A Lady's Tour in Corsica, Vol. 2 (of 2)

In Short

This travelogue documents an extensive, often arduous journey through the Corsican interior in the late 1870s. Moving beyond the coastal hubs of Ajaccio and Bastia, the narrative details the author’s encounters with mountain forests, isolated villages, and the persistent, stoic character of the local population. It functions as both an intimate record of Victorian-era exploration—complete with the inevitable struggles against rudimentary lodging and steep terrain—and a reflective historical survey, preserving the memory of a Corsica that was beginning to fade under the weight of continental assimilation.

The Story

The narrative begins with a departure from the familiar, as the author leaves the more accessible coastal towns to penetrate the island's wilder heart. The journey moves through the forest of Bavella, where the landscape transitions from rolling hills to jagged, snow-dusted peaks, presenting a physical challenge to the traveler. Much of the travel involves navigating rutty, narrow roads in small carriages, often hindered by the heavy transport of wood and charcoal. As the author moves between villages like Bonifacio, Vico, and Evisa, the story contrasts the breathtaking serenity of the natural world—with its arbutus-scented air, cyclamen-covered paths, and precipitous mountain gorges—against the gritty, often uncomfortable reality of rural hospitality.

Throughout the trek, the author remains reliant on the services of a devoted local driver, Antonio, whose presence provides a steadying influence amidst the unpredictability of the terrain. The narrative arc is punctuated by the routine of the road: sketches are made of wayside tombs, meals are shared in dark, communal rooms with local foresters and gendarmes, and the occasional, awkward interaction with local residents reveals both the curiosity of the villagers and the cultural distance between them and their English visitor.

As the party travels north toward the forests of Aïtone and Valdoniello, the tone shifts from simple observation to a deeper investigation of the island's spirit. The narrative recounts the stories of past patriots like Sampiero and the later, ultimately tragic figure of Pasquale Paoli. The author explores the ruins of castles and the sites of historical resistance against Genoese rule, framing the island’s history as one defined by a relentless, bloody struggle for liberty.

The conclusion sees the party returning to the coast, with a final farewell to their guide, Antonio, and a transition into the more modern, "civilized" atmosphere of the north. The final chapters serve as a historical synthesis, contrasting the fading, distinct "old" Corsican character—marked by self-respect, silence, and an intense love of country—with the rising influence of French language and administrative customs. The book closes not merely with the end of a tour, but with a sense of melancholic finality, noting that the unique qualities of the Corsican people are slowly being diluted by the homogenizing forces of the nineteenth century.

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins The author sets out from Sainte Lucie, navigating steep, rutty routes toward the mountain of Bavella. The road is shared with mule-riding locals and carts laden with charcoal, introducing the traveler to the physical, agrarian rhythm of the island.

Encounters with the local landscape The narrative moves through the dramatic scenery of the forest, where Titanic boulders and snow-capped peaks dwarf the traveler. Descriptions emphasize the sensory experience: the heavy scent of Mediterranean heath, the rustle of pine needles, and the constant, foaming rush of mountain streams.

The hospitality of the road The party struggles with the limitations of island inns, finding in places like Bonifacio only the barest accommodations. Despite the lack of comforts, they maintain a focus on local life, observing Sunday inspections of gendarmes and the polite, curious nature of the village children.

A transition to the north Leaving the heat of Ajaccio, the author ventures into the high hills of Vico and Evisa. The journey becomes more physically demanding, requiring guides to navigate snow-covered passes and treacherous mountain paths.

Historical reflection The later stages of the book pivot from travelogue to history, detailing the centuries of conflict that shaped the islanders' psyche. The narrative weaves together the fates of patriots, the treachery of their rulers, and the eventual, reluctant integration into France.

The People

The author and her companion, referred to as "No. 3," act as observant, resilient outsiders. They seek to understand a culture that is as impenetrable as the mountain forests they traverse. They are patient, even when confronted with the suffocating smell of garlic in crowded towns or the intrusive scrutiny of villagers watching them sketch. Antonio, the faithful driver, is the central supporting figure; he is a man of few words but deep reliability, whose skill at handling temperamental horses is essential to the party’s safety. He represents the "old" Corsican: sturdy, taciturn, and deeply knowledgeable of the island's treacherous paths. The local villagers, from the mischievous young schoolgirls Jaenne and Sophie to the polite, one-armed beggar, serve as vignettes of the island’s social fabric. They are largely described as dignified, even when impoverished, and they possess a pride that contrasts sharply with the condescending attitudes of the French administrators the author encounters.

In Its Own Voice

"The road is less interesting than usual in Corsica, and, for some distance, is almost tame, winding amongst low green hills, and by the side of a foaming river swept by willows."

The author describes the initial, deceptive tranquility of the landscape during the drive toward Sainte Lucie di Tallano.

"A stone step down into the darkness revealed before us a narrow, creaking, wooden staircase, up which we went wondering, preceded by the polite maître d'hôtel."

This passage captures the stark contrast between the beauty of the Corsican outdoors and the dismal, hovel-like conditions of the local inns.

"During that time, the land literally bathed its plains in the blood of martyrs, and no Corsican thought it too much to give up home and life for the sake of that suffering country."

Reflecting on the island’s history, the author summarizes the intense, self-sacrificing patriotism that defined the Corsican struggle for independence.

What It's Really About

The central theme is the tension between the preservation of a singular, fierce culture and the inevitability of historical change. The author treats Corsica as a living relic, a place defined by its long, bloody history of resistance to foreign powers—first Genoa, then Britain, and finally France. The narrative asks whether a people can maintain their identity when their history of "liberty above life" is slowly replaced by the mundane realities of provincial French administration. The book serves as a lament for the disappearance of the "old" Corsican character, suggesting that as the island becomes more connected and "civilized," it simultaneously loses the rugged, defiant, and independent spirit that once made it a sanctuary for the noble-hearted.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy nineteenth-century travel literature, particularly those who appreciate the aesthetic of the "picturesque" mixed with the grit of real-world hardship, will find this a rewarding work. It reads like a vivid diary; you feel the heat of the sun, the bite of the mountain air, and the fatigue of the long, rattling carriage rides. The author’s voice is measured and observant, providing an honest, unvarnished look at a place that was then largely hidden from the European tourist trail.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the author's Victorian perspective; her descriptions of the locals and their "primitive" conditions are colored by the social attitudes of her time. The historical section—which occupies a significant portion of the second volume—is dense and written with a specific, impassioned bias toward the Corsican cause that may require some patience. Ultimately, the book stays with you for its atmospheric descriptions of a vanishing world. It is a portrait of a landscape that demanded everything of those who lived there, and it captures the exact moment before the modern world smoothed over the sharp, storied edges of the Corsican mountains. It is a slow, immersive experience for the thoughtful reader.