The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

CYPRUS,
HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE.

London: W^m. H. Allen & Co. Stanford’s Geog.^l Estab.^t London

MAP OF
CYPRUS
1878.

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.

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 cures 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 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 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.

CHAPTER XVII
THE TEMPLE OF VENUS.

My journey terminated for the present at the house of the Bishop of Baffo, who resides in Ktima. The bishop, who is a young and stately man, received me with the greatest kindness and affability. He at once conducted me to a luxurious apartment, where we seated ourselves upon soft cushions placed on a costly Turkey carpet, and my host resumed the ten feet long chibouk, filled with choice tobacco, he had been smoking when I was announced, and courteously offered another to me. It was quite evident the worthy bishop was a man of substance, and thoroughly enjoyed the good things of this life. From the roof of the house I obtained a magnificent view of the sea and neighbouring coast.

The Temple of Venus, formerly the great object of interest on this coast, was situated on a small hill at a distance of about twenty minutes’ walk from the sea. Some parts of its colossal walls are still standing, defying time and the stone-cutter, although badly chipped by the latter. The stones, of which these walls are built, are most gigantic, one of them being fifteen feet ten inches in length, by seven feet eleven inches in width, and two feet five inches in thickness. Strange to say, the stone was not quarried in Cyprus, but is a kind of blue granite which must have been imported from either Cilicia, or Egypt. This temple, as rebuilt by Vespasian, seems to have occupied the same area as the former one, and was surrounded by a peribolos, or outer wall. Of this wall, a few huge blocks are now only extant. On the west of this outer wall there was a gateway, still plainly visible; its width was seventeen feet nine inches: the two sockets for the pivots on which the doors swung are of the following dimensions—length six inches, width four and a half inches, depth three and a half inches. The south-east wall was excavated, and its whole length ascertained to be 690 feet. The length of the west side was only traced as far as 272 feet, as the modern houses of Kuklia were erected above it; the length of the other two sides were also for the same reason not ascertained. The walls of the temple itself, which are constructed of the same kind of blue granite, but not in such huge blocks, were only traced with much difficulty, and although very little is to be seen above the surface, yet strange to say, the four corner-stones are still standing. The north-east corner-stone forms part of the wall of a house in Kuklia, while the north-west corner stone stands in a cross street of the village by itself; the south-east corner-stone stands also by itself in an open field, where the Christian population of Kuklia burn lamps and little wax candles, but in honour of whom, or for what purpose, is uncertain. The south-west corner-stone, likewise, forms part of a modern dwelling-house.

The temple was oblong, and of the following dimensions: the eastern and western walls measured 221 feet, and the two other sides 167 feet.

The north-west corner-stone has a hole in it thirteen inches in diameter, and a similar hole also exists in the south-west corner of the outer wall. As this temple possessed an oracle, it is more than probable that the use of these strange holes was connected with it. If a person stands upon one of these huge perforated stones, he can produce a clear and fine echo of a sentence of three or four words, if pronounced in a distinct but moderate tone of voice.

Abundant indications of mosaic pavement, both in the area of the temple and in the court-yard, exist, where can be found, many prettily designed pieces of various colours—yellow, white, red, rose-colour, and brown. About three feet beneath these mosaics, were also found several large pedestals of colossal statues, bearing Greek inscriptions, and many other pedestals were lying about, possibly having been left by former excavators; most of those, which Cesnola discovered under the mosaics, were of the same kind of stone as that of which the walls of the temple were built, but of a finer grain. The inscriptions were of the Ptolemaic period, from which it is probable that Vespasian only repaired the Temple of Paphos, or if he rebuilt it entirely, it was with the former stones. The foundations are only six and a half feet deep, but upon having other borings made another foundation was discovered beneath, but evidently of an earlier period and very massive. Singular to say, in boring no sculptured remains were found, and but few fragments of pottery.[8]

Tacitus gives us the following representation of the sacrificial rites employed in this temple.

“The victims to be sacrificed must be carefully selected, males only being chosen. The safest auguries are obtained from the entrails of goats. It is forbidden to sprinkle blood upon the floor of the temple, and the altar must be purified with prayer and fire. The image of the goddess is not in human shape, but is a rounded stone tapering upwards like a cone. Why such a shape should be adopted is not clearly explained.” At that time, therefore, the worship of this goddess was shrouded in mysterious secrecy. The people only knew that it had been handed down to them from very ancient times. The only answer they received to their inquiries, why it was so, being, “It is a mystery.”

We learn from other sources, that this cone-shaped stone, erected in the innermost sanctuary of the temple, was black. Upon the festivals of the great goddess the stone was carefully washed by the priestesses, and wiped dry with clean towels; possibly its ugliness was set off by golden ornaments and jewels. In the darkness surrounding the Cyprian deity, other mysteries were concealed, admission to which was doubtless only obtainable at a high price. Three ruined walls and a few fragments of an ancient building; scattered here and there over great heaps of rubbish, are all that remain of what once was Paphos. The stones of which it was built, have disappeared long ages ago, used probably, as materials wherewith to build the lordly castles of the Middle Ages, or broken in pieces for the construction of humbler edifices.

During the period that the island was occupied by the Franks, a new city sprang up upon the site of ancient Paphos, which has also disappeared; but of this a ruined church, now used as a cattle-shed, is all that remains. Still, melancholy as is the present condition of the spot, so suggestive are the general features of the locality, that it is not difficult to reconstruct the beautiful landscape it once presented. The temple was situated upon a broad eminence which sloped gently towards the sea, which formed, as it were, a border to the picture. The slope was all covered with luxuriant vegetation.