No such thing is to be seen here. I doubt if, from one end of Corsica to the other, there is one building with any pretensions to real architectural beauty.
Art has never been much cultivated in the island. A people who for centuries have lived in a condition of incessant warfare and personal insecurity have but little time or inclination to indulge in the peaceful pursuits of their more luxurious neighbours; and Corsican architecture partakes of the Corsican character, being stern, rugged, and primitive. Many a village, nestled in some exquisite situation among snow-capped hills and orange groves, we found perfectly ruined, in an artistic point of view, by its ugly dwellings.
The churches are the only redeeming feature in Corsican architecture. Their campaniles, or bell-towers, are generally lofty and picturesque, divided into several stories, and standing apart from the body of the church.
Hotel Pierracci, which had been recommended to us, we found a fair hotel in many respects, but intensely national in its peculiarities. The despotic Briton, coming straight from club luxuries and obsequious attentions, would feel himself decidedly out of place there, and not a little miserable.
It is a large hotel, with two handsome dining-rooms, and spacious, well-furnished bedrooms; and although the broad stone staircase is somewhat odoriferous and the passages not over clean, yet the rooms are comfortable and perfectly above suspicion.
But, for the whole of this large establishment, generally well filled with a constantly changing series of guests, there appeared to be only one terribly overworked young waiter, and an elderly maid of all work, (exclusive of the kitchen department).
The result was, that even if you had that un-Corsican luxury of a bell in your room, which was not often, its repeated calls were unheeded; and you had speedily to learn and put in practice that great law of uncivilized regions, "If you want anything done, do it yourself."
As, however, every domestic was in a gasping hurry, and the big landlady--a mixture of sudden irascibility and occasional benevolence--was apt to regard your wants as puerile, and, Corsican fashion, to tell you so loudly to your face--a foray in dressing-gown and slippers to the kitchen, after hot water, or cleaned boots, or any other necessity of man and woman, was apt to end in ignominy and the trial of English tempers. The crockery and cutlery of Hotel Pierracci also run notably short.