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 he 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 and 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. 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.
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.