The Republican journal., 1912-07-18
CAURO.

ly known" Thus wrote James Boswell,
in-1765. when he visited Corsica, and was
the guest of the great Paoli, at Sofia
caro- This assertion is as true today as
it was then.
A charming one day excursion from
Ajaccio is Cauro, delightfully."- enshrined
within its hills. We started early, with
our three favorite and weIl-tried Corsican
ponies and our faithful coachman An
tome, having taken the wise precaution
to telegraph to the Hotel de France that
good substantial! luncheon be prepared
for us at noon. As we ratified noisily
out of Ajaccio, we saw seated on the
corner of the Cours Grandval the two
inseparable dogs, whom have christen-
ed "The Corsican Brothers." Their
story runneth thus: While quite young
they were given away each in different
direction. Louis was sent to goat herd,
fifteen miles further inland, and Lucien
was given to family in Cauro, a little
over thirteen miles away. Next morn
ing the two were calmly seated together
again on the old corner of the Cours
Grandval! No one, since, has ever had
the heart to try and separate them.
They devote themselves especially and
particularly to the tourists, and often
accompany them on long walks. They
are always well fed and have a sleek,
contented, prosperous air. They are
hunting dogs. Louis, however, is smooth
haired, while Lucien has fine rough
coat of tawny hue.
The road to Cauro passes through en-
chanting scenery. 1t is on the highway
to Sartene. Near the village of Eccica-
Suarella, in the maquis, beside stream,
is commemorative stone which marks
the spot where Sampiero Corso, the Cor
sican leader and patriot, the terror of
Genoa, was assasinaued on the 18th of
January, 1867, by Vittolo, one of his fol-
lowers, who had been bribed to do the
fatal deed, by the Ornanos, the relatives
of Sampiero's wife Vannino, whom he
had slain with his own hand, believing
she had sought to betray his country and
his children into the hands of the detest-
ed Genoese.
Sampiero's head was taken in triumph
to Ajaccio, and the Genoese governor,
Fornari, had it exposed on the walls of
the Citadel. After some little time the
head of Sampiero was buried in the little
church at Cauro, where there existed a
tradition that in order to prevent
drought it was necessary to carry in pro-
cession around the locality the head of
some dead person. The child who carried
the head was to let it fall in the first
brook he reached. In 1910, the young
Francois Peraldi, and three of his small
comrades, found in the church a wooden
box covered with blue paper, bearing the
inscription San Piero. They Immediately
seized upon it and bore it in the process
sion, which took place on the following
day, in order to invoke the blessing of
Heaven against the threatened drought.
They let it. fall in small stream, and
heavy rain falling the same night the
hesd Of the renowned patriot Sampiero
was carried away by the torrent and lost
forever.
Cauro is most attractive little spot
and has quite reputation for thrift,
cleanliness and hospitality. 1t is laid
out regularly, with broad avenue of
plane trees, and an artistic little chapel
on the main street, and in general aspect
is not unlike New England village in
miniature. The surrounding scenery,
however, mars the illusion.
Here are towering mountains, unsur-
passable in their wild beauty and poetic
charm. The maquis with it's brilliancy
of color, and alluring scent, is every
where, while the bright sunshine plays
over all. The wooded hills slope down
from magnificent Monte Reuoso, and in
the distance one presently gets an ex
4uisite panoramic view of Ajaccio and
it's cleaning bay, fecked with tiny white
sails, with the wild and gloomy Sanguin-
airy Islands looming up beyond.
On the outskirts of the tiny village,
on an eminence, stands outlined against
the azure sky, large wooden cross, at
the foot of which a flock of sheep were
grazing, many with eve lambs playing
around them. A truly pastoral scene.
The Cauro church is picturesquely stu
ated in the maauis, just outside the vii
lage proper. We sat awhile on the es-
plande to rest. Immediately we were sur
rounded by troop of children, who re-
garded US with astonished and awestruck
eyes. We spoke to one, and she replied
in whisper! Then we appealed to the
lads and asked them to sing us some
thing about Corsica, and in Corsican,
promising few pennies in return. They
had a hurried consultation, and then
broke forth in the strains of the martial
Marseillaise!' "No. no, we want
something Corsican." Then they chant
ed weird dirge, an old-time 'lamenti,"
which was full of wistful regret and I'm
satisfied longing, as grim ard grave as
are those extraordinary people them