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.
Towards the interior of the country are a few outlying hills, backed by picturesque mountain scenery of a much grander character than at Baffo. As I looked upon them, the sky became overcast, and the sea overspread by long masses of rain clouds, through which at intervals streamed the rays of the western sun, which, falling on the water, covered its surface with gleams of dazzling brightness. Some portions of the lovely scene seemed bathed in gold, only made more conspicuous by the darker tints of deepest blue and purple. The play of light and shade was continually changing, forming altogether a scene of tranquil loveliness not easily to be forgotten. I should not like, however, to live here alone. Every place to which the reputation of antiquity attaches itself, has its guide and dealer in curiosities, although he knows no more about them than the crows know about Sunday. The man who accompanied me in my explorations came, as he said, from Mitylene, and was educated enough to be able to quote the poems and rhapsodies of Sappho. The owner of a neighbouring farm, here made his appearance, a stately Turk, in frock-coat and boots, with a head of hair like that of a plough-boy. We went together, about a quarter of an hour’s walk, to see the “Queen’s Cave” (σπήλαιον τῆς ῥηγίνας) which was upon his estate. This gentleman informed me, that until about ten years previously it had been almost entirely filled up, but, that when the French came to explore, he had had it opened. Nothing, however, was found in it except a great stone slab, about five feet square, which was leaning against one of the walls, and was covered with inscriptions on both sides. The Frenchmen, after a great deal of trouble, succeeded in getting it out. It was, however, so heavy that they broke it to pieces, before taking it with them in their boat. Cesnola tells us that on descending into the cave he found that it consisted of four chambers, or tombs excavated one behind the other in the solid rock. Each of the two first contained four graves; the third had fewer, and in the last and smallest, there were none. “We found,” he continues, “several other tombs upon the side of the hill, some of them open and some of them filled up. My guide told me that before his time they had been thoroughly ransacked, and their contents, which consisted of several gold chains and sundry earthenware vessels, were taken away. There were also remains of buildings upon the highest point of the hill, around the foundations of which considerable excavations had been made, revealing, that the edifice had been a square tower, one side of which had been cleared of rubbish, but the hoped-for treasures, which had been the incentive to all this labour, had not been forthcoming. The tower seems to have nothing in common with the other building, and appears to have been simply a watch-tower used in former times to give warning of the approach of pirates.”
With still increasing pleasure, I continued to gaze upon the vernal landscape in which all the great historical features of the place were distinctly traceable, and I would willingly have lingered longer upon this enchanting spot, had I not been recalled to more practical matters by my landlord, who summoned me to table, where I was soon enjoying a meal consisting of excellent soup, fresh eggs, maccaroni, and bean salad, together with some exceedingly good wine.
After dinner the landlord took a seat beside us upon the terraced roof of the house, and we enjoyed a most delightful evening. Close to us, in a neighbouring court-yard, sat a Turkish family, who laughed and joked apparently in high spirits. Our hostess was still quite a young girl, and very pretty, her large flashing eyes, white glistening teeth, and delicately-shaped limbs, formed quite a picture. At first, when spoken to, she seemed embarrassed and bashful, and only giggled, but as conversation went on she became more companionable, seated herself upon the doorstep, and chattered away merrily. It is a pity that in these Eastern climes female beauty is so evanescent; even before girlhood is passed, their charms have disappeared, leaving nothing behind but a tawny skeleton.
The night was delightful, the air balmy and soft, and each breath of wind seemed to bring with it the perfume of a thousand flowers. The silver stars so sparkled and flashed in the clearness of the atmosphere that they seemed to have descended towards the earth.
Owing to the warmth of the night the door of my apartment was open, and as I lay in bed contemplating the dark blue sky, I could fancy that my vision penetrated beyond the stars into the depths of the firmament. My mind was so filled with reflections on the worship of the Cyprian goddess that I could not sleep. Scenes that I, not long before, had witnessed in Egypt, during the feast of Machmal, presented themselves vividly to my mind. According to ancient custom, the ruler of Cairo sends every year a valuable piece of cloth, in which to wrap the holy stone, the Caaba. The setting out of the great caravan which bears this cloth to its destination is celebrated by a general festival, during the continuance of which the fanaticism of the Mohammedans fully displays itself. It was impossible to think of the great black meteoric stone and the ceremonies connected with it, without being forcibly reminded of the cone-shaped stone worshipped with similar rites by the Paphian priesthood. The Caaba stands surrounded by a wall, exactly as did the Cyprian idol: even the doves of Venus are not wanting in the temple court of the Caaba, where they are regarded as sacred birds. In the sanctuary of Jupiter Ammon, in the Lybian Desert, the idol was a stone of a conical shape, ornamented with emeralds and other jewels. In the temple at Delphos a similar stone was worshipped, was daily anointed with oil, and on high festivals was wrapped in white wool. In the same manner we find that in ancient temples, more especially in Syria and Asia Minor, Bethylia were worshipped; sacred stones, whose name, derived from Bethel (the place of God), indicates their Semitic origin; these stones were all meteoric, and it is natural enough that when such masses have fallen amid thunder and lightning, they should be believed to be of heavenly origin, and to possess extraordinary attributes.
CHAPTER XVIII
SUMMER RESIDENCE IN CYPRUS.
In an account given by General Cesnola of a similar journey to mine, across a portion of the island, he states that travellers in Cyprus will find it much more convenient to purchase, than to hire, animals, and speaks in high terms of the well-broken mules and donkeys he found. These donkeys, of a breed peculiar to Cyprus, are glossy and sleek, with large eyes; they are very intelligent and can travel as fast as a mule.
The same authority tells us the muleteers are as a class excellent and trustworthy, even under the temptation of conveying large sums of money from one town to the other. When a native is about to proceed on a journey he goes to the khan, a kind of inn, and there selects a mule to his liking, and bargains with the owner of it for a lump sum for the entire trip, or at a rate of so much a day. The latter mode is preferable, for should the mule prove unsuitable, the traveller would be at liberty to change it on the road if he found a better. The former method, however, is generally adopted by the natives for the sake of economy. He appoints the hour at which he desires to start, and the muleteer as a rule arrives at the house an hour or two later. A kind of native saddle is placed on the back of the mule, called “stratouri,” across which are hung, in such a manner as not to incommode the traveller, two large canvas bags, which contain his private effects, and provisions for the first day’s journey. Several coloured blankets or quilts, according to the season, are then piled on the stratouri to be used as a bed at night.
The muleteer, who acts also as guide, is mounted upon a small but strong donkey in the same fashion as the traveller, and carries the extra baggage of the latter, besides food for himself, provender for both animals, and often several parcels intrusted for delivery to his care. At first it seemed to me cruel to see such little animals so overloaded, but I soon became convinced that the Cyprian donkey is stronger, and resists the fatigue of a long journey, better than a mule.
When everything is in readiness for departure, the traveller is helped to ascend to the top of his quilts, and two rusty stirrups attached to the extremities of a rope are handed him, into which he introduces his feet. By sitting upon the rope, he is enabled keep to his equilibrium; once safely perched he opens a yellow cotton umbrella, lights his cigarette, receives the blessings of his household, and starts upon his journey.
The Cypriotes are in general a frugal people, and when travelling, can accommodate themselves to almost every exigency. More than once during my excursions in the island I have found on entering a small village, some wealthy merchant of my acquaintance, seated cross-legged on the threshold of a hut, with a straw tray, resembling the lid of a basket, placed before him, on which were a few black olives, a hard piece of brown bread, and some sour milk, apparently enjoying his repast. It is no uncommon thing to find the muleteer seated opposite the merchant, eating from the same dish, and drinking from the same jug, a glass being in the interior of the island considered a useless luxury.
Whilst giving our readers the benefit of the above interesting particulars we cannot refrain from quoting General Cesnola’s own account of his summer residence in the interior of the island. The question of the possibility of enjoying life in our new possession is now so much discussed, that the testimony of a gentleman, who has recently resided in the island for ten years must carry much weight.
“On the occasion of a visit to Nikosia, the capital of the island, I had passed a night in the village of Dali, which is about half way between Nikosia and Larnaka, and had remarked on its outskirts, a grove of lemon and orange trees, amidst which nestled a small white cottage, connected with several outbuildings. This, I decided, might be converted into a pleasant retreat, and soon induced the proprietor to cede it to us for small remuneration, during the hot season. This he did the more readily, as the peasants live almost entirely out of doors from June to September, it rarely ever happening that a drop of dew, and almost never a drop of rain, falls during these months. The Cypriotes place their beds under the trees, making the branches of the latter do duty as clothes press and larder. They will frequently throw a handkerchief on the ground and lay their infants to sleep upon it, satisfied that neither moisture nor creeping thing will harm the child, for Dali is wonderfully free from noxious reptiles.
“This simple abode became our summer resort for several years. It was surrounded by about six acres of ground, laid out in alleys of lemon and orange trees, and the favourite caisha,[9] from the blossoms of which exhaled a delightful perfume. Two noble walnut-trees overshadowed the traditional alakah,[10] and extended their shade to our out-of-door saloon, where we sat the day long, reading, writing, and chatting with the grateful breeze, at all hours coming through the long verdant alleys, hung with luscious fruit. A small rivulet of the purest water found its way from cold sources to the feet of these walnut-trees, the broad leafy branches of which formed the ceiling of our drawing-room, and being blocked by a pile of rough stones, tumbled, cascade fashion, into a basin, scooped out to receive it, which served as our wine cooler and refrigerator. We soon adopted the housekeeping system of the peasants, and hung our plate baskets and table linen among the trees; and spreading out the thick mats of the country with a wooden settle dining-table and some rough chairs, we soon arranged a dining-hall, where our Turkish attendants served us with as much attention as if at a state dinner, though not with quite the same ceremony. A little further on a few Turkish rugs and divans formed the reception room of state for the notables of Dali, consisting of an old cadi, an illiterate Greek priest, and three wealthy Turks of Potamia, who inhabited what was once a royal palace, and the summer residence of the Lusignan queens.”
We cannot refrain from quoting a still stronger testimony borne by this gentleman, to the charms of this beautiful island as a summer residence:
“Having obtained a six months’ leave of absence, we took our last walk in the environs of Larnaka, where the Marina[11] appears to its best advantage. Passing the Salines, and the ruins of Phaneromene on our right, we were soon in the fields, which were yet in all their vernal glory. Pink and white anemones, dark blue irises, intensely scarlet poppies, golden Marguerites, and a thousand lovely blossoms, of which I do not even know the names, embroidered the plains with the most brilliant colours imaginable. We crushed the wild thyme and mignonette beneath our feet at every step, yet they seemed to offer us their incense at parting. A torrid sun would soon leave all this a dreary waste. Mount Santa Croce seemed to follow us throughout our walk, ever changing in aspect, now cool and brown as clouds floated over it, now glowing with crimson in the setting sun. The lighted minarets of Larnaka, and the Marina, shone in the distance, and, as we neared the latter, we heard the voice of the muezzin calling the faithful to prayer. As we entered our own spacious garden, which had been reclaimed from the sea-shore, with its lovely roses—such as bloom only in Cyprus—and its vine-covered walls, a slight shade of regret passed over us as we thought how soon neglect might turn the spot, then the admiration of visitors, once more into an unsightly waste. An extensive terrace overlooked the garden, and as we walked on it in the moonlight, a magical charm seemed to have been thrown on the scene, and on the rippling gleaming waves of the Mediterranean, so that while gazing we almost forgot the dark side of life in Cyprus, and a sense of tenderness stole into our hearts for the land we were leaving on the morrow.”
CHAPTER XIX
CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE.
In Cyprus we encounter a population which essentially resembles the modern, rather than the ancient Greek in character.
One of the most pleasing features of the island is the everyday domestic life of its inhabitants. The members of every family cling inseparably together, and share among themselves whatever good or evil fortune awaits them. To pay for the education of a son or brother, parents and children will suffer both want and hunger. Brothers will not marry until their sisters are provided for, and it is often truly touching to see how the grey-headed fathers and mothers, who seem here to be particularly numerous, are honoured and cared for by their children.
Among the ancient Greeks the men allowed themselves much freedom in love affairs and worshipped at the shrine of beauty. The women, on the contrary, were chaste and modest, and lived retired, industriously employed in their household duties. Such are the Cyprian women at the present day. The influence of the female part of the community has, moreover, of late remarkably advanced. Perhaps among no other people do women hold a more influential position. The mother is the mistress of the household, and it is principally by her that the family is held together. It is a common saying, that men make laws, but women regulate the manners of a people. The laws, however, are dependent upon the manners, and the more strictly these latter are watched over, so much the better for the well-being of the State. The modern Greeks make the best sailors, and the most discreet and prudent men of business in the world; they are good hands at fine work, are fond of horticulture, and are skilled manufacturers and money dealers. Although fond of the warm slopes and sunny climate of their native land, they are ever ready to quit it at a moment’s notice to seek their fortune elsewhere. They are remarkable among all the dwellers in the East for their activity and the elasticity of their spirits, which nothing seems to subdue, and which, when repressed, is continually breaking out more cheerfully and brightly than before, like their own sunny sky after the storm has passed away. They are fond of literature, and are delighted with a graceful expression, or a witty saying. They take an interest in everything and delight in talking and telling tales. Their understanding and imagination in short are extraordinarily powerful and active.
And now having said so much on the bright side of their character, we must turn to their vices and faults. Their laughable conceit, which displays itself in a thousand unexpected forms, might be passed over, as also the grasping avarice which is conspicuous in most of their dealings, for vanity may rise into ambition, and niggardliness be refined into praiseworthy economy, were their other vices not so numerous and so grave. In social life we may place falsehood and faithlessness, knavery and lying, at the head of the catalogue. Of insatiable covetousness, heartless robbery, and implacable revenge, examples are numberless. Justice is so totally set aside that, if a man be placed upon a jury, he is compelled to acquit the offender, because he thinks in his heart that he himself may shortly be placed in the same unfortunate predicament.
If we are asked what is the political condition of Cyprus, we can only say that it is busied with small matters, in important affairs it is all baseness and subserviency. No one can deny to the modern Greeks the possession of political cunning. Nevertheless, in the great and necessary virtue of obedience, they are altogether wanting, and officers and soldiers will discuss and quarrel over political questions, forgetting that it is the duty of the one to command and of the other to obey. No sooner is an important proclamation issued, than it becomes the subject of criticism, and mockery, but no one thinks of obeying it.
The modern Greek is one of the slyest, most active, and most persevering of rascals, but his efforts are all for the purpose of over-reaching his antagonist, and cheating the State. In like manner, barefaced simony is practised throughout the Eastern churches. The whole country is full of combinations and parties, not employed in establishing principles, but merely in endeavouring to obtain power in order to reward their partisans with places and emoluments.
These evils cast so deep a shadow over the modern Greek that the few bright points remaining—hospitality, public spirit, courage, and patriotism—almost disappear in the general gloom.
In ancient times the effeminacy and luxury of the Cypriotes had passed into a proverb. The worship of Venus assumed the character of unbridled sensuality, and the young of both sexes, brought up in the midst of these luxurious festivals, soon learnt to look upon pleasure as the end and aim of their existence.
Clearcus de Soli gives the following account of the effeminate manners of the Cyprian kings: He says, “There were women attached to the household of the ladies of the royal family who were called ‘Flatterers;’ at a later date their name was changed to ‘Clemacides,’ because they were in the habit of curving their backs into a sort of step for the use of the ladies as they got into, and came down from, their litters.” Clearcus speaks angrily of this abject and despicable practice, which tended to increase the indolence and luxuriousness of the princesses who kept these women. “But,” he adds, “these ‘Clemacides,’ after having spent the early part of their lives in the midst of luxury and refinement, are left to an old age of misery. Decency will not allow me to relate to what degree of libertinism these women brought the princesses and ladies of the court. I will only add that practising upon themselves and upon others all sorts of abominable witchcraft, they offered by their shameful conduct a spectacle of the most repulsive vice.”
Clearcus, too, has given us the following description of a young Paphian king: “This young man carried the refinement of luxury, to the extent of lying on a bed, or sofa with silver feet, overspread with a splendid carpet or rug; under his head were three pillows covered with very fine linen of a rich colour, and handsomely trimmed. His feet rested upon two purple cushions, and he was dressed in a white robe. At some distance from the bed stood slaves, and near the young king were his flatterers, men of good position.” Clearcus adds: “Each of these devoted himself in some way to add to the indolence of the prince. One seated at the foot of the bed had the young man’s feet resting upon his knees; another seated near the bed, bent over the hand which the king allowed him to caress, and gently stretched out one finger after another; the third, who was highest in rank, stood at the head leaning over the cushions and passing his left hand through the young prince’s hair, whilst with the right he gently waved a fan.”
To such a height of notorious extravagance had the princes of Cyprus attained, that Antiphanes, a comic poet of Rhodes, wrote a most amusing comedy, in which he caricatured the folly of the Cypriotes.[12] Manners such as we have described had their origin in the luxurious example of neighbouring Persian satraps, and were brought to the utmost refinement of self-indulgence by the subtile mind of the Greek.
CHAPTER XX
CLIMATE AND TEMPERATURE.
The climate of Cyprus is just now the subject of so much discussion in England, that we cannot do better than lay the following facts before our readers, only premising that we have left our readers to decide between many slight discrepancies in the various statements. In most respects the temperature and climate of Cyprus are similar to that of the neighbouring countries. The great heat of Syria is felt here, as also the violent winds and extreme dryness of Cilicia; but to compensate for this, there are most refreshing sea breezes and night dews. During the summer, as in India, those who can afford it seek the cool air of the mountains, returning to their homes in the plains and on the coast for the winter months, the cold at this season being far more severe than (judging from the situation of Cyprus) one would imagine. In the northern parts of the island, the icy winds from Taurus are keenly felt, and the summits of the Olympian range are entirely snow-capped. Old writers have said that the climate is unhealthy; in proof of this assertion, they mention the epidemic which attacked the army of St. Louis, in this island, in 1259, but many who have lived there are not of this opinion.
Abbot Mariti, in his work “Travels in Cyprus,” says, “I must own that quartan fever is very prevalent in this island, as in most parts of the Levant; but this is not altogether caused by the climate. While in Cyprus,” he continues, “I suffered ten whole months from an attack of this kind of fever, and I have since learnt, my own indiscretion was the cause of the long continuance of my ague.” The great heat of the climate occasions a continual perspiration, and if, while this lasts, one subjects oneself to the least chill the result is infallibly an attack of fever. Another cause is the immoderate use of strong liquors, and the eating of certain fruits, particularly cucumbers and melons. Natives of this country rarely escape this epidemic, more especially in summer, but they cure themselves without any other remedy than a little bleeding, thus allowing nature to act. I grant this method would not succeed in the case of Europeans, for to them the malady has its dangers, and needs rather careful treatment, but it can be cured by a rigid system of diet. The Greeks and Turks ward off an attack by continued horse exercise, and the latter adopt the not unpleasant remedy of a large glass of good Cyprian wine.
In Cyprus, as in almost all countries of the Levant, rain is periodical. It commences falling towards the middle of October, and continues until the end of January. February is a less rainy month, and the sky is sometimes cloudless. The author before quoted, remarks, that “towards the middle of March the rains commence heavily, and last till the end of April. May is a delightful month, the refreshing dews aid vegetation and temper the heat of June. After this season, the sun has quite a scorching power upon the ground, which is moistened by neither rain or dew.”
This state of things would be unbearable, were it not for the refreshing sea-breeze, which is felt on all shores of the Mediterranean. About the middle of September this wind ceases, and for six weeks the heat is excessive, until, towards the end of October, the sky becomes covered with rain clouds. Thus we see in the summer, the south wind is refreshing, because it is from the sea, and on the contrary, the north wind from Asia Minor brings all kinds of unhealthy vapours. True it is, that the northern parts of the island suffer less, because the wind has been partly cleared by its passage over the sea; but it is simply unendurable to the people of the southern districts, to whom it brings the parching heat of the hot dry countries, which it has scoured in crossing the Olympian chain. Should this wind rage for seven or eight days continuously, all vegetation is injured, every fruit-tree and plant withered, and the looked-for harvest wholly at an end. For this reason, scarcity is so often felt in Cyprus, notwithstanding its fertility and good soil. These burning winds, and scorching heat, are the scourges of the country.
The lower classes of Cypriotes wear large fig or cabbage-leaves upon their heads to protect them from the rays of the sun. Strict attention to cleanliness and careful avoidance of excess in stimulants are necessary in this island as elsewhere.
It would seem that in the climate of Cyprus there must be something entirely different from that of all the three countries between which it lies. The climate is, however, subject to great changes; during one-third of the year, rain falls abundantly, and during a second third, it is as delightfully cool, and lovely, as on the coasts of Italy, whilst the rest of the year is as hot as in the desert of Sahara.
During the winter season it rains incessantly; about the middle of October, the rain clouds begin to obscure the sky, and from that time until February the water falls down in abundance. To this succeeds an exquisite spring, bringing with it the perfumes of a thousand flowers, and a fresh and delightful atmosphere.
About the middle of March rain again begins to fall in passing showers, which, although less violent than those of winter, continue with more or less intermission until the middle of May, when they are replaced by the heavy dew which falls during the night. During this season, which lasts for about a quarter of a year, the country is a paradise, until at length comes summer with its burning heat. In June, all moisture seems to have departed from the atmosphere, and towards the end of the month, the heat is fearful, and the sky becomes a changeless expanse of glorious deep blue. Only from time to time, a fresh sea breeze finds its way to the land, to indulge the inhabitants with a fresh breath of air. The worst, however, has yet to come, for towards the end of September, even these light breezes die away. The air becomes thick and obscure, and the whole atmosphere damp and sultry. The grass and vegetation generally are dried up even to the roots, and the leaves fall from the trees, which now stretch out their naked arms like ghostly forms, scarcely visible through the surrounding fog. Not a drop of water remains in the brooks and river sources, and travelling is only possible during the night. Business is at a standstill, and the people do nothing but inquire, how long it will be before the rain will come again.
It is thought by many that the summer is hotter in Nikosia than it is in Cairo, notwithstanding that the sea and the snow-clad hills of Asia Minor are at so short a distance. I can only account for this circumstance by the fact that in the valley of the Nile, when the water of the river is rising, there is always a gentle breeze perceptible, and moreover, from the broad expanse of water which covers the country, much more moisture is given off than in the drier atmosphere of Cyprus.
Mariti tells us, that the intensity of the summer heat is often modified by a cooling wind called imbat.[13] This wind, which generally commences blowing at two o’clock in the morning on the first day, increases till noon, then gradually falls, and towards three o’clock in the afternoon ceases entirely. The imbat, which begins early in summer, and continues until September, appears to last about an hour longer each succeeding day, for five days, when it recommences the five days’ course. If the horizon should be clear the wind will be weak, but if dark, heavy weather may be expected; occasionally a dangerous north wind succeeds the imbat, which commences at seven o’clock in the morning, increases steadily till noon, and continues blowing till evening. Should this wind last for any length of time the crops suffer severely.
The same authority mentions, that the cold is never so great as to necessitate fires in the houses, these being only kindled to obviate the effects of the excessive moisture. From this description he, however, excepts the country immediately around Olympus, where the snow often lies to midsummer.
CHAPTER XXI
BAFFO AND KUKLIA.
Early next morning, on leaving my sleeping apartment, I found my dragoman, in company with a young dealer in Paphian curiosities, hanging about the door, and evidently on the watch to fasten their company on me, should I attempt to visit any of the surrounding ruins. Not being desirous of their interference, or assistance, I evaded them, and quietly strolled down to the sea-shore. As I looked around, I observed, against the horizon, the small houses and slender minarets of Ktima, a little town standing upon raised stone dikes. Somewhat lower down, a huge mass of sandstone extended for some little distance along the shore, the appearance of which at first puzzled me exceedingly. On the side facing the sea, large and small chambers were hollowed out, and every here, and there, roughly hewn steps, led to the top of the rock. Cesnola has made some of his interesting excavations on this spot, and I will therefore explain these strange workings, in the solid sandstone, in his own words:
“A little to the north-east, and half-way between these ruins and Ktima, there is a rocky eminence sloping towards the sea, and called Palæo Castro, the surface of which is perforated with thousands of ancient tombs, some cut vertically, and others horizontally, in the calcareous rock. Some are made to contain only one body, while others are large enough for a score or more. These graves are all evidently pre-Roman. I had the rubbish removed from one of the largest, and found it to be an oblong building, with an atrium supported by three monolithic columns, roughly hewn out of the limestone, and with a court-yard in front. The tomb is divided into three chambers, which communicate, inside, with each other, but have separate entrances. They have a large number of niches, seven feet by two, each to contain one body. Near the wall facing the doorway of each chamber, there is a low platform hewn in the rock, on which apparently stood a sarcophagus, but nothing of it now remains. The court-yard contains also several single graves, but all have been opened long ago. This must have been the family sepulchre of a great personage, and possibly that of one of the kings of Paphos.”
The same authority gives the following particulars concerning the contents of some similar tombs he examined at Amathus, and other excavations made by him at Paphos, with, however, but little result.
“The quantity of objects in copper and bronze discovered in these tombs, though mostly destroyed by oxidisation, is much greater than that found in the extensive necropolis of Idalium. I observed that in the localities where copper mines are known to have existed, as at Amathus and Curium, more ancient utensils and figures in that metal are found. The fact that these bronze objects are roughly made, is sufficient proof that they have not been imported, but are of native manufacture. Many curious little rings in bronze and in silver were met with in these tombs, the use of which it is not easy to determine. Some cylinders of soft glazed clay, probably of Babylonian or Egyptian manufacture, also came to light, together with several rings of solid gold of very rough workmanship, and entirely without artistic merit; broken earthenware jars, bronze bowls, copper hatchets, and a few iron arrow-heads were found, but all oxidised, so as to fall into powder, and entirely without inscriptions. West of these tombs, facing the sea, are to be found nine oven-shaped caverns, which contain a great quantity of human bones, besides those of oxen, camels, and sheep. These nine caverns are far too small to have contained the amount of bodies indicated by the skeletons (I counted no less than sixty-four human heads), but were more probably simply ossuaries for bones removed from rock-cut tombs, so soon as the tomb was required for another occupant, and its tenant dried up and forgotten. The fact that no sepulchral vases or any other such relics are to be found, sufficiently bears out such a supposition. In the tombs on the sea-shore, only the bones of pigeons and egg-shells in clay dishes were to be found with the human remains, these being evidently the relics of the funeral feast.”
During the week Cesnola remained at Ktima, he made many excavations; one of these was upon the site of a temple of which three large granite columns were still standing; he also discovered the bases of nine other columns, only a few inches below the surface, and still occupying their original position, whilst all around were strewn architectural fragments which had belonged to that structure. On the other spot he investigated is a broken column, to which it is asserted St. Paul was tied and scourged when he came to preach the Gospel in this city; but the tradition is said to be only current amongst the Greeks of Ktima. In this locality there were also shafts of columns, some blocks of triglyphs and volutes lying on the ground, probably also the remains of a temple. A silver coin of Vespasian, with the Temple of Paphos upon it, and a few Roman lamps, were all the relics that were found after a week’s exploration.
Before quitting the neighbourhood of Paphos, the same authority visited the village of Koloni, which is situated upon a plain, stretching down to the sea, overshadowed by hills covered with juniper-trees. In these rocks are situated the “asbestos” quarries, of which we have already spoken, and the much lauded “Paphian diamond,” which, however, is only a superior quality of rock crystal. These hills, we are told, yield fossil shells in large quantities; and earths of different colours, green, carmine, and yellow, are occasionally met with in the surrounding district.
Ten minutes’ ride from Koloni, in a north-west direction, is Ieroskipo, now a mere group of houses. This name is evidently derived from the ancient Hieroskepi, “Sacred Garden,” the well-known garden of Venus, who was regarded by her worshippers as the goddess of gardens and flowers. Cupid was supposed to have lived with her in Cyprus.
“There is,” says Cesnola, “a large cave which seems to have been artificially scooped out of the rock through which a spring makes its way, and after filling the basin overflows and forms a rivulet sufficient to water the neighbouring fields; this is known as the ‘Bath of Aphrodite.’ I must say, he would be obdurate indeed who would not be captivated by the great beauty of the spot. The ground generally slopes gently towards the sea, but here it seems to have been cut into large plateaux or terraces, which are surrounded by a thick grove of olive-trees, many centuries old. Among the olives is a sprinkling of carob-trees, which, with their dark green and lustrous foliage, form a striking contrast to the pale hue of the olive leaf. In closer proximity to Ieroskipo, are a number of rock-cut tombs, but no vestige of buildings are visible.”
After wandering some distance farther along the sand, I reached Kapatah, a fortress built upon the shore by the Genoese, and here came upon more tombs cut in the rock, and entered by means of roughly hewn steps. Over the largest of these chambers, I observed an inscription in ancient Cyprian characters, and in the grotto itself, which is divided into two apartments, the hindermost of which has a small cupola at its top, I also noticed half effaced characters upon the walls. Near this spot was the ancient harbour, the dams of which were formed of blocks of stone; a stream now discharges itself here. I was told that the harbour had formerly extended much further inland, and had gradually fallen into ruin, and been filled up with sand. The sea was plashing against the stones in the foreground, the flowering shrubs of all kinds filled the air with fragrant perfumes, and in the distance towered the dark and lofty mountains.
Proceeding onwards, after leaving this fort, I came upon a village embowered in trees and inhabited by Greeks and Turks. The walls, as is commonly seen in the district, appeared to be constructed principally of stones taken from the surrounding ruins, and I noticed many a piece of broken column peeping out from its hiding-place, among waving palms and flowering shrubs. Near a little church I observed some small pillars, two of white marble, and two of beautifully polished granite. Of another church only a square tower and the portion of an arch remain. In the midst of the village is a roomy basin, formed of large blocks of stone, which was, no doubt, the bath of the fair Cyprians of ancient times; now it is merely a receptacle for refuse. As I proceeded farther into the village I found huge blocks of marble and granite lying in all directions. The French, we are told, in the course of their explorations here ten years ago, brought to light many valuable relics, and carried off the best of all they found. Knowing this, I was perfectly astonished at the rich treasures of antiquity that met my eye at every step, and I could only suppose the place to be the site of a former city, over the buried temples and palaces of which trees and shrubs had sprung up, and a few small houses for the present poor inhabitants been hastily erected. The people still draw their water from the ancient limpid springs. Even the higher class of Turkish houses, which were comparatively modern, showed here and there traces of walls and gateways of an early date. During the time of the Emperor Augustus a violent earthquake destroyed New Paphos, and in obedience to imperial commands the city that rose upon its ruins was named after his wife, Augusta. At a later period, a second earthquake destroyed the unfortunate town; but we have no clue as to the date of this second calamity. I could not but groan in spirit as I walked and thought of all the treasures that probably lay buried beneath my feet.
That evening I dined at the table of my worthy friend the bishop, whose liberal hospitality had made me acquainted with a great variety of strange dishes. On this occasion the repast seemed very homelike to me, for it consisted of an excellent roast leg of mutton served with some fine juicy lettuces, a dish of onions stuffed with rice, and a great variety of sweet dishes, all excellent in their way, and principally samples of Turkish cookery. This was followed by toasted bread covered with layers of rich cheese, after which came coffee, and our ten feet long chibouks.
During the evening many priests of various ranks dropped in, said a few words, and again departed. It seemed to me they had very much their own way with their good-hearted bishop. These visitors were followed by the kaimakan, or governor, who appeared followed by half a dozen attendants. This gentleman chatted with us for an hour, and then left, begging me to allow him to send an escort with me on my journey of the following day.
Early next morning I proceeded on my way, and as we approached Hierokipu, I saw many grottos hewn in the rock, and noticed again and again that the ground over which we passed sounded hollow as it was struck by our horses’ hoofs. I was informed by a gentleman we met, who owned property in the neighbourhood, that two years ago he had found a place in which were five chambers hollowed in the rock, with a kind of entrance hall in front neatly constructed of square blocks of stone; within this stood a round pillar which had no doubt served as an altar. Many of the odd little flasks and vessels were found here which have been supposed (in my opinion most absurdly) to have been receptacles for tears. These contained resin and ointment, the perfume of which filled the whole chamber. When we were only some few hours’ distance from Old Paphos or Kuklia, I rode down to the shore and took a survey of the surrounding view. The mountain gullies were now dry, but at other seasons, it was evident that the whole coast would be flooded by the streams that flowed through them during the wet season. I now ascended a slight eminence on which once was the site of a temple built by Ptolemy Philadelphus, and dedicated to his beautiful spouse Arsinœ, who was there worshipped under the name of Venus Zephyritis. Dinochaus, the architect who completed the temples of Diana Ephesus, we are told, contemplated making the temple of Arsinœ of loadstones, with a statue of the queen suspended in the air by the power of magnetism, but he died before the strange idea could be carried out. The daughter of this queen was the fair Berenice, whose beautiful locks have been so celebrated. This lady dedicated her luxuriant tresses to the goddess should her husband, Ptolemy Evergetes, whom she tenderly loved, return uninjured from the war he was then engaged on. After three years he did return, ladened with spoil. All the south part of Asia Minor had submitted to him, and he erected two temples in commemoration of his victories there, calling them Arsinœ and Berenika. On this successful issue of her petition the fair wife of the conqueror at once cut off her magnificent tresses, and had them suspended in the temple of her mother, the so-called Venus Zephyritis, Cyprus in those days being united with Egypt under the Ptolemies.
What became of this wonderful hair is unknown, but Konou of Samos, the astronomer, announced, by way of flattering the lovely queen, that “Jove himself had stolen the tresses and placed them in the sky as a constellation.”
The “Sacred Road,” which took its name from the number of worshippers carrying their offerings, who formerly passed backwards and forwards between Old and New Paphos, gradually rose slightly above the shore, and as I looked around I could not avoid noticing the great beauty of the sea foam as it rose in snowy wreaths from the stones on which it beat. At some seasons, when a south-west wind is blowing, this foam rises as high as the feet of the trees and shrubs, and presents the appearance of small tracks of snow. The shore at this point, I am told, would afford a rich field for the naturalist; I myself saw millions of crustaceans and microscopical creatures lying upon the stones. Gazing upon the scenes I could readily suppose how the vivid imagination of the Grecian temperament should have led them to describe the Goddess of Love as having first reached the shores of Cyprus mounted on the foamy crest of a wave.
Cesnola tells us, that the two Christian churches, now both in ruins, one of which was built within the area of the temple, and the other within the boundary wall, the palace of the Lusignans, and the entire village of Kuklia, have been constructed with the stone from the ruins of the ancient city. Attached to each house is a penfold, built without mortar, of loose stones. The church that stands within the temple limits has several fine marbles embedded in its walls, bearing inscriptions, which had obviously belonged to some more ancient edifice, before they were placed in their present positions.
An old ruined castle, and a few miserable dwelling-houses, are all that now remain of what was once Old Paphos, now known as Kuklia. We rested for a time in a wretched coffee-house, which was full of zaptiehs, who were quartered here, whilst they collected over-due taxes. Groups of people stood around, some looking pitiable objects with their wan, anxious countenances, whilst others again were perfect embodiments of cunning and stupidity. The chief officer of the soldiers, when I arrived, was addressing this crowd with polite dignity and a great variety of expressive gestures. It was whispered in my ear by one of the party, that rage and threaten as their rulers might, no more money could be wrung from this wretched population. In respect to their extreme poverty, these miserable beings appeared to me to be no worse off than the inhabitants of Ktima and other places we passed through. A few stalwart men were amongst the crowd, but for the most part the people appeared weakly, and to blend the Grecian, Syrian, and Italian types of countenance. After vainly endeavouring to persuade some Turkish family to give us lodging, we were glad at last to take refuge in a kind of very high shed, the mud walls of which contained but one room. In this I camped with all my three servants. A carpet and coverings were procured, and with these we made ourselves as comfortable as circumstances would permit. After a short rest I issued forth to examine this wretched place, and standing upon the flat roof of a hut that stood below ours, I obtained a clear view of my surroundings. The whole place appeared to be a mere heap of ruins, the pillars and foundations of ancient palaces. The heights around exhibited a few yellow flowering shrubs, interspersed with green palms and other trees, whilst around and about this scene of desolation stood the dwellings of the poverty-stricken inhabitants. Below me was the court-yard of a Turkish house, in which I could see the women at their work. They wore veils, and I could not help noticing how much they seemed to inconvenience them, as they threw them first on one side and then to the other, to be out of their way.
I now descended and proceeded to explore the Aditum, the only ancient sacred edifice in Cyprus, which, thanks to the pictures of it found on gems and coins, we can reproduce before our eyes. It had, apparently, been a square building with a fine entrance, and a low wing at either end. On each side of the portal were two obelisks. This temple was surrounded by a barrier, in the centre of which stood the principal altar. In the innermost recesses of this edifice once stood the mysterious veiled stone of Astarte Aphrodite.