A DILIGENCE. [Page 75.]
CHAPTER XIV
BY THE ROAD-SIDE
In whatever country you travel, sit awhile by the road-side. If it be a small country, and you sit down for an hour or two, you may see and hear much that is typical of the land you are visiting. Do not stay only in towns; go out into the country places and watch, and make friends with the people who live upon the soil.
Let us ramble out towards one of the lonely places that are so plentiful in the little island about which we are speaking. Any road and almost any direction will do. We need not hesitate for long. In many respects the sights to be seen are much the same. Sometimes, it is true, the highway lies by the side of a foaming torrent, hurrying over stones and boulders to join the sea; sometimes it climbs amongst untrodden snows; sometimes it creeps along the edge of the foam-clad blue, or wanders through a grove of tall and silent pines. But we are not out to see the scenery so much as the things that men do and make.
Just over yonder there is a tawny-skinned man in soiled shirt and trousers, and wearing heavy boots. He is a cantonnier, or road-mender. The high-roads of the island are under the care of the French Government. They are excellent. Being cut mostly in the granite, the surface is hard, smooth, and free from dust. So gently do they ascend the mountain-sides, zigzagging backwards and forwards with easy slopes, that carriage-drives can be comfortably taken over the highest passes in the island.
The houses in which the cantonniers live are built of rough stones, and, unlike other dwellings, are usually only one story high. They are placed at fairly regular intervals between the different villages and towns. The cantonniers lead very lonely lives, and often their only companion is a dog. Sometimes, especially in the winter, they do not see a human face for several days together. Their pay is poor, only a few shillings a week. Yet these men, like all their countrymen, are noted for their kindness and their hospitality towards strangers. They will give the weary or benighted traveller bread, cheese, wine, or any other simple food they possess. They will shelter him from sun or storm, and wish him a hearty farewell when he takes his departure, without dreaming of payment in money. In fact, they would feel insulted if money were offered them in return for their hospitality.
We are not long upon the road before we meet n mule, or, rather, many mules. Horses are seldom seen in the mountains. Their place is taken by mules and donkeys. Here comes a mule heavily laden. He bears a man and a woman, to say nothing of an assortment of sacks, baskets, and pans. The woman is riding astride like the man. Now the mule, though a very hardy and useful animal, has an unusually nasty temper and an unobliging will at the back of it. He has to be humoured from time to time, and a little thing will often frighten him and send him flying like the wind. The women seem to be quite as much at home on these animals as the men, and on market-days they are seen in great numbers coming home in the evening sitting on the backs of the mules, packed round with cans and baskets, and quietly knitting as they go. If a cyclist appears, however, the women quickly jump down to the ground, and hold the head of the animal until the man a-wheel has gone by.
Mules are not only ridden; they are harnessed to many different kinds of vehicles. The market-cart is not much more than a flat platform on wheels, with a kind of bridge raised over the middle on which two people can sit. The timber-carts that carry the logs from the forests to the sea are provided with huge wooden brakes. To put on the brake, a man hangs on to a lever with all his weight. Very often, when the mule refuses to halt at the word of command, the driver applies the brake as tightly as possible, and so forces the animal to stop. He finds this an easier method than that of tugging at the reins, for the mouth of the mule is hard, and his temper stubborn. Mules are employed to pull the heavy roller that is used in mending the roads, for in this land steam-rollers are not known. Mules are also used to draw the diligence, or omnibus. Railways are very few and far between, and the omnibus is well patronized for journeys that are beyond a walking distance. The place of the diligence will some day be taken by the motor-bus. Already there is one automobile running between Ajaccio and some of the coast towns. Perhaps the people will not be so very sorry when the diligence is done away with entirely, for it is a dirty, lumbering vehicle, though, like all the dirty things in Corsica, exceedingly quaint and picturesque. In front there is a little space shut off for the first-class passengers, of whom not more than three can be carried. The back part is like an ordinary omnibus, but it rarely holds more than six people. The windows are always closed to keep out the draught. The travellers are half stifled with the heat, and almost choked with the dust. They sit with their heads poked down between their shoulders and their knees drawn up to their chins to avoid banging their heads against the roof. The mules tear up and down the mountain-sides with truly remarkable speed, and as the lumbering old coach sways from side to side, the stranger expects every moment to see it topple over into the valley below.
In the field on the other side of that thick cactus hedge the mules are pulling a plough. Though three mules will drag a heavy diligence up the side of the mountain, it is no uncommon thing to find a dozen or more of them yoked to the same plough. They take their time over this kind of work, and do not fly about as they do on the roads. The peasants walk slowly after them, guiding either the plough or the mules, quite content to go at a snail’s pace. The Corsican farmers are not experts. Their vines are badly tended, their seed-potatoes are not good, and their breeds of sheep and goats are very poor. Of late years many of them have taken to growing citrons, which, in a good year, yield them a considerable profit; but owing to frosts that often come at inconvenient times and destroy the fruit, citron-growing is rather a risky occupation.