It is strange that Corsica should be as little known and visited as it is. Placed within easy reach of the most unambitious tourist, offering him the loveliest scenery and few serious difficulties of travel, it yet remains comparatively a terra incognita.
Many people have a vague idea that its sole claim to distinction lies in the fact of its having given birth to the great Napoleon, and that it is now a land of semi-savagery, snakes, brigands, and other horrors.
There is not a brigand on the island.
Snakes exist in some numbers, but the majority are harmless; and, of those whose bite is dangerous, there need be no fear on the part of the traveller, as they are in a far greater hurry to get out of his way, than he of theirs.
As regards the semi-savagery, that is perhaps a matter of opinion. The Corsican comes of a race of heroes: he is proud, conservative, and reticent; phlegmatic until roused, then dangerous.
The lower orders are full of intelligence, but their domestic surroundings are utterly bare and unrefined, and the comparative luxury of our working class is unknown to and apparently undesired by them. In one respect the Corsican is certainly uncivilized; he is, as a rule, quite indifferent to the value of money, and prefers his own inherent idleness, or supposed dignity, to any pecuniary advantage. A gun is generally in his hand, a spade never; and he will often starve before he will work, beg, or cheat.
Rich lands lie uncultivated, and houses fall to ruins in Corsica, because the inhabitants are too lazy to spend a few hours daily in toil.
On the other hand, especially coming from Italy, the land of cheats par excellence, it is refreshing to be in a country where there is neither whining beggar, overreaching landlord, nor humbugging tradesman.
A traveller may go from one end of Corsica to the other, and if he behave courteously himself, will probably never meet with a discourteous word, from the time he sets foot on the island until he leaves it.
At the same time, it cannot be denied that the Corsicans, though polite and even friendly to strangers, have a weakness for shooting one another. It is nonsense to suppose the vendetta is crushed out; it is as lively as ever in some parts.