Cyprus: Historical and Descriptive
by Franz von Löher · English · Gutenberg #47056 · 464,853 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Cyprus: Historical and Descriptive
Author: Franz von Löher
Translator: Mrs. A. Batson Joyner
Release date: October 5, 2014 [eBook #47056]
Most recently updated: January 24, 2015
Language: English
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CYPRUS,
HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE.
[Illustration:
MAP OF
CYPRUS
1878.
London: Wᵐ. H. Allen & Co.
_Stanford’s Geog.ˡ Estab.ᵗ London_]
CYPRUS,
HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE.
ADAPTED FROM THE GERMAN
OF
FRANZ VON LÖHER.
WITH
MUCH ADDITIONAL MATTER
BY
MRS. A. BATSON JOYNER.
AND TWO MAPS.
LONDON:
W. H. ALLEN & CO., 13, WATERLOO PLACE.
Publishers to the India Office.
1878.
INTRODUCTION.
The sudden interest created by recent political events in everything
relating to Cyprus, an island which, from its geographical position,
seems destined to play no unimportant part in modern history, has
rendered the appearance of Herr von Löher’s narrative of his recent
journeyings through the length and breadth of that country extremely
welcome. It is therefore with much pleasure we have received permission
from the Author to lay before the British Public an adaptation of his
book (only published during the last few days) which seems well suited
to supply information, such as is at present much needed in England.
The island of Cyprus from the first dawn of civilisation has been
classic ground, extremely interesting to antiquaries, and its history
throughout the Middle Ages is largely blended with tales of chivalry
and romantic incidents, such as in these matter-of-fact times are
scarcely cared for by speculators, whose object is to obtain reliable
information on subjects of more practical importance, such as the
resources of the country, the character of its soil, the capabilities
of its surface, and the industry of its inhabitants. Lessons upon these
points are only to be learned from a careful survey, such as that
accomplished by our author, who, uninfluenced by prejudice, describes
in simple narrative the actual condition of the island, the scenery of
the interior, and the everyday employments and pursuits of the people,
thus removing many erroneous impressions as to the condition of the
Cypriotes, and leaving the reader to form his own opinion as to the
status and prospects of our new acquisition. All information connected
with these points we have carefully rendered, only omitting such matter
as appeared irrelevant, and calculated unnecessarily to increase the
size of the book. Additional information gleaned from various sources,
relative to the general history and statistics of the island, is to be
found in the Appendix.
That the climate of Cyprus is delightful, the soil prolific, and the
landscape in some parts of the country of surpassing beauty, we have
abundant testimony in the writings of classic authors, and there is
no reason to suppose that in these respects its attractions have
deteriorated. A late writer, J. Jasinides, who died at a good old age
at Koutzovendi, in Cyprus, in 1871, at the conclusion of his work
“Les Iles Mediterranée,” thus expresses himself: “For forty years I
have been wandering from isle to isle, ascertaining their political,
commercial, and social aspect, and this island (Cyprus) notwithstanding
the barbarism of its present rulers, through which it is cut off
from the rest of the world, is my favourite.... It is a little world
in itself; here do I wish to die. My limited means will keep me in
comparative luxury. Although old, I am strong and feel young, no wild
beasts or reptiles disturb my solitude, the water is sweet and cool,
the wine is nectar, and the food plain but good; above all I know that
my grave will be respected, and that kind hands will close my eyes.”
M. A. J.
London, 1878.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
LARNAKA.
PAGE
First View of Larnaka—Arrival—The Haven—The
Town—Catholic Church—Fine Carving—Kissing
Relics—Marble Sarcophagi—Tombs—Derivation of Name of
Larnaka—Phœnicians—Kiti—Language—Shallow Harbour—An ancient
Graveyard—Relics—Nursing Bottles—Schools—Church of St. Lazarus—A
Compromise in Ecclesiastic Architecture—St. Lazarus’s Morning
Walk—Ride out to curious Building—Strange Doors—Phaneromene
Panagia—Female Superstitions—Salt Lake—Marshes Source of
Ill-health 1
CHAPTER II.
ATHIENU.
Streets of Larnaka—Game Birds—Mountain of Olympus—Negro
Slaves—Natives of Athienu—Attack on Famagusta—Repulse
of the Turks—Six Months’ Siege—Honourable Terms—Meeting
of rival Generals—Treachery of Mustapha—Butchery of
the Garrison—Bragadino flayed alive—Triumphant Return
of Mustapha—Dinner with an Athenitan—Dali—Two largest
Rivers—Neglected Land—Character of a Cypriote—Silkworms—Planting
of Mulberry Trees—Silk Factories—Forests—Carob-tree—Cyprus a
miniature India—Fruits—Sugar—Cotton—The Garden of the World—A
Guard of Honour—First View of the Capital—Lepers—Visit to the
Governor 9
CHAPTER III.
NIKOSIA.
Morning Impressions—Easter Eve—Gardens of Fruit
Trees—Society—Costume of the Ladies—Beauties of Cyprus—Adoption
of Turkish Customs—Language—Cathedral of St. Sophia—Church of
St. Nicholas—Archbishop’s Chapel—Visit to the Lord Archbishop—A
Rising Man—Greek Priests—Church of St. Katherine—Memorials of
the Dead—St. Paul in Cyprus—Elymas, the Sorcerer—Prisons—Court
of Justice—Wanton Destruction—Wealthy Nobles—Enormous
Establishments—Great Riches of Merchants 21
CHAPTER IV.
CYPRUS IN THE MIDDLE AGES.
A German Kingdom—Richard Cœur de Lion—Cyprus sold to
Lusignan—Knights Templars—Amalrick—Becomes a Vassal to Henry
the Sixth of Germany—From A.D. 1285 to A.D. 1373—Conquest of
Smyrna and Alexandria—Commerce—Wealth and Luxury—Death of
James the Second—Origin of Italian Title of Kings of Cyprus
and Jerusalem—Turks—Erection of Fortifications—Selim the
Second—Attack on Limasol—Arsenal at Venice burnt—Nikosia
besieged—Heroic Defence—Spoil and Captives—Result of
Intemperance 33
CHAPTER V.
DRAWING UP OF THE STATUTES.
Social Positions of the various Classes—Vassalage—Form of
Government—Marriage of Lady Vassals—Law Courts—Assizes of
Jerusalem—Custody of the Book of the Law—John d’Ibelin—Knightly
Law-Makers—Philip of Navarre—Grand Statute Book of Cyprus 42
CHAPTER VI.
SAN CHRISOSTOMO.
Cyprus, European or Asian?—Buffavento—Excursion to inspect
Buffavento—Carrying Fire-arms prohibited—A quiet Morning Ride—An
old Turk and his Wives—The Northern Range of Mountains—St.
Chrisostomo—Monastic Economy—Maria of Molino—Precautions against
Fever—Easter Decorations—A Remedy for Leprosy—Fortresses erected
to command Passes and Roads—Spirit haunted—Unger and Kotschy 47
CHAPTER VII
BUFFAVENTO.
Bee-hives—The Queen’s Castle—Paradise—Take a Guide—Gradual
Ruin—En Avant—The Guides suspect Treasure Hunting—The
Fortress—Zaptiehs and their Masters—Plucky Guide—The Highest
Tower—View from the Summit—A German Female Recluse—Peculiar
People in Carpasia—The Descent—Fortresses destroyed by
Venetians—Sale of Crown Lands—Decline of Old Nobility 54
CHAPTER VIII
TURKISH GOVERNORS.
Visit from the Pacha—One Hundred Years Ago—How Governors
feathered their Nests—Poll-tax—Expostulation—Report to
the Sultan—Arrival of the Imperial Envoy—Public Reading
of the Sultan’s Commands—Fall of the Floor of the State
Chamber—Explanation of the Trap—The Governor will not be
governed—Attacked by the Populace—Death of the Governor—A
New Governor—Intrigues and another Poll-tax—Popular
Refusal—Preparations for Rebellion—The Water cut off—The
Edict withdrawn—Again a Poll-tax—The Nobles head the
Insurrection—Blockade of Nikosia—Again the Tax withdrawn—Arrival
of a New Governor—Disappointed Hopes—Proposals—Order again
restored—The Poll-tax again demanded—General Revolt—Attack
on Famagusta—Siege of Nikosia—Eastern Wiles—Mediation by
English Consul—Fighting continued—Arrival of Corsairs—A strong
Argument—Arrival of Special Envoy to compel Order—Deserters
from the Rebel Camp—Rebels retire to Keryneia—The Castle
besieged—An Open-hearted Turkish Sailor!—Betrayal of Halil
Aga—Capitulation—Smiles—Treacherous Execution—Two Hundred salted
Heads—Order restored 62
CHAPTER IX.
THE PLAINS OF CYPRUS.
Expedition to ascend Olympus—No Information to be
obtained—Neglected Districts—Game—Prompt Action
of my Zaptieh—Faithful obedience of Mussulman
Servants—Akazi—Easter—Fasting extraordinary—Abstinence of the
Greeks—Heat 77
CHAPTER X.
EVRYCHU.
Cool Waters—Evrychu—In Church—Healthy Population—Graceful and
interesting Customs—Greek Houses—Our Host and his Family—An
Easter Dinner—Classic Christian Names—Absence of large
Trees—Cypriote Clergy 83
CHAPTER XI.
MOUNT OLYMPUS.
A Mountain Pass—Lost our Way—Heroism of the Dragoman!—Sight of
a Glacier—Absence of Large Timber at Base of Mountain—Dragoman
again! who fairly bolts—Horses and Zaptieh left behind—Heavy
Work in the Snow—Scene from the Summit—Alone!—No Trace of Ruins
90
CHAPTER XII.
CYPRUS IN ANCIENT TIMES.
Descent of Olympus—A Retrospect—The busy Phœnicians—Shipbuilders
for the Euphrates—The Goddess Astarte—The New Religion—Trojan
War, the first Struggle between East and West—Grecian Warrior
Colonists—Evidence of Ancient Inscriptions—The Nine Kingdoms
of Cyprus—Attacks by Continental Nations—Cyprus appealed to
for Assistance—The Cyprian Navy—Philip of Macedon—Alexander
the Great—Cyprian Shipwrights on the Indus—Artisans of
Cyprus—Ptolemies—An Egyptian Ruler—Cyprus a Roman Province—Under
Roman Dominion—Aphroditissa—The Idol Stone—Little Images of the
Madonna—Revolution of the Jews—Great Slaughter—A Land of Saints
97
CHAPTER XIII.
TROADITISSA.
Dangerous Ground—Disappointment—Easter-Eve Festivities—An
Official Menace—Hear of a Gentleman—Demons and
Kobolds—Fini—Arrival—Stable Accommodation—The Dragoman
again—Hunger—Cloister Rations—Wine makes the Heart Glad—A
Village Congregation—After Mass—Hospitality of the
Church—Beautiful Girls—Doctors required—Fasting—Precious
Relic—Russian Gift—The Picture endowed with Healing
Powers—Gratitude—Mountains and Trees—Heat—Shepherds 112
CHAPTER XIV.
CYPRIAN WOODS AND FORESTS.
Neglect of Forests—Preservation by former Rulers—Gradual
Destruction—Shipbuilding—Exportation of Timber—Wanton
Destruction—Forest Fires—Resin and Pitch—Process of
extracting Resin—Suicidal Revenge—Protection required—British
Legislation—The late Governor of Cyprus—Sad Prospect for the
Island—Eucalyptus 121
CHAPTER XV.
PLAGUES OF LOCUSTS.
Locusts in olden Times—An Egyptian Plague for Two Years—Gradual
Increase—Young Locusts—Devastation—Energy of Turkish
Pacha—Troops are called out—A Remedy is found—M. Mattei—The
Locusts effectually stopped 127
CHAPTER XVI.
CHRYSOROGIATISSA.
Rivers of Southern Cyprus—Rippling Waters—View of the Monastery
of Kikku—A valuable Picture—Panagia—Wild Fruits—The Monks
disturbed—Fine Figure of the Saviour—Carvings—Breakfast with
the Abbot—Deserted State of the Country—Robbers—Alarm of
the Servants—Prisons—Execution of Criminals—An interesting
Prisoner—A Cypriote Robin Hood—Dowries to a Thousand
Girls—A romantic Thief—Prison Life—Stalwart Monks—Turkish
Women—Miserable Huts—Approach to Paphos—Ktima—Advent of Venus 130
CHAPTER XVII.
THE TEMPLE OF VENUS.
Bishop of Baffo—View of the Ruins—Gigantic
Stones—Old Temple—Curious Holes in Stones, producing
Echo—Mosaics—Sacrificial Rites—The Idol Stone—Ruins of
former City—View from the Temple—An Admirer of Sappho—A
Turkish Farmer—Queen’s Cave—An inscribed Stone Slab—Rock-cut
Tombs—Watch-tower—Dinner: Bill-of-Fare—A Turkish
Housewife—Nocturnal Reflections—Worship of Venus—Holy Cloth for
the Caaba—The Cone-shaped Stones—Doves of Venus—Meteoric Stones
139
CHAPTER XVIII.
SUMMER RESIDENCE IN CYPRUS.
Donkeys and Mules—Muleteers—Starting on a
Journey—Mounted!—Commissariat of Travelling Cypriote—General
Cesnola—Village of Dali—Out-door Nights in Summer—A delightful
Retreat 149
CHAPTER XIX.
CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE.
Family Affection—Female Influence—Modern Greeks—Bad
Qualities—Simony—Flatterers—Luxury—Taking his Ease—Shameful
Effeminacy 155
CHAPTER XX.
CLIMATE AND TEMPERATURE.
Syrian Heat—Cool Mountain Breezes—Fevers—Wine,
a Remedy for Ague—Seasons—Excessive Heat—Hot
Winds—Scarcity—Spring—September—L’Imbat—Snow 161
CHAPTER XXI.
BAPPO AND KURLIA.
Dealer in Curiosities—Ktima—Rock-cut Tombs—Palæo
Castro—Graves—Antiquities—Ossuaries—Relics of Funeral
Feasts—Ruins of a Temple—St. Paul—Koloni—Asbestos—Sacred
Garden—Bath of Aphrodite—Ieroskipo—Kapatah—Ancient
Harbour—Ruins of Churches—Buried Treasures—A Cyprian
Dinner—Tombs—Arsinœ—Loadstone Temple—Berenice—Treasures for
Naturalists—Tax-gatherers 167
CHAPTER XXII.
EPISKOPI.
Coffee-house—Thistle Seeds—Snake—Game—Adimu—Apollo Hylades Guard
Houses—Pirates—Lycos—Egyptian Beauties—No Accommodation 179
CHAPTER XXIII.
KOLOSSIN.
A Turkish Farmer—Square Tower—Oxen—Norman Architecture—An old
Fortress—Knights Templars—Wine—Beccaficos 184
CHAPTER XXIV.
SOIL AND MINERAL PRODUCTS.
Mountains—Rich Soil—Alluvial Deposits—Gardens—Cooper
Mines—Gold and Silver—Salt—Volcanic Eruptions—Precious
Stones—Amber—Asbestos—Robes of the Priests 191
CHAPTER XXV.
NATURAL PRODUCTS.
Under the Lusignans—Wine, Oil, &c.—Carob-tree—Cyprian
Dyes—Grasping Policy of Venice—Olive-trees—Government
of Cyprus—A valuable Farm—Sultan of
Egypt—Tribute—Turks—Flowers—Tobacco—Corn—Timber—Flowers—Fertility
of Soil—Jujube-tree—Distilled
Oils—Cotton—Silk—Game—Wine—Taxes—Decline of Cultivation—Poor
fare—Potatoes—Spiders—Beef and Mutton 194
CHAPTER XXVI.
ST. NICHOLAS AND LIMASOL.
News of Marble Relics—Off to search—Heavy Weather—Church of St.
Nicholas—Ancient Temple—Monastery Garden—Salt Marsh—Building
Houses—Turkish Women, Coquetry—Franciscan Convent—Monastic
Graveyard—A new Church—A smart Man—Manufacture of Antiquities—A
Parade round the Town—Hospitable Priests—Schools—Domestic
Economy of Cyprian Family—A Cyprian Lady—Chinese
Nobility—Prospects of Trade—Population—Revenue—Bribery 202
CHAPTER XXVII.
AMATHUS.
A Morning Ride—A sudden Change—The devouring
Lion—Heat—Favoured Tracts—Site of Amathus—Export of
Stone—A natural Fortress—Hamath—French Antiquarians—A
precious Relic—Vandalism by French Officers—Gigantic
Vases—Adonis—Anemones—Feasts—Pygmalion—Paphos, Son
of Pygmalion—Under the Ptolemies—Remains of the
City—Excavations—Amathus, the City—Mania for Destruction—Capo
delle Gatte—Cats 211
CHAPTER XXVIII.
KARUBIEH AND MAZOTOS.
Cape Karubieh—Deserted Village—Fruit Ships—Fruit—Carob-trees—A
Cyprian Farm-house—Our worthy hostess—Light soil—Farm
Labourers—Cost of living—Priests—Hospitality—Kiti—Mount of the
Holy Cross—St. Helena—Sacred Relic—Game—Wine 220
CHAPTER XXIX.
LAST DAYS OF LARNAKA.
Dancing Girls—Aphrodite—St. George the Martyr—Patron
Saint of England—Legend of St. George—Tenets of the Greek
Church—Clergy—Churches—Servia—Panagia—Sunday Trading—Handsome
Girls—Cypriote Husbands—Turkish Houses—Departure from the Island 226
CHAPTER XXX.
EFFORTS OF THE GERMANS TO OBTAIN CYPRUS
Frederick the Second—An imperial Marriage—Cyprian
Opinions—Barons—Knights—Importance of Cyprus as a Military
Position—Regency—Quarrels—Promises of Amendment—Form
of Government—Departure of the Emperor—The Emperor
denounced—Sedition—Terms of Peace—The Emperor is crowned—State
of Cyprus—Civil Wars—Rebellion—The Verse-maker—Success of Ibelin 234
CHAPTER XXXI.
MARSHAL FELINGHER.
Cyprus lost—A Fleet sent—Ibelin at Beyrut—Internal
Disaffection—Defeat of Ibelin—Strenuous Efforts to
raise Money—Bank Notes—The Genoese Rise—Defeat of the
Imperialists—Death of Queen Alice—Peaceful Proposals—Renewed
Hostilities—Papal Interference—The last of German Influence 256
CHAPTER XXXII.
CYPRUS AND THE EUPHRATES VALLEY RAILWAY.
The Projected Railway—Cyprus a Terminal Station—Sir F.
Goldsmid—Position of Cyprus—Ports—Commerce—Harbours—Different
Routes for Line—Mr. W.P. Andrew—Political Importance of
Line—Fertility of adjacent Country—Re-opening a neglected
Country—India nearer Home 269
APPENDIX. 283
[Illustration: A MAP SHOWING THE RELATION OF CYPRUS TO THE ADJACENT
COASTS.]
CYPRUS,
HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE.
CHAPTER I.
LARNAKA.
The first approach to Larnaka, the chief sea-port of Cyprus, is well
calculated to impress the traveller. The boundless expanse of blue
sky and sea, the bold outline of the hills and mountains, brought out
as they are into sharp relief by the clearness and brilliancy of the
atmosphere, seem to throw the works of man far into the background and
boldly assert the simple grandeur of nature.
Such were my involuntary reflections as we dropped anchor in the
roads of Larnaka on April 21st, 1877. This entrance to the island
displays an expansive bay, the yellow sands of which are bordered by
an extensive plain, broken by bare and rocky hills, and in the blue
distance backed by a chain of mountains. A landscape was before me,
in which the towns, gardens, and buildings constituted only minor
accessories. Larnaka appeared as a mere speck on the bosom of the open
country. The haven contains about fifty houses, built in the centre
of the curve of the bay, and above them wave the variegated flags of
the different consulates, surmounted by pointed minarets and a new
belfry. The town of Larnaka itself lies far behind, and is separated
by wide fields from the haven. Thanks to the kindness of the German
consul, a friendly welcome awaited me at the landing-place, where
I found a dragoman ready to conduct me to my destination. Before
leaving the haven, however, I inspected its streets, which presented
an animated appearance. Artisans plied their trades in all directions,
and dirt reigned supreme. The rows of houses interspersed with stately
mansions, churches, and gardens, filled with waving palms, constitute
its principal attractions; all else is strictly Oriental, namely, its
filth, rags, and miserable huts of wood and clay.
In the Catholic church, we found a solitary monk, who showed us
some fine carvings. The pictures upon the partition which separates
the altar from the rest of the church are diligently kissed by the
worshippers. I could not but approve this custom, if only from the fact
that a law of the church required that no one should salute the sacred
pictures without previously washing his face. This ceremony takes place
once a week, so that, happily, the gold and silver covered panels
are not distinguished by a black circle in the spots where they are
kissed. With the exception of an occasional block of marble built into
the walls of a house, or a sarcophagus, utilised as a receptacle for
water, I saw nothing to recall the ancient power of the busy crowds
that once animated this spot. Their tombs, excavated in the stratum
of chalk, which lies below the surface, were once filled with marble
sarcophagi, which century by century have been dragged out and employed
for building purposes. Hence the revolting name given to this town, for
Larnaka, literally interpreted, means simply a coffin. Others, however,
assert that the name is derived from the fact that the houses were
built upon the site of an ancient graveyard.
The Phœnicians are believed to have first founded a town here and
called it Kiti; by the Greeks it was known as Kition, and from
this source was derived the Asiatic designation of Kitier, for the
inhabitants of Cyprus. At a later date Grecian settlers took possession
of it; artists, weavers, and artisans in large numbers poured in, and
dwelt side by side with the Syrians, but occupying their own part of
the town, gradually introducing their own language to common use as in
Antioch and Alexandria, and giving a Grecian tone to the education of
the higher classes. The Latin tongue, on the contrary, seems never to
have gained a footing in the East. Cyprus, however, formed an exception
to this rule, and during the four centuries that the island was subject
to the sway of the Lusignan dynasty, and Venetian rule, Latin was in
general use. Not a trace of it, however, now remains. Modern Greek is
spoken, even in most of the Turkish houses, and is understood in every
part of the country. The consulate body in Larnaka has representatives
from every state in Europe. Its haven is the best in the island,
although on account of the shallowness of the water, vessels are
compelled to steer clear of the sand and ride at some distance from the
town.
The whole of this interesting island may be regarded as one huge
graveyard, the treasures of which are disclosed at every turn of
the spade. In Idalion, the Greeks, it appears, had formerly made
their graves three feet below the surface, and, probably unknown to
themselves, only some three or four feet above those occupied by the
Phœnician colonists. In these graves, now filled up by the drifting
earth of successive centuries, are found embedded small earthen
articles, trinkets, coins, and a great variety of interesting trifles.
Amongst other articles shown me, were elegant little figures, sucking
bottles for children, and every variety of vases and cups in clay and
glass.[1] What struck me most, however, were some delicate gold chains
and ear-rings, and some yellowish blue vases of Phœnician glass.
Towards evening I visited the chief part of the town, which is about
a quarter of an hour’s walk from the haven, and called upon the
bishop. Here I learnt many interesting facts concerning the recent
improvements made in means of popular education. Until thirty years
ago, schools were strictly prohibited, whereas now, every town has its
training school; whilst in three of the chief towns, Larnaka, Nikosia,
and Limasol, these are of three grades, and in them are taught history,
geography, and Grecian literature, even to the reading of Homer and
Xenophon. The prices for these classes are from 100 to 300 marks.
Anything over and above this charge is covered by the bishop, and a
toll upon the exports and imports of the towns.
I then visited the church of St. Lazarus, which is surrounded by fine
rows of pillars, with pointed arches, which give an impressive and
sacred aspect to the building. The main part of the church is built
in the form of a cross, with a dome in the centre, and is evidently
of great antiquity. The building comprises three long large vaults,
surmounted by three small cupolas. It seems that the Pacha Kudschuk
Mehemed commanded the demolition of these domes, on the ground that
only a mosque should be so adorned, but after long and earnest
entreaties, at last yielded so far as to consent to their being only
half torn down, and the openings filled up with planks. They were
afterwards restored, and fifteen years ago, a handsome clock tower was
erected, surmounted by the Russian double eagle.
When I issued from the church, evening had closed in, and the priests,
robed in black, with lights in their hands, lent an air of solemn
mystery to this fine building. St. Lazarus is supposed to have died
in Cyprus, and his marble coffin, adorned with one rose, stands in
a narrow recess. The tomb is empty; the bones, in all probability,
having been taken possession of by the Venetians as sacred relics. Next
morning I wandered out to explore the environs of the town. The air
was spring-like and balmy, flowers, amongst which I observed tulips
and hyacinths, enlivened the ground, and the blue waves danced in the
light of the sun. Waving palms and high hedges of Indian cactus, hid
the haven from my sight, and lent an air of solitude and repose to the
whole scene, whilst as far as the eye could reach, the fields were
filled with fruit trees, and the landscape enlivened by flocks of goats
and sheep. The whole scene formed an Oriental picture of great beauty,
and I could not help exclaiming to myself, “If this is the worst part
of the country what a paradise the interior must be!”
In the evening, having obtained the loan of a fine Arab horse, I rode
off to investigate a curious building, at no great distance from the
town. This remarkable structure, which is half embedded in the earth
and rock, resembles a baker’s oven, and is high enough to permit a man
to stand upright within it. The sides are formed of large blocks of
stone, and the roof covered by one huge slab. This erection is divided
into three parts. A small chamber is hewn in the bare rock, which
forms a natural wall at the back of the structure. Formerly a similar
chamber opened upon the front of the large centre portion, but this
is now destroyed These apartments seem to have been closed by slabs
let down from above into grooves, which are still visible. This ruin
was probably first used by the Phœnicians as a burial-place, and at a
later date consecrated to the virgin mother Phaneromene Panagia. This
spot has a great attraction for the peasant women of the surrounding
country, who believe that its sacred walls possess a peculiar virtue
for those suffering from grievous sickness or for childless women.
These latter often make pilgrimages hither, carrying a lamp concealed
under their garments. At the entrance the lamp is kindled, and the
suppliant steps barefooted into the third chamber, where she offers her
prayers to Panagia, and leaves her lamp as a votive offering. Turkish
women, I am informed, also practise this ceremony.
At a very short distance from this interesting relic, and almost
close to the sea, lies the celebrated lake from which the Phœnicians
extracted the salt they so largely exported. Its value has in this
respect by no means deteriorated. During the winter rains it becomes
filled with brackish water, which evaporates as in a vast cauldron,
under the burning sun of July and August, and deposits a thick coat
of fine salt at its bottom. Night soon closes in in these latitudes,
and as I left the spot, the sun suddenly lit up sea, sky, and earth in
one blaze of glowing colour, and then rapidly sank to rest. Darkness
at once set in, and I rode home through a silence as complete, and a
solitude as profound, as if I were traversing the open desert.
The cause of unhealthiness in most towns in Cyprus is quite local and
easily removed. Thus round Larnaka and Famagusta are marshes which
infect the air, and are apt to induce fever and ague in summer.
CHAPTER II.
ATHIENU.
At seven o’clock the following morning I started for Athienu, and as I
passed through the streets of Larnaka, the town was still quiet, and
almost empty.
The better class of houses stand within a court-yard and garden, and
are furnished with large verandahs, supported by light pillars. Women
and girls of the lowest class were to be seen lounging about the
narrow, crooked streets. As I quitted the town, the day became all that
a traveller could desire. The air was bright and pure, and a balmy
breeze swept over the green plains. The swallows were skimming through
the air, and countless larks were trilling their sweetest notes.
Cyprus, I must here observe, is very bountifully supplied with birds. I
was told that many thousand larks were offered in the market-place of
Larnaka. The eggs of the partridge are still more esteemed, and I have
often heard the call of these birds in the grass towards evening.
As I pursued my journey, I soon found myself between ranges of chalk
hills, and then passed for miles over bleached and barren highlands.
These form part of a chain of hills, connected towards the south
with the western range of mountains, and extending in a long line to
the sea. Very rarely, we passed a little hut, standing in a blooming
garden, and forming a veritable oasis in this miniature desert. As I
reached the last height, I obtained a peep of the sea near Larnaka,
whilst before me, towards the northern portion of the island, towered
a superb range of mountains, bristling with innumerable peaks, and
tinted with various shades of brown. This chain extends north of the
western mountains to the coast, where passing onwards into the sea, it
forms the groundwork of the Carpasian peninsula. To my left were also
broad, dark, stupendous mountains, running through the whole western
portion of the island. One peak, the “Troados,” formerly the Cyprian
“Olympus,” reared a snow-covered crown. At my feet lay the extensive
plains of Messaria, watered by mountain streamlets, and forming one
huge cornfield. A group of thirteen camels, tended by two negroes,
stood in a pasture ground beneath me, and imparted a still more Eastern
character to the scene. These negroes were probably paid servants,
but formerly black slaves were commonly employed in this island. The
Government has forbidden this traffic in human flesh; but as a negro
will do a better day’s work than five Cypriotes, their introduction is
winked at, and many are landed in the northern havens, and are taken by
night to the neighbouring mountains.
About noon I reached the town of Athienu, the inhabitants of which are
considerably above the average Cypriote in manliness and intelligence.
I learnt that they trace their descent from the famous defenders of
the powerful fortress, Famagusta, which, in the Middle Ages, stood
upon the western part of the island. Famagusta is encumbered with
_débris_, and the covered pits from which the Turks assaulted the walls
in the sixteenth century, are now stagnant marshes. After the fall of
Nikosia, this fortress had resisted the Turkish arms for more than a
year, under the command of the brave Venetian captain, Bragadino. In
vain the Turkish General Seraskier Mustapha stormed the place. Six
times his men rushed on, their swords between their teeth, fascines
and ladders in their hands, and six times they were driven back with
great slaughter. Mustapha was furious, his best troops were gone, and
he well knew his head must pay the penalty at Constantinople should he
return unsuccessful. The town was invested, and six months later, when
every scrap of food and ammunition was exhausted, the starving people
forced their captain to surrender. Mustapha at once proposed the most
honourable terms. The garrison were to retain their arms and baggage,
and be sent in Turkish ships to Crete. Whoever desired to go to another
part of the island might do so with all his possessions, whilst those
who preferred to remain, were to be perfectly unmolested, both as
regarded their religion and property.
On the 5th August, 1571, the fortress was taken possession of by
the Turkish fleet, and Bragadino at once rode down to the shore,
accompanied by three generals, to deliver up the keys to his captors.
Over his head was a red silk umbrella, and on his shoulders a purple
mantle that swept the ground, in token of his distinguished rank.
Mustapha received him, at first, with all honour; but in the course
of conversation, became so insolent that Bragadino replied to him in
angry terms. The four generals were at once attacked, Bragadino’s nose
and ears cut off, and his companions hewn to pieces. Three hundred men
of his garrison were mercilessly butchered, and a scene of carnage and
pillage ensued which lasted three days. Only a small remnant of the
higher classes were allowed to escape, on condition that they should
separate and settle in the principal towns.
Bragadino was fastened to a rope and dropped into the sea, from which
he was again fished out, laded with two baskets of earth and sent to
the new Turkish entrenchments. On his arrival he was seized, thrown
down, and slowly tortured to death, amidst the gibes and brutal
laughter of Mustapha and his followers. He died as he had lived, like
a hero, but this did not protect his body from insult. His skin was
stuffed with hay, placed on a cow, and led throughout the camp and
town, and was finally attached to the mast of Mustapha’s ship, and
taken to Constantinople, where the pitiless conqueror was received with
open arms.
I dined at the table of an Athenitan, and have seldom been better
entertained; the room was small, but clean, and my hostess young and
charming. Our fare, which was admirably cooked, consisted of fried
eggs, roast fowl and pillau. For dessert, oranges, artichokes, and
some excellent dark wine, were set before me. After dinner I enjoyed a
refreshing sleep, and then bidding adieu to my good hosts, proceeded on
my way.
Dali, the ancient Idalion, was my next resting-place; here was formerly
the Temple of Venus, now a mere heap of ruins, but I saw little worthy
of note. These plains of Cyprus are watered by two streams, one of
which flows east, and the other west. Both are named after the towns
towards which they flow, the larger being called the Dali and the
lesser the Morfu. In ancient times these rivers were known as the
Pedias and Satrachos, and both much resemble the Nile in appearance.
During the rainy season these streams run rapidly, spreading their
yellow waters over the surrounding country, and when they retire, leave
a thick deposit of slime or mud. I am told that the Pedias was formerly
called the Cyprian Nile. The table-like rocks of the plain of Messaria
through which I now journeyed, form a very peculiar and interesting
feature of its scenery. These rocks, called τραωεζαι, from their
table-like appearance, are considered by the Cypriotes to be useless
for agricultural purposes; I rode over several of them to test the
truth of this assertion, and found the chalk only visible in certain
parts, the rest of the surface being well fitted for the growth of
vines and other plants. But of what avail is it, that a few hills might
be cultivated, in a country whose fruitful plains for generations have
not been touched by a plough or hoe? Not a sheep or goat was to be
seen in the plains, once called by the ancients μακαρια, or the
blessed. Now that Cyprus again enjoys the comforts of a judicious
government, she will speedily bring forth all the fruits of the earth
with profusion. This, however, will not be done without much difficulty
and patient perseverance.
A Cyprian ox! βοῦς χύωριος was the ancient nickname conferred upon the
Cypriotes in derision of their stolid obtuseness. Dirty, but contented,
they lounge through life without making the slightest effort to improve
their condition. All emulation, or pride in their professions, seems
to have died out under the weight of a tyrannical and unsympathetic
government.
The following short sketch of the cultivation of Cyprus, under the
various dynasties, will show its extraordinary natural resources, and
the field for enterprise that will be opened out under British sway:
During the long centuries of Byzantine rule, many circumstances
conduced to the animation of trade and proper cultivation of the
fertile soil. Cyprus was long regarded as a veritable harbour of
refuge, not only by those inhabiting the neighbouring Asiatic
continent, but by the persecuted victims of various religious
denominations, many of whom being quiet, industrious men, settled down
at once in the country of their adoption as skilful tillers of the
soil; whilst the Armenian and Syrian refugees taught and improved the
arts of trade and commerce.
The introduction of the silkworm into Cyprus must, however, be regarded
as a main cause of its long prosperity. Until that time the wearing of
silk was confined entirely to the highest classes, and it could only
be procured, at enormous cost, of merchants travelling from India and
China. In the year 557 two monks brought a quantity of silkworms’ eggs
from India to offer them to the Emperor Justinian, who, appreciating
their commercial value, caused them to be distributed over different
provinces. In no place did their culture succeed as in Cyprus; the
warm soft air, rarely agitated by wind and storm, exactly suited their
requirements, and in a very short space of time the southern coasts,
and other parts, were covered with mulberry trees for their sustenance,
and the celebrated silk factories established and in full work. The
rule of the Arab in Cyprus brought on the contrary decadence and
misfortune in its train. These sons of the desert destroyed all before
them, churches and temples were laid in ruins, and books committed
to the flames. Once, however, settled in the conquered dominion,
they gave themselves up to the enjoyment of their new possessions.
Jews and Christians were employed in building new palaces, and in
translating into Arabic the poetry of Persia and works of Eastern lore.
For their own share of improvement the Arabs devoted themselves to
the cultivation of plants, and arranged splendid and well-irrigated
gardens, which they filled with trees and shrubs brought from Egypt,
Syria, and Arabia.
We learn that, as far as the island has been yet explored, it contains
no less than one thousand different sorts of plants. The forest
growth is more especially luxuriant. According to Herr linger, the
“Pinus maritima,” in Cyprus, covers the hills and mountain regions to
the height of 4000 feet, and one of the commonest trees, the “Pinus
laricio,” which covers all the heights to 4000 feet above the sea, is
met with on the western mountains of the island to 6000 feet, and gives
them a dark appearance from the coast. The wild cypress, “Cupressus
horizontalis,” is the third tree which grows commonly in the eastern
part of the island, and in some places forms, by itself, whole woods.
On the entire northern chain of mountains this wild cypress often grows
at the height of 2000 feet to 3000 feet above the sea. Great forests
of wild cypresses must have covered the whole of the south of the
island, interspersed with a shrub, the “Juniperus Phœnicea.” In the
north several varieties of oak are found, and throughout the island
the arbutus abounds. The carob-tree, “Ceratonia siliqua,” and olive
flourish on the banks of all the rivers, and up to an elevation of 1000
feet above the sea. The succulent pods of the carob-tree are exported
to Egypt and Syria, while the pulp, which is called St. John’s bread,
from its resemblance to manna, is used as an article of food. Orange
and lemon trees, and date-palms, are also met with in great profusion.
The cultivation of Cyprus during the thirteenth and fourteenth
centuries was carried to great perfection, and was still flourishing
in the two succeeding centuries. During the chivalrous dominion of
the Lusignans, inconceivable wealth and almost unprecedented luxury
overspread the whole island, and in all the neighbouring countries
of the Mediterranean, Cyprus was spoken of as a miniature India,
overflowing with treasure. Knights, philosophers, and adventurers
streamed into the island. The prosperity of Cyprus must not, however,
be attributed to these new and able immigrants, but to the fact
that its revenues were no longer drained by its tributes to foreign
potentates, and that its princes ruled with prudence and justice. These
new comers to the island at once commenced cultivating the fruit trees
of their native lands. Apple, pear, plum, and medlar trees, however,
did not thrive, but cherries, peaches, bananas, and apricots came
to great perfection, and Cyprus is still noted for its walnuts. An
attempt was next made to introduce the sugar-cane, with much success,
and Cyprian sugar was soon in great request. The art of refining had,
however, not been introduced, and the sugar only took the form of small
blackish grains.
The cultivation of the grape, which had dated from most ancient times,
acquired new vigour under these influences and was speedily recognised
as the choicest vintage in the world. In no less esteem were held the
silks and velvets woven in Cyprus, and the extended cultivation of the
mulberry and the perfection of the art of weaving went hand in hand.[2]
Syrian industry was united with European talent, and operatives from
Persia, who came to give their services, brought with them seeds of
the cotton-plant. So marvellously did this new venture prosper, that
cotton was commonly known as the gold-plant, on account of its great
commercial success. In Nikosia, the capital of Cyprus, large weaving
establishments were at once formed for the production of the fine
calico, for which Cyprus was soon noted. During the whole of the Middle
Ages, Cyprus must be regarded as the garden in which tropical plants of
all kinds were carefully acclimatised, and from thence introduced and
distributed over Greece, Italy, S. France, Spain, the Canary Islands,
and America.
A short distance from Nikosia, I observed a party of soldiers standing
in a court-yard on the roadside. As I approached they quietly sprang
into their saddles, and rode towards me with their sabres in their
hands. On reaching me they saluted, and one of the party advancing,
informed me, with a graceful wave of his hand, that he had been sent by
the Pacha of Cyprus to meet and conduct me to the lodging he had found
for me. My new companion, who was a Catholic Armenian, speaking both
French and Italian, chatted gaily to me as we rode on side by side. Our
path lay through a valley between the hills which still hid the city
from our eyes. As soon as we reached the rising ground, hundreds of
waving palm-trees were before us, interspersed with slender minarets,
whilst here and there a fine dome, towering high, announced to me that
the capital of Cyprus lay before us. A veritable gem of Eastern beauty
it looked in the bright sunlight, its white walls and painted minarets
standing gaily out from the green, well-watered plain and graceful
palms, whilst fine belfries and Gothic churches gave an air of grandeur
to the view. As we approached the sun went rapidly down, gold and
purple clouds rolled over our heads, and the air was filled with a soft
and delicious breeze.
At the gates of the town we were met by a party of lepers begging for
alms; the revolting sight seemed to throw a feeling of horror over the
whole scene. Happily the unfortunates are not permitted to enter the
city. We were now requested to form ourselves into a file in order to
make our entrance in a becoming manner. Two soldiers went first with
naked sabres in their hands, then followed the captain, then myself,
and in my rear, our servants and baggage. In this wise we galloped
along as rapidly as our mules would carry us, and as we passed through
the bazaars and streets the people gathered about us and offered a
respectful welcome. A narrow dirty street brought us to the door of my
lodging, where I was received by the host and his servants with many
impressive genuflections.
Here I parted with my friendly conductors, after offering them a
return, in solid cash, which they evidently expected, for their
civilities. The captain of the party shortly after returned to invite
me to visit the governor, who belonged to a noble Bosnian family, at
his residence. This gentleman had travelled much, and had visited both
Paris and Vienna. He received me with all the grace of a European, and
gave me much valuable information respecting this interesting town.
What delighted me most, however, was the gift of an excellent map of
the country, a treasure I had vainly attempted to obtain ever since my
arrival, and which proved invaluable to me in all my journeyings.
As I returned home the city lay in perfect rest, not a creature was to
be seen, and the streets were only enlivened by the gambols of a few
wretched homeless dogs.
CHAPTER III.
NIKOSIA.
This city, called by the Greeks Levkosia, and by the Turks Lefkoscha,
impressed me more than any other Oriental town I have visited. An
indescribable blending of Eastern and Western characteristics meets the
eye at every turn, and imparts a familiar appearance to the strange and
interesting scene.
How shall I give an idea of the uproar that roused me from my slumbers
early next morning? Trumpets were sounding, muezzins were chanting in
drawling tones from the tops of all the minarets, countless crows and
ravens combined with cocks and hens to outvie in their performance,
the braying of asses, and groaning of camels. Whilst over all clanged
the bells from every belfry in the city. The following day being
Easter-eve, this music commenced at midnight, and continued without
interruption till morning, varied, however, by the firing of every old
gun that could be mustered for the occasion.
In passing through the streets of the town, I observed through the
gates of the high-walled gardens many varieties of fruit trees, apple,
pear, and figs; orange, lemon, mulberry, and pomegranate trees also
lent their blossoms to give the finishing touches to the scene. The
garden walls are high, but not so lofty as to exclude from view the
slender white minarets, dark cypresses, and waving palms that they
enclose. Half Nikosia is made up of these lovely gardens. Everywhere
water-pipes are gently pouring forth their offerings to the thirsty
ground, and the whole town is redolent of perfume. The Cyprian sky
resembles that of the Nile valley in its cloudless, deep blue, and is
equally beautiful in its clear expanse; while as for the climate, a
very few days in its soft, delicious, balmy air makes one understand
why, of all the Grecian islands, Cyprus should have been allotted the
privilege of being regarded as the favorite residence of the Goddess of
Love. At first I felt inclined to linger in this lovely spot and make
myself acquainted with its literature; but a nearer view showed me my
time would not be profitably spent. Society there was none, the few
Europeans the city contained being entirely engaged in striving to make
a little money.
Domestic life in Cyprus is generally confined within the precincts
of its beautiful gardens, and in most of its relations is strictly
Turkish. Women of the higher classes in Nikosia wear a delicate white
veil and silken garments, instead of the bright blue, yellow, and red
veil usually seen in the other towns.
Dr. Clarke, in his “Travels,” says:—“The interesting costume presented
in the dress of the Cyprian ladies ought not to pass unnoticed.
Their head apparel was precisely modelled after the kind of calathus
represented upon the Phœnician idols of the country and Egyptian
statues. This was worn by women of all ranks, from the wives of the
consuls to their slaves. Their hair, dyed of a fine brown colour by
means of a plant called ‘henna,’ hung behind in numerous long straight
braids; and, in some ringlets disposed near the face, were fastened
blossoms of the jessamine, strung together upon strips of leaves of the
palm-tree in a very curious and pleasing manner. Next to the Calmuck
women, the Grecians are, of all others, best versed in cosmetic arts.
They possess the valuable secret of giving a brown colour to the
whitest locks, and also tinge the eyebrows the same hue, an act that
would be highly prized in London and Paris. The most splendid colours
are displayed in their habits, and these are very becoming to the girls
of the island. The upper robe is always of scarlet, crimson, or green
silk, embroidered with gold. Like other Greek women, they wear long
scarlet pantaloons, fastened round the ankle, and yellow boots, with
slippers of the same colour. Around the neck and from the head are
suspended a profusion of gold coins, chains, and other trinkets. About
their waists they have a large belt, or zone, fastened in front by two
large and heavily-polished brass plates. They endeavour to make the
waist as long as possible, and their legs consequently short. Naturally
corpulent, they take no pains to diminish the size of their bodies
by lacing, but seem rather vain of their bulk, exposing their bosoms
at the same time in a manner highly unbecoming. Notwithstanding the
extraordinary pains they use to disfigure their natural beauty by all
manner of ill-selected ornament, the women of Cyprus are handsomer than
those of any other Grecian island. They have a taller and more stately
figure, and the features, particularly of the women of Nikosia, are
regular and dignified, exhibiting that elevated cast of countenance so
universally admired in the works of Greek artists. At present this kind
of beauty seems peculiar to the women of Cyprus.”
The women of Nikosia walk lightly and gracefully, instead of presenting
the appearance, as do many of their country-women, of stuffed sacks
rolling along, and unlike most Turkish ladies, can often boast neat and
slender figures. In my own opinion the town does not contain more than
12,000 inhabitants, many, however, estimate their number as 18,000.
In former times Nikosia was some miles in circumference and was three
times as large as it is now. Ruins of churches and cloisters are to
be seen in all directions outside the present town. Of late years
the Greek and Turkish inhabitants associate much more freely than
formerly. Turkish servants are often met with in Greek houses, and
intermarriages are by no means uncommon. The dress of the peasantry is
almost Turkish, and pillau, essentially a Turkish dish, is commonly
seen on every table in the island. Many of the professed Mussulmans are
actually Christians, and have their children baptised in secret. Their
forefathers were followers of the Prophet through fear and compulsion,
and it would expose any one to much persecution and obloquy, who openly
declared that he no longer belonged to that faith.
During the days of Venetian rule, many Italian words became grafted
into the language, whilst French, on the contrary, is entirely
forgotten in Cyprus. In Nikosia, the Turkish inhabitants pride
themselves on the purity with which they speak their own language;
indeed, I am informed that nowhere, except in Constantinople, can this
be heard in greater perfection. The Grecian population speak Greek.
This desire on the part of the Turks to keep their language pure and
undefiled, must be regarded as a lingering attempt to preserve the
ancient renown and dignity of Nikosia in a time when its homes were
palaces, and their inhabitants wealthy and esteemed. Of their ancient
mansions but little is now left beyond a few stately ruins. Many of the
fine old walls have been broken down within some feet of the ground,
and upon them wretched little huts of wood and clay erected to serve
as a hasty refuge for some indigent family. If asked why they do not
bestow more care upon their houses, the indolent workmen will inform
you, that, “it is not worth while to build better on account of the
frequent earthquakes.” On these occasions I have often felt tempted to
inquire if earthquakes were only known to the modern Cypriotes? The
ancient buildings of the island are readily recognised by the large
blocks of brown freestone of which the walls are built.
The Cathedral of St. Sophia forms the centre of attraction in Nikosia.
This fine edifice is built in the Gothic style, and richly decorated;
of this ornamentation, only the carved stone-work remains. The pillared
interior of the church is approached from the portico by three arched
portals. The walls of this noble building are decorated by whitewash,
and, to please the Turkish taste, pillars and capitals are streaked
and daubed with red, green, and yellow. Happily the beautiful arched
windows are still framed in rich carving. The base of the bell tower is
adorned with two unusually high minarets. Close to the cathedral is the
Church of St. Nicholas, with its three noble entrance gates; here all
the niches are charmingly decorated with a living tracery in the shape
of a great variety of stonecrop. The fine interior of this church is
now used as a granary. The Archbishop’s Chapel is another interesting
building, of which the walls are covered with ancient pictures. The
archiepiscopal throne with its gilding and the handsome altar-screen,
are but dimly seen in the mellow half light.
As I left the archiepiscopal chapel. I was met by a young priest,
who brought me a friendly invitation to take a cup of coffee with the
Lord Archbishop. I had so much still to see that I felt compelled to
decline this courtesy. The young priest modestly urged that it was
the custom for all strangers to pay their respects to his grace, and
that I should not willingly be the first to decline. My time only
permitted me to make a hurried call, which fact I, however, since, much
regretted, as I afterwards found that the head of the Cyprian Church is
a worthy and distinguished man, who well deserves his title of
μακαριωτατος.
A dignitary of the Greek Church may certainly be considered as much
more fortunately situated than any other official in Europe. During
his entire life he can mount a perfect Jacob’s ladder of preferments
and emoluments, and may don every shade of colour, in robes of black,
green, yellow, and red to rich purple; he can also exhibit a variety
of crosiers and mitres. The Archbishop of Cyprus, who has now obtained
the highest rank, signs his name with red ink, seals with the imperial
double-headed eagle, carries a shepherd’s crook, surmounted by a golden
orb, and bears a title enumerating his saintly and lordly attributes.
The income of this dignitary is derived from two sources—voluntary
offerings and tithes, and sums paid for dispensations, marriages, and
masses. The archbishop has many claims upon this revenue, and has
annually to send money to Constantinople, the Archbishop of Cyprus
being a vassal of the Sultan’s. The four bishops of Cyprus, though
chosen from its capital, are also compelled to obtain the consent
of this potentate to their election. The Greek priests are said to
average two per cent. of the whole population; it may therefore be
supposed that their position is a degraded one, and their incomes very
small. Many of those in Nikosia can scarcely do more than read the
services, and perform the various ceremonies with proper intelligence
and decorum, whilst those in the village curés are so reduced that they
must often resort to the mending of shoes, and tending of sheep and
cattle, to earn a bare livelihood.
The church of St. Katherine, now turned into a mosque, has a fine
entrance, adorned with three arches and pillars, with Corinthian
capitals. Two stately marble columns lie in the court-yard; these,
with their fine carved escutcheons, have been torn down by the Turks
and employed as seats. The graves of the brave defenders of the city
are still held in honour, and small cupolas are erected to mark their
resting places. The spot where the first Turk mounted and fell when the
city was stormed, is also distinguished by a small dome. The gravestone
is marble, and the coffin of wood, overshadowed by the green flag of
the Prophet. Nikosia can boast a very unusual number of churches and
mosques, and we are told that, when the city was at the height of
its glory, there were no less than two hundred and fifty chapels and
churches. Cyprus is also especially remarkable for the number of graves
of its saints.
In all ages the island was regarded as a harbour of refuge from
persecution or tyranny, and its close proximity to Syria and Palestine
attracted many suffering Christians to its shores. In the thirteenth
century Cyprus possessed no less than fourteen bishoprics, each
of which were founded on some memorable or sacred spot. Paul and
Barnabas, we know, preached the Gospel in Cyprus, and we learn that
many were turned from the error of their ways to commence a new life.
Accompanied by John, the Apostles landed at Salamis, and travelled
over the whole island, preaching especially in the synagogues of the
Greek Jews, who were then very numerous. In Paphos they encountered
the Roman consul, Sergius Paulus, who speedily became a convert, and
here Elymas, the sorcerer, was struck by them with temporary blindness,
as a chastisement for his endeavours to turn away their converts from
the true faith. The Apostle Saul here adopted the Roman fashion and
changed his name to Paulus. St. Barnabas afterwards suffered martyrdom
in Salamis, where he was burnt to death. During the reign of Justinian,
his grave was opened and a copy of the Gospel of St. Matthew found
lying on his breast. Salamis was also the birthplace of the celebrated
St. Katherine.
The royal palace of Nikosia was built in the Norman-Gothic style
and must have been a noble edifice. With the exception of an arched
doorway, however, but little now remains beyond the outer walls, with
gaps where the windows once were, and balconies with wooden latticework
and wooden roofs. This palace was formerly the residence of the pacha.
During my visit to the city the gaols were full of prisoners; the
majority of these, I was told, were sent over from Syrian prisons to
work out their terms of imprisonment. The Cypriotes themselves bore the
character of being peaceable in their habits, and not easily roused to
acts of violence and crime.
In the court of the palace stands a high pillar, which tradition
says criminals used to be compelled to mount before receiving their
sentences. I could fancy this ancient pillar, ornamented with winged
lions, must resemble that in the market-place in Venice. I observed
also the shattered remains of another Venetian lion, which, a few years
ago, was wantonly destroyed by one of the pachas. Near the pillar
above alluded to are reared three gravestones, decorated with knightly
escutcheons and Latin inscriptions.
In the evening I dined with the pacha, a gentleman of great
intelligence, who has had a most thorough European education. Our
conversation happened to turn upon those interesting relics of past
ages. My host spoke with much regret of the damage constantly and
wantonly done to them by Turkish soldiers, and bitterly deplored his
own inability to check their destructive propensities, which are
all the more difficult of restraint, as they proceed from religious
enthusiasm; followers of Mahommed being strictly prohibited, by the
Koran, to make any image; this prohibition being not only confined
to works of wood and stone, but including the precious works of the
sculptor and the painter. Before quitting this interesting city, I
cannot refrain from adding the testimony of a writer of the fourteenth
century to the salubrity of the climate around this city. “Nikosia,” he
tells us, “lies beneath the shelter of surrounding hills, and is noted
for the healthiness of its air and the purity of its balmy breezes. For
this reason it was selected as the residence of the court, nobility,
bishops, and in fact all such as were free to choose where they
might settle. Tournaments and hunting formed Their chief amusements;
leopards and a species of mountain goat being the favourite objects of
chase.” The same authority states that the nobility of Cyprus were at
that period the richest in the world, an income of 3000 gulden being
regarded with no more respect than a few shillings would be in other
places. All these fine fortunes seem to have suffered severely from the
heavy expenses attendant on their favourite pastimes. We are told of
a count of Jaffa, that he kept five hundred hounds and a servant for
every two dogs. Many of these nobles did not have less than two hundred
men as falconers and huntsmen. During their hunting excursions it was
no uncommon thing for them to camp out in the woods and mountains for
a month at a time, sleeping in their tents and taking camels and mules
with them, ladened with all the necessaries of life. These nobles, we
are told, were men of education and experience, speaking many languages
and hearing all the news of the world from the intercourse they had
with the constant stream of travellers who visited this richly endowed
and famous land, from all parts. The same writer tells us that the city
of Famagusta was still more noted than Nikosia for its riches, and
enumerates the following instances of reckless expenditure and rich
possessions.
“The daughter of a citizen in this city, is stated at the time of her
betrothal to have been endowed with jewels that exceeded in value
those in the crown of the King of France. One of the merchants of
Famagusta, we are told, sold to the Sultan, for the sum of 60,000
gulden, an imperial ball of gold set with four fine stones, an emerald,
a carbuncle, a pearl, and a sapphire; some years after, desiring to
repossess it, he offered the monarch 100,000 gulden if he would return
it, but was refused. Of the profusion of gold cloth, rich stuffs, and
jewels of all kinds, he tells us he feels sure his statements would be
regarded as incredible. The wood of the aloe alone, which is elsewhere
regarded as very valuable, is so common here as to be held in no
esteem.”
CHAPTER IV.
CYPRUS IN THE MIDDLE AGES.
When standing amidst the grand relics of a past age which meet the
eye at every turn in the capital of this beautiful island, or when
wandering about its dirty narrow streets, I could not but reflect on
the manifold changes this fine city has undergone, and picture the days
when she stood in the zenith of her fame and beauty.
The career of Cyprus is without a parallel in the history of the world.
Here we find established in the very heart of the East, on Phœnician
Grecian foundations, a mighty kingdom distinguished by its high display
of all that adorned the finest age of chivalry, and in spite of all the
agitations which beset the outer world, retaining these traditions till
the close of the sixteenth century, when the Turks swept down upon her,
carrying ruin and destruction in their train.
It will be worth one’s while to linger for a few minutes whilst we
note the history of Cyprus during these four centuries. “This sweet
island,” as the poets of the country are fond of calling her, was for
nine hundred years under the dominion of the Byzantine kings, until in
1191 it was seized upon in a burst of anger by our own impetuous and
rash Cœur de Lion, whose indignation had been excited by a refusal to
allow his queen, Berengaria, to land. He at once forced a landing at
Limasol, stormed the city, overthrew the prince’s army, and overspread
the whole island, compelling the people to submit to him.
A prince of the house of Comnena was at this time on the throne.
Richard, for the first time aware of the value of his new possession as
a gathering point and resting-place in any further attempts upon the
Turks, and yet unable to take the government upon his own shoulders,
resolved to make money of his lucky acquisitions, and offered the crown
to Wido (Guido) Lusignan, ex-king of Jerusalem, for the sum of 100,000
ducats. During the time of Richard’s possession he conducted himself
with much severity to the inhabitants. Half the land was at once
appropriated to the use of himself and his followers, a certain portion
was set aside for his personal expenses and the endowment of churches
and monasteries, and the rest divided and allotted as feudal tenures to
his followers.
Such an El Dorado was not to be regarded with indifference by the
adventurous knights of Christendom, and numbers followed in the wake of
Richard to receive their share of the titles and baronial fiefs that
were being lavished around.
As years went on, and one place after another was wrested from
Christendom, monks and priests, anxious to find a comfortable
resting-place, turned their steps to Cyprus.
Wido de Lusignan had brought no less than three hundred knights and two
hundred squires in his train. These Knight Templars at once erected
a lodge to their order in Limasol, and twenty years afterwards their
numbers had greatly increased; some were English and German, but the
majority Italians and Frenchmen. A reign of chivalry now arose which
drew the eyes of Europe to this small and famed island. Wido, the first
king of the Lusignan dynasty, only reigned three years, but his reign
was marked by strenuous efforts to complete the subjection of the
Cypriotes by the building of strong castles and fortresses. Order and
justice distinguished his sway.
Amalrick, his brother and successor, was no sooner installed than he
summoned his followers and announced his intention of at once offering
his crown as a fief to some monarch powerful enough to protect him from
all enemies. An embassy was sent to offer allegiance to the Emperor
Henry the Sixth, of Germany, who recognised the importance of the step,
and consented to uphold Amalrick as his vassal. The Archbishop of Trami
and Brindisi was despatched to bear a sceptre to the royal vassal, and
desire that the coronation might take place in the emperor’s presence
when he visited the Holy Land. Amalrick, however, was averse to this
delay, and his royal master therefore consented that the ceremony
should be performed before a deputy.
In September, 1197, Bishop Hildesheim, the Imperial Chancellor,
arrived, and received the oaths of the new king. The coronation was
then celebrated before him in the principal church in Nikosia. Now
commenced a long career of knightly deeds and chivalrous enterprises,
led under the banner of the King of Cyprus, and many notable feats were
performed by sea and land.
From 1285 to 1373 must be regarded as the most glorious period of this
career of enterprise, the reigns of Henry the Second, Hugo the Fourth,
and Peter the First being particularly distinguished in the annals of
the times; Smyrna and Alexandria were conquered, and the emirs upon the
coast compelled to pay tribute.
At this epoch, Cyprus was the centre of Eastern commerce, and
merchandise was brought thither from Asia and Europe, either
for exchange, or to be forwarded to other hands. The towns of
Limasol, Paphos, and Keryneia, were crowded with merchandise from
Constantinople, Beyrout, Damascus, and Alexandria, from Venice, Pisa,
Genoa, Barcelona, and Marseilles. Famagusta was regarded as the
principal mart of the Mediterranean, and a constant stream of pilgrims
enlivened all the havens of Cyprus.
With the improved cultivation of the land and such developed commerce
large sums of money were made, and in proportion as the wealth of
the island increased an equal change in its inhabitants arose, and
self-indulgence and cross extravagance began to sap the strength of the
upper classes. The highest prosperity of Cyprus may be said to have
continued for two hundred years. In 1337 its misfortunes recommenced.
The Genoese fell upon the island and met with little or no resistance
from the inhabitants, who were quite unprepared for the attack.
Famagusta became the head-quarters of these merciless oppressors, who
at once stretched forth an iron hand upon the trade of the country.
Cyprus never rallied from this blow. A feeble attempt was made to drive
out the invaders, but the Genoese called in the assistance of the
Egyptian Mamelukes, who compelled the Cypriotes to pay them tribute.
Now arose a scene of anarchy and rapid decline; every man’s hand was
against every man, and private revenge took the place of law and order.
The interposition of the Venetian rule at this time must be regarded
as a decided improvement on such a state of things. Katherine, the
daughter of a lofty Venetian patrician, was given in marriage to
James, the now insignificant prince of the unfortunate island, and
jointly shared his throne. The marriage was celebrated in 1471, and
the Venetian Senate adopted the queen as a daughter of St. Mark. In
1473 James died, and the Venetian Government at once assumed charge of
his son. This child, however, dying, Katherine was persuaded by the
Senate to abdicate in their favour. Meanwhile Charlotte Lusignan, only
daughter of John the Third, who had married her cousin Louis, son of
the Duke of Savoy and Anna of Cyprus, went to reside in Rome, where
she died in 1487, bequeathing her claims to Charles Duke of Savoy, in
consequence of which the sovereigns of that dynasty assumed the titles
of kings of Cyprus and Jerusalem. (This interesting fact will explain
the feeling with which our interference with the island has been
regarded in Italy). The Venetian rulers at once attempted to restore
order and foster expiring commerce, but without much success.
In 1571 the last traces of Cyprian glory disappeared under the
blighting shadow of the Turkish banner. The people did not surrender
without a struggle, but they were much enfeebled, and their Venetian
rulers had already more possessions than they could maintain by force
of arms. All Europe trembled before the successful troops of Suliman
the Third. In 1566 the Cypriotes were commanded to fortify their
capital, the city was to be reduced to a third of its then size, and
surrounded by walls, moats, and eleven bastions, all buildings beyond
these limits to be destroyed. The nobility and people willingly obeyed,
and consented not only to execute the order, but bear all attendant
expenses. Mansions and villas were torn down to make way for the new
fortresses. Even the Dominican cloister, which contained the graves
of their kings, was sacrificed, and of the eleven gates that then
surrounded Nikosia only three were allowed to remain standing.
Selim the Second, Suliman’s successor, had a strong taste for Cyprian
wine, the companion in his carousals being a Portugese Jew called
Miguez Nassy. This man had once professed Christianity, but had found
it convenient to renounce his faith. He is said to have incited Selim
to put his son on the throne of Cyprus. In order to accomplish this
end Selim appeared before Limasol in 1570, with the Turkish fleet. The
arsenal in Venice was set in flames at this time; this act is supposed
to have been committed by incendiaries sent thither by Nassy for that
purpose. The Venetians in Cyprus had no force to withstand the Turkish
troops, and the Cypriotes were too spirit-broken to fight for the land
that was only cultivated to enrich their merciless taskmasters.
The Proveditore, Nicolaus Dandolo, decided to surrender the whole of
the island, with the exception of Famagusta and Nikosia. The Turks
landed without further hindrance and marched at once to the capital
with 100,000 men, whilst their fleet kept guard, lest assistance might
be sent from Europe. For seven weeks the city sustained the siege,
and the nobility, ably supported by the lower orders, bore themselves
like brave but desperate men. Twice the Turks led an assault, and
twice were gloriously repulsed, until they were obliged to send for a
reinforcement of 10,000 men, including many sailors, to aid them in the
desperate struggle. The bold defenders of the capital were at no time
more than 100,000 strong.
In the night on the 9th of September began the third general storming
of the doomed city. The whole army threw itself as one man against the
walls, and before sunrise three bastions were in the enemy’s hands;
20,000 men fell at the first shock, but their places were soon filled
by those who pressed behind. The unfortunate women, as soon as they saw
that all was lost, flung themselves in numbers from the roofs of the
houses, and many daughters, we are told, met their death at the hand
of their father or mother to save them from a worse fate. The carnage
and work of destruction lasted for eight days, and when it ceased, what
had once been a fair city was a mere open space, covered with blackened
ruins, with only its still towering cathedral dome looking down upon
the scene. Two thousand Turks remained to keep possession, whilst the
rest of the army marched on to Famagusta.
Nikosia was in the hands of the Mussulmans, and the last Christian
city in the East entirely destroyed. Enormous booty, comprising an
immense amount of jewels, gold cloth, and fine works of art, and nearly
a thousand of the fairest and noblest maidens, were put on board
three ships to be sent to Constantinople, as tribute from Cyprus to
the Sultan. A Greek lady on board; preferring death to the fate that
awaited her, found her way to the powder magazine, which she ignited.
The ship at once exploded, setting fire to its companion vessels, which
were also totally destroyed; only a few sailors saved themselves by
swimming. Four years later Sultan Selim, having enjoyed the choicest
Cyprian wine to his heart’s content, happened one day to take a fuller
cup than usual before entering his bath, his foot slipped and his skull
was fractured on its marble floor. He only survived this accident
eleven days.
CHAPTER V.
DRAWING UP OF THE STATUTES.
We will now give our readers a brief sketch of the position held by the
various classes during these three centuries. The knights and citizens,
the former principally French and Italian by birth, and the latter
Greeks, Romans, Syrians, and Jews, were free. The patrician families
in the towns took rank with the knights, and the household slaves were
under the protection of the Government. The peasantry, on the contrary,
were all held in bondage, and may be divided into three classes. The
first class gave their lord two days’ service in the week, paid a
poll-tax, and a third of all profits. The second class only paid the
poll-tax, but were compelled to remain upon the land, whilst the third
class (ελευθερα) were free to change their master, but were compelled
to pay the half of their earnings to the lord under whose protection
they preferred to live.
The king held his crown in the character of vassal to the German
Emperor, and the heir-apparent was called Prince of Antioch. The chief
officials of the crown were the Seneschal, Marshal, Chamberlain,
and Constable; after them came the baronial vassals (_les hommes du
royaume_), and next in order their dependents (_les hommes liges_). The
barons were privileged to carry a square banner, with the motto “Cour,
coin, justice,” to indicate that they enjoyed the homage and tribute
of their serfs, and had power to chastise the latter by right of law.
The eldest son inherited the fief, and in default of male issue, the
eldest daughter. Homage had to be rendered for feudal tenure, and was
performed in this wise: The vassal, male and female, knelt before the
king, who took their hands in his own, whilst they declared themselves
his true vassals, “ready to protect and revenge him to their last
breath.” To which the king replied: “In God’s name and my own I receive
your homage.”
If the vassal was a lady above twelve years old, her feudal lord was
obliged to give her the choice of three knights, one of whom she must
marry within a given time; should she refuse, her fief was forfeited
for a year and a day, and she was called upon every year to yield until
she was sixty years of age. Should the feudal chief on the contrary
neglect this part of his duty, the lady was privileged to demand a
choice of three knights, and bestow her hand on the one she preferred.
All the barons appeared at stated times at the high court, accompanied
by their vassals. In these assemblies all kind of weighty business was
discussed in presence of the king, disputes arranged, and sentences
of death passed for heavy crimes. There was also a lower court for
the decision of legal suits. One of the decrees is worthy of note:
“Whoever shall appear in this court and bear false witness, be he the
noblest in the land, he shall lose his head.” The court was composed
of the king’s vicomte or deputy, and twelve sworn justices chosen from
the free citizens. All questions of the privileges of the citizens and
commercial rights, as well as of theft and falsehood, were brought
before this court. The laws and statutes in force were contained in a
volume called “The Assizes of Jerusalem,” the “Livres des Assises et
Bons Coutumes,” a splendid memorial of painstaking wisdom and anxious
thought.
It has been stated that this fine collection of statutes was compiled
by Godfrey de Bouillon, with the assistance of the wisest and noblest
of his followers, after the conquest of Jerusalem. This was most
probably a mere fable. Certain, however, it is that a double volume
of laws, one for the upper, and the other for the lower court, was
compiled in Jerusalem, inscribed in large letters, and sealed by the
king, patriarch, and vicomte. This work was enclosed in a chest and
deposited in the church of the Holy Sepulchre. It was decreed that the
volume should not be taken from the chest except in the presence of
those who had signed it, two priests belonging to the church, and four
magistrates.
This collection of statutes was also known as the “Lettres du
Sépulcre.” After the loss of Jerusalem this volume disappeared,
but the same statutes were enforced in the high court at Akkon or
Ptolomais, and were adopted in Cyprus. From thence they were taken to
Constantinople in 1204, and to the Morea in 1210.
In the schools of jurisprudence in Nikosia the statutes contained in
the “Assizes of Jerusalem,” were brought to great perfection with the
aid of many able and leading men in the island; of these latter a long
list of names has been preserved. The founder of this famous school
of law, John d’Ibelin, Baron of Beyrout, was called John the Old, to
distinguish him from his nephew, who bore the same name.
This noble, and Philip of Navarre, who boasted of having been present
at every siege and attack of any importance in his time, were the most
celebrated of this noteworthy group of public benefactors. Amongst
other names, were those of Ralph of Tiberias, Godfrey le Tort, Gerard
of Montreal, and John of Ibelin, Count of Jaffa and Askalon, and nephew
of John the Old. The elder Ibelin and Philip of Navarre had been
leaders in the long and bloody strife in which French chivalry in the
East had frustrated the plans of the Emperor Frederick the Second,[3]
who was anxious to combine the political and military strength of
Cyprus under his own imperial rule.
All the other knightly law-makers above enumerated, took part in this
war. This emperor, who had already overcome the unruly nobility of
his Italian dominions, had attained so high a reputation for wisdom
and justice during his sojourn in the East, that many of the highest
in rank and intellect supported his claims either openly or secretly.
Philip of Navarre, who had diligently searched through many collections
of laws, set himself to obtain all possible assistance from the law
courts of Nikosia, Akkon, and Beyrout, and completed his arduous
labours by arranging his materials into one grand statute book. This
valuable work was afterwards considerably improved and enlarged by John
of Ibelin. Like the “Lettres du Sépulcre,” this work was sealed up and
placed in the cathedral in Nikosia, and might only be opened in the
presence of the king and four barons: In this volume we find the entire
code of the Middle Ages, and might take to heart many a lesson from
the careful wisdom and far-seeing acuteness with which its laws were
compiled.
CHAPTER VI.
SAN CHRISOSTOMO.
Cyprus, the most eastern island of the Mediterranean, must be
regarded as belonging to Western Europe, if we are to class it by its
architecture, its Gothic cathedrals, lordly castles, and ruined abbeys;
yet its mountain ranges would seem to connect it with Syria and its
open plains with Egypt. Of all the ruins of the age of chivalry, that
of the castle of Buffavento, “the defier of storms,” is certainly the
noblest and most interesting. Never, even in Spain or Italy, have I
seen a finer combination of rugged grandeur and romantic charm than
is to be found in this extensive ruin. Most ancient castles stand on
an eminence of some few hundred feet, but the crest of Buffavento is
reared as high as the Lion Mountain, a dark rocky pyramid 3000 feet
above the level of the sea. Early on the morning of the 24th of April
I rode forth followed by my dragoman, zaptieh, and other servants,
to visit this interesting ruin, the foot of the mountain on which it
stands being about four leagues from Nikosia. My dragoman and I carried
our guns with us, and as we left the town were at once stopped by some
soldiers who wished to take them from us, it not being legal, they told
us, for foreigners to carry arms in Cyprus.
After a lengthened parley, and many assurances from my men that I was
under the protection, and a personal friend, of the pacha’s, we were
allowed to proceed, and went on our way rejoicing. Our road now lay
through the broad and fruitful plain of Messaria: golden corn was
waving in the breeze, and not a living creature was visible on the vast
expanse; only the song of the lark was to be heard as it rose and fell
in the blue sky above us.
It was still early morning, and the Cypriotes have an opinion that it
is not safe to visit their fields and pastures till later in the day.
The silence was so intense as to be almost painful, and the lovely
landscape did not seem to coincide with the death-like quiet that
reigned around.
We passed two small villages, which appeared deserted, but for the
crowing of a cock which was perched on a mud wall. When we reached
Manilia, we had to ride through the bed of the ancient river Pedias,
the water of which, it being the end of April, was low enough to admit
of our crossing in safety. As we landed on the other side, we saw,
for the first time that day, some labourers in the fields. These were
the four wives of an amply bearded old Turk, who calmly smoked his
pipe, keeping his eye on his family meanwhile, to see they did not
shirk their work, which consisted of lopping off the ears of corn
with a small sickle—mere child’s play. As we approached the old man
shouted out something to his better halves, and one of them, a negress,
immediately threw part of her garment over her face, and turned away.
With the other three, however, curiosity overcame their bashfulness,
and their veils were only slowly drawn down after we had enjoyed a good
look at their very ordinary faces. As we continued our way, the line
of mountains that bordered the coast lay before us in an uninterrupted
line, thirty leagues in length, forming a natural bulwark along the
northern portion of the island, and terminating in the Carpasian
peninsula. This range reminded me of the Vosges mountains, but is much
more varied in form, and is far richer in its productions.
The highest peak of this range is only from 2000 to 3000 feet high,
but passing as it does through an extensive open plain, the effect of
its height is very deceptive, the mountains appearing very much higher
than they actually are. The crests of this range display every form of
rocky beauty, and its peaks, chasms, precipices, and bold bluffs are
covered in some parts with tints of reddish brown, and in others with a
purplish blue mist that gives them an indescribable charm which I have
never seen elsewhere. As we approached these mountains, the ground rose
gradually, and we perceived the rocks were quite bare, every variety
of tint being produced by the play of the sunbeams on the rugged stones.
We now drew nigh the monastery of St. Chrisostomo, and very refreshing
was the sight of its walls standing embowered in green trees at the
base of bare and rugged mountains. Olive-trees were planted in some of
its declivities, and oleanders, which had finished flowering, bordered
a small rivulet. Everything around seemed to woo us to repose; the air
was fresh and balmy, and from the mountain height we heard from time
to time the tinkle of the bells of the sheep and goats browsing down
below. Two old monks stood at the door to bid us welcome, and insist
upon our dismounting and accepting their hospitality. These appeared to
be the only inhabitants of the half-ruined pile. I have since learnt
that the number of monks is steadily decreasing in all the monasteries
of Cyprus. In the cloister garden were three lofty cypresses, and a
fine palm-tree. Masses of ivy were clinging about the branches of the
old apple and orange-trees. This garden is at the height of 1300 feet
above the sea, backed by a wall of rock fully 2000 feet high. The eye
turned with relief from this vast, lofty, and rugged expanse, and the
dry parched plain beyond, to the soft green of the shady garden, and
its rippling water.
The two old men appeared delighted to meet with an inhabitant of the
outer world, and earnestly pressed me to remain for some days. My
time was too valuable even for lingering in this delightful retreat.
Our fare consisted only of vegetables. Cyprian monks would appear
to be always fasting—one day they eat turnips and onions, and on the
next pumpkins and beans. This fashion is none of the pleasantest in
a country where the monasteries are the only houses of entertainment
that are always open. As soon as my hosts learnt I was a Bavarian, they
informed me that the celebrated Maria of Molino was the foundress of
their monastery, and a Bavarian by birth. I think the simple-hearted
creatures had a sort of vague idea that she must have been an
ancestress of my own. Dinner over, I seated myself in a cool corner,
but was at once entreated, with outstretched hands, to take another
place, as I was still warm after my journey. This is always the way in
the East. If you are tired and heated, you must not drink, you must not
sleep, and above all, in Heaven’s name! never sit in a draught, without
you want to have fever. The only thing you are permitted to do is to
throw a covering over you and wait till you are cool.
These constant precautions are no doubt necessary in these climates,
still they produce an impression that danger is always at hand. This
monastery of St. Chrisostomo, which was, probably, founded at a very
early date, contains an ancient picture of Panagia. Great additions
have been made to the original edifice, including a fine entrance
and portal. The church is formed by two chapels with cupolas. At
the time of my visit the floors of the chapels were thickly strewn
with branches of myrtle in celebration of the feast of Easter. It
is probable that Mary of Molino only beautified this edifice and
increased its revenues. Tradition says that the unfortunate saint being
a leper, was advised by St. Chrisostomo to bathe in the rivulet in
the monastery garden. She did so, and was healed; her gratitude being
shown by munificent gifts to the brotherhood. Certain it is that two
hundred years ago crowds of lepers visited this spot, in order to wash
in the monastery stream, to be cured of their fearful disease. This
pilgrimage is now never undertaken, either because the water is not as
abundant as in days gone by, or because happily this hideous malady is
comparatively rare. During my stay in Cyprus I did not see one leper
except outside Nikosia. This same Mary of Molino, whose bones lie in
these mountains, according to another tradition, built the castle
of Buffavento, choosing this elevated situation, we may suppose, to
remove herself entirely from the haunts of men. If she executed such
an undertaking, she must have enjoyed the revenues of a princess.
Looking up at this grand old pile one is struck by its strength and
size, and when, on closer survey, one finds that two similar fortresses
are situated on the same chain of mountains, at about four leagues
right and left of Buffavento, called respectively Kantara and St.
Hilarion, that these castles command the mountain passes and the roads
to the city of Keryneia, and that this town had the best haven on the
north side of the island, one is naturally led to conclude that these
fortresses were in fact erected by some enterprising conqueror, in
order to hold the whole island under his control. Buffavento, perched
high upon the Lion Mountain, looks down upon its companion fortresses
with the air of a defiant spirit gazing down upon the country that it
formerly kept in check. On my inquiring of my hosts if any one ever
climbed to the castle, they assured me the ascent was some thousand
feet high, and that they had no guide to assist me. Their awestruck
manner whilst speaking of such an attempt led me to suppose that
they fancied the ruins were infested by evil spirits. They, however,
informed me that ten years ago two Germans attempted the ascent, and
that the younger of the two reached the top. This was no doubt the
traveller Kotschy, an account of whose ascent is given by his companion
Unger.[4] Encouraged by this report, I determined to make the attempt
myself.
CHAPTER VII.
BUFFAVENTO.[5]
Our road (with my servants we were a party of four) lay now for half
a league along the declivity, our path appearing and disappearing at
frequent intervals. As we passed along I observed many bee-hives. These
were formed by earthen pots placed one upon another, with a small hole
at the side. Close against a rocky flight of steps we found a small
building in ruins. Here, I am told, there was formerly a garden, so
lovely that it was known as “Paradise,” Buffavento was previously
called “the Queen’s Castle,” Castello de Regina, from its having
been a favourite resort of the island queens during the hot season.
We can well imagine that whilst they held court above, their knights
and squires had jovial times in the neighbouring monastery of San
Chrisostomo. When we reached the house called “Paradise,” I dismounted
and looked around. Certainly the spot was one on which the eye loved
to linger. Formerly the mountain was covered with trees, which have now
disappeared. Below lay rippling waters and fertile pastures, and in the
background the beautiful capital of the island. As I looked I saw in
the distance a shepherd boy, who, it occurred to me, might be willing
to act as guide in our adventurous undertaking. My zaptieh galloped
after him and brought him to me. The young peasant seemed to regard
the matter as an excellent joke, and willingly agreed to conduct us,
honestly assuring us, however, that he had never yet reached the summit
himself. Our guide at once commenced mounting with the agility of a
young goat, and I followed in his wake, whilst behind came my dragoman
and zaptieh, groaning and panting, with drops of anguish upon their
brows. My heart beat with delight when, after half an hour’s climbing,
we reached the mountain’s ridge, and looked down from a precipice
several thousand feet high, broken in all directions by enormous clefts
and gullies, whilst beyond lay a broad expanse of blue sea. The coast
from here is about a league from the foot of the mountain, and every
inch of the ground is valuable. Gardens, orchards, and meadows extended
formerly in all directions. Along the coast are small villages, lying,
as is very unusual in Cyprus, so near, that I could see from the one to
the other. In this narrow strip of country are still to be found some
traces of the ancient beauty and fertility of this neglected island.
This is certainly rightly regarded as the richest district in Cyprus,
whilst its fine sea breezes and numerous mountain streams render
it one of the healthiest. My gaze lingered long on Keryneia, whose
elevated fortress formed a most striking object on the line. Directly
beneath us, so close that I could have dropped a stone upon it, lay
Bellapais embedded in olive-trees, the finest monastic ruin I am told
in Cyprus. Cloisters, refectory, and the knight-chamber are still
recognisable. The abbot was entitled to carry the spurs and dagger of
a knight, and his monastery was a favourite resort of crusaders and
pilgrims. As I turned towards the interior of the island, I beheld a
broad expanse glowing in the sunlight. This, the extensive plain of
Messaria, occupies nearly half of the island, and two centuries ago
was one huge highly-cultivated field, filled with corn, vines, fruit,
and vegetables. Numerous cotton and silk weaving establishments also
formerly flourished here. Every year this once fruitful plain becomes
more unfit for cultivation, and stones and marshes usurp what was once
a scene of the highest cultivation. Nothing fills the mind of the
traveller in Cyprus with sadder reflections than the sight of this
general ruin and rapid decay.
I now commenced climbing the precipitous mountain before me, which
towered aloft in rugged majesty, stretching its peaks and precipices
to the right hand and the left. My dragoman endeavoured to follow me,
but sank down in dismay at the task before him. Indistinct murmurings
reached my ear, and I have no doubt that if I could have heard his
words, they were not prayers for my success, but maledictions on my
adventurous head. I believe he and my zaptieh were fully convinced
that my ascent was made in the hope of finding concealed treasure;
for when at last they reached the ruin, my slightest movement was
jealously watched, and my every act evidently regarded with suspicion.
We entered the ancient fortress by an arched doorway, which is still in
good preservation, and mounted slowly from one ruin to another; many
of the chambers in these being mere excavations in the solid rock, and
resembling bakers’ ovens in appearance.
In such places as the nature of the rocks would permit, hollow basins
were formed and channels cut to receive the springs that then flowed
in all directions on the mountain. We came upon several of these
receptacles, and saw traces of what had evidently been much more
important water tanks. In the fortress itself, comparatively slight
walls were interspersed with rude masses of masonry, and both were
cemented to their foundations by mortar, literally as hard as stone.
The ruin appeared to consist of six divisions rising one above the
other, and all connected by the ramparts. Such a fortress could never
have been reduced as long as its defenders had bread and wine enough to
support life. Perhaps there are few stranger scenes than that of a ruin
situated thus in mid-air. Danger in climbing there was none, beyond the
risk of slipping, as we seized at a piece of old masonry in mounting
from rock to rock and tower to tower.
One of the principal towers is still in tolerable preservation, and to
this I at once ascended, and was more than rewarded for the attempt.
Before me lay on the one side an awful precipice, at the foot of which
stretched green plains and a broad expanse of sea, and on the other
side a sunny plain extending to the lofty mountains of the western
part of the island with Mount Troados showing its snow-capped head.
On one side a wall or rock rose towering towards the sky and hid a
portion of the coast from my view. Observing the summit of this rock
attentively, I felt convinced that I could discern a building on its
peak. My servants were tired and refused to assist me in any further
explorations. Formerly, no doubt, this eminence had been reached by
means of wooden bridges, but no trace of them was left, and a sheer
and rugged wall towered above us and presented the appearance of being
perfectly inaccessible. In vain I sought for anything like a foothold.
At last a bright idea flashed upon me; I seized our guide by his
shoulders and pointing out the building at the summit of the rock, put
my arms about a block of stone, mounted upon it by this means, and
then again pointed to the summit. The boy laughed and nodded, and,
without a moment’s hesitation, commenced scrambling up the face of the
rock, pausing as he every now and then reached a safe footing, to look
down upon us after the manner of the mountain goat, whose agility he
emulated. My zaptieh gazed upon me with a countenance highly expressive
of the conviction that all chance of his sharing any hidden treasure
I might find was now over; but I have no doubt comforted himself with
the hope of getting from the boy a full account of all that was done
above. I now commenced following my nimble guide, and, thanks to a
steady head, found the attempt by no means as dangerous as it had
appeared from below; reaching the summit considerably sooner than
we anticipated. Here I found a tower and the remains of a wall with
apertures where windows had once been, and chambers excavated in the
rock. The view from this point amply repaid me for all my exertions.
A long greenish yellow line of coast lay between the sea and the
mountain, whilst the towering rocks of Asia Minor were visible on the
horizon. At first they appeared like clouds, but gradually I distinctly
recognised the Caramanian range and the Cilician Mount Taurus, and
could distinguish their various outlines and fields of snow.
The most remarkable feature in this scene, however, was the range of
mountains on which I stood, and of which the peak of Buffavento, rising
some 3000 feet above the sea, appeared the highest point. Seen from
this view the ranges resembled enormous furrows, extending along the
coast and stretching far into the sea. The narrow neck of land, the
tongue of the island, as the Greeks call it, which extends towards the
opposite continent, forms the Carpasian peninsula. The inhabitants of
this part of the island are of fairer complexion, and are stronger, and
of more lively disposition than the rest of their countrymen; they have
also, we are told, many customs peculiar to themselves. It is supposed
this peninsula was formerly colonised by a band of German crusaders.
In St. Andronika a fête is annually held in honour of a German lady,
who came over from Syria and settled in this spot, where she lived as a
recluse, and died in the odour of sanctity. Other authorities tell us
that many traces of ancient Greek are to be met with in the dialects
spoken by the inhabitants, which are quite unknown to the languages
spoken in other parts of Cyprus. A gentleman who visited this peninsula
informed me that the people are very inhospitable, dirty, and shy of
strangers. Their food consists principally of barley bread; their
clothes are made of sackcloth, and their dwellings formed in caves,
in the rocks, and other equally wretched situations, and are without
either tables or beds. The north-western declivities are covered with
fig-trees. Altogether, the description did not tempt me to make my own
observations in this, but rarely-explored spot. As I descended from
my lofty perch I noticed that the walls and towers had been blown up
with gunpowder. This was done by the Venetians, shortly after they took
possession of the island. In 1489 they proceeded to destroy all the
noble castles and fortresses of the interior, in the fear that they
might be used as strongholds in case of rebellion against their rule.
These fortresses were, therefore, thrown down as dangerous, and useless
to the Venetians themselves, whose fine fleet enabled them to land men
at any part of the island. Some few fortresses, however, on the coast,
such as Famagusta, were kept in tolerable repair. The crown lands were
put up for sale to the highest bidder, and were, in many instances,
bought by the lower class of nobles, who in this manner became a power
in the land, opposed to the barons of long descent, who had been the
pride of Cyprus under the dynasty of Lusignan. These latter felt
themselves highly injured, but what could they do? The Venetian senate
gave them the title of allies, and made no attempt to interfere with
the book of statutes, but left the barons no occupation beyond that
of hunting and feasting. They, therefore, retired to their castles or
abbeys, and commenced leaving the country. The Venetians had rendered
Cyprus defenceless and taxed her so heavily that a strong desire
arose among the inhabitants for a change of government. Such were the
destroyers of Buffavento; as to who actually built the noble fortress
in such a commanding situation opinions greatly differ.
CHAPTER VIII.
TURKISH GOVERNORS.
I had scarcely reached my lodging in Nikosia when the pacha came to
return my visit, accompanied by his dragoman and first secretary. He
inquired with great interest what I had been doing since we met, and
seemed much surprised on hearing that I had reached the summit of
Buffavento, he having always been given to understand that it was quite
inaccessible. In the evening I called upon him, and we talked far into
the night on the history of the past.
My kind friend had travelled far and read deeply, and in all points
of political history showed himself an excellent authority. As we sat
chatting I could not help contrasting this highly educated gentleman
with the pachas who formerly inhabited his palaces. Only 101 years ago
a most curious scene was enacted under this very roof.
In July, 1764, there came to Cyprus as governor, a necessitous and
avaricious man, named Izil Osman Aga. The first decree he issued was
to the effect that every Christian should pay him 44-1/2 piastres (10
francs); and every Mussulman 22 piastres (about 5 francs). This impost
was exactly double the usual poll-tax required from the subjects by
their governors. The begs, agas, and bishops assembled shook their
heads and declared the charge to be beyond the capacity of the people.
Izil Osman Aga replied that the money must be forthcoming, and sent out
officials in all directions to make fresh extortions. All remonstrances
were met by the remark, that if the people considered he was acting
illegally they were at liberty to report him at Constantinople.
Deputies were, therefore, sent at once to the Bosphorus. Week after
week passed but nothing was heard of these emissaries. The bishops,
after some consideration, decided to follow the delegates, but were
seized and prevented by the governor from executing their plan. In the
mean time the unfortunate citizens secretly found a powerful advocate
at Constantinople, and on October 31st an emissary from the Grand
Vizier landed in Cyprus, cited the governor to appear before him in
his palace, at Nikosia, to receive the commands of his prince. These
commands were threefold: he was to return half the poll-tax, his other
extortions were to be inquired into, and his advisers punished. Izil
Osman Aga affected to apologise, and suggested that it would be more
worthy the dignitary who had to reprimand him if he were to read his
decrees publicly in the state-chamber of his residence, before the
assembled body of his accusers. On this suggestion the Tschokodar[6]
invited begs, agas, bishops, and noble Greeks to attend. On the 5th
of November these assembled, followed by a dense crowd, who filled
the grand hall, and crowded the courts and staircases. At least
three hundred people were in the chamber, and on every countenance
commendation of the Sultan’s justice was to be read. The Tschokodar
seated himself beside the governor, on the divan, which was placed at
the upper end of the hall, drank his coffee, and after handing his
cup to an attendant, began his announcement. The first sentence was
read and the people nodded their approval, when suddenly the entire
floor gave way directly in front of the divan, and the whole crowd
fell pell-mell into the space below. Cries and shrieks filled the air.
Shaken and bruised the frightened crowd scrambled to their feet, for
the fall had not been great, and a few broken legs was all the damage
done. When the three hundred victims of this strange occurrence had
recovered themselves, they proceeded to investigate the cause of the
accident; a very simple explanation was at once discovered—all beams
and supports below the floor of the state-chamber had been sawn away,
and were ready to fall the moment a cord was pulled. Cries of rage
and vengeance resounded through the streets, and all agreed that the
governor had contemplated nothing less than the destruction of the
whole assembly; the Tschokodar also felt uneasy, for certain sharp
pains felt after drinking his coffee led him to suppose that it had
been poisoned. Under these circumstances a protocol was drawn up by the
Tschokodar, mollahs,[7] kadis, and other citizens of rank, containing
a statement concerning the accident in the state-chamber, requiring
the governor to answer for it to them. Their messenger was received
with mockery and insult: a second and a third delegate were sent, but
with the same result. The mollahs pronounced the governor an offender
against the law and the Sultan.
Scarcely was this sentence declared than the populace rushed to the
palace. The governor, however, had foreseen this. All the entrances
were closed and soldiers with guns in their hands placed at the open
windows, who shot down any men who ventured to approach as coolly as
if they had been cocks and hens. Enraged beyond endurance the people
now rushed on, and a fight ensued which raged for two hours. At last
bundles of straw and brushwood were placed against the grand entrance
and ignited. In a very short time the door gave way and the people
crowded in, killing all they found, amongst them the governor himself.
Nineteen of his attendants fell on this occasion and the rest found
safety in flight; the treasury was rifled and everything of value
secured. This done the crowd quietly returned home. In three hours time
the town looked just as usual, and the Grecian feast of St. Demetrius
was carried on next day as if nothing had occurred. Five days later
the Tschokodar returned to Constantinople, leaving perfect order and
discipline behind him.
So matters stood till the following year, when a new governor, Hafiz
Mahommed Effendi, landed; a shrewd and prudent man, who speedily
won the confidence of his people. Shortly after his arrival some of
those around him, wishing to curry favour, laid before him a list
of all those who had attacked the palace, and tried to convince him
that these should not go unpunished, if only for the sake of his own
position and dignity. After long consideration the governor at last
decided to issue an edict, announcing that he had been sent to Cyprus
for the preservation of order, and that any attempt to disturb the
same would be punished by the loss of the offenders’ heads, and that
in consideration of past events he must demand a poll-tax of fourteen
piastres from all Turks and Greeks, old men, women, and children being
excepted. After payment of this fine all was to be forgotten and
forgiven.
The Greeks were delighted to be let off so easily, but the Turks
laid their heads together and asked each other by what right the new
governor interfered with what had occurred before his time. Izil Osman
Aga had been declared an offender against the law and the Sultan,
and in executing him they had only acted as protectors of law and
justice. They therefore replied to the demand that they had only acted
as faithful servants of the Sultan in revenging themselves upon his
enemies, whilst the governor on his side responded that his dignity
would not permit of his withdrawing the edict.
On this some hundreds of the malcontents assembled in the village of
Kytherea and took possession of the mill at which corn was ground daily
for all the inhabitants of Nikosia. They also cut off the water supply
to the city. The greatest consternation prevailed, and the prudent
governor thought it best to send a deputy to Kytherea to offer to
withdraw the fine. This wise act was fully appreciated by the people,
and order and peace were once more restored. The governor, however,
felt deeply the contempt shown for his authority, and at once set
himself seriously to bring some of the higher officials to his way
of thinking. He laid in a good store of weapons and powder, and then
considering himself strong enough to maintain his authority, again
issued the edict.
The men of the city were less inclined than before to submit. On this
occasion they chose as their rallying point the famous fortress, on
the coast, called Keryneia, five leagues north of Nikosia. This castle
was inhabited by a rich and respected noble named Halil Aga, who was
as ambitious as he was resolute. His castle was soon bristling with
arms and occupied by 2000 men, who at once announced to the governor
that they purposed to do battle with him, to decide the question of
the fourteen piastres. Some days later they again cut off the mill at
Kytherea from the use of the city, and appeared before the walls of the
capital. Hafiz Mahommed Effendi thought it best to strike a decisive
blow without further delay. He therefore fell upon the attacking party,
but met with a severe and bloody repulse. The rebels followed him up
and endeavoured to storm the town. The walls and defences, however,
proved too strong for them, and Halil Aga therefore decided to blockade
the city and summon the whole island to his assistance. People flocked
to him from all parts, and such as refused to join him were treated
as enemies of their country, and their houses burnt about their ears.
Whole villages were set in flames. The unfortunate governor of Nikosia
was at his wit’s end, for the citizens were suffering severely from
famine. For the second time he was compelled to announce that he would
withdraw his claim. The desired effect was at once obtained, and the
besiegers laid down their arms, but not before the ringleaders had
bound themselves by an oath to stand by each other in case of future
necessity.
Whilst these events were taking place in Cyprus the three archbishops
of Nikosia, Baffo, and Keryneia, had privately sailed for
Constantinople, laid their complaint before the Porte, and had so far
succeeded in their mission that a new governor was to be sent out;
Soliman Effendi, a very worthy old man, was appointed for this purpose,
and he, they hoped, would prove a mere puppet in their hands. Acting
under these advisers the new governor landed at Keryneia, and sent
Halil Aga some magnificent presents, highly complimenting him on his
zeal for the public good. On this Halil Aga allowed Soliman Effendi
to land and proceed at once, without any opposition, to the capital.
A serious complication now arose with the old and new governors of
Cyprus, and the former declared he would not resign until he had
quelled the insurrection. The weak but good-natured Soliman at once
agreed to this view of the case, and put himself completely under
the advice and influence of the man he ought to have supplanted. He
sent messenger after messenger to Halil Aga with the most dazzling
proposals, and assured him that if he would come to Nikosia he should
be put in command of the cavalry. Halil Aga was, however, too wise
to put his neck in such a noose. Further steps were taken on either
side; the insurgents gradually returned to their homes, and order
was again restored. This happy state of things continued until early
in the following year, when the two governors, who could not let the
question of the fourteen piastres rest in peace, again issued an edict
commanding the immediate payment of the sum in question. Hafiz Mahommed
had now a strong party, and many in the city would willingly have paid
the fine for the murdered governor’s death sooner than aid and abet
in fresh disturbances. The mass of the inhabitants, on the contrary,
declared that the carrying out of the edict must be prevented, even at
the risk of fresh bloodshed, and made the matter a question of their
civil and religious liberty. The governor had his proper sources of
revenue, and the Sultan his import duties and tithes, but such a thing
as a fine for the death of a murdered person, could be claimed only
by the relatives of the victim, and the demand, they maintained,
was in direct opposition to the Koran. In these terms the mollahs
had condemned the action of the governors, and the janissaries, as
the ancient defenders of freedom and religion, had confirmed their
judgment. An open revolt at once took place, the citizens flew to arms
and hurried to Keryneia, and in a very short space of time Halil Aga
had 5000 men mustered under his banner. In order to obtain possession
of two out of the principal fortresses, Halil Aga suddenly appeared
before Famagusta, the famous stronghold on the opposite side of the
island, but was speedily repulsed. He now encamped before Nikosia,
and put the capital in a state of siege, announcing that he demanded,
himself, to be appointed governor of the island. Neither Mahommed nor
Soliman would agree to the proposition, and Halil Aga then informed
them that he had private commands from the Sultan, and requested they
would visit him in his camp and hear them read. This wily message met
with no response beyond such as came from the mouths of the defenders’
guns. Meanwhile disturbances arose all over the island. After many
attempts to storm the capital, and many sallies on the besieging
army from within her fortifications, Halil Aga also obtained some
cannon, and at once commenced a merciless attempt to force a passage
through the walls. Distress and alarm filled the unfortunate town.
At the earnest petition of such of the inhabitants as desired peace
the English consul came over from Larnaka and endeavoured to mediate
between the opposing parties. Halil Aga demanded on his part that a
sealed deed should be given him, offering free pardon to all who had
fought under his banner, and that all the janissaries and officials
who had joined his flag, should be reinstated in all their former
posts. Secondly, that the people of Nikosia should accept him as their
governor if he could obtain the approval of the Sultan. The besieged
governors would only give way as to the free pardon, so the fighting
continued as before. Meanwhile news of what was going on in the island
had reached the adjacent lands and seas, and foreign powers, who had
sufficient troops to carry out the undertaking began to speculate as
to the advisability of taking advantage of such a tempting opportunity
to appropriate the island. The Porte could be readily appeased, it
was supposed, by offers of gold, and plentiful doses of flattery, and
would not refuse to confirm any new government in its acts. Ibrahim
Bey was the first who arrived in Cyprus, having crossed over with his
men in two small galliots, but finding his forces too weak to attempt
anything he at once retired. Directly after this, another corsair,
Dschassar Bey, appeared upon the scene with a frigate and three small
munition vessels. Having speedily landed his men, he took possession of
the castle, near the salt works of Larnaka. Halil Aga having heard of
this new arrival marched to remonstrate with him, and his overpowering
force proved such an excellent argument that this invader also hurried
from the field. The third adventurer was Giergil Oghlu, the governor
of Karamania, situated on the opposite coast to Cyprus. On the 27th
of June he appeared before Famagusta with a few hundred men, who
overran the adjacent country, plundering and destroying with the utmost
brutality. Before the very gates of the fortress, they are said to have
speared seven Greeks and beheaded two Turks. Happily on this same day
Kyor Mahommed Pacha, of two tails, landed at Larnaka with 2000 foot
soldiers and 500 cavalry bearing orders from the Sultan to restore
peace. He requested the consuls of the various European powers to meet
him, and seems to have much astonished them all by permitting them to
sit in his presence during the discussion that ensued. Having heard
a full account of the state of things, his first step was to command
Giergil Oghlu to place himself and his troops under his standard. He
then requested the English consul to write a letter to the camp around
Nikosia, stating that the pacha commanded all to retire quietly to
their homes, promising to show justice to all, and announcing that his
mission was only intended to restore peace. On the 1st of July, shortly
after the despatch of this letter, the pacha marched towards Nikosia
with all his men and accompanied by the Karamanian troops.
Terror and consternation went before him, for report had much
exaggerated the number of his followers. Deserters streamed out of
Halil Aga’s camp until only about two hundred faithful followers were
left; with these he retired to his fortress of Keryneia. This castle,
which is situated on the coast, is backed by steep rocks, with the sea
in front, whilst the country round is so plentifully supplied with
flowers and fruit as to form a veritable paradise.
Ample means of entertainment for the garrison were provided, and they
thought themselves prepared to make an obstinate resistance. Should
the worst come to the worst they trusted to save themselves readily
by sea, as the fortress had an entrance which opened directly on the
shore, and some small ships were anchored in the haven. Message after
message was sent from the pacha, commanding Halil Aga to surrender in
the name of the Sultan, to which he replied that he was defending the
castle for that potentate. On the 28th of July, Kyor Mahommed encamped
about Keryneia, and at once commenced filling up the moats and making
breaches in the walls for the purpose of mounting the latter with their
scaling ladders. The besieged knew how to use their guns, and behaved
with so much spirit, that every attack was repulsed.
The troop ships of the pacha now arrived and opened fire on the fine
old fortress, trying it most severely. Behind them were seen Dschassar
Bey, with his frigate and two other ships; and last, though not
least, Ibrahim Bey and his three little galliots. These new arrivals
completely closed Keryneia on the sea side, and rendered escape that
way utterly hopeless. The efforts of the besieged were now prompted by
despair. The pacha was becoming uneasy at the long delay, fearing daily
that there would be a general rising against him in the island, and had
recourse to base cunning to overcome his brave antagonist.
The captain of the line ships, Meleky Bey, was desired to demand a
secret interview with Halil Aga. This meeting took place on the night
of the 14th of August, on which occasion Meleky forcibly urged that
it would be advisable for Halil Aga to come on board the ships of the
line, and trust to his friendly intervention for favourable terms.
There could be no question of safety, for was it not well known that
Turkish sailors would be hewn in pieces before they would betray a man
who had trusted to their honour? Meleky spoke with so much apparent
frankness that Halil Aga fell into the trap, and before night he had
taken shelter on one of the ships. Next day he was handed over to the
pacha, who, however, received him kindly, and offered him a tent for
his own use.
As soon as this reception was known in the castle, the garrison
surrendered at discretion. The position was at once changed. All the
women were allowed to retire with bag and baggage, but the men were
declared prisoners. Halil Aga’s officers were thrown into chains, and
he himself closely watched.
On the 19th instant, the unfortunate captive was brought before the
pacha, who received him kindly, and requested to hear from his own lips
who had been implicated in the rising. This done, the pacha changed his
tone, and angrily demanded whether Halil Aga supposed that the Sultan
intended that his fortresses should be used for seditious purposes? As
he spoke, some of his minions entered, and the unhappy victim of his
treachery was strangled on the spot.
On the 21st of August, Giergil Oghlu and his wild crew were desired
to set sail, without having been allowed to land. The pacha retired
with his prisoners, and his myrmidons at once spread over the island.
All those who had been implicated in the late revolts, and were still
free, quitted Cyprus. Many, however, were captured before they reached
the coast. Investigations into the recent events were set on foot
in Nikosia, and at its conclusion two hundred of the accused were
decapitated. Their heads, with that of Halil Aga, were salted down, and
sent to Constantinople, with a full account of what had occurred in
this island.
Kyor Mahommed was made a pacha of three tails and governor of the
pachalik of Koniah. Hafiz Mahommed had been previously desired to leave
Cyprus, and Soliman Effendi reigned in his stead. So ended a sad page
in the history of this unlucky island, which during these three years
of insurrection, had lost the flower of her Turkish population, and
seen her castles and buildings destroyed.
These ruins were never rebuilt; successive misfortunes and the
insecurity of the future prospects of the island seem to have quenched
all spirit of emulation and progress in the much-tried population, and
Cyprus appeared to have finally lost her proud place in the world’s
history.
CHAPTER IX.
THE PLAINS OF CYPRUS.
Early on the morning of the 25th of April, I bade adieu to Nikosia, the
capital of Cyprus—a fair city even in these days of her ruin and decay.
As I look back at her, as she appeared to me, I always find myself
comparing the image with that of a stately and beautiful dame over
whose faded charms, faint and occasional flashes of former loveliness
are now and then visible. The day was glorious as I left the dark
city gates and stepped forth upon the bright and boundless plains;
cornfields extended to the feet of the long chain of mountains, which
glowed with deepest purple in the foreground, and towered black and
shadowy in the far distance; whilst straight before me, from behind the
dark, cloud-like masses, peeped the snowy head of Mount Olympus. This
name “Olymp,” which is conferred in almost every Grecian island upon
the noblest snow-capped mountains, has the same signification as our
word “Alp.”
I had determined to ascend the Cyprian Olympus, and to this end had
made many inquiries concerning it. Had I desired information about some
unknown and unexplored region, the few particulars I gained could not
have been more vague and trifling. I could meet with no one who had
ever made the ascent of Troados, as the mountain is now called, or even
learn whether the monastery of Troaditissa was situated on its summit
or lay below in one of the neighbouring valleys. The Cypriotes love
their ease too well to undertake these kind of excursions, and only
ridicule what they consider such unnecessary exertion on the part of
the traveller. Our party had not ridden more than a mile and a half
before cultivation ceased, and on all sides nothing was visible but a
dry and barren waste. On this occasion I travelled over about fifteen
leagues of country, and did not see more than two or three small
villages in the whole distance. One of these was built upon a stream
which certainly must contain water enough to irrigate the neighbouring
fields and gardens during the winter and spring, yet all the dwellings
were in ruins, and no plough had turned the pastures for certainly ten
or twenty years.
With his usual kindness, my good friend the pacha had sent a zaptieh
who was to accompany me throughout the island and give an account to
his master on his return. This was a great convenience to me, as it is
usual to exchange the zaptieh at every successive district. The country
was very plentifully stocked with game; quails, partridges, and larks
rose in large quantities into the air, disturbed by our approach. In
the presence of this, my body guard, the pacha had explicitly stated
that I was at liberty to shoot where and as I pleased, so my dragoman,
who had had some experience of sport in his leisure hours, and I were
able to obtain some good shooting on our journey. Zaptieh Hussein,
my man, was a fine fellow in his way, prompt and quick at expedient.
Like most other Turkish soldiers, his mind was rude and shallow, but
his frame strong, muscular, and enduring. Those who understand the
management of these men will find them faithful and contented servants.
In either mounting or dismounting, when going after these birds, I
had managed to lose my tobacco pouch; this pouch and contents were a
little memento of my visit to Cavalla, on the Roumelian coast, where
the finest Turkish tobacco grows. In the East, where the slave smokes
equally with the noble, from morning till night, to lose one’s tobacco
may be regarded as a real misfortune. My dragoman pulled a long face
when he heard what had happened, and my horse-boy informed me that he
had only a little very bad tobacco to offer me. Hussein did not say a
word, but put spurs to his horse and was out of sight in a moment.
We rode on slowly for an hour before my zaptieh overtook us, and when
he reached me, he drew my pouch from his breast pocket. When a pacha
or a kaimakan has half a dozen such men on his staff he will not fail
to be obeyed in his district. A zaptieh will ride ten leagues to
secure an offender, seize him in the midst of his own friends, fasten
his prisoner to his saddle-girths, and bring him, dead or alive, to
his master. These are the men whose obstinate and manly spirit has
so prolonged the agonies of their country in its struggles with its
enemies. Call it fanaticism if you will, but one can but admire the
courage and devotion that will sacrifice life and property, if their
rulers or religion are in danger. On such emergencies the scanty
earnings of a life are drawn from the chest, where they have been
hoarded for years, to assist in procuring what is necessary for the
strife. Sabres and guns are girded on, and for weeks these devoted
servants of the Prophet will fight without pay and deprived of every
comfort, under the very guns of the enemies’ batteries.
We now rode directly for the foot of the mountain over ground covered
with short grass, stunted shrub, and dwarf palms. Now and again we
passed spots covered with a variety of red, yellow, and blue flowers,
besides many tulips and bulbous plants. It was a glorious ride and the
air delightful, so clear that the eye was never weary of endeavouring
to penetrate farther and farther into the horizon.
About 11 o’clock, having never passed an inhabited dwelling, we reached
a village that lies about five miles from Nikosia, called Akazi. I
can only give its Grecian name, as, though I found the place on the
map the pacha had given me, none of our party could read its Turkish
designation. We breakfasted in this village, and after a two hours’
rest proceeded on our way.
It being Easter every one was taking advantage of the fête to lounge or
lie about in the open air, while some stood in groups round the church
where the village priest was celebrating mass. This fête lasts four
days, but the people generally manage to make a whole week’s holiday
of it, and give up themselves to hearing masses and perfect idleness.
The population of this village looked strong and healthy, which is
the more surprising when one considers the amount of fasting imposed
upon them. Not only are there two fast days in every ordinary week,
but on all sorts of extraordinary occasions. I am told that the number
of these fast days amounts to no less than a hundred and fifty in the
course of the year! I must here remark that this is no child’s playing
at abstinence—only bread and green stuff are permitted, not even milk
or oil may be partaken of. Wonderful indeed is it to our minds to
observe on how few meals a Greek family can subsist. Even in the houses
of tolerably well-to-do people they never cook more than twice or
three times in the week, and fish or flesh are rare delicacies. This
fact will partly explain the slight degree in which the island is now
cultivated. Fruits in great variety and vegetables of many kinds grow
wild and form staple articles of food. It is no uncommon thing to see
the Cypriotes gathering their repast as they go along and eating it
without farther ceremony.
When we once more started on our way, the sun’s rays beat down upon
us with terrible power, and as I panted beneath it, I could not but
compare it with that monster of the African desert, the yellow lion,
prowling about with ravening jaws “seeking whom it may devour.”
I had heard much of the unbearable heat of the island during the summer
season, when the air is heavy and damp, when foliage and grass are
withered up, a drop of water scarcely to be obtained, and man and beast
are panting for a breath of fresh air. We felt the sun oppressive, but
seeing the country as we did in its pride of verdure and covered with
flowers, one could scarcely picture the spot under so different an
aspect.
CHAPTER X.
EVRYCHU.
Towards evening we came in sight of Mount Olympus. Water, as clear as
crystal, was trickling down the lower rocks in all directions, and
a delicious breeze blowing from Olympus cooled our weary frames and
raised our drooping spirits as we lay, surveying the scene around us,
upon the banks of a rivulet, completely surrounded by oleander bushes.
Thus refreshed, we continued our way along the course of the stream
under the shade of numerous trees which became more luxuriant and
various as we advanced.
This delightfully wooded valley contrasted well with the bare naked
rocks above. All day I had seen the snowy crest of Mount Olympus
towering above its dark companions, and had imagined that it could only
boast a snowy cap. Now, as it rose before us, clearly distinguishable
from the rocks around, I found that the snowy veil extended far down
its sides and slopes. All true Alpine features are entirely wanting,
and to me there seemed something harsh and unattractive in the bare and
unbroken character of its naked rock.
Whilst it was still light we reached Evrychu. This, the prettiest
and most populous village in Cyprus, is situated in a lovely valley
surrounded by fruitful and luxuriant pastures, whilst above it tower
majestic groups of picturesque mountains. Evrychu lies 1700 feet above
the level of the sea, and contains seven hundred inhabitants; amongst
these, however, not more than a hundred families pay taxes. This
luxuriant valley might readily produce enough to support ten times
the number of people now dwelling there. When we arrived, evening
service was being performed in the church, and it is no exaggeration
to say that the whole of the inhabitants were around its walls, from
the youngest child to the most infirm of its old men and women. This
open-air gathering had a fine and solemn effect. The people themselves
appeared to me to differ in many respects from the short, stout
inhabitants of the coast and plains, who look as though heat and
perspiration had baked the dust and dirt into their skins. The people
of Evrychu, on the contrary, are well grown and finely made, and their
complexions fresh and blooming. Amongst the women and girls I noticed a
great number of pretty faces. There can be no doubt as to the fact that
these people are descended from the old Greek settlers, whilst those
in the open country and on the sea coast are descended from a mixed
race of Italians, Syrians, and Negroes. In the more frequented parts
of the island, traces of successive races were rapidly swept away,
whilst here in the mountain valley the people have for generations
lived comparatively unchanged and undisturbed. My opinions concerning
the descent of the people were strengthened by further observations,
and all along the mountain range I noticed a strong likeness to the
Greeks of several islands in the Archipelago; the type, however, not
being quite so pure (no doubt owing to intermarriage), nor faces and
figures quite so beautiful and slender. As for manners, well would it
be if our awkward English race could imitate the grace with which these
villagers performed the most ordinary act. When we arrived amongst them
the appearance of such an unexpected party might have been supposed
to have created quite a sensation. Nothing of the kind occurred, the
men and women were grouped about, and evidently eyed us with much
curiosity, but no movement betrayed their feelings or ruffled their
respectful politeness. The girls stood at some distance and observed
us as closely, but with graceful dignity. Such natural propriety of
behaviour is very striking in this population, and seems to leave the
impression on the mind, of their having, as we say, “seen better days.”
Their peculiar customs are numerous and interesting; no sooner is a
guest lodged than a woman or girl appears and offers him an apple,
with the most winning grace; this is intended as a hospitable welcome.
If you are given any kind of solid food a napkin is placed over your
knees. A glass of water is presented to you on the open palm of the
hand, and is always accompanied by a good wish, the giver remaining
standing until the glass is returned, when another wish is expressed
that the water may do you good. When you are about to leave, women
and girls appear and throw the leaves of the olive and other fragrant
plants into the fire. The parting guest is expected to go through the
form of smelling these leaves, in token of his bearing away in his mind
a sweet impression of the kindness he has received.
Who could compare our parting act of raising the hat, with the
picturesque obeisance of these villagers, as they laid their hands upon
their hearts and gracefully inclined their bodies towards us as they
wished us farewell.
Whilst I reposed, my indefatigable zaptieh had been exploring the
village and inquiring for its principal inhabitant, for the purpose
of securing lodgings for me at his house. This man, who proved to be
a well-to-do peasant, soon appeared, accompanied by his sons-in-law,
and offered to escort me to his home. The domicile consisted of
three small, one-storied buildings lying close together and standing
in a small court surrounded by stabling and sheds. The principal
attractions of this dwelling were its strong walls and watertight roof,
recommendations possessed by very few other houses in the village,
these latter being generally mere flat-roofed huts, with walls formed
of clay and interlaced branches. The accommodation for the cattle is,
of course, equally rude and simple; everything about these dwellings
is poor except in one respect, namely, their house linen. The excellent
order in which this is always kept, speaks highly for the industry,
housewifery, and skill of the women.
The landlord’s four daughters offered me a hearty reception, and made
it evident by their sparkling eyes and their delighted manner, that
they felt all the pleasure and dignity of hospitality. Everything the
place could offer was at our disposal, and they seemed as if they could
not do enough to make us comfortable. Various members of the family
appeared in turn, in order to be introduced to me, and all, even the
children, conducted themselves with the most unembarrassed courtesy.
The sons-in-law of my host and a young relative, who was the village
schoolmaster, sat down to table with the head of the family and myself,
whilst the daughters waited upon us. Luckily for me I had chanced upon
them just at Easter time, so we were allowed to partake of meat. The
table was ornamented with a great variety of coloured Easter eggs, and
after dinner the “egg-touching” ceremony began, each person offering
the small end of an egg to his neighbour, saying as he did so, “Christ
is risen.” This appeared to be a favourite amusement with the children,
and many eggs were broken by their little hands. I was delighted with
the charming manner in which the youngsters grouped together, and after
the repast was over sang us an Easter hymn.
I cannot refrain from giving my readers the very Grecian names of my
kind entertainers. My host was called Gavril, one of the sons-in-law
was Kleobulas Christophagu Gavrilidis, and the other Socrates. The
schoolmaster was Michel Ivanidas, and the four daughters respectively
Minerva, Terpsichore, Penelope, and Zoisa; another maiden present was
called Evanthia. How can we account for such classic names, if I am not
correct in asserting that these people are the direct descendants of
the early Greeks?
Next morning I was astir at about four o’clock, and walked out into the
fresh and balmy air. A gentle wind was wandering about the mountains,
stirring the waving foliage of the trees, and rippling the bright water
of the streams as it passed. Thrushes and nightingales poured forth
their sweetest melody on all sides, and a delicious perfume was wafted
around from innumerable flowers, and the hedges of myrtle by which the
fields are surrounded. Only one thing was wanting to the scene—where
was the rustling sound of trees on the declivities of the mountains?
As I looked up, the first glance told me the soil was in the highest
degree fitted for their culture, and yet the eye could only discover a
variety of shrubs and mountain plants interspersed with a few blackened
stumps.
When I returned to the village I found the whole population again at
their devotions. In the Eastern Church the worshippers do not attend
to hear sermons and pour out their own prayers and thanksgivings; it
would appear as though even the most earnest worshippers considered
that their mere presence and genuflections during the masses said and
sung by their priest, was all that could be required of them. For more
than a thousand years, no change whatever has taken place in the creed
and liturgy of the Christian Church in the East, and it may, therefore,
be regarded as more closely allied to the Primitive Church than is the
Catholic Church of Rome. With the exception of its bishops, Cyprus has
no active and learned priesthood, and nothing can be simpler than the
life and theology of its country curés. Books they have none, and for
their livelihood have to depend upon the bounty of their flocks. Under
British rule new life will be given to the Christian Church in Cyprus,
and to the education and training of her people.
When we left Evrychu, our host and his sons-in-law, as is the custom
here, accompanied us to the extremity of the village, when they took
their leave.
CHAPTER XI.
MOUNT OLYMPUS.
We now pursued our way towards Olympus. At every stage fresh beauties
met our view, and every object was smiling with the first fresh
loveliness of spring. Oaks, plantains, olives, vines, myrtles, and
laurels grew in rich profusion on the banks of the stream along which
the road lay; whilst here and there we caught glimpses of sloping banks
entirely covered with white lilies. Before us towered steeps and broken
rocks, upon which a few scattered pines were to be seen.
Gradually we began to ascend a mountain pass, which was too rough and
dangerous to admit of our riding. My dragoman therefore took the three
horses, and, fastening them together, led them along. We had not gone
far before we lost our way. My zaptieh at once began to reconnoitre,
whilst the dragoman gave us a good specimen of his Italian origin
and French manners by uttering cries of grief and distress, coupled
with prayers for his wife and family, and fervent maledictions on his
own folly in accompanying me; his misery was so intense that I could
scarcely refrain from laughing in his face. Had we not been obliged to
help our horses along, we should not have had any serious difficulty,
as our way, though rugged and steep, was not more so than on many other
mountain passes I had successfully climbed. A few strenuous efforts and
a little cautious steering at last brought us to a safe footing, and we
could look aloft at the fine scene that towered above us.
An hour’s riding brought us within view of a broad extent of glacier,
whilst on one side the brown and purple mountain extended to the sea,
beyond which again the Cilician range of Taurus was distinctly visible,
looking like snow-covered bastions extending along the opposite shore.
The whole scene was one never to be forgotten, and this ascent of Mount
Olympus will ever be regarded by me as one of the most richly-rewarded
experiences of my travels.
I had been led to imagine that this famous mountain was still thickly
wooded, but such is not the case; only here and there we came upon
a group of trees standing far apart. The sides and peaks of the
mountain, exhibited a considerable growth of stunted shrubs, with an
occasional fir-tree or broken stump. Flowers there were in abundance,
and whole tracts were covered with hyacinths and narcissus. Not a man
or a beast was to be seen either on the mountain or in the valleys
beneath: it would have been easy to believe that some destroying army
had devastated the mountain, and then passed on its victorious path,
leaving the spot to barrenness and desolation.
As we approached the summit of this famous mountain, I observed that
the trees became more numerous. On our right the path led directly to
the cloister of Troaditissa, and on our left lay a valley extending to
the foot of Olympus. Hussein informed me that the cloister was about
two leagues distant, whilst, if I were desirous of reaching the crest,
we might do it in about three hours’ time. My dragoman no sooner heard
this latter suggestion, than he poured forth a volley of assurances as
to the folly of the attempt, and drew a vivid picture of the various
dangers that would beset our path, winding up by informing me that many
travellers had already lost their lives in attempting this ascent.
Night would be coming on, and then what would our position be? Why not
go direct to the cloister where we could refresh ourselves, and after a
good night’s rest make the attempt in the morning?
I informed my hero that it was now only two o’clock in the afternoon,
and that I had neither the wish nor the time to retrace my steps next
day; to this I added a strong appeal to his vanity, urging upon him
the honour it would be to him and his house for ever, if by his skilful
guidance I was enabled to reach the top. He wavered for a moment, but
fear got the better of him, and whilst I was sending on the servant
and horses to Troaditissa, he started off upon the road, shouting back
to me that “there was nothing in his agreement about ascending such a
mountain as that.”
I was not sorry to get rid of the cowardly rascal, and contented myself
with desiring him to wait for me at the cloister. Hussein and I at once
started to make the final ascent, and succeeded in riding safely over
the rocks and stones until we began to reach the snow. At this point
my horse refused to stir, apparently terrified by the blinding glare
of the snow. Blows and persuasion alike failing to move him, I was
compelled to leave Hussein behind in charge of him, and continue my way
alone. It is probably many years since any one, except myself, has made
the attempt. If Mount Olympus were on the European continent, hundreds
would climb to its summit in the course of the year; but the Cvpriotes
are indolent, and all strangers visiting the island, feel the influence
of its climate, and become disinclined for active exertion before the
end of six months.
The snow, which, unluckily for me, was thawing, formed frequent streams
of water, which rendered my footing so insecure that I sank many times
up to my knees. The higher portion of the ascent was worst of all;
again and again, after hard climbing, I found myself slipping back,
some twenty paces at a time. The rocks became steeper, and the snow
being lightly frozen over, and very slippery, my only chance was by
patiently persevering and slowly mounting step by step, digging my
stick deep, and planting my feet firmly, as I passed from one spot to
another, all the time following a zigzag direction, and experiencing
all those various sensations of hope and despair, inseparable from this
kind of exertion. Alpine travellers alone can appreciate the enthusiasm
that filled my heart, as I inhaled deep draughts of ozone and gazed
upon the scene beneath me. The landscape was one of the grandest upon
earth, and quite peculiar in its characteristics.
Cyprus, the third largest island in the Mediterranean, looked from this
point of view like a green and lovely gem, washed by the blue waves
of the surrounding sea, which met the horizon on every side. Towards
the north-east the dazzling range of Taurus is distinctly visible,
extending along the Cilician coast towards Kurdistan, and opposite on
the south-east the dark purple heights of Lebanon. Upon the summit of
Olympus one stands high above every other object in the island, and
looks down upon miles of varied and enchanting country.
The peculiarity of this landscape, is the strong contrast offered
by its principal features: the blue sea, the snowy mountains, and
the island itself; whilst the latter again presents three distinct
features, the dark mountains covering the western half of the country,
the long chain of hills traversing the Carpasian peninsula, and between
these the brown and golden tinted plains. Only once in my life could I
hope to gaze upon a scene of such magnificent beauty. The highest point
of the mountain which was entirely free from snow, is divided into
three peaks closely resembling each other in appearance. The centre one
of these, according to my own measurement, was 6160 feet (instead of
7000 feet) above the level of the sea. Unger makes this peak only 5897
feet high, according to the map contained in his work on Cyprus. It
is true I had only my little aneroid to go by, but it has never to my
knowledge failed me yet.
In vain I searched in all directions for any trace of ancient ruins;
I found nothing save upheaved stones, and rubbish. I do not hesitate
to assure my readers that as I stood at that immense height above the
surrounding scenery, entirely cut off as it seemed from every living
creature, an indescribable dread, that was almost fear, crept over
me. Not even a bird disturbed the air; and beneath me, as far as the
eye could reach, not a sign of animation was to be seen. On some of
the neighbouring hills I could fancy I saw small villages; but what
appeared to be houses, were probably only rocks. The sun began to set,
and a chilly breeze warned me that I had better descend. I had not gone
far before I saw Hussein waiting below with the horses. I waved my hat
to attract his attention as I observed him looking upwards, but strong
as were his eyes, he could not distinguish me at such an elevation even
in that clear atmosphere. Our way to Troaditissa proved much farther
than we expected, and night had long closed in before we reached our
destination.
CHAPTER XII.
CYPRUS IN ANCIENT TIMES.
As we journeyed, in twilight and solitude around the mountain, and
darkness gradually approached, I could not forget that even, to the
highest peak of this very Olympus, at least 6000 feet above the level
of the sea, festive bands of worshippers had in bygone times ascended,
when visiting this sacred ground. Nothing, however, either of temple
or worship remained. The very remembrance of them was blotted out,
and even the name of the mountain is almost unknown to the present
population. The changing fortunes of the country next presented
themselves to my imagination. Already ten dynasties have ruled in
Cyprus—first the Phœnicians, then the Greeks, to these succeeded the
Persians, the Egyptian, the Roman and the Byzantine ages, next come the
Arabian, the Frankish, and the Venetian rulers, and lastly, for nearly
three hundred years, the whole country has been subject to the rule of
the Turk; the worst period of its history. The earliest condition of
Cyprus is involved in misty obscurity. On blowing away these clouds
a little, we see a large well-wooded country altogether covered with
waving trees. A large town next becomes apparent, situated upon the
southern coast, and out of its haven, numerous small long-prowed ships
are putting to sea, manned by a bold crew, who with oars and snowy
sails are gradually making their way across the distant sea. The
sailors are Phœnicians, the large town is called Kiti, and we descry,
moreover, the abodes of numerous settlers upon the island’s southern
shore. Kiti, according to the Bible, was founded by a grandson of
Japhet—such is the venerable antiquity which surrounded the first
history of the country.
The inhabitants of Syria next appeared upon the scene, coming over from
the opposite mainland, to cultivate these delightful plains, to cut
down their luxuriant woods, wherewith to build ships, and to obtain
from the earth the metallic treasures there hidden. The mines were
worked by the Korybantes and the Daktyles, between whom apparently a
trade partnership or family connexion existed.
The industry of the inhabitants of Cyprus, even at that early period,
attained such celebrity, that Semiramis obtained shipbuilders from Kiti
to be employed on the banks of the Euphrates. With the Phœnicians, the
worship of the Syrian goddess, Astarte, was introduced into Cyprus,
to whom altars were erected at Paphos, Amathus, and Idalion. How
beautiful must then have been the forests reflected in the waters, the
verdure of the plains, the rich colour of the blossoms, soon however
to be invaded by the scorching heat of summer, whereby the last leaf,
the last blade of grass would be dried up, not inaptly symbolising the
new divinity, the teeming but merciless goddess Astarte. Cyprus became
her most celebrated sanctuary, and the worship of Astarte, which was
imported from the banks of the Euphrates, the Tigris, and the Nile,
into Phœnicia and Cyprus, there took root, and put forth new branches,
making its way towards the north-west, and at last reached the Greeks,
a lively, imaginative, and energetic people, who readily embraced the
new religion. After this came the Trojan War, the history of which
never will be obliterated from the memory of mankind. All the noble
warriors and chiefs who took part in the strife with their ancestry,
descendants, and personal prowess, are freshly remembered even in the
traditions of the present day, but the chief thing to be recollected
is, that this memorable strife was the commencement of the struggle
between the East and the West.
At length the princely city of Troy was overpowered. A long and bloody
strife was fought out before her walls, and upon her whitened plains
are still assembled the shades of her heroes, while their fame is
emblazoned in the most beautiful of heroic poems. Soon after the Trojan
War, the Greeks took possession of Cyprus under the leadership of
Teucer, Akamas, Demophon, Agapenor and Kephas, Praxander, and numerous
other petty chieftains, seized upon the quiet bays, wherever the
scenery of the coast had a tempting appearance, and speedily brought
their armed ships to land. They then plunged into the dense forests,
hewed down the trees, and building entrenchments, awaited armed with
shield and spear, to see whether the islanders who were assembled in
the distance, dared to attack them. All round the coast similar inroads
were continually repeated, until at length, they ventured up the rivers
and there established their domiciles; the nucleus of a petty state.
The Greeks occupied Cyprus for a considerable period, and mixed with
the Syrians of Phœnician or of Jewish extraction, until at length
becoming assimilated both in speech and manners, they formed but one
people. Certain inscriptions found in the country were at first quite
impossible to decipher, insomuch that they were thought to belong to
some very ancient people older even than the Phœnicians; these have
however been proved quite recently to be of Græco-Cyprian origin.
Under the magic touch of Grecian refinement, the goddess of luxury and
wantonness, Astarte, became the most beautiful of ideal creations, the
mother of the Graces, the charming Aphrodite. In the imagination of the
times, Cyprus appeared rising above the blue waves, and tinted with
roseate hues. There dwelt the glorious goddess in the midst of blooming
gardens, and shaded by the green foliage of the woods, under the
shadows of which, her worshippers were supposed to dwell in happiness,
ennobled by religious fervour.
This enervating period past, we find Cyprus divided into nine petty
kingdoms, whose capitals were the cities Kition, Salamis, Amathunt,
Kurion, New Paphos, Kerynia, Lapithos, Soli, and Chytros. Numerous
rivers and brooks, streaming down from the wood-crowned hills, and
enlarging as they descended, everywhere distributed life and fertility.
At the mouth of each river or stream was a town or cultivated district,
industry seemed to have reached its highest point, and out of thirty
havens, ships went forth to earn a reputation, which made the island
dreaded throughout the Eastern seas. Meanwhile in those continents,
between which Cyprus is situated, great empires had been established.
The Assyrian, Egyptian, and Persian, each cast covetous eyes upon the
Cyprian shores, and obstinate battles were fought for their possession
in the sixth century, B.C. Partly owing to the persistent attacks from
without, partly from internal dissensions, the inhabitants succumbed
and submitted voluntarily to the rule of the Egyptians.
When, however, in the course of years, the Egyptian yoke became too
oppressive, and the name of Cyrus outshone all others, the Cyprians
appealed to him for assistance. No fewer than a hundred and fifty large
Cyprian galleys assisted Xerxes in his passage over the Hellespont.
Not long afterwards Cyprus took part in the great national war against
Persia. The Greeks spared no money to defend the island on account of
its mineral wealth, and the rich supply of wood which it afforded,
wherewith to build their ships; also for its rich harvests of fruit
and its manufactured wares, but principally on account of its excellent
position, in case of war, with the nations inhabiting the Asiatic
shores.
Great battles were fought in Cyprian waters, by fleets under the
command of Kimon and Enagoras, the latter of whom had expelled the
Persians from all the cities of the coast, and assisted Cyprus in a ten
years’ war against the whole strength of Persia; a glorious example,
which did not fail to make a deep impression, throughout the whole of
Greece. At length, however, the Persians once more got the upper hand,
and a courtesan in Persepolis was enabled to squander in a single
night, the entire revenue derived from the tribute of nine Cyprian
kings.
Next the great Macedonian conqueror appeared upon the world’s stage.
Had it not been for his powerful and crafty father, Philip, the union
of the Greeks would never have been accomplished; they had negotiated
and fought, and fought and negotiated, but were never ready to act
in concert, but now the strength of Macedon had united their forces
under the conduct of Philip’s heroic son, and set out upon their great
campaign in Asia.
When Alexander laid siege to Tyre, the Cyprian kings, of their own
accord, sent to him their powerful fleets and warlike engines, and
strove, amongst themselves, who should most richly contribute to the
festive games with which they celebrated the news of his victories.
Some accompanied him even as far as the Indus, where the Cyprian
shipwrights had built the fleet, in which he intended to ascend that
mighty river. The great conqueror himself, was presented with a dagger,
made by the artisans of Kiti, that was regarded with admiration on
account of its keen edge and masterly workmanship. When the chief
officers of Alexander’s army, from being generals were exalted into
kings; bloody battles were again fought for the possession of Cyprus.
Whoever possessed this island, could command the shores of Asia!
whoever possessed the shores of Asia, but not the island, was always
open to attack! Ultimately, however, it became the property of the
Ptolemies, and remained for two hundred years under the dominion of
Egypt. Heavily was the hand of Egypt laid upon poor Cyprus; the taxes
imposed upon its cities and villages were grievous to be borne; its
nine kings dwindled into mere shadows, an Egyptian governor resided
at Salamis, and lorded it over the land like an independent monarch.
But now the Western continent for the third time prepared a great
expedition against the East.
Already in Italy the heavy tread of Roman cohorts resounded, and
wherever they were heard the wreaths that ornamented Greek or Asiatic
palaces trembled, or fell, withered to the ground. Not a word was
heard of right, or wrong, either towards the prince, or people; Egypt
was taken possession of, and Cyprus became the province of a Roman
proconsul, who established his residence in Paphos.
The Roman system of government in a subdued territory differed but
little from that of the Turks. Unlike the Turks, however, the Romans
recompensed their subjects with higher political culture, with
substantial rights as citizens, with domestic peace, with excellent
roads and harbours, with free trade throughout all their vast empire,
and—what the Turks do not vouchsafe, and in spite of all their promises
and experimental trials, only in a very limited degree can offer to
their subjects—every inhabitant of Cyprus under the dominion of Rome,
gifted with industry and genius, had the opportunity of raising himself
even to the highest offices in the State. Throughout all the earlier
periods of its history, this island was the place where important
business, both in connexion with its mines and agricultural produce,
was carried on. It was the abode of luxury and voluptuous enjoyment,
and deeply as the Romans helped themselves from the pockets of the
Cyprians, there was always much remaining.
At the end of the Roman epoch a remarkable change took place. It has
long been a recognised fact, though dismal enough, that the instincts
of sensuality, cruelty, and mystical superstition, are entwined
together as if they grew from the same root. In Cyprus this law of
nature seems to have asserted itself throughout the land. In presence
of the mysteries of Astarte, in which abominable lust, bloodshed, and
depravity reigned triumphant, we gladly shut our eyes. But, behold, at
the magic touch of Grecian art, the gloomy Astarte becomes transformed
into the fair goddess, that rising from the sea foam, assumes the
beauteous shape of Venus. The lovely Aphrodite, whose worship,
however, still retained enough and more than enough of the ancient
rites. And now she undergoes a third transformation. How at the present
day do the Cyprians name the Mother of God, simply “Aphroditissa.” She
is often represented in the oldest pictures, with her dark features
veiled and glittering with gold and silver; exactly as in ancient time,
the great black meteoric stone—the idol of Venus—Astarte, was solemnly
veiled by her priestesses.
From the very ground, upon which formerly stood the temple of the
Cyprian Venus, little images of the Madonna are frequently dug up, as,
for example, the five goddesses, sitting upon throne-like seats, each
with a child upon its bosom, obtained from the excavations at Idalion,
and now preserved in the Ambrose collection at Vienna. Here, indeed,
the figures are altogether of an antique character, nevertheless,
every one of the five has so completely the characters of a Christian
Madonna, that the observer involuntarily thinks them counterfeits. The
conversion of the Aphrodite into the “Aphroditissa” occurred during the
earliest days of Christianity, when the sensual culture of Venus gave
place to the pure worship of the Virgin Mother. The Jews meanwhile,
long groaning under the weight of Roman taxation in Cyprus, as in
Palestine, and overwhelmed with rage and despair, conspired together,
and collecting into a formidable army slew, as it is stated, 250,000
men, a number which indicates how densely populated the island must
have been. Since this fearful slaughter no Jew has ventured to reside
in Cyprus. Christianity now made such rapid progress, that the country
was divided into no less than thirty bishoprics. The island became a
land of saints; Barrabas, Lazarus, Heraclides, Hilarion, Spiridion,
Epiphanes, Johannes, Lampadista, Johannes the Almoner, Catherine,
Acona, Maura, and a long list of holy persons stand in the calender as
belonging to Cyprus.
After the Roman epoch ensued the long and tedious uniformity of
Byzantine rule. The management of the island of Cyprus, was for the
most part entrusted to the care of military and civil governors,
although, sometimes, both these functions were united in the hands of
a satrap, who bore the title of duke or kaimacan (one set above all).
The supreme governor next endeavoured to make the succession hereditary
in his own family, and for a time succeeded—a result which soon tempted
him to aim at complete independence; for, relying on his position,
and the extent of his internal resources, he deemed the island strong
enough to defend itself. His independence, however, only lasted until
the imperial forces could be got together.
A fleet from Constantinople soon arrived, which, putting on shore a
sufficient number of troops, overthrew all his schemes and punished
his temerity. In the fourth century, during which Cyprus was sinking
slowly, but surely, into political and domestic ruin, great misfortunes
fell upon her. Earthquakes destroyed her towns, and repeated droughts
almost completed her destruction; it is said that no rain fell during
thirty years, when, as the few surviving inhabitants were endeavouring
to escape from the death-stricken country, there appeared among them
the holy St. Helena, who carried with her wherever she went, refreshing
showers; after which the towns and cloisters were once more filled by
the returning inhabitants.
From the middle of the seventh to the middle of the tenth century, the
hand of man caused fearful devastation. Hordes of pirates appeared
upon the coast, who, landing at every available place, set fire to the
towns and villages, and when the inhabitants fled to save themselves,
laid hands on every thing within their reach. Money and fruit, men and
cattle, all were hurried on board their ships. Swiftly as they had come
they departed; in vain the fleet sent out by Government endeavoured to
follow them.
Among the islands and havens of the Grecian Archipelago, concealment
and shelter were easily obtained; the only resource was to place
watchmen upon commanding points of the coast, from whence they could
see to a distance; and to build towers and beacons, whence signals
could be made by means of fires and smoke, so soon as any suspicious
craft made its appearance. On seeing this signal, all the inhabitants
of the coast fled into the interior, taking their children and cattle
and their money and valuables, with them; and there they remained
concealed, until another signal from the watchman told them that the
coast was clear. Next came robbers of a still worse description; the
former only sought for what could be readily carried off in their
ships: these others were land robbers. The pirates only struck down
or burned whatever hindered them in their proceedings; the others
destroyed for destruction sake, and collecting men like sheep drove
them into slavery. These were Arabs; from their sandy and rocky deserts
they brought with them a savage hatred against all religious edifices,
which they levelled with the ground. It was now that the ancient
buildings of Cyprus suffered: the old temples were reduced to ruins,
the towns were destroyed, and everything Greek or Roman, perished. The
Arabs wished to establish their new Government in the island, and for
this purpose they only required bare ground.
In Constantinople every endeavour was made once more to seize upon and
maintain possession of the rich island. In despair a command was issued
by the Sultan, that all these fierce intruders should leave Cyprus. The
howl of the Arab was no longer heard in the country, and the population
began again to gather itself together, first in the plains and towns
upon the coast, and afterwards little by little, the hills became once
more peopled. To this Arab period, succeeded a respite, during which
the island was enabled in some degree to recover itself.
The rule of the Byzantine continued, however, for two hundred years.
Frequently did the Cyprians endeavour to free themselves from bonds
which pinioned the arms of industry, but all in vain; the island seemed
to have settled down into that slow decay, which was the fate of all
the Byzantine provinces. When we reflect what a system of robbery
was practised throughout the western Roman empire, and the absolute
poverty of the eastern states, and consider that the Grecian people for
thirteen centuries had to submit to such rulers; that, in that time
so many insurrections broke out among the German, Slav, Arabian, and
Turanian nations; we must perforce recognise the excellent material of
which they are composed. It is a wonder that after so many centuries of
oppression, spoliation, and misery, so many of them survive.
We have now arrived at the end of the twelfth century, and for the
fourth time the Western Continent is assembled to do battle against
the East. France and Germany take the lead in the crusade, Italy
and England assist. For nearly a century the coast of Asia opposite
to Cyprus, from Cilicia to Egypt, had again become Christian. The
centre of the group was the kingdom of Jerusalem. Its supporters were
the principalities of Tripoli, Edissa, and Antioch, the dominions
of Cæsarea, Beyrut, Sidon, and Tyre. Only Cyprus remained under the
Byzantine yoke. Then came Richard Cœur de Lion, and in one wild attack
he subdued the island and departed. Cyprus once more had her own king,
and by a single stroke order and peace were restored to the island.
Baronial castles, abbeys with stately halls, and beautiful Gothic
cathedrals, sprang up in all directions. The slopes of the hills were
covered with vineyards and orchard and the fields were sown with corn
and profitable vegetables. Rich works, and a trade that extended all
over the Mediterranean, gave life to the whole country. Famagusta and
Limasol at once took their places as large sea-ports.
After having been for fifteen hundred years a mere dependency on either
Memphis, Persepolis, Alexandria, Rome, or Constantinople, Cyprus now
for three, hundred years enjoyed the blessings of self-government, and
was prosperous and in high repute. She built a new capital city, and
when the Holy Land was abandoned became the rendezvous of the knights,
who brought with them their laws.
As in the days of Cymon and Enagoras, Cyprus became the arsenal where
the fleets and armies of Greece armed themselves to invade Persia. She
now shone across the blue waters of the Mediterranean as the centre of
knighthood and chivalry, from whence the unbelievers were incessantly
attacked, and for a long time victoriously fought against, whenever
they ventured to establish themselves, upon the coast from Smyrna to
Alexandria.
This glorious change in the condition of Cyprus was effected, not by
the inhabitants of the island, but by the knights, monks, and citizens
who came to her from foreign countries, bringing with them knowledge,
activity, and industry.
When the Venetians took possession of the country, it once more sank
into its former insignificance, it became merely the treasure chest
and the granary of a foreign nation. The entire population soon
lost its chivalrous character, and gradually sank into a sloth and
stupidity, from which it again never recovered; and to add to the
general misery, a fearful scourge now visited the unhappy land. In
the places left desert by diminished cultivation, locusts multiplied
to such an extent that vegetation disappeared from the face of the
ground. A still greater misfortune was the incessant destruction of the
trees and woods; the very mountains were left bare, and, as a natural
consequence, the rivers and brooks were dried up, so that the parched
land was no longer capable of cultivation. This state of things has
now existed for nearly three hundred years. Each successive season
appears worse than that which preceded it, the rulers more rapacious,
and the climate more unhealthy. In our day, the inhabitants seem to be
slightly roused from their apathetic slumber which is principally owing
to foreign interference. This amelioration exists particularly in the
vicinity of the sea coast, once so rich and beautiful, now so wretched
and unfortunate.
CHAPTER XIII.
TROADITISSA.
The stumbling of my horse roused me from the foregoing reflections, on
the history of the famous mountain beneath the shadow of which we now
rode. Our path lay over steep and rugged rocks, and after a long course
of scrambling, my horse at last refused to stir from the spot on which
he stood. We dismounted in hopes of discovering his cause of alarm, and
found ourselves on the very brink of a yawning precipice. By a vigorous
effort we again found our path, and after some hard climbing, descended
into a valley through which ran a small stream.
In the distance I observed lights, and felt convinced they must proceed
from the monastery we were in search of. As we approached they turned
out to be bonfires, lit to celebrate the Easter fête, and that the
supposed cloister was only a small village. We plunged our horses
into the midst of the rushing stream in order to gain the opposite
bank, but found it far too high. We now rode up and down the bed of
the stream shouting for assistance till we were hoarse, but all was
useless. Almost in hopeless despair, Hussein made one more vigorous
effort to rouse the indolent inhabitants, and shouted at the top of his
voice for some one to come with torches and show us our way.
No one answered, and we sought in vain for some means of reaching the
bank. At last, as a final effort, Hussein gathered himself together
and once more exerted his powerful voice. This time the shout was a
menace. In the name of the pacha, he commanded the villagers to appear
and conduct a noble stranger to the cloister of Troaditissa, under the
penalty of having their houses pulled about their ears should they
refuse to comply. This had the desired effect; two men immediately
appeared bearing torches and led us on our way. From them we learnt
that a foreign gentleman who spoke good Greek, had called at the
village about two hours previously with his servant, and had requested
to have a guide to the cloister; this could have been no other than my
courageous dragoman, and I pictured to myself his anguish when he found
himself lost and belated.
When our guides heard I had ascended to the summit of Olympus they
assured me I might consider myself lucky to have escaped any attack
from the demons and kobolds who haunted the spot. Had I not heard, they
inquired, that the temple of Aphroditissa had been removed lower down
because of the machinations of these evil ones?
The village of Fini, which we now left, lay about 1000 feet below the
monastery, and was separated therefrom by a steep and rocky road. My
whole frame was exhausted, and had I had any idea of the distance we
must still traverse before reaching our destination, I should certainly
have insisted on remaining for the night in any one of the village
huts, however squalid it might be. As it was, I was in the hands of
my energetic zaptieh, who hurried on our guides with all possible
speed. For myself I was quite past everything, except clinging on to my
horse, to keep myself from falling, letting him stumble on by himself,
guided only by his instinct through the pitchy darkness of the night.
I thanked Heaven loudly when about eleven o’clock we reached the gate
of the cloister. An Easter bonfire was also burning here, formed of two
huge trees, which as they slowly burnt were pushed further into the
flames in order that the fire might not die out before sunrise.
I was at once conducted to my apartments, which, though the best in the
house, bore a most disgusting resemblance to a stable; and had scarcely
set my foot upon the floor, when my dragoman’s head appeared out of his
bedclothes, and he commenced a woeful tale of sufferings and alarms.
He was starving with hunger, and the monks had only given him a piece
of wretched bread that he could scarcely put his teeth into! For my
supper, the worthy brethren brought me an earthen pot of the dirtiest,
containing some cold turnips and a small piece of salt beef. Hungry as
I was I could not have touched them. Luckily for us the superior of the
cloisters appeared and ordered some wine and eggs to be brought. The
wine, which was excellent, revived us, and loosened the tongues of the
two monks who bore us company, and we chatted gaily far into the night.
This capital wine (Mavro) is of a very deep red colour, and is made in
the neighbouring village of Fini. Its effect upon my exhausted frame
was marvellous. I have often found during my journey in Cyprus that
a glass of Commanderia was the finest remedy for over fatigue, and I
quite understood the popular idea of its being by far the best medicine
in many cases of illness.
Early next morning I was roused by the bells, which were hung almost
directly over my head. Mass was being celebrated in the little church;
this was far too small for its village congregation, and the men were
standing outside with lights in their hands, whilst the women kept
farther in the background. When the celebration was over, the women and
girls seated themselves upon the trunks of some trees, and began eating
the food they had brought with them, whilst the men mounted to a rough
balcony in front of the cloister, and sat down upon some benches. The
two monks now appeared with baskets and earthen vessels, and after the
men had kissed their hands, presented each with a linen cloth to spread
over his knees, and then gave a plentiful supply of bread, cheese, and
wine. This repast was followed by a cup of coffee.
Amongst the women I noticed many with truly classic features, but in
most cases they had heavy figures. Two girls, however, were perfect
types of statuesque beauty, and would have made a sculptor’s heart leap
with joy.
Whilst I was enjoying this scene a third old monk appeared who was
suffering terribly from a wound in his leg, which had not been properly
attended. I showed the poor old soul how to make some lint, and lay it
on the sore, thickly overspread with tallow from the fat of a goat.
This act of charity performed, I followed the good brothers into the
chapel. Like most cloister churches in Cyprus, it appeared to date from
very ancient times, and was probably built when Christianity first
reached the island. Near this little edifice stood two rough buildings,
containing a few rude chambers which, with the chapel, formed the
whole of the monastery. Should anyone wish to pass a week in this spot
he must accustom himself to the pangs of hunger, as the worthy monks
practise the abstinence on fast days, which they require of their flock.
This cloister can boast one most curious and valuable relic, namely,
a picture of the Madonna worked in silver and gold, with the heads of
mother and child painted on ivory. This curiosity is five and a half
feet long, by three and a half feet wide. When I raised the veil that
(as is usual in the island) hung over the face of the Mother of God,
I observed two large silver plates, bearing the device of the Russian
double eagle, and the date 1799, from which it would appear that this
fine work had been the gift of imperial piety. This was no doubt an act
of wisdom, as the whole surrounding country still seems pervaded by
a host of superstitions dating from heathen times. This monastery is
the constant resort of pilgrims on account of the healing powers with
which this picture is supposed to be endowed, and the poor brotherhood
are often hard pressed to find food for themselves and their numerous
visitors.
When we were leaving, the old monk again appeared; his leg was much
better, and he fell upon my neck and embraced and thanked me with much
gratitude. Our road lay through the scene of our last night’s troubles,
and I trembled as I saw the pitfalls we had passed in the pitchy
darkness, and yet escaped with our lives.
I was now desirous of riding through the country to the monastery of
Chrysorogiatissa, which I understood to be about seven or eight leagues
distant; we found, however, that it took us an entire day to reach the
spot.
Shortly after leaving the village of Fini we entered a magnificent
valley, enclosed by reddish brown mountains, with trees scattered here
and there upon the declivities. These reminded me of the trees upon the
open prairies of America, which are only met with at about every 200
or 300 feet. On the prairies, however, the trees when they do appear,
form pleasing objects in the landscape, whilst the stunted growth upon
the Cyprian mountains only gives an impression of barrenness and
decay. We saw a few firs at an elevation of 4000 feet, and in some of
the upper peaks a few pines are still to be met with. A very different
scene presented itself in the valley beneath us. From every stone
and rock hung long grass and clumps of flowers, and in some places,
these were entirely covered with brilliant mosses and a variety of
creeping plants. Bushes of sage, marjoram, cistus, arbutus, laurel,
and myrtle covered the ground, whilst oaks, juniper, and mastic trees
spread their roots in all directions near the rippling waters of the
stream that irrigated this beautiful valley. The soft foliage of the
tamarisk contrasted finely with the dark branches of the pines and the
silver-grey of the wild olive.
On the trees and bushes were perched a host of feathered songsters, and
every cleft and fissure in the low-lying rocks streamed and rippled
with sparkling water. Every here and there we came upon a spot where
the moist swampy earth was covered with peonies, tulips, and a variety
of bulbous plants, whilst every decaying tree stump showed a luxuriant
crop of orchids and rare creepers. The whole air was so charged with
heavy perfume from these multitudinous flowers, that I breathed more
freely when we reached a slight eminence and were met by a refreshing
breeze, which bore with it the delicious odour of some neighbouring
fig-trees.
In passing through one of these valleys we found the sun intolerable.
It actually seemed as if the heat were rising from the ground and would
scorch our legs. I have, however, never felt in Cyprus, except on this
occasion, that overpowering sultriness which is so often experienced
in Sicily; still, it of course must be thoroughly understood that I
travelled through the island in the freshness of early spring.
Let no one imagine that our path through these picturesque valleys was
without its difficulties and annoyances. Over and over again we lost
our way, and at last we were compelled to plunge into the bed of the
stream and let our horses swim and struggle as best they could over the
loose stones that beset them at every step. When we again landed our
way lay along the edge of a steep declivity and over walls of rock,
without a trace of roadway or anything to indicate the course we ought
to take. A tedious ride at length usually brought us to a deep gully,
beyond which lay another luxuriant and laughing valley. In this manner
we journeyed all day, following the course of the stream and the goat
paths, whenever it was possible, and stumbling on as best we might when
these were not available.
At noon we stopped to rest upon a hill above the murmuring waters of
the mountain stream, and for the first time that day heard the distant
sound of sheep-bells. Gradually the tinkling became more distinct, and
in a short time two shepherds with guns on their shoulders appeared
upon the scene. They were fine fellows, and gave me many interesting
particulars of their life on the mountains, whilst gratefully sharing
the meal we were enjoying. They belonged to a nomad race, wandering
during the greatest part of the year about these mountains with their
flocks, and sleeping in little huts roughly made of branches for the
occasion. On my asking if many shepherds lived this life they laughed,
and assured me that not only men and boys, but women and girls passed
whole months in this manner among the mountains, the women carrying
a light spindle about with them, and plying their wool spinning, a
work they much prefer to labouring with the hoe and sickle in the
fields. Exactly such a life as this I have often witnessed in the Greek
islands of Samothrace and Thasos, and exactly such features, build, and
dress as these men exhibited. Like their Grecian brothers our Cyprian
friends, imitated the shriek of the vultures and the calls of a great
many birds, in the most perfect manner. I inquired of these shepherds,
if they could give me any particulars concerning the mufflons, a
species of wild goat, but could only learn that it was but very rarely
met with. From what I could gather, I imagine that it is nearly
extinct.
CHAPTER XIV.
CYPRIAN WOODS AND FORESTS.
Cyprus, of late years, has been gradually sinking to decay through the
supine indolence and indifference of her degraded population. In no
particular does the whole surface of the country suffer so severely
as in the utter devastation of her mountain forests. All the former
rulers of this beautiful island, Greeks, Persians, Egyptians, Romans,
Arabs, and Byzantines gave particular attention to the cultivation of
the fine trees that contributed so largely to her prosperity. Oaks,
firs, fig-trees, and nut-trees covered the entire island, even to the
sea-shore. During the two first centuries of the Lusignan dynasty
the first formidable attack was made upon the luxuriance of Cyprian
forests, and timber was employed in enormous quantities for the
building of merchant vessels, and the construction of the fine fleets
that Cyprus sent forth to the coasts of Asia Minor, Syria, and Egypt.
Then came the Venetians, equally bent on shipbuilding, but their
prudent foresight forbade them to hew down without planting again,
and under their rule the forests flourished almost as luxuriantly as
ever. A very different state of things arose under the improvidence
and carelessness of Turkish rule. If a hundred trunks were wanted, a
thousand were hewn down, it being easier to select the finest trees as
they lay upon the ground than when towering among their companions. The
best were taken and the rest left to rot where they had fallen. Every
maritime disaster entailed fresh destruction to the Cyprian forests.
Pachas, kaimakams, and agas, year by year increased their revenues
by cutting down the trees, and leaving what they could not sell, to
be appropriated by whoever chose to take them. The fine forests were
under no protection from Government, and the poorer classes drew a
considerable part of their livelihood from the sale of the trees they
cut down. Mehemet Ali, the first Viceroy of Egypt, gave the finishing
stroke to this work of folly by permitting, or rather encouraging, any
one who chose, to fell the trees and send them to Egypt to assist in
the construction of ships, water-wheels, and canals.
All over the island this wanton destruction of their trees by the
Cypriotes is observable. Every village or occupied spot is remarkable
for the spoliation of its surrounding timber; small trees are cut
down at the roots, whilst the giants of the forest, whose huge trunks
could only be overthrown by patience and exertion, have had all their
branches and bark lopped off and hacked away.
Another powerful cause of destruction is to be traced to the constant
occurrence of fires in the woods and forests. These arise principally
from the carelessness of the wandering shepherds and their families,
who kindle a blaze without the slightest attempt to avoid the
destruction that so frequently ensues. During the course of our ride
I have often passed several of these charred and blackened districts,
where it was quite evident the progress of the fire had only been
arrested by there being no more trees or shrubs to devour. When the
value of this rich source of wealth to the island is again appreciated
a very short space of time will be required before the forests are
again flourishing in all their former beauty. The fertility of Cyprus
is truly marvellous, and should a tract of country be left unravaged
for three years, trees of every variety will again rear their heads.
Even on the most arid part of the mountains, I frequently observed
a fine growth of young firs and pines; these, however, would not be
allowed to reach maturity, for what the hand of man does not sweep away
is destroyed by the sheep and goats as they wander unrestrained about
the hills.
Forests of dark pines were once numerous upon the higher ranges of
mountains, but these have also fallen victims to the recklessness
of the islanders. Resin and pitch are marketable articles, and to
obtain these the trees have been mercilessly destroyed. Operations are
commenced by stripping off the bark on one side, the finest trees being
always selected, as high as the man can reach, and the resin taken.
Fire is then applied to the base of the trunk, and a few hours suffice
to lay it low. The branches are then lopped off, and, with portions
of the trunk, are heaped into a roughly constructed oven formed of
quarried stone. Fire is then applied to the wood and the resin pours
forth into a little channel cut to receive it. The first-fruits of this
process is called kolophonium, and the second resin, whilst the last
result forms a kind of tar. Half the resin is, of course, wasted in
this rough process, and when the devastators have taken of the best the
hill-side affords, they climb down to another green and luxuriant spot,
there to recommence their work of destruction. A sort of mania for this
wanton mischief seems, actually, to possess, the Cypriotes. Quarrels
are of constant occurrence between the inhabitants of different
villages and communities, and no better way to avenge themselves
occurs to the contending parties, than to burn down and hack each
others trees under the concealment of night. To burn down a fine tree,
merely for the pleasure of seeing and hearing it crackle and blaze,
is an amusement constantly practised by the ignorant and unreflecting
shepherds as they lounge away their day upon the mountain side. I made
many attempts to open the eyes of the people to the utter folly of such
a course of action, and was generally met with the answer that it was
done by the wish of the Turkish Government. The Cypriotes have become
so accustomed to attribute every evil of their lives to this source,
that they actually appear to consider their late rulers responsible for
their own reckless indolence.
In order to restore the forests of Cyprus to their pristine luxuriance
only one course can be adopted: All woods and forests must be put
under the immediate protection of Government, and every act of
wanton destruction made punishable. The present trade in resin must
be entirely put down, or only permitted under heavy restrictions.
Should this course be pursued under British rule many districts will
rapidly prove its wisdom. Whole tracts of country, I fear, must be
entirely replanted. The land around the villages should be allotted
to the inhabitants, and boundary lines permanently fixed. A little
encouragement from their priests and schoolmasters would induce the
vain and envious Cypriotes to vie with each other in the cultivation
of their new possessions. I had a long and interesting conversation
on this subject with the late governor of Cyprus, a most enlightened
and high-minded gentleman. His opinions on this point were not less
decided than my own as to the imperative necessity of replanting and
cultivating the Cyprian woods and forests, if the island is ever again
to rise from her present degraded condition. If this is not done,
rivers and streamlets will year by year dwindle away, and waste ground
entirely take the place of what were once well-watered plains. The
pacha strongly urged the desirability of introducing the eucalyptus
upon all the plains and the table rocks before alluded to. I inquired
if this was likely to be done, but my only answer was a deep sigh.
CHAPTER XV.
PLAGUES OF LOCUSTS.
Happily for this unfortunate island, the plagues of locusts which
formerly were very common, are now unknown. An old chronicle informs us
that from the year 1411 to 1413 every tree in the country was perfectly
leafless. During the last century, this terrible scourge—which came
with the north wind from the Caramanian mountains—appeared every
few years, and was principally attributable to the fact that in
the neglected state of the country, these pests of the farmer were
perfectly unmolested, and having once taken possession of the eastern
table lands, laid their eggs there from season to season.
When locusts are first hatched, at the end of March, they are no larger
than spring-tails, and congregate in innumerable myriads upon every
bush and plant. A fortnight later, when they have twice changed their
skins, they are fully half a finger long, and have already commenced
their hopping and creeping westwards, destroying every leaf as they
pass. In the next fortnight they again cast their skins twice, and have
their wings fully developed. Now commences their triumphant progress,
and the air is filled with the rushing sound of their destructive
presence. Their rapacity is simply marvellous, fields of corn are
devoured to the very roots, and within a few minutes after their
appearance, fruitful gardens are entirely laid waste. Every edible
thing is destroyed, and it is not at all uncommon for these hideous
swarms to enter the houses and devour everything that they obtain
access to. The work of devastation ended, they fall dead in thousands
of thousands on the sea-shore and open country, filling the air with
their pestiferous breath.
In the present day, Cyprus is mercifully entirely free from this
overwhelming plague. This happy state of things was brought about,
partly, by the energy of the then ruling Turkish pacha, who commanded
that a certain measure of locusts should be collected by every one
for the Government and then buried. The whole population were at once
awakened to the urgency of the case. Trees and shrubs were set on fire
whilst their devouring hosts passed over, and soldiers, horses, and
oxen were called into requisition to stamp out the enemy. The districts
where the eggs lay were ploughed, and no stone left unturned, to render
the general purification as complete as possible. Only money and
people were wanting, to make the attempt sufficiently general.
At this crisis, a large landowner, M. Mattei, residing at Larnaka, hit
upon a simple plan of ridding the country of this annual pestilence.
It had been observed that a locust could not ascend a smooth surface.
The walls of Nikosia to a certain height were therefore made smooth and
whitewashed. Mattei had also calculated that even, when fully winged,
the creatures were compelled to seek the earth at short intervals, and
continue their way by creeping and hopping. He caused ditches to be
dug, and behind these, strips of linen and oil-cloth were stretched
in such a manner as to form low walls; or slight partitions of planks
or other smooth materials were erected. Behind these, other ditches
and similar walls were made at given distances. The locusts came,
and finding it impossible to scale these artificial walls, fell in
masses into the ditches dug for their reception, where they were
either covered with earth, and at once destroyed, or were shovelled
out, thrown into sacks, and buried in other spots. Such as managed
to rise above the first wall, rarely got over the second, and in no
instance reached the third intrenchment. This simple method of freeing
the country of these terrible pests, which was described to me by M.
Mattei himself, was at first only tried about Larnaka and Nikosia, but
so extraordinary was the success of this ingenious experiment that
the example was shortly followed all over the island, with the most
satisfactory results.
CHAPTER XVI.
CHRYSOROGIATISSA.
As we gradually emerged into the open country, I recognised our
geographical position, and experienced fresh astonishment at the
number of fine streams, by which, if proper justice were done to them,
the island would be once more readily fertilised. From this place we
observed numerous tributaries of the ancient Lycopotamos (River Kurio),
which flows into the sea at Episkopi (Curium), and of the Keysoypotamos
(River Diorizos), which discharges its waters near Kuklia (Palea
Paphos), and a little further on passed the principal branch of the
latter river. Every mountain gully and valley seemed filled with the
sound of rippling water, and I could not but compare the whole range of
hills, to one huge rocky spring or reservoir.
At this season, the country was saturated with the late snows and
winter rains, but in summer, doubtless, these numerous sources rapidly
dry up under the burning sun, and the earth again becomes scorched and
arid. From the eminence upon which I stood, I could see innumerable
streamlets coursing down the sides of the mountains, which extended
their undulating brown-tinted declivities as far as the eye could
reach. In the distance, on our right hand, we saw the monastery of
Kikku (the richest and most extensive cloister in the island, and the
very stronghold of Cyprian brotherhoods), towering like a pyramid into
the air. This monastery is four or five leagues from Troaditissa, and
is perched so high on the upper ridge of the mountains as to be very
difficult of access. This does not prevent numerous pilgrims visiting
her shrine, which possesses a very valuable and ancient picture of the
Madonna.
Towards evening we reached the village of Panagia, and again found
all the inhabitants assembled around their church; on this occasion,
however, old and young were enjoying a little social intercourse. The
men and women chatting and laughing, whilst the youngsters sported
around under the shadow of the trees, and lent an animated charm to the
scene. Again I could not fail to remark that almost every kind of fruit
tree flourishes, and bears good fruit in a wild state. Mulberries,
apricots, almonds, and cherries were here in great profusion.
Our arrival at the monastery of Chrysorogiatissa, which was delayed
until after dark, did not appear to please the worthy brothers. Monks
and servants were all in bed; but after much knocking and delay, a
monk and negro appeared, who admitted us, and brought out some bread
and bony goats’ flesh for our delectation. Next morning when I left my
hard and comfortless bed, I found that both cloister and mountain were
enveloped in a thick white mist. This monastery, which for size ranks
next to Kikku, contains fifteen monks, and employs fifteen servants,
who cultivate part of the land belonging to the monastery, the rest is
let out on lease. All the Cyprian cloisters are richly endowed, and
are required to pay but few taxes to Government; but in spite of this
wealth, these religious houses can bear no comparison with the abbeys
of England. The church, which reminded me of the archiepiscopal chapel
at Nikosia, has a fine figure of the Saviour, with nimbus, and right
arm and hand of silver (the latter is raised as though in the act of
blessing). Among the representations in wood carving, I noticed Eve
holding the apple, and Adam with a fine moustache.
As the mist disappeared I was able to observe the scene that lay
beneath me. The cloister stands back towards the south upon the highest
range, and commands a magnificent view. This monastery was formerly
called Rogio.
At breakfast, which was a much more appetising repast than our supper
could have led us to expect, we were honoured by the presence of the
Father-Abbot, who came accompanied by the negro and another servant.
From him I learnt that this place had formerly been the seat of the
bishopric, until about thirty years ago, when the bishop preferred
removing his residence to the more busy town of Baffo. This worthy
priest also gave me some valuable information concerning the present
deserted state of the surrounding districts. For seven leagues, north,
south, and west, the country, he informed me, was almost uninhabited.
Whilst I was chatting with the friendly abbot, my dragoman appeared
with consternation written on every feature. The whole mountains, he
assured me, were infested by robber hordes; Michaili, my horse boy,
substantiated the statement, and both refused to leave the monastery.
On inquiry I found that three men had been making requisitions on the
cloister at Troaditissa, and after other acts of violence had been
lodged in the gaol at Nikosia. This prison, which is situated beneath
the late governor’s palace, often contains as many as a thousand
convicts, guarded by a strong force of police. In the centre of this
square, is a forlorn-looking tree, from the branches of which many
wretches have been hanged by order of the Governor-General of Cyprus.
At the present day the governor cannot put a man to death without
special orders from Constantinople; when this order arrives a policeman
is summoned, whose duty it is to pass a rope round the victim’s neck,
and, without more ado, to drag him to the fatal tree, where he is left
hanging for several hours after life is extinct.
Whilst upon the subject of Cyprian prisoners, we must not fail to
lay before our readers the great severity of punishment now being
undergone by an unfortunate now in the fortress of Famagusta. To Mrs.
Cesnola, the amiable wife of the well-known author from whom we quote,
the unhappy man was indebted for obtaining some mitigation of his
sufferings.
It is scarcely too much to hope that under British rule these terrible
dungeons may be investigated, and the hands of mercy in many instances
extended to their suffering occupants.
“On one occasion,” writes the general, “when visiting the armoury of
the prison, the attention of the ladies of my party was attracted
to some trailing crimson flowers which overhung a parapet. To their
astonishment a short, broad-shouldered man who had remained near them,
and who had attracted the attention of all, by his commanding figure
and fine, manly face, sprang to the parapet with the agility of a cat,
broke off some of the blos
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