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.