slow; by counting the rings
in some of the fallen trees, I calculated that they had stood about two
centuries. The choicest specimens were usually grouped on some platform,
or in hollows of the precipitous cliffs. In these positions they are
often exposed to the worst of enemies, such spots being the haunts of
the brigands and shepherds; and it was lamentable to observe the
destruction caused by their fires in all parts of the wood. Huge
half-burnt logs lay at the foot of some of the finest pines, and the
flames had not only scorched all vegetation within reach, but eaten into
the heart of the trees.
This may be considered as one of the few virgin forests remaining in
Corsica. The vast consumption by the Genoese, and afterwards by the
French, governments, has greatly exhausted the forests; and it is only
in the inaccessible parts of the country, where there are no roads, that
timber of large dimensions is found. Even here they were felling the
smaller trees, sawing them into planks, and carrying them away on mules,
one plank balancing another on each side of the pack-saddle. We ventured
to suggest to our “man of the woods” the advantages of sawmills, a
machinery of the simplest possible construction, adopted in North
America, Norway, and all forest countries, where, as here, there is
abundant water-power. All such industrial resources are wanting in
Corsica, but our friend was too shrewd not to be alive to the value of
the suggestion.
Our course through the forest had led us round to the flank of the
mountain, shelving down to the torrent we forded on our arrival. A
descent is generally considered an easy affair: so we found this in
comparison with the ascent; but the declivity was formidable, there
being no sort of path, and we had to work our way over and amongst huge
masses of rock and slippery boulders, and jumping from crag to crag,
sliding, rolling, and tumbling, not without some severe falls, we at
last reached the bottom.
Remounting our mules, a very pleasant change—active, light-stepping
beasts as they were,—we rode slowly on our return to Corte, often
looking back at the broad forest-clad mountains, with the snowy dome of
Monte Rotondo in the distance. Signor F——, anxious to supply us with all
the information we required, lost no opportunity of pointing out
remarkable objects.
“Do you see that _paése_?” he said, pointing to some grey buildings
about five miles off, on the right bank of the Golo; “that is Soveria,
the birth-place of Cervione, one of Napoleon's best generals. He fell in
the battle of Ratisbon. His last words to the emperor, when ordered on a
desperate attack,” said our friend, with Corsican feeling “were, ‘_Je
vous recommande ma famille_.’”
Valery relates an amusing anecdote of this General Cervione. Having the
command at Rome, which he exercised with great severity, it became his
duty to convey the order to Pope Pius VII. for abdicating his temporal
power and being sent away, which he executed harshly. When Pius VII.
was afterwards at the Tuileries, Cervione, with other generals, came to
pay him his respects. The pope, struck by his pure Italian
pronunciation, complimented him on it. “_Santo Padre_,” said Cervione,
“_sono quasi Italiano._”—“_Come?_”—“_Sono Corso._”—“_Oh! oh!_”—“_Sono
Cervione._”—“_Oh! oh! oh!_” At this terrible recollection the pope
shrank aghast, hastily retreating to the fireside.
“Further on,” said our conductor, “I see it plainly, there is an old
grey house on the top of a rock; a poor place, but the birthplace of
Pascal Paoli. He resided there after he became our chief, but would not
have the home of his fathers altered.”
Near Soveria is Alando, the native place of Sambuccio, the patriot
leader in the first insurrection against the Genoese. All the
neighbourhood of Corte is classic ground in Corsican history.
We returned there to a late dinner.
CHAP. XIX.
_The Forest of Asco.—Corsican Beasts of Chase.—The
Moufflon.—Increase of Wild Animals.—The last of the Banditti._
Our good “man of the woods” joined us at dinner. It was a just source of
pride to him that he had shown his magnificent forest to foreigners as
enthusiastic as himself, and who might, perhaps, forward his designs for
making it profitable. In this view he now wrote the subjoined
particulars.[33]
We had already inquired what sport such covers afforded, and the account
given of deer and wild boars, not to speak of smaller game, was very
tempting. There were bears in the forests in the time of Flippini the
historian, but for the last century they have been extinct. There are no
wolves; but the foxes are plentiful, and so strong that they venture to
attack the flocks of sheep and goats. The Corsican _cerf_ is like the
red deer. Their colour is ferruginous. In size they are a little larger
than fallow deer with a heavier body, and stronger horns, springing
upright, spreading less than any other variety, and slightly palmated.
Both male and female have a dark line down the back, rump, and scut. The
_moufflon_ or _muffori_ is a most curious animal, almost peculiar, I
believe, to this island and Sardinia, though a variety of the species is
found in Morocco. Something between a sheep, a deer, and a goat, the
male has spiral horns like a goat, rather turned back, with the legs and
hind-quarter of a goat, but the head of a sheep. The colour is a reddish
brown, with some admixture of black and white, brown predominating. The
skin is fine-grained, not woolly but fine-haired, like a deer. It is
extremely agile, jumping from rock to rock with surprising leaps, and so
wild that, like the chamois and the reindeer, it frequents only the
highest mountains, close to the snow-line, in summer, descending, as the
snow extends, to lower regions. When the winters are very severe, and
the snow covers the ground, it is driven into some of the higher
valleys, and has been known to take refuge in the stables among the tame
sheep and goats. The _moufflon_ goes in troops of from four to twenty.
The females drop their young on the edge of the snow in the month of
May. There are full-grown specimens of the _moufflon_ in the Zoological
Gardens, Regent's Park, and in the _Jardin de Plantes_, at Paris.
Of smaller game, Corsica abounds in hares and red partridges, the only
species found in the island. In winter there are woodcocks, snipes, and
water-fowl, and a _grande chasse_ of thrushes, which, feeding on the
berries of the arbutus, the lentiscus, and the myrtle, become very fat,
have a fine flavour, and are esteemed a great delicacy.
But all these varieties of game were forbidden fruit, as a _permis_ to
carry fire-arms could not be obtained by any class of persons, or for
any purpose whatever. The shepherds have only their dogs to protect
their flocks. If the prohibition continues long, the wild animals must
become the pest of the island, and with their natural increase there
will be splendid shooting when the use of fire-arms is again allowed.
But for the hope of better sport in Sardinia, we thought of getting up a
boar hunt, with spears, in the fashion so picturesquely seen in old
pictures, and a much more spirited affair than shooting pigs. For deer
and birds there is nothing left but to fall back on bows and arrows, as
long as the Corsicans cannot be trusted with fire-arms, lest the _genus
homo_ should be their prey.
It was the last evening we spent with our “man of the woods.” He was
very communicative, and, among other things, told us many stories of the
heroic deeds of his countrymen in former times, and of the wild life of
Corsica, which has only just expired. I preserve one of his tales,
relating a recent event, which happily closes the bloody chapter of
Corsican banditism.
_The Last of the Banditti._
Two brothers, Pierre-Jean and Xavier-Saverio Massoni, men of
extraordinary vigour and desperate courage, banded with Arrhigi, another
determined outlaw, had for many years been the terror of the wild
district of the _Niolo_ in which they harboured, and of the neighbouring
country. Many were the families they had reduced to misery by cutting
off their fathers and brothers; but they had numerous friends, whom they
protected. They shared the scanty fare of the shepherds in the
mountains, and the people entertained them in their houses; some, _par
amitié_, with cordiality and kindness, others from fear. Such was the
renown of these banditti chiefs that the authorities used every effort
to exterminate them, offering large rewards for their heads, and
threatening with severe penalties any who should supply them with the
means of existence.
At length a shepherd, who had received some injury from one of the band,
betrayed their hiding-place in the fastnesses of the _Niolo_ to the
_gendarmes_. Led by him through tracks known only to the shepherds and
banditti, before daylight on a morning of the month of October, 1851, a
body of the _gendarmerie_, twenty or thirty in number, reached the
neighbourhood in which the three resolute bandits were concealed. It was
a place called Penna-Rosa, near Corscia, a village in the canton of
Calacuccia, not very far from Corte.
The bandits are in the habit of separating for their greater security.
At this time Pierre Massoni was alone in one of the caves among the
rocks; Xavier Massoni and Arrhigi together occupied another. The
_gendarmes_, as active and resolute as the banditti, their mortal foes,
with whom they often had desperate encounters, crept towards the cave
occupied by Pierre, who, seeing the disparity of numbers, crept into the
bush, and attempted to escape, probably intending to join his friends,
and with them make a determined resistance. The _gendarmes_ fired a
volley, and Pierre fell mortally wounded.
Xavier and Arrhigi had, somehow, received intelligence of the approach
of the _gendarmes_, and hastening to the spot found them posted in front
of the cave. A shot from each of the brigands brought down two of their
enemies; and during the confusion caused by this unexpected diversion,
the _gendarmes_ drawing off, Xavier Massoni, supposing that his brother
was concealed in the cave, shouted to him—
“Pierre, come out; I have cleared the way.”
This cry drew the attention of the _gendarmes_, and at the same moment
he was shot in the thigh by one of the party. A general fire was then
opened, but Xavier contrived to creep into the bush, and afterwards made
his escape over the mountains, while Arrhigi fled for refuge to a deep
and almost inaccessible cavern. The party followed him, and posted
themselves, under cover of the rocks, near the mouth of the cave into
which they supposed he had retired, for they had not seen him enter; and
as the access was so narrow that it could only be attempted by one at a
time, the attempt to reconnoitre would have been certain death.
The _gendarmes_, though numbering at least twenty to one, thus held at
bay by one man, the bravest of the brave, sent a messenger to Corte to
demand a reinforcement. Four hundred troops were detached for this
service. They were accompanied by the _sous-préfet_, the _procureur
imperial_, a captain of engineers, and men with ammunition to blow up
the cave. It was a four hours' march from Corte, and they arrived late
in the day.
Meanwhile the _gendarmes_ beleaguered the spot, keeping under cover. The
brave Arrhigi kept close, watchful no doubt. He must have had a stout
heart; but we do not paint, we only give the leading details; the
reader's imagination will supply the rest.
At length the troops marched up. A French _gendarme_, boldly or
incautiously, approached the entrance; he was shot dead on the spot.
Then, no doubt was left that Arrhigi was there. Either to spare life, or
because no one was found bold enough to lead the forlorn hope in
storming the entrance, it was resolved to blow up the cave. The
engineers set to work, a shaft was sunk from above, a barrel of
gunpowder was lodged in it—the explosion was ineffectual; it left the
massive vault and sides of the narrow cavern as firm as ever. It was too
deep to be reached without regular mining. Besides, the night was
bitter, and the whole party shaking with cold.
Engineering operations were abandoned. As they could neither beard the
bandit in his den, nor blow him up, it was determined to starve him out.
The troops bivouacked, fires were lighted, and sentinels posted. The
siege was converted into a blockade, all in due military order.
“_Centinelle, prend garde à vous!_” was passed from post to post.
“_Centinelle, prend garde à moi!_” answered the bold Arrhigi from his
rocky hold.
The blockade was maintained for five days and four nights, not without
some loss on the part of the besiegers, for Arrhigi opened fire from
time to time, as opportunity offered, and no less than seven of his
enemies were struck down by his unerring bullets. Some were wounded.
“Brave soldiers of Napoleon,” cried Arrhigi, “carry off your wounded
comrades, who want your assistance.”
It seems extraordinary that 400 troops should be held at bay by a single
man for so long a period; but such was the fact. Perhaps the officials
hoped to take him alive, or they might wish to spare a further effusion
of blood in actual conflict with the desperate bandit. Arrhigi's cavern
had a small store of provisions and some gourds of water. When these
were expended, he resolved on making a last effort to force his way
through the troops. Could he have stood out a day longer, he might
probably have escaped, as the weather became so tempestuous that it
would have been impossible for them to maintain their exposed position
in those bleak mountains.
On the fourth night, just before the dawn of day, he made the attempt.
Dashing from the cavern, and shooting down the nearest sentries right
and left with his double-barrelled gun, he gained the thickets. An alarm
was raised, and there was a general pursuit. Arrhigi fled towards the
Golo, intending, probably, to place that river between him and his
pursuers. It was now daylight, and they were upon him before he reached
it. Again brought to bay, he took his stand sheltered by a rock. The
soldiers cried out to him to surrender; but the resolute bandit,
refusing quarter, continued to resist till he was shot through the head.
We left Xavier Massoni escaping into the _maquis_, but slightly wounded
in the thigh. The _gendarmes_ were so occupied with his brother Pierre
and Arrhigi, that he reached, unpursued, a distant forest in the heart
of the mountains. Soon, however, an officer of the _Gendarmerie Corse_,
with a detachment of forty or fifty men, was laid on his track. After
seven days they discovered the lone cave in which, the last of his band,
he had hoped for concealment. It was high up the face of the mountain,
but the party scaled it, and summoning Xavier to surrender, he gave his
_parole_. Just at that moment a _gendarme_ offering a shot, the bandit
levelled his gun at him and killed him. He then threw down his arms and
came out of the cave, prepared to surrender himself. A sentry posted
near, imagining that he intended to escape, shot him dead without
challenging him or allowing him time to give himself up. The sentry was
punished, as they wished to take the bandit alive, hoping that he would
discover those who were in league with him.