Book of Cyprus, by Franz von Löher
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 only51 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 edifice52 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 its53 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.
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 55and 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 as56 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.
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 Grecian78 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 very79 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 his80 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.81 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.
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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.
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 rushing113 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 the114 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 pot115 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 plentiful116 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 double117 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 an118 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,119 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 year120 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.
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 late131 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 the132 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 the133 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 the134 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 blossoms, and returning, presented a spray to each of the ladies with the utmost grace. As he did so, they observed to their horror that he was shackled with heavy iron chains from the wrist to the ankle.”
His large, sad blue eyes, and hair prematurely streaked with grey, seemed to plead in his favour, and on inquiring his crime the general learned that he was no less a personage than the celebrated Kattirdje Janni, the Robin Hood of the Levant. This robber chief, it is stated, never committed a murder, or permitted one to be perpetrated by his band. It appears, that whilst in the service of a gentleman in Smyrna he fell in love with his master’s daughter, with whom he135 planned an elopement, but having been betrayed, he was overtaken and thrown into prison. From thence he escaped into the mountains, near the ruins of Ephesus, and entered upon the wild career which finally brought him to Famagusta. He and his band were in the habit of lying in wait for the parties who they knew were travelling with large sums of money, and kindly relieving them of its charge. They also frequently captured persons of wealth and detained them until a ransom had been paid. Kattirdje Janni would often give this money in alms to the poor, and we are told he presented about one thousand young Greek girls with marriage portions. No one ever dreamed of informing against him, owing to a superstitious belief amongst the peasants that evil would befall the man who did so, and all attempts of the Government to take any of the band were long futile.
“At the time of the Crimean war, whilst the English army was at Smyrna, five hundred soldiers went out, assisted by the Turks, in order to secure him, but were entirely unsuccessful. The following authentic incident will testify to the boldness of this robber chief, and the terror in which he was held. One evening, when a family near Smyrna were sitting at supper, they were amazed at beholding twelve men armed to the teeth enter the apartment, headed by the bold outlaw. These uninvited guests, quietly seated themselves, remarking that they would wait until the family had finished eating, and then they would have some supper. When Kattirdje Janni had finished his repast, he told his trembling host that he and136 his family were henceforth free to hunt and travel where they liked, as he, Kattirdje Janni, never forgot a kindness.
“Tiring of this wild life, he gave himself up to the Turkish authorities, on the understanding that he was to be exiled to Cyprus, and not otherwise punished. The Turks would probably have been merciful to him, but, unfortunately, a young Frenchman, connected with the consulate of Smyrna, had been very badly used by his band. On this account the French ambassador insisted, that Kattirdje Janni should be imprisoned and treated in the most rigorous manner. He was immured in a dungeon, and for seven years chained like a wild beast to the walls of his cell. He was afterwards removed to the fortress of Famagusta, where he is still confined.”
The two superiors of the monastery accompanied me to the gates, where I found eight stalwart grey-bearded brothers waiting to bid me farewell. I could not refrain from commenting on their fine figures, when they laughingly assured me, there were many more of their stamp to be found in these mountains. Their faces were sunburnt and ruddy, and contrasted strangely with the white robes of their order. I may here mention that these mountaineers love their native hills with an ardour not to be surpassed by any people in the world. As we descended the steep face of the mountain the whole scene was still enveloped in a thick mist. At the bottom we saw two Turkish women tending their cows, and looking in their white veils like a couple of substantial ghosts.137 About a league and a half further on, we passed a deserted church, which was perched upon a rock, and completely in ruins. We also observed some sheep, with broad flat tails, grazing on the mountain side. During the whole of this journey to the coast I could readily have imagined I was travelling over one of the rocky parts of Northern Germany, whilst the scenery to the north-east, with its craggy peaks, strongly recalled to my remembrance some parts of the Vosges mountains. I must, however, admit that the Cyprian scenery is decidedly finer than that of Upper Alsace. Such human habitations as we passed were miserable in the extreme; mere mud-roofed huts with a small aperture to admit of ingress and egress. These structures closely resemble those I have seen in the north parts of Samothrace, but the latter are somewhat larger and certainly cleaner.
After four hours’ hard riding we at length descended into a narrow valley which opened upon the plains beyond, and afforded us a good view of the sea, with its yellowish green coast. Our journey through the mountains was almost over, and on the whole, I must confess to a feeling of disappointment, as I looked back over all I had seen. During the last four days the neglected state of the country and the wretched condition of its people seemed to have thrown a veil of depression and melancholy over every spot I visited, whilst even the grand and imposing mountain ranges I had traversed, would not bear comparison with those of Crete or the Canary Islands.
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As we now approached the coast I saw before me the portion of country, formerly dedicated to the worship of the Goddess of Beauty. This tract, which is about one and a half leagues broad, extends for three or four leagues along the shore, and slopes gently to the sea. Directly before me lay the small town of Ktima, whilst somewhat lower down, nestled a small fort. On this spot formerly stood the city of New Paphos, and on the left, about two leagues distant, the village of Kuklia, which stands upon the site of Old Paphos. The scenery at this spot possesses much quiet beauty. In the rear tower the dark hills, looking down upon an extensive open tract of fields, whilst in front spreads the sea, the waters of which encroach upon the land in a picturesque variety of curves and tiny bays. At this spot, the ocean-born goddess was supposed to have been borne upon the waves to shore, and here, upon a slight eminence, the most famous and ancient of her numerous temples was erected. Crowds of pilgrims and eager worshippers hurried to the spot and joined in the excited processions that passed backwards and forwards between Old and New Paphos.
ST. NICHOLAS AND LIMASOL.
Whilst I was in Kolossin I learnt that some fine marble pillars, which lay outside in the court-yard, had been brought from the Abbey of St. Nicholas, which was only some few leagues off, upon the neighbouring peninsula. Everything I heard of this interesting ruin made me more desirous of inspecting it. Visions of European abbeys floated before my eyes, and I determined to start at once to view this Cyprian reality.
Next morning I sent on my dragoman and horse-boy to Limasol, with orders to try and get lodgings for me in the Franciscan cloisters, and then rode forward with Hussein on the way to St. Nicholas. After about an hour and a half’s hard riding, we reached the south portion of the peninsula. The spot was a bare, open plain, and the water by which203 it was surrounded, full of reeds. We had scarcely reached our destination, than torrents of rain began to fall, and we were forced to take shelter under a ruined wall, standing our horses in front of us, to prevent our being literally washed away. Happily, the storm was only of short duration, and the ground was soon dry again, and we could continue our investigations. The little church of St. Nicholas, which was evidently built in the fifteenth century, is in good condition, and stands in the midst of the ruined abbey, the rectangular walls of which surround it. On closely examining the church it was easy to trace the solid foundations of the ancient temple, on the site of which it had been built. Rows of broken pillars, some extending along the hinder walls, indicated what had once been a covered walk for the monks. Over the doorway was a huge marble tablet, on which five coats-of-arms were chiselled. The ancient temple which preceded the abbey had evidently been very extensive, and I could trace its foundations for some feet beyond the cloister walls. In one corner stood what had been an altar, and near it a very deep cistern. The old walls here, which are as hard as iron, had been taken in large masses to form, evidently, the abbey walls. Marble pillars lay in all directions, but I saw none as fine as the two that had attracted my attention in the inn yard at Kolossin. No trace of the abbey garden was left, beyond some olive-trees, the roots of which were buried quite impartially under the ancient and mediæval walls. A few goats were wandering about, and204 gave a touch of animation to the melancholy and deserted scene. The water about this peninsula is as rich in salt as is that near Larnaka.
I mounted a neighbouring eminence, but could see no trace of life. Not a ship, or boat, appeared upon the bosom of the sea beyond, and I could not help asking myself, as I descended, if this whole country was destined to remain desolate for ever, or if we could hope that, under a new government, it might attain fresh vitality, and again take its place as one of the animated spots of the earth.
The road from the ruins of the temple and monastery upon the southern peninsula, a distance of about three and a half hours’ ride, winds around the salt marsh, and then turns towards the sea. Limasol is more European in its appearance than any other town in Cyprus. Houses built of clay and stone predominate here, more especially in the part inhabited by the Turks.
Clay and wood seem, at the present day, to be the favourite building materials of these people, and it is the same wherever they settle. Even a small party of Turkish women that we encountered, were making a house exactly as in Smyrna or Constantinople. When these women see a stranger approaching at a distance, they cover themselves up, but as he draws nearer, the pretty ones always draw their veils a little aside, so that he may have a peep at their fresh, smiling faces. This use of the veil appears general throughout Turkey, and was practised even during the time of the Crusaders.
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We rode through a long street, and as we approached a stately-looking house, Hussein called my attention to a flag emblazoned with the German eagle, which floated over the roof; with delight I recognised it, and read the familiar inscription. I then rode on to the Franciscan convent, where the little monk, who stood before the door, came forward to receive me with every demonstration of joy and fatherly welcome. Hardly had I refreshed myself with a cup of excellent coffee, than he arose and insisted upon my following him to my chamber and resting myself after my fatiguing journey. He afterwards came to fetch me, in order that he might show me over the convent. From the terrace we had a noble prospect, looking towards the mountains which, although bare, rose grandly above the surface of the plain. Behind the garden, we found a little sequestered churchyard. The small number of graves, indicated that during a long period only two or three of the brotherhood had here found their resting-place. It would seem that these monks had been placed here, more to watch over the place, than for any pastoral service. For the purposes of worship a new and very beautiful church was in course of erection; the money to build this had come from Rome, where gold is always forthcoming to build churches with, in any part of the world where Roman Catholics are to be found.
After we had returned to the dining-hall, there entered a very smart merchant from Tyre, who, like myself, was a guest in the convent. This man offered me a gem that he said he206 had just found, for which he asked an enormous price. He was not at all abashed when I told him the value of the article might possibly be a couple of piastres. The manufacture of these pretended antiquities is carried on in Smyrna, Beyrut, and Jerusalem on an extensive scale, and appears to be very profitable.
And now the German consular agent appeared with his cavass, dragoman, and staff of officers, to greet me on my arrival, and when they departed, Hussien marched after them, and thus they paraded about the town, and through the bazaar. People are very fond of show and parade of this description, a passion doubtless derived from the customs of the Romans and Byzantines. The German resident in Limasol seemed somewhat disappointed because we had passed his house without calling, and urgently insisted on my accompanying him home, where, he said, everything had been prepared for my reception. The little priest, however, had laid an embargo on my person, and declared that such an affront should not be offered to his convent. The Italian consul also paid me a visit, and also the master of the Greek school, and I was highly amused, knowing, as I did, that all these pressing invitations were given with the full knowledge that the next steamer for Constantinople left Larnaka in three days, and that there was no chance of my waiting a whole week for the next. I then in company with the Greek schoolmaster, took a walk through the town, and inspected the bazaar, the schools, and the church. In the higher school207 there were about twenty scholars, in the lower upwards of a hundred; their number increases rapidly from one half year to another. Behind the school I noticed a column, the capital of which was very handsome, and which I was told had been brought from the monastery of St. Nicholas. The interior of the town has a very European appearance; it is, indeed, principally modern, and has been built—a good augury for Cyprus—in consequence of the increased export of wines grown in the country.
Limasol at the present day contains about six thousand inhabitants, of whom one-third, and these the poorest, are Turks. Among the Greek population there are already several well-to-do merchants, who trade in flax and wool.
In the evening, a visit to our consular agent enabled me to observe the domestic economy of the Cyprians, in a Greek house of some pretensions. The agent himself is a young man of polished address and very engaging manners, the mistress of the house charmingly beautiful. There was also a lady whose bright and sparkling eyes gleamed with intelligence and persevering energy. Her family belonged to the oldest nobility of the island, and yet had not been resident there for more than a century and a half. Under Turkish rule families do not easily attain to nobility or distinction. It may also be remarked that of late years the higher Turkish officials, who came from Constantinople, were seldom people of such refined manners as their predecessors. How can it be otherwise, seeing that money is now the only key whereby208 admission to office can be obtained? Even the multitude of green-turbaned descendants of the Prophet, are quickly disappearing. In China they manage better. After the imperial family, ranks that of Kung-fu-tso (Confucius), and there are about ten thousand living descendants of the sage—but it is only the real lineal head of the family, the Prince Kung, who is benefited by the renown of his ancestry. In Turkey, on the contrary, the canker-worm has been long devouring the whole ancestral tree, root and branch. The curse of the country is, that dignity and work are thought to be incompatible with each other, and the descendants of the Prophet consider themselves too illustrious to do anything.
About ten o’clock we sat down to table, and our first glass was dedicated to our country’s noble flag, which waved above the roof of the house. At this time, however, there were few Germans in Limasol, and during the whole year but two or three German vessels had cast anchor in the roadstead.
I am, however, pretty well convinced that a good trade might be established here, even if the cargoes consisted entirely of wine. The conversation turned principally on the population and revenue, and I succeeded in making a few additions to my knowledge concerning the statistics of the country. As regards the population of Cyprus, I was told that the Turks numbered about 200,000, and Greeks 100,000. An European observer, who was long a resident here, reckoned 100,000 Greeks, 40,000 Turks, and 1000 Maronites and Roman Catholics; most probably, however, if we estimate209 the total at 150,000, of whom about a third are Turks, we should not be far from the truth.
Equally at variance with each other were the accounts that I received concerning the revenue, although my questions were only put to persons who, ex officio, were able at least to give approximate information. The revenue derived from the customs and taxes, was estimated by one at thirty-five millions of piastres, by another at thirty millions, and by a third at twenty-four millions; the figures set down in the following Table are, however, probably nearer the mark:
piastres
Tithes upon all income 7,000,000
””land 400,000
Land tax (tolls upon product) 5,000,000
Military taxes upon Christians 550,000
Head money upon sheep 700,000
Weighing taxes upon sales 300,000
Customs upon salt 1,500,000
””wines 1,000,000
””exported silk 200,000
””fish 20,000
—————
Total 16,670,000
Truly, for a country so large, so luxurious, and so rich (when we consider the small value of the piastre), this is but a sorry income. From this, moreover, must be deducted the cost of the mosques, Mohammedan schools, and other similar institutions, which even in Cyprus are distributed over a con210siderable portion of the island. These are placed under the superintendence of the Mohammedan priesthood, and there is a proverb which says, “Sooner will the eyes of the dead shed tears, than priests give up money.” In Cyprus it is well understood that, of all these taxes, not above two or three millions of piastres find their way to Constantinople; nay, that the inhabitants have, in addition to these imposts, to pay considerable sums to the Turkish officials to keep them in a good humour. Moreover, the Turks are constantly obliged to bribe one another, in order to keep themselves in office, and to maintain the dignity of their position. The sums expended upon roads, bridges, and public buildings, are of very trifling amount. Even the cost of the military establishment is exceedingly small. The population is too weak and too lazy to require much of a garrison, and the Turks come willingly from other places, to fulfil the military duties in so quiet a spot.
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CHAPTER XXVII
AMATHUS.
Next morning we journeyed onwards towards Amathus. The day was lovely, one of the most exquisite I have ever experienced in any climate, and as we galloped along, my veins seemed to dance with every breath I drew. At such moments one readily comprehends why the inhabitants of Cyprus have never taken any high place in the fields of literature and art, and why its seductive and enervating air has always proved attractive to the Turks, as it did formerly to the ancient Romans. Our road lay through waving cornfields, the rich golden hues of which were finely contrasted with the deep blue waters of the sea, which in many places reached the very borders of the fields. Suddenly a change arose, the sun mounted high into the heavens, and beat down upon us with such fiery force and fury, as caused me fully to appreciate the appropriateness of the symbol stamped upon the212 ancient coins of Cyprus, namely, a devouring lion, backed, in some instances, by an image of the sun’s rays. Terrible, indeed, is the destruction worked by the ravening jaws of Phœbus Apollo, upon the fruitful gardens and flowery plains of this fertile island. At these seasons, only such fields as lie close to the sea can resist the parching blight; in these tracts on the shore, plants of all kind flourish luxuriantly, drawing the moisture which supports them from the refreshing dews borne to them from the neighbouring waves. In such of these cultivated portions of the coast as also enjoy the moisture brought by the smaller streams, as they discharge themselves into the sea, the harvests and crops are still more luxuriant. Not only the country near to Limasol, over which I was now riding, but the coast about Episkopi, Kition, Larnaka, Famagusta, besides the north coast near Morphu and Lagathos, and other places, possess many of these most valuable agricultural districts. Much land has already been reclaimed for the purposes of cultivation, and there is no reason why so successful an experiment should not be attempted upon many other parts of the coast.
After about two hours’ riding, we reached what appeared to me to be the ruins of a church, standing close to the shore, and beside these a heap of ancient hewn stones, lying ready to be shipped for Port Saïd, where they were to be employed in the construction of a new harbour. On our left rose a mountain, with fields of corn extending to a considerable distance up its slopes. My dragoman was most desirous213 to ride on, without my lingering to investigate the spot, and when I assured him that this mount was certainly the site of the ancient Amathus, positively asserted that not a trace of anything was to be seen. I believe the rascal was afraid he should again get more climbing than suited his indolence, for he declared in piteous accents that it would take us fully an hour to reach the summit. By this time, however, I knew the gentleman I had to deal with, and persisted in my determination to make the attempt. Our road was certainly of the steepest, but the way was short, and in about fifteen minutes we were at the top. Much did I rejoice that I had persevered in my own course, for before me lay the spot that I had sought. The mount was indeed a natural fortress of the first order, and must have afforded most secure refuse during the disturbed periods of the island’s history. On the side facing the sea, by which we had ascended, I could trace the foundations of an ancient rampart. On the other three sides, such protection had been quite unnecessary, as the rock rose sheer, and almost perpendicularly from the fruitful valley at its base. Here had once stood a large city, founded by the Phœnicians, which is still called in Hebrew, Hamath, or the fortified city. The building appears to have covered the eminence, and from thence extended to the shores of the sea. Tacitus, and other ancient writers, speak of Amathus as the oldest city in Cyprus; at the present day, it may be described as the one of which the traces have been most ruthlessly destroyed. With the exception of the shattered pieces of a214 gigantic vase, of which I shall speak presently, and the ruined church upon the coast, no trace is left of its former greatness. From the top of the mount to the very shores of the sea, every sign has been removed, beyond that afforded by heaps of broken stones and potsherds.
Twelve years ago, the last valuable was removed by French antiquarians. This relic was one of two gigantic vases, finely shaped in solid stone, with sides almost a foot in thickness, and ornamented with four gracefully arched handles, decorated with palm branches, and adorned upon its sides by the images of four bulls. The interior of this delicately chiselled but gigantic vase, was about ten feet in diameter, and so deep that an ordinary man standing within could just have looked over its edges. At the time this spot was visited by the French travellers we speak of, one of these two precious relics stood above ground, and was quite perfect, whilst the other was partially buried in the earth. Disgraceful as it may appear, the fact is certain, that when the French officers, who were overlooking the removal of the perfect vase, found that its companion, embedded in the earth, was somewhat in their way, they at once ordered the sailors who were with them to smash it to pieces. This fact was related to me by a gentleman of high position in Limasol, who was an eye-witness of this act of wanton destruction. My zaptieh, Hussein, it afterwards appeared, had been present with his master, my friendly pacha, whilst this monster vase was being pulled down the mountain, and spoke with enthusiasm of its enormous size215 and beauty. He also informed me that the French frigate, “La Perdrix,” commanded by Comte de Vögue, had a small steamship to assist in conveying the valuable relic. I found pieces of a handle of the broken vase lying strewn about the mountain.
For a thousand years, these giant mementos of a former age had stood upon these mountains, to record the grandeur of past ages, and would have remained untouched by the wear and tear of centuries to come, had it not been for the barbarous Vandalism of a handful of French officers. What may have been the use of these magnificent vessels, is quite uncertain; the oxen sculptured upon them would appear to give them a religious significance, and we know that similar vases stood without the Temple at Jerusalem. It is most probable they were in some manner connected with the numerous sacrifices that formed so large a part of the religious ceremonies to Venus.
On these heights, the feasts in honour of Adonis were held. This beautiful youth, the beloved of Venus, is said to have met his death in the Idalion forest between Larnaka and Famagusta, where, according to heathen mythology, he was killed by a wild boar he had wounded. Anemones are said to have sprung up from the ground that was moistened by his blood. These feasts to Adonis, which were first celebrated at Byblos, in Phœnicia, were afterwards introduced to Greece and Cyprus. In the latter country they lasted eight days, of which the first four were spent in howling and lamenting,216 and the four last in joyful clamours, as if Adonis had returned to life. The orgies, in connection with these feasts, were immoral in the extreme, and we are told that Pygmalion, the celebrated statuary of Cyprus, was so disgusted by the profligacy of the women of Amathus, that he resolved never to marry. The affection he had denied to the other sex, he, therefore, liberally poured forth upon the creation of his own hands. He became enamoured of a beautiful marble statue he had made, and at his earnest request and prayers, the Goddess of Love changed the favourite statue into a woman, whom the artist married, and by whom he had a son named Paphos, who founded the city of that name in Cyprus.
The ascent of Amathus would well repay any one who would attempt it, if only for the magnificent view presented from its summit. On one side lies a broad expanse of blue sea, and on the other a semicircle of dark heights and peaks, whilst between the two extends the gay and luxuriant valley, stretching its fruitful fields and gardens to the shore.
“Under the Ptolemies,” says Cesnola, “and in the later history of Cyprus, Amathus appears to have lost the ancient importance which it enjoyed, when ruled by its own kings, and when its natural allies, the Persians, were all-powerful.”
“On the hill on which it stood nothing is now visible but a vast amount of stones, plaster, and broken pottery. Even the hill itself is fast losing its form, while the rock of which217 it is composed is being cut away, to be shipped at Port Saïd, bringing to the merchants of Limasol a profitable return. From the great amount of débris which covers the surrounding fields, for the most part untilled, Amathus, it would seem, though small in area, must have been a thickly populated city. Originally the upper part of the hill had been encircled by a wall, remains of which are now scarcely perceptible; portions, however, of another wall of a later period may especially be observed on the southern side looking towards the sea, and following the sinuous windings of the hill. I found imbedded in this wall pieces of terra-cotta jars and fragments of granite columns, which had been used as building materials. On the southern side, portions of it ran as far as the shore. It is probable that the square built ruin, at the southern end of the hill, formed a gateway, since, between the city and the sea-shore, there was, and still is, the high road to Paphos. On the crest of this hill I dug at several places, until I came to the solid rock, but failed to discover any sculptured remains of importance. I found, however, sufficient evidence to convince me that most of the building materials of what I call the Phœnician city, had been used for the construction of the later Greek buildings.”
“Amathus, when subsequently inhabited by a Greek population, spread itself in a more south-easterly direction, and nearer to the sea-shore, protected by the second wall, which I spoke of, and though at the time of its destruction by King218 Richard of England, it was still the seat of the last Duke of Cyprus, Isaac Comnenas, it had already lost most of its splendour and importance.”
“It was on the top of this hill, that M. de Vögue discovered the large stone vase which is now deposited in the museum of the Louvre. Near the same spot, there are fragments of what seems to have been a similar vase. In the immediate vicinity of the site where these vases were found, I dug up, on a former excursion, three large shafts of columns, of a hard bluish stone, resembling granite. I left them half-buried in the soil, with the intention of examining them on a future occasion; but when I returned, the columns had disappeared, having been broken up for building purposes. There are thousands of stones on the top and sides of this hill, which would equally well suit the purposes of these workmen, but it seems that they are possessed by some infatuation or evil mania for destroying whatever bears the traces of man’s handicraft. It is the more to be regretted, since among the ruins very few architectural or sculptured remains are now found.”
Far away in the distance, is the town of Limasol, washed by the waters of its beautiful and rounded bay, behind this again a long line of coast, and then the eye just discerns the promontory of Curias, stretching its length far into the sea, where it terminates in Capo delle Gatte. Cesnola gives an amusing account of the origin of this name, which is too interesting to be omitted. “On one occasion,” he says, “my219 mule was terrified by a sudden leap from a bush, of what appeared to me to be a cat; my guide assured me that both at this cape, and near to Acrotiri, there are wild cats, which hunt and destroy the asps abounding there. I at once recollected having read that the ‘Caloyers’ of the convent of Acrotiri raised and trained a superior breed of cats, which they imported from Constantinople, to kill the asps in their neighbourhood. That at the tolling of a particular bell in the convent, these cats would come in to be fed twice a day, and then return to their work of destruction. I suppose that it is called Capo delle Gatte in reference to these cats.”
When we had descended the mountain and were once more on the shore, I observed a number of black and half-black Egyptian sailors, all in rags, who were busily employed in carrying stones to their ships which were anchored in the roads. Their captain looked on, smoking his pipe, and shaded from the sun by a small tent. Stones from the oldest city in Cyprus, going over to Port Saïd, to help in the construction of the newest town on the opposite continent, near which a harbour is in course of construction, destined to receive the ships coming from every quarter of the globe; whilst here at my feet lay the ancient harbour of Amathus, of which nothing remains but its natural basin, formed by rocks which extend some distance into the sea.
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CHAPTER XXVIII
KARUBIEH AND MAZOTOS.
When we left Amathus, our road lay over a barren mountainous tract, entirely destitute of every charm, but as we reached Cape Karubieh, a scene of great beauty opened up from the left to our view. Before us lay a little town, looking as fresh and bright as if but quite recently built, with houses that appeared much more stately and substantial than any I had yet seen in Cyprus. To our surprise these attractive-looking residences were closed and untenanted, and not a human creature was to be seen, except a solitary negro at a small inn where we got a cup of coffee. I afterwards learnt that the inhabitants of Karubieh, which number about one thousand only, return to their homes in August. At this season many ships anchor here to take in large cargoes of fruit for Trieste, Marseilles, Smyrna, Odessa, and St. Petersburg. The fields, from which all this superabundant221 harvest is produced, cover all the declivities of the sea-shore from Limasol to Mazotos. The once despised carob-tree (Ceratonia siliqua) is now much esteemed, and the fruit, which was formerly only used either as food for cattle, or occasionally eaten during seasons of fasting, has become of great value. Of late years it has been discovered that the fruit is highly valuable for the making of excellent brandy, and the tree is therefore cultivated throughout this district with the utmost assiduity. About April the branches are lopped off; numerous shoots from fruitful trees are grafted on the trunks, and in a very short space of time the tree is covered with succulent pods. I mention this interesting fact, to prove of what this once fertile island is capable, when its products receive the necessary attention. In this instance, as in many others, gold is literally lying on the ground in Cyprus, ready to be picked up by those who have enterprise and energy.
Our road from Cape Karubieh presented nothing of interest. The mountains gradually receded inland, and the eye found nothing to relieve the monotony of the bare expanse of coast, until at length our further progress in a direct line was stopped by a rocky promontory, which projected far into the sea. We were now obliged to turn inland, and soon reached higher ground, from whence we once more obtained a good view of the purple and deep blue mountains, and could see their tints gradually deepen under the shadow of approaching night. It was late before we reached Mazotos,222 and I at once endeavoured to obtain a lodging, in the house of some well-to-do farmer, from whom I might hope to learn many interesting particulars concerning the manners and customs of the people. As we entered the town, I observed a court-yard leading from a stable to a small house within. At the left-hand side was a flight of stone steps, conducting to an upper chamber, which, it being harvest time, was now filled with corn.
Opposite this was the large roomy apartment, that served for living and sleeping room to the whole family. The floor was covered with tiles, and the room divided in the centre by an arch. A stone ledge of imposing appearance projected from one of the walls, and was well garnished with household utensils, whilst upon the whitewashed walls, hung the clothes, nets, hammocks, and long baskets belonging to the family. Large pitchers of red clay, and numerous calabashes, stood about, filled with bread, eggs, fruit, maize, and vegetables. The kitchen was outside in the yard, and I could not avoid noticing the cheerful alacrity and skill displayed by our worthy hostess, whilst she prepared our evening meal. Servants she had none, everything in the interior of the house being done by the members of the family, whilst out of doors they were assisted about the farm and garden by day labourers. In Cyprus, the soil is so light that a farmer will readily plough over thirty acres of ground with one yoke of oxen, and see his land reward his labours by bringing forth its fruits thirty fold. The processes of sowing and223 reaping are equally carelessly performed, and when this is over, but few farmers touch the fields again. For this reason, without a farmer has really extensive property, he does not incur the expense of board and wages to regular men. During the harvest time a day labourer receives three shillings a day and three meals. Should a farmer not be inclined to comply with their demands, he will stand, as with us, a very good chance of having his corn spoilt, before he can get it into his barns. At other seasons the men cannot obtain more than from elevenpence to one shilling and threepence, and the women from about fivepence to eightpence per day. Small as is the sum, it amply suffices to provide all that the lower class Cypriotes require, sleeping as they do for nine months of the year in the open air. Food, such as they principally consume, is extremely cheap, and we have it upon the authority of a gentleman who knows the island well, Consul Lang, that a family of six persons can be maintained in perfect health and activity on an allowance of forty pounds of flour and three pounds of olives per week. In ordinary seasons the cost of this quantity of provisions would not exceed three shillings and sixpence. Cesnola mentions that he has frequently seen Greek priests in Cyprus working in the fields like common peasants.
Contrary to all my experience in Cyprus, when we quitted the farmer’s house, the worthy host at once complied with my request, that he would make some charge for our accommodation. This I accounted for by the fact, that the house224 standing on the highway between Limasol and Larnaka, would probably attract the attention of more strangers than could be comfortably entertained without proper remuneration. A present to the poor, if your resting-place has been a convent, or a little remembrance to the children of a family, is the most that is expected throughout all those parts of the East through which I have travelled, whilst should your entertainer be a man of position and means, you cannot, without giving offence, do more than offer a “pour boire” to the four or five men-servants who will appear at the door to see you start.
Our last day’s journey, which was short but delightful, lay over a wide tract of cornfields, in traversing which we passed the village of Kiti, with its little church, embowered in fruit trees, and not far from it another church standing on a piece of barren ground, without a shrub or tree near it. On our left towered a magnificent mountain, which rises abruptly to a height of two thousand feet, and bears upon its summit the once celebrated monastery of the Holy Cross, or Hagios Stavros. This building, which is rarely or never obscured by clouds or fog, can be seen from a considerable distance at sea, and has long been known to sailors as a landmark. St. Helena is supposed to have presented this cloister with a valuable relic, which brought many pilgrims and gifts to the brotherhood. This was a piece of wood, about as long as a finger, fashioned like a cross, mounted in silver, and had the reputation of being a veritable portion of the Saviour’s cross.
Whilst it was still light, we came in sight of Larnaka, the225 cornfields were crowded with labourers gathering in the harvest, and these, being principally Greeks, and therefore very conversational, we could hear a lively hum of many voices long before we reached the spot. We dined under the shadow of a large fig-tree, which grew upon the brink of a rippling stream. Numerous cranes, and whole hosts of beccaficos, came within such tempting reach of our guns, that, as soon as our repast was over, we started after them, over fields where horses and camels were grazing, and over marshy ground, until we reached the rolling, glittering sea. Our sport was excellent, for my dragoman knew every call and wile by which the birds could be allured, and it required some determination when it was time to return, to quit our delightful but peculiar shooting-ground.
On my return to Larnaka I had the luck to chance upon some dear friends, with whom I supped. Our host produced the best his cellar contained, in various sorts of wine, winding up with a bottle fifty years old, most delicious, but so strong that discretion only permitted us to taste it in thimblefuls.
Next day I paid many visits in the town, and was amused to find with what astonishment the history of my little journey across the island was received. I really believe that at that time there was not a single person in the island who had seen as much of Cyprus as myself.
fynm 