WOMEN WASHING LINEN.
There are few cows, and most of the milk used is obtained from goats. The goats are handsome creatures, with plenty of energy and spirit. As there are no fences on the hill-side to keep them within bounds, and as they are daring enough to wander into the most dangerous places, their front feet are fastened together to prevent them from straying far away. The goats are sent to the maquis under the charge of a goatherd, who leads them to the pastures in the morning and sees them safely home again in the evening. For each goat in his charge he receives about eight or nine shillings a year, out of which he has to pay fivepence per head to the local authorities for permission to feed his herds upon the common land. From time to time the old maquis is burnt, but it is never long before new shoots spring up, which are more suitable for food than the old dry branches, though the goat is a true mountain animal, and, unlike the sheep, will eat practically anything.
Goat’s milk is used in making a soft white cheese called broccio or brôche, which is one of the specialities of the island, and is obtainable everywhere. When sprinkled over with sugar it is a most delicious and refreshing dish. The peasant, to increase the flavour, is fond of adding a little cognac. About May the goats are shorn, just like sheep. Their hair is used for making capes, coats, and ropes. They look very strange creatures when they have lost their hairy coverings.
Birds are not numerous, except during a few months of the year. Amongst the most noticeable are the ravens and the blackbirds. The ravens are unusually impertinent, and will steal the workmen’s dinners if they leave them unprotected upon the ground, or fly away with their caps in order to make nests with them. The blackbirds are eagerly hunted, especially during the months when the arbutus and myrtle berries are ripe, for at that time they are plump, and make very savoury and delicate eating. The Corsicans prefer blackbirds to any other kind of game, and go out in large parties to shoot them. Shooting blackbirds is a popular and fashionable form of “sport” with all who possess a gun. Not only are blackbirds roasted and eaten like game, but their flesh is also potted, forming “terrine de merle,” a kind of “pâté de foie gras.” Potted blackbird is now a widely known and much appreciated delicacy.
There are millions of bees, wild and tame. Those kept at home are housed in rectangular boxes, and not in dome-shaped hives. The honey has a strong taste—a taste which suggests the odour of the maquis—and is not agreeable to everyone. Travellers in out-of-the-way parts of Corsica would find it worth remembering that honey can sometimes be obtained in village inns and farmhouses when butter is quite unobtainable.
CHAPTER XVI
CHARACTER
In the previous chapters we have learned something about the character of this island race. We have seen that in general the men are lazy and quarrelsome, yet fond of their country and their liberty, and ready to fight and die for both when the call comes.
When Napoleon became the ruler of France, he proclaimed himself a Frenchman. This offended most of his countrymen, who think themselves superior to any of the other peoples of Europe. They never forgave the great soldier for disowning his native land in this way; and though in a few places you will see statues to his memory, yet you will not find his portrait in any of the peasants’ houses, or upon the walls of the village inns. Paoli and Sampiero are there, but not Napoleon. The love of the Corsican for his country is only equalled by his love for his family and his home.
A Corsican never forgets a kindness. He is hospitable, welcomes the stranger with open arms, and refuses to be paid for the services he renders. I once lost my way at night-time on the mountain-side. It was pitch-dark. I came across a peasant-boy, and asked him where I could get rest for the night. He led me over a rough, uneven track, over fields and through rivulets, and after a long and very tiring scramble we arrived at the door of a small house. As the boy turned to go home again, I offered him a franc. He refused it with a polite bow. I pressed him, and he angrily took himself off into the darkness, muttering something which I did not understand, but which sounded as though he were mightily offended at my bad manners. In the house to which he had brought me there were only two people, an old woman and her daughter. They were making a frugal supper off strong cheese and sour wine. I was a stranger to them, and we could but half understand each other, but they gave me shelter for the night, and provided me with a supper much better than their own. They gave me soup, trout, goat, cheese, and fruit. Any other peasant in the island would have done the same.