Jehu gave a momentary stare, and then took the hint, and departed to his ponies.
No town could look more lovely than did Bastia as we returned homewards. Framed in by a foreground of noble cacti and of green hills on one side, and blue sea on the other, the shipping stood out against a crimson sky, and the white houses lay in the soft evening light against a range of pink and blue and purple mountains.
The wind had moderated, and the Mediterranean, as we entered the town and passed along the broad quay, lay like a shining sapphire against the dark mole; but the calm was delusive, for at night again the sirocco resumed its sway, and a few hours later a vivid thunderstorm was rolling over the angry sea.
Not much beyond Sisco lies Pino, a village on the western shore, surrounded by gardens, vineyards, and the residences of some of the wealthiest of the islanders. Not far from it is the celebrated tower of Seneca, a round tower standing in stern solitude on the summit of a pointed rock rising from amongst the mountains and overlooking two seas. We were very sorry not to see this tower, although it is very doubtful whether it deserves its name, and whether the Roman philosopher, during his eight years' exile in the uncongenial land of Corsica, did really frequent these rocky wilds in preference to the neighbouring towns of Mariana or Aleria. Corsican savagery and Corsican character were unpalatable and incomprehensible to the courtly, selfish stoic, and his comments upon his hosts are little flattering. He calls them liars, robbers, revengeful, and irreligious, and will not even admit the natural beauties of this "rude island," "desolate in situation, scanty in products, and unhealthy in climate."
But the unhappy position of poor Seneca may well explain his ill-temper. He might write long-winded letters of consolation to his mother, inculcating the beauty of resignation and of a calm indifference to earthly surroundings; but I have no doubt the sour bread and stony roads tried the equanimity of the polished Roman just as much as they do that of the fastidious traveller nowadays, who moreover comes, unlike Seneca, by his own will and for his own pleasure.
CHAPTER IV.
TO ISOLA ROSSA.
Our first long expedition in the island was what may be called the north-western tour, embracing the best part of a circle, and comprising St. Florent, Ile Rousse and Calvi; thence on to Corte.
This tour I think is a good one to begin with, as it is on the whole less interesting and beautiful than the others. After the first day's drive, it does not abound so very much in beauties, and it does abound to a remarkable degree, even for Corsica, in dirt.
Yet, although not so wildly beautiful as some of our expeditions, there was much that was exceedingly picturesque and curious; and Calvi, above all, is a town worth going far to see.
There is only one way of travelling in Corsica, for those who wish to see anything of the country and obtain any enjoyment from their travels; and that is, in a private, hired carriage, which—driver, horses, and carriage—may be had at a reasonable rate per day.