JOURS DE FÊTE AT AJACCIO.
The 10th, 11th, and 12th of May were grand days at Ajaccio; regattas
going on the first two days, and horse races on the third. For some
days beforehand preparations were being made, triumphal arches put up,
and posts hung with Chinese lanterns. For once, the Corsican natives
seemed to wake up, and an unwonted number of men were to be seen, in
their excitement standing upright, instead of lounging before their
doors or lying asleep upon the quay.
Saturday, the first day of the regatta, was rather a failure, owing
to the weather. It was a gloomy chilly day, raining a good deal in the
morning.
In the afternoon, however, it cleared up partially, and we strolled
out under a grey sky towards the harbour. The _Agincourt_ lay in the
offing, sent by the English Government as a compliment to the French;
and also a large American vessel, as well as some handsome steamers.
Leaving the crowd upon the quay, we climbed out upon the masses of
great white stone, which just now constitute the remains of the pier.
It shows the force of the waves, even here in this sheltered corner of
the bay, that, a few months ago, during a sudden storm, these enormous
masses were broken up and thrown one upon another by the furious
waters, like wooden blocks heaped up by a child.
It was exciting work climbing upon these blocks, and looking down upon
the bright emerald water and white surface rolling under our feet, or
playing at catch-me-who-can with the advancing and retreating waves;
but, as far as the regatta went, the scene was as dull and unenlivening
as possible; and two or three sailing vessels appeared to represent the
competitors. Half an hour of this was quite sufficient, and we returned
to our hotel, feeling that foreign regattas were just as much a slow
and stupid pastime as they usually are in England.
The next day's proceedings, however, were much livelier.
We did not care to see more of the marine amusements, so, after morning
church, spent the afternoon in a lovely drive, reserving the evening
for dissipation.
At this time of the year the season is over, and the pretty little
English church, raised during the last few years through the personal
energy and generosity of a Scotch lady, is usually closed. This it had
been for two or three Sundays before our arrival, since the chaplain
had departed; but this Sunday we had the unusual good fortune of a
choice between two services--one on board the _Agincourt_, to which the
officers kindly invited us, and one in the little church itself.
With a strong desire to attend both at the same time, we finally
decided on the church at our gates, feeling it a duty not to lessen
the small congregation expected there, and perhaps a little comforted
by the heavy swell that reigned in the bay, and which might possibly
affect the deck of the _Agincourt_.
So we made three of the little congregation of fifteen, where the
chaplain of the winter before last (who happened to be on a visit) read
prayers; and Dr. Prothero, queen's preacher (on board a yacht in the
harbour), preached a beautiful sermon on the text, "Master, we have
toiled all the night, and have taken nothing." We were not even devoid
of music, owing to the kind offer of a young Englishman stopping at
the hotel, whose harmonium strains we all followed to the best of our
fifteen abilities.
Dinner was a very merry one in the hotel that evening. About eight of
the _Agincourt_ officers, accompanied by a noble colley dog, joined
our small party, and added a good deal to our sociability. In honour
of them we had quite a genteel spread, and generous allowance of nuts
and oranges, some of which served to seduce the Ajaccio street gamins,
peering curiously in at the open window, into a condition of excitement
which resulted in the well-merited reproof of cold pig, administered
unseen from an upper window--and in their consequent flight.
The whole town was _en fête_ to-night, and at eight o'clock we went
out to see the fun. Fun it certainly was; the entire population out
and enjoying itself noisily; but, apparently, no one rough or tipsy or
disorderly.
Most of the principal buildings were illuminated; whilst the town
presented quite a fairy-like appearance. Down all the principal
streets, there was a continuous succession of large Chinese lanterns,
hung from posts about eight feet high; and nothing could well have
been prettier than this uninterrupted line of hundreds of golden balls,
scarcely swaying in the still evening air.
The Hôtel de Ville, close by the quay, appeared to be the centre of
excitement, and here a thousand or two of people, chiefly men, shouted
and hurrahed, jostling each other good-humouredly, and without fear of
pickpockets.
It was pleasant for once to see the popular apathy in abeyance.
The light which streamed from the illuminations on the houses round
lit up the large open square with its seething mass of humanity into
picturesque groups, showing here a black velveteened Corsican with a
white kerchiefed companion, there a French soldier in bright uniform,
and, further on, two grinning, good-tempered British tars, as shiningly
clean and as much at their ease as they have a habit of looking all
over the globe.
A little higher up, it fell, with a fainter radiance, upon Napoleon's
grave features in the Place du Marché, turning the numerous fountain
jets around him into rainbow arches of fairy-like tracery.
We had not been long on the quay before the shouting redoubled, and the
crowd, falling back with some difficulty, made room for a procession to
pass out from the Hôtel de Ville.
A tremendous tattoo was heard, and out came a band with a prodigious
number of drums, every one of which was made to exert itself to the
fullest extent of its parchment lungs. It was preceded by a large flag,
vociferously applauded, and which, doubtless, was the national flag,
and followed by a troop of soldiers bearing aloft Chinese lanterns or
flaming torches fastened upon poles.
Forming upon the Place outside, they started off on the tour of the
town, followed by most of the populace; and the great square became
deserted. For the next hour it was very pretty to see them, as, at some
break in the streets or sudden turn, the golden lamps and torches came
into sight in the distance, winding in and out, and moving slowly on,
followed by the roll of drums and the shouting crowds.
Meanwhile, we strolled up and down the quay, close beside the edge
of the water, waiting for the electric light which had been promised
from the deck of the _Agincourt_, and which was our national quota
contributed to the night's amusement. All afternoon the English nation
had been "doing the civil" in honour of the occasion, which was said
to be the first on which a British man-of-war had appeared upon the
Corsican coasts out of compliment, and not for _business_. Tribes of
residents had visited the ship, and been introduced to the captain's
cabin, where fraternity had been sworn between French and English, and
sealed with champagne.
It was a beautiful evening for the electric light; calm and still, and
so dark, that it was with some difficulty we managed to escape falling
over the unprotected sides of the quay, and thus meeting a watery
grave.
At first it burnt simply as a bright star upon the deck of the
_Agincourt_; then, moving swiftly round, it turned a stream of light,
clearer than day, upon the distant horizon, lighting up sailing boats
upon the far-off line; then again, piercing the utter darkness to one
side, it suddenly brought a fishing smack, at anchor in the harbour a
furlong or so off, into closest contiguity, showing every rope upon its
yards, every man on deck, in clearest detail.
Then, with mysterious, stealthy movement, flitting on, it turned
abruptly towards the quay, and a shout of delight broke from the
spectators, as the houses round shone in the glare of day, and the
faces of the crowd stood out for a few minutes in unnatural clearness.
There was something appallingly, horribly perfect about the management
of the light; and one felt almost sorry for the foe whose little night
manœuvres would be rendered entirely hopeless by such an invention.
The light played about for more than an hour, and then faded slowly
away; and we returned to our hotel while still the crowds were shouting
and amusing themselves, but with some of the hanging lanterns already
beginning to take fire in the deserted Cours Grandval, and drop
unnoticed on to the darkening pathway.
The nest day, Monday, this same Cours was to be the scene of another
wild excitement.
The horse races are always held up this road, which is hard and not too
good, and terminates in a steep hill.
Every evening, about six o'clock, for some weeks, the practising for
these races had been going on; and consisted generally of four or five
raw-boned horses with long striding paces, ridden by rather ragged
jockeys, sans saddle, and with reins held well up in the air.
This did not promise great things for the eventful day; but perhaps the
races turned out better than appearances warranted.
We saw nothing of them; for, after a breakfast at 6 a.m., and a
farewell to a dear canine friend called Chivey, we started off that
very morning for a week's tour to the forest of Bavella.