PORTO, LA PIANA, AND CARGHESE.
The next day, after our long expedition, we rose late, and with
depressed spirits watched the sheets of rain that came driving
across the valley, hiding the mountain tops, and pelting against our
sitting-room windows. However, at eleven o'clock there were signs of a
slight improvement in the weather, and we hastily got under way, and
bidding adieu to our polite and smiling mademoiselle, started on the
drive to Carghese.
We had been warned against Carghese as the dirtiest place in Corsica;
and, after the experiences from which we had suffered, this was no mean
warning. But, on the other hand, we had been told that the rocks of
Porto and those of La Piana were the noblest sight in the island, and
we felt that to return home without seeing them would be unbearable.
And, unless we sat in the empty carriage all night, or encamped out
among the rocks, there was no method of seeing this route save by
sleeping at Carghese.
The event justified us in our final decision, for Carghese was quite
bearable; whereas, to have missed that day's excursion would have been
an irreparable loss. I consider those Porto and Piana rocks the most
beautiful sight in Corsica. They must be overwhelmingly magnificent on
a clear day: even surrounded by mist clouds, and devoid of sunshine,
they were wonderful to see.
For the first three or four hours of our drive, the rain kept off; and
taking the opposite road to that of yesterday, we struck off to the
left towards the coast line, and right among the rocks of Porto.
The road at first was cut out of barren mountain flanks, winding
amongst bleak savage scenery, and Scottish-looking trout streams, with
very Scotch mists rising from their banks, and veiling the hill-tops;
with the village of Marignana on one side, and the desolate red heads
of Porto gazing down over intervening hillocks on the other.
Presently came a few wooded hills to break the bare austerity of
the scene, with boulder rocks, red and green and orange, beside the
roadway; and, hanging right over our heads, the frowning and majestic
Capo dei Signori, looming out of the mist in purple shadows.
One or two more windings led us into the narrow gorge, walled in on
either side by the Porto rocks.
It is impossible to imagine anything more sublime than these blood-red
precipices--more wonderful, more perpendicular, and more lofty here
than where we had first seen them--almost shutting out the sky from
our sight, and again falling beneath us in an unfathomable gorge that
made one shudder to look into. The heads of these rocks were like
a succession of Rhenish castles, so turreted, and tower shaped, and
peaked were they; and Speloncato, with its three-pinnacled summit, was
more striking in appearance and crimson in hue than any other.
This extraordinary blood-red colour is not enhanced by sunshine or
peculiar lights; it is the real colour of the stone, of which broken
bits lie about the road. The Corsican rocks are usually very vivid, and
especially the red granite and the porphyry.
There was not a gleam of sunshine as we passed amongst the Porto rocks;
and I do not know that I regret it. The savage beauty and desolate
grandeur of such a scene is perhaps best seen under the chill of grey
sky and distant thunder clouds.
Passing, after a time, out of this wild region, we emerged once more
among more barren-looking hills, past the village of Asta and along a
boulder-strewn brawling torrent, shaded by its fringe of foliage.
Here were some most extraordinary hollowed rocks. One, like a huge
eggshell in shape, lay upon the gravel beside the stream. It was
completely hollow, like a blown egg, the shell being only a few inches
thick, with a natural opening at one side, about four feet high, and
would have made a comfortable shelter for eight or ten men. Another,
half-way up the hill-side, and something the same shape, only with a
flat bottom, was called "La Petite Maisonnette," having been adopted by
a wise shepherd as his home, and a little brick wall with a door, built
on the open side.
A few more minutes brought us to the top of a hill, whence we looked
down once more upon the sea. The Gulf of Porto lay, wide-stretching, at
our feet; the sun, which had now come out for a short gleam, lighting
up the many picturesque promontories which ran out into the blue
distance, and sparkling on the yellow line on an opposite hill, marking
the route to Calvi. A Genoese round tower lay upon the little headland
beneath our feet, and, behind it, two or three houses. Antonio pulled
up his horses for a moment at our request, and No. 3 took a hasty
sketch.
"There, mademoiselle," said he, pointing with his whip in the direction
of the round tower, "is the town of Porto."
"But where?" we asked. "We only see three houses."
Antonio smiled feebly. "There are only five in the town, I believe,"
said he.
The peninsula of Porto is almost as red as the rocks which take their
name from it, and is in a most lovely situation. It was formerly a
much larger and more important place than now, and at one time was a
favourite resort of visitors. But, built in a corner as it is, on the
sea-level, and surrounded by stagnant pool and slow river, it has now
a dangerous reputation for fever, and in summer the heat is something
intolerable to the few inhabitants.
The sun still kept out as we began to ascend towards La Piana, on a
road surrounded by richest herbage, shaded by pale green chestnuts,
through groves of arbutus and myrtle, and scattered crags of fairest
form, getting peeps of bluest sea below, and distant purple coast
lines. For about two hours we ascended, often over queer high bridges
spanning a rushing cascade, until we entered the winding mountain
defiles, walled in on either side by the perpendicular rocks of La
Piana.
The first, seen for long before entering this defile, was most peculiar
in form, bearing an exact resemblance to a triple crown. Anything more
beautiful than these rocks it would be impossible to conceive, but it
was a beauty very different from those of Porto.
Brilliant was their colouring, rosy red, pale green, and soft grey,
but upon and between their detached castellated heights grew luxuriant
shrubs and waving larch-trees; and, although they often literally
overhung the road from a great height, there was neither frowning
precipice nor gloomy gorge beneath our feet.
On the sea side, the spaces between these rocky piles, rising in
wildest and most fantastic shapes to heaven (often in spikes and high
cathedral spires), was filled in by fairy peeps of sea and circling
sandy bay, a thousand feet below.
No place can be imagined more perfect for a mid-day halt than here
among these perfect rock towers and grottoes; and here we had intended
to rest and eat our modest lunch; but, with a steady downpour of rain
beginning to shut out distant hill and even overhanging crag, and
running in little rivers along the stony road, we had no choice but to
go on to the uninviting village, two miles further on.
On one of the last of the La Piana rocks we were amused to see a happy
family of six or seven goats clustered, taking refuge from the storm of
rain. The rock, which was high but narrow, was intersected by a number
of small horizontal shelves; and on these the goats, black and white
and parti-coloured, had leaped, one on each, looking exactly like a
collection of Swiss carvings on a tall bracket.
La Piana is a wretched little village, boasting, however, a situation
that no doubt would have been lovely in less unlovely weather. The
inn, a poverty-stricken looking hovel-cottage in the village street,
appeared at first deserted; but, after Antonio had fished up its owners
from the kitchen downstairs, opened its hospitable door at the top of
a flight of dirty stone steps to receive us. We found ourselves in a
small, dark room, lighted only by a window about two feet square, or
rather, by a window hole, for glass there was none, and shutters, of
which one was closed, kept out wind and driving rain.
As usual the inhabitants, consisting of an old man, two women, and
a baby or two, came in to stare at us, smiling good-humouredly, and
full of curiosity; but unable to speak a word of anything better than
Corsican patois.
We managed, with some difficulty, and by careful docking of the
terminations of our words (which is the chief characteristic of the
national dialect), to make our small stock of Italian serve to express
our wants; and at length, after the usual offer of raw ham, sat down
to a very good omelette mixed with broccia, and a box of London-marked
sardines.
We then petitioned for a fire; and presently our smiling hostess
brought us an apron full of fir cones, and placing them on some chips
upon the large open stone hearth, we had a brisk crackling blaze, over
which to warm and dry our damp garments.
The next two hours, in the very dark grimy little room, with onion
odours from below, and no view from the window-hole but equally
grimy houses opposite, and ceaseless sheets of driving rain, were
not enlivening; and our only amusement consisted in listening to the
strange jargon of patois going on amongst the commonalty in the kitchen
underneath, and in watching the picturesque effects made in the fire by
the fir cones, as they panted and swelled their glowing orange bodies
like living things incandescent. At four o'clock we could stand it no
longer, and started anew for Carghese in rather better weather.
A little more than two hours' driving brought us there; first, through
fine mountain scenery, but very soon through a tame and uninteresting
route, surrounded by grassy hills, and across a long marshy tract, well
cultivated and planted with wheat and vineyards, but malarious in looks
and in fact. The gulfs of Chioni and Pero lay before us, and more than
one round tower kept watch upon the neighbouring headlands.
Turning a corner, we suddenly came into view of Carghese, lying little
above the sea-level, just before us, and presently drove up the main,
tolerably wide, street, to the dirty looking Hôtel de l'Univers.
Carghese is a town of some size for Corsica, but is uninteresting and
odoriferous. None of the population appear over civil, and the boys
are scarcely _safe_ for ladies walking alone. They followed us, not
only with mischievous hoots, like other gamins, but with scowls and
mutterings, and more than one stone was furtively thrown unpleasantly
near our backs after we had passed a corner, and without the slightest
provocation, except that of an unaccustomed sight,--which provocation
we sometimes see rousing our British youth to stone a squirrel or an
escaped monkey, or condemns a tame-bred canary to get pecked to death
by its untamed neighbours.
Carghese has an interest of its own from the fact that it is a Greek
colony of very ancient date, which, until quite lately, has kept up
its exclusive nationality, and shunned intermarriage with the sons and
daughters of its adopted country.
Both in physique and in manners they differ, even yet, very
considerably from the other islanders.
There seemed, from our cursory acquaintance, to be a great number of
very dark and good-looking faces amongst them; and the children are
decidedly handsomer than elsewhere; although in manliness of appearance
and pleasantness of expression the Corsicans have the advantage.
Every one sings and whistles in Carghese; and the songs of the young
men, as, for two or three hours after dark, they marched, arm in arm,
up and down the village street in front of our hotel, were far less
dismal and more tuneful than elsewhere, and only towards midnight did
they collapse into the national minor howl.
There is little to be seen in Carghese, except the Greek priest, who
is certainly worth a glance, as, with long white beard almost to his
waist, black cassock and square cap, the tall stout old man parades the
streets with no little dignity.
There is a fine round Greek church, lately built, and considered
handsome, in this land where good architecture is conspicuous by its
absence; and a Romish church, less fine,--but nothing else to interest,
either natural or artificial.
During our walk through the town, we were followed by fifteen or twenty
children, all greatly excited, who, for some minutes after we had
re-entered our inn, remained crowded round the door without, shouting,
"Inglese! Inglese!" with about the same amount of enthusiasm and common
sense as the Ephesian silversmiths of old; and it was impossible
to glance out of one's window without a corresponding rush from the
juvenile crowd, who tumbled over one another in their eagerness to see
the two surprising foreigners.
(N.B.--Next time I go up to London, and meet a Chinaman in Bond Street,
or an African in Piccadilly, not so much as to glance out of the
corners of my eyes at him.)
As No. 2 remarked, with her usual placidity of tone, to No. 3 on this
occasion, "Couldn't you imagine we were two Christy Minstrels going
down the street?"
After a very tolerable dinner, we sought our rooms with many
misgivings. We had telegraphed our coming three days beforehand, so
as to give our landlady plenty of time to scrape off a little of the
natural dirt of the establishment before we arrived, if so disposed;
but had been warned of the improbability of such a disposition on her
part, owing to sheer ignorance on the subject of that rare Corsican
virtue--cleanliness.
Even the taciturn Antonio would hold out little hope to us, and said he
feared our accommodation would not suit us.
Our rooms were not re-assuring.
One led out of either end of the low dark salle à manger. They were
small, with uneven, dirty, wooden floors, and almost destitute of
furniture.
Mine boasted one broken chair, upon which it was unsafe to sit, whilst
the washing apparatus was placed on the top of the only other piece of
furniture in the room except the bed--a high chest of drawers, where
a corner had with difficulty been cleared of its multitude of penny
Madonnas and broken shells.
There was, of course, no looking-glass at all; and the jug and basin
in both rooms consisted of an old green wine-bottle filled with dingy
brown water, and placed in a species of shallow slop-basin. The windows
were full of ventilating holes, and strips of filthy carpet adorned
the floor by the bed-side, which strips we carefully took up and placed
at the extremest corners of the rooms. All this was not inviting; and
we discussed the advisability of sitting up all night, and getting a
siesta next day; but finally braved the horrors of the little rooms,
and found them far less horrible than their appearance warranted, and
in all serious matters, fairly clean.
Great was our astonishment and proportionate our hearty gratitude to
our bright-eyed hostess, when, next morning, she brought us in our hot
coffee, and sour bread (apparently made in equal proportion of flour
and sand), and eaten dry, perforce, as neither butter nor honey are
attainable luxuries in inland Corsica.