There is an ancient church at Otranto, containing some remains of classic antiquity, said to be derived from a temple of Minerva; but I can point out nothing as particularly beautiful, except a fine marigold window, which is probably of a later date than the body of the building. The bases and capitals of the columns are at best of the lower empire. Unfortunately for the lovers of romance, the castle is a commonplace fortification of the sixteenth century, without any thing venerable or picturesque about it.
We were conducted by our consul to an olive-ground, of which there are authentic records of the planting, at the beginning of the sixteenth century. The trees are therefore about three hundred years old; they still bear, but are much decayed; yet I should think we have seen older. At least we have seen much larger. The ladies in the south of Italy have rather shrill voices, and in the lower class of females, when they are earnest about any thing, (and they are earnest about every trifle) this becomes quite a scold. I have already mentioned those at Bari, where the maid-servant seemed always to speak in a whirlwind; and the woman who took care of the house where we lodged at Otranto, and who cooked and did every thing for us, was so strong in her expressions of gratitude, that Sharp insisted she was scolding. The consul had received a letter directed to me from Sir H. Lushington, but not knowing what to make of the address, he had opened it, and contrived to obtain the sense of its contents. It was fortunate for us that he did so, as an order from Corfu is necessary, in order to be permitted to make use of the courier’s boat, and he had forwarded the letter, and procured for us the permission. After waiting four days for a southerly wind to bring over the boat, and two more for a northerly one, we left Otranto and Italy on the 29th of November. Our passage was performed in about thirty hours. The coast of Albania, as we approached it, appeared to be composed of high and craggy mountains, for the most part of a bare and desolate appearance. Corfu at first also presents a ridge of craggy mountains, but less high and more varied, and whose lower parts are covered with olives. As we get nearer we distinguish lower ranges of hills between these mountains and the shore. The town of Corfu stands on the eastern side of the island towards Albania, and seems to be placed on the shore of a noble lake. The situation is delightful, and the views towards the island the most beautiful you can imagine: a very irregular chain of mountains appears to run down its middle; nearer, are hills covered with wood and olives, and the shores are varied with a succession of bays and promontories, sprinkled with villages, and enriched with gardens and vineyards. Across the water, the scenery is more grand, but monotonous, savage, and desolate. The mountains form a more continued line, and Tomarit, covered with deep snow, appears above the general range, but at this time of year there are many patches of snow scattered over the Albanian mountains. We were much struck on our arrival at Corfu with the total difference in the style of architecture, as compared with that of Italy; which, as Corfu is rather an Italian than a Greek city, we did not expect. Instead of large rooms, and lofty ceilings, we found small chambers, in which I can do little more than stand upright. And in the principal streets the footpaths run under arcades, which are so low, that in many places I cannot conveniently walk under them. The windows are large in proportion to the scale of the building, and the spaces between them, both horizontally and vertically, very small. In short, the whole disposition is mean and paltry, and the materials are in no respects better.
It is not only the houses which strike one as novelties at Corfu. Here we first see the Greek dress in common use, and the full garments and rich colours give an air of consequence, which however is perhaps, as much the effect of novelty as of any thing else. It excites however, a feeling something like surprise, when first we see men so dressed employed in field labour, and yet on a nearer approach, we perceive that it is as ragged and shabby as that of the lower classes with us. The Greeks of the islands generally wear a sort of night-cap on the head, and have abundance of hair, which is often brown towards the points, and very unlike the fine black hair of the Italians. They wear a waistcoat with sleeves, and over this another waistcoat without sleeves, of a different colour, and both more or less embroidered; a red or blue sash, and very full petticoats, reaching a little below the knee, and stitched up at the bottom, except two holes for the legs to pass through. The stockings are frequently white with red seams. The dress of the Albanian peasants is much the same in form, but it is of coarser materials, and of undyed wool, except blue and red threads, which are fastened in at places, to serve as embroidery. The officers here have a very good library, and I found what I did not expect, a copy of Stuart’s Athens, including the fourth volume.
The chief produce of Corfu is oil. The Venetian government gave a reward for each tree that was planted, and assigned a punishment for cutting one down. The oil is said to be very good, and it ought to be cheaper here than in the Neapolitan territory, where land pays taxes to the amount of 27 per cent. on the produce, while here it only pays 3; however, if less go to the government, more probably goes to the landlord. The mountains seem to consist principally of limestone, and from the specimens I saw of the rock and its fossil contents, I should conclude it analogous to our chalk, but much harder. The lower hills are sandstone lying on the limestone, and a siliceous angular breccia occurs, whose position I could not ascertain; there is also a coarse gritty limestone, and a slaty clay, with thin beds of sulphur.
We staid at Corfu only as long as the weather obliged us; and as the strong, south wind which prevented our departure brought almost continual rain, we consequently saw little of the neighbourhood, and Corfu presents few antiquities. There are some faint traces of the ancient Corcyra, and in its neighbourhood we observed a singular Doric capital, the projection of the ovolo being equal to the upper semidiameter of the column; it is of small dimensions. We also observed a pilaster capital, corresponding in size with that of the column, which put me in mind of some of those at Pæstum. I have no doubt that these fragments are antique, but on the precise degree of antiquity I do not pretend to decide. The port remains; a beautiful lake, surrounded with every charm of cultivation, wood and mountain, but very shallow, and its borders are said to be highly unwholesome.
Sharpe and I dined sometimes at the English tavern, and so completely had we become used to Italian customs, that it seemed quite strange to us to eat out of blue ware, to have soup, with only a little vermicelli at the bottom, instead of being almost filled with it, to have fish follow the soup, a little glass for the wine, iron forks, and to have them and the knives changed with each change of plate. This is I imagine not an ancient custom in England, for some passages in Swift seem to indicate that it was by no means a regular practice in his time. We were told that we should find this tavern very dear, yet soup, fish, duck, shrimps, pudding, wine, and fruit, cost only half a crown a head, though dressed at our own time; a privilege we have not been able to obtain of late either for love or money. At the Italian trattoria a dinner cost 2s. 1d., which is dearer in proportion, both in the quality of food, and the conveniences afforded.
We agreed with the captain of a small open boat to take us to Santa Maura, or to Cefalonia, as the wind would best permit, and on Saturday evening received a notice to come on board in order to start early in the morning. There was no great comfort in such a sleeping-place, but we prepared to submit. However, two officers of the Calabrian corps, who were to be of the party, came to tell us that they had fixed not to leave town till the morning. We ordered some provisions, but when we inquired for them in the morning, we found they had been forgotten or disposed of, and we were obliged to set off with a very short allowance. The boat was about two miles from Corfu, and we did not leave the shore till nine o’clock, in a dead calm. About eleven a breeze sprung up from the south with dark clouds; I wanted to return, as the stormy weather we had lately had from that quarter had taught me something of what we were to expect. The boatmen however continued to row against the wind, which increased during the day, and at dusk we entered a bay on the coast of Albania, fifteen or twenty miles from Corfu, and moored at the back of a little uninhabited island called Agioneesi (Ἁγιοννησι). Our boat was like one of the open fishing boats which are used on the English coast, but more clumsily made, and with a sort of basket-work along the edge to stick pegs into for the oars, and other purposes. A few moveable boards, which covered a cargo of beans, formed a deck to stand upon, and when moored, the boatmen took down the mast and laid it horizontally, to form the ridge of a tent, which they completed with a sort of coarse flannel and the sails; under this we crept, but there was no room to stand, or even to sit upright, except in the middle. The night was wet and windy, so was the next day, and our tent proved a very imperfect protection against the torrents of rain. We got out upon the island in spite of the weather, but it is a mere rock, covered with low bushes of myrtle, bay, coronilla, lentiscus, arbutus, &c. On the top are a few fragments of the walls of a ruined church. We saw abundance of narcissus and cyclamen, but a few turnips or cabbages would have been vastly preferable to all these vegetable beauties. In the evening we finished our provisions, and the captain made a great difficulty of letting us have any more. On the following night the storms were still more violent. Tuesday was no better. Wednesday furnished some hopes, but they were soon disappointed, and we were obliged to attack our cargo of beans, which were very bad, and half eaten by weevils. The bread was all gone, and we had only a hard and gritty biscuit to supply its place. On Friday the weather relaxed so far as to enable us to change our position, and we anchored under the main-land, which gave us an opportunity of sending for food to a town (Gomenitza) about six miles distant, where we got fowls, a sort of polenta to serve for bread, bad wine, and salted sprats. The captain and his crew partook of the bread and wine without asking leave, or thanking us. The fowls we took more care of. The change of place had also enabled us to find the arbutus loaded with berries, of which there were none on our barren rock. My companions told me that if I eat many they would occasion madness, but I made what might be called a meal of them without any inconvenience. On Saturday morning we left the bay and the island, and rowed a few miles between a range of small islands and the main. Beyond this shelter we found a swell which frightened our cowardly mariners, and they turned back to a little creek, where we got on shore, lighted a fire, killed, plucked, boiled, and eat three of our fowls, and roasted the two which remained for the next day. On Sunday the weather was beautiful, and the swell had evidently subsided, but our Greeks would not move. Whether however, our wine inspired them, or some other circumstances had given them courage, I know not, but at seven in the evening they determined to set off, and we wrapt ourselves up as well as we could for the night. We heard the clock at Parga announce midnight, and found ourselves in the morning, proceeding towards the outside of Santa Maura, in order to hold our direct course to Cefalonia, but a swell again alarmed our boatmen, and at about ten o’clock they changed their course, in order to pass through the channel between Santa Maura and the main. It cost two hours to recover our ground, and I do not know how many lies in order to escape contumacia, or quarantine, to which it seems we should have been subject had it been known that we had touched the Turkish shore. Here we quitted our boat, but we found the captain did not go on Monday, though the day was fine, and the wind was favourable. Afterwards we had again rain and south winds.
One of our companions in this voyage, a young Cefalonian, had a great desire to be a soldier, and to march with a body of his countrymen to Constantinople, laying waste the whole country with fire and sword. This he was persuaded was quite practicable, as one Greek is at any time a match for ten Turks. I think this love of soldiering seems to increase in proportion as the nation has less courage. We found a little inn at Santa Maura kept by a Sicilian, who complained of the Greeks as great knaves. Our accommodations were not magnificent, but we did very well.
Santa Maura is a small wooden town on the shore of a very shallow channel, which separates the island from Albania; so shallow, that the usual boats are made out of a single tree, and preserve their ancient name, monoxylon. They will only at the most hold two persons. This shallow water, and the salt works just by, make the place very unhealthy in the autumn. The castle is on a long spit of flat sand, which is supposed formerly to have been an isthmus, and in order to avoid a very long circuit in going to it from the town, we have to cross a bridge, about three quarters of a mile long and three feet wide; it is without any defence, and so exposed to the wind, that a picket guard in crossing it has been forced into the bay, which, though not deep in water, is very much so in mud. In bad weather therefore, the crossing may be considered as dangerous, and one day, when we had engaged to dine with Colonel Ross, the violence of the wind and rain prevented us keeping our appointment.
We visited the remains of the ancient Leucas, or perhaps of Neritus, where however there is nothing but an extensive line of walls, mostly of Cyclopean masonry, but there is part of a tower built in parallel courses, and in one place the Cyclopean wall is double, the intermediate space being filled with earth. There are no vestiges of other buildings, public or private, except a fragment of a little column, and in one place a circular pit, widening downwards, perhaps a receptacle for corn. I mentioned to you some openings of this sort at Fiesole, but there it was among tombs, which would seem to indicate some other purpose, and Clarke describes a similar pit at the top of the Mount of Olives, near Jerusalem, on which he speculates largely. We could not find even the fragment of a moulding. The situation is delightful, commanding extensive views both to the north and south. Ithaca and Cefalonia, with the Gulf of Arta, the shores of Albania, and the lesser hills backed by the majestic range of the snow-covered Pindus, enter into the prospect.