CHAPTER IV.
CYPRUS IN THE MIDDLE AGES.
When standing amidst the grand relics of a past age which meet the eye at every turn in the capital of this beautiful island, or when wandering about its dirty narrow streets, I could not but reflect on the manifold changes this fine city has undergone, and picture the days when she stood in the zenith of her fame and beauty.
The career of Cyprus is without a parallel in the history of the world. Here we find established in the very heart of the East, on Phœnician Grecian foundations, a mighty kingdom distinguished by its high display of all that adorned the finest age of chivalry, and in spite of all the agitations which beset the outer world, retaining these traditions till the close of the sixteenth century, when the Turks swept down upon her, carrying ruin and destruction in their train.
It will be worth one’s while to linger for a few minutes whilst we note the history of Cyprus during these four centuries. “This sweet island,” as the poets of the country are fond of calling her, was for nine hundred years under the dominion of the Byzantine kings, until in 1191 it was seized upon in a burst of anger by our own impetuous and rash Cœur de Lion, whose indignation had been excited by a refusal to allow his queen, Berengaria, to land. He at once forced a landing at Limasol, stormed the city, overthrew the prince’s army, and overspread the whole island, compelling the people to submit to him.
A prince of the house of Comnena was at this time on the throne. Richard, for the first time aware of the value of his new possession as a gathering point and resting-place in any further attempts upon the Turks, and yet unable to take the government upon his own shoulders, resolved to make money of his lucky acquisitions, and offered the crown to Wido (Guido) Lusignan, ex-king of Jerusalem, for the sum of 100,000 ducats. During the time of Richard’s possession he conducted himself with much severity to the inhabitants. Half the land was at once appropriated to the use of himself and his followers, a certain portion was set aside for his personal expenses and the endowment of churches and monasteries, and the rest divided and allotted as feudal tenures to his followers.
Such an El Dorado was not to be regarded with indifference by the adventurous knights of Christendom, and numbers followed in the wake of Richard to receive their share of the titles and baronial fiefs that were being lavished around.
As years went on, and one place after another was wrested from Christendom, monks and priests, anxious to find a comfortable resting-place, turned their steps to Cyprus.
Wido de Lusignan had brought no less than three hundred knights and two hundred squires in his train. These Knight Templars at once erected a lodge to their order in Limasol, and twenty years afterwards their numbers had greatly increased; some were English and German, but the majority Italians and Frenchmen. A reign of chivalry now arose which drew the eyes of Europe to this small and famed island. Wido, the first king of the Lusignan dynasty, only reigned three years, but his reign was marked by strenuous efforts to complete the subjection of the Cypriotes by the building of strong castles and fortresses. Order and justice distinguished his sway.
Amalrick, his brother and successor, was no sooner installed than he summoned his followers and announced his intention of at once offering his crown as a fief to some monarch powerful enough to protect him from all enemies. An embassy was sent to offer allegiance to the Emperor Henry the Sixth, of Germany, who recognised the importance of the step, and consented to uphold Amalrick as his vassal. The Archbishop of Trami and Brindisi was despatched to bear a sceptre to the royal vassal, and desire that the coronation might take place in the emperor’s presence when he visited the Holy Land. Amalrick, however, was averse to this delay, and his royal master therefore consented that the ceremony should be performed before a deputy.
In September, 1197, Bishop Hildesheim, the Imperial Chancellor, arrived, and received the oaths of the new king. The coronation was then celebrated before him in the principal church in Nikosia. Now commenced a long career of knightly deeds and chivalrous enterprises, led under the banner of the King of Cyprus, and many notable feats were performed by sea and land.
From 1285 to 1373 must be regarded as the most glorious period of this career of enterprise, the reigns of Henry the Second, Hugo the Fourth, and Peter the First being particularly distinguished in the annals of the times; Smyrna and Alexandria were conquered, and the emirs upon the coast compelled to pay tribute.
At this epoch, Cyprus was the centre of Eastern commerce, and merchandise was brought thither from Asia and Europe, either for exchange, or to be forwarded to other hands. The towns of Limasol, Paphos, and Keryneia, were crowded with merchandise from Constantinople, Beyrout, Damascus, and Alexandria, from Venice, Pisa, Genoa, Barcelona, and Marseilles. Famagusta was regarded as the principal mart of the Mediterranean, and a constant stream of pilgrims enlivened all the havens of Cyprus.
With the improved cultivation of the land and such developed commerce large sums of money were made, and in proportion as the wealth of the island increased an equal change in its inhabitants arose, and self-indulgence and cross extravagance began to sap the strength of the upper classes. The highest prosperity of Cyprus may be said to have continued for two hundred years. In 1337 its misfortunes recommenced. The Genoese fell upon the island and met with little or no resistance from the inhabitants, who were quite unprepared for the attack. Famagusta became the head-quarters of these merciless oppressors, who at once stretched forth an iron hand upon the trade of the country. Cyprus never rallied from this blow. A feeble attempt was made to drive out the invaders, but the Genoese called in the assistance of the Egyptian Mamelukes, who compelled the Cypriotes to pay them tribute.
Now arose a scene of anarchy and rapid decline; every man’s hand was against every man, and private revenge took the place of law and order. The interposition of the Venetian rule at this time must be regarded as a decided improvement on such a state of things. Katherine, the daughter of a lofty Venetian patrician, was given in marriage to James, the now insignificant prince of the unfortunate island, and jointly shared his throne. The marriage was celebrated in 1471, and the Venetian Senate adopted the queen as a daughter of St. Mark. In 1473 James died, and the Venetian Government at once assumed charge of his son. This child, however, dying, Katherine was persuaded by the Senate to abdicate in their favour. Meanwhile Charlotte Lusignan, only daughter of John the Third, who had married her cousin Louis, son of the Duke of Savoy and Anna of Cyprus, went to reside in Rome, where she died in 1487, bequeathing her claims to Charles Duke of Savoy, in consequence of which the sovereigns of that dynasty assumed the titles of kings of Cyprus and Jerusalem. (This interesting fact will explain the feeling with which our interference with the island has been regarded in Italy). The Venetian rulers at once attempted to restore order and foster expiring commerce, but without much success.
In 1571 the last traces of Cyprian glory disappeared under the blighting shadow of the Turkish banner. The people did not surrender without a struggle, but they were much enfeebled, and their Venetian rulers had already more possessions than they could maintain by force of arms. All Europe trembled before the successful troops of Suliman the Third. In 1566 the Cypriotes were commanded to fortify their capital, the city was to be reduced to a third of its then size, and surrounded by walls, moats, and eleven bastions, all buildings beyond these limits to be destroyed. The nobility and people willingly obeyed, and consented not only to execute the order, but bear all attendant expenses. Mansions and villas were torn down to make way for the new fortresses. Even the Dominican cloister, which contained the graves of their kings, was sacrificed, and of the eleven gates that then surrounded Nikosia only three were allowed to remain standing.
Selim the Second, Suliman’s successor, had a strong taste for Cyprian wine, the companion in his carousals being a Portugese Jew called Miguez Nassy. This man had once professed Christianity, but had found it convenient to renounce his faith. He is said to have incited Selim to put his son on the throne of Cyprus. In order to accomplish this end Selim appeared before Limasol in 1570, with the Turkish fleet. The arsenal in Venice was set in flames at this time; this act is supposed to have been committed by incendiaries sent thither by Nassy for that purpose. The Venetians in Cyprus had no force to withstand the Turkish troops, and the Cypriotes were too spirit-broken to fight for the land that was only cultivated to enrich their merciless taskmasters.
The Proveditore, Nicolaus Dandolo, decided to surrender the whole of the island, with the exception of Famagusta and Nikosia. The Turks landed without further hindrance and marched at once to the capital with 100,000 men, whilst their fleet kept guard, lest assistance might be sent from Europe. For seven weeks the city sustained the siege, and the nobility, ably supported by the lower orders, bore themselves like brave but desperate men. Twice the Turks led an assault, and twice were gloriously repulsed, until they were obliged to send for a reinforcement of 10,000 men, including many sailors, to aid them in the desperate struggle. The bold defenders of the capital were at no time more than 100,000 strong.
In the night on the 9th of September began the third general storming of the doomed city. The whole army threw itself as one man against the walls, and before sunrise three bastions were in the enemy’s hands; 20,000 men fell at the first shock, but their places were soon filled by those who pressed behind. The unfortunate women, as soon as they saw that all was lost, flung themselves in numbers from the roofs of the houses, and many daughters, we are told, met their death at the hand of their father or mother to save them from a worse fate. The carnage and work of destruction lasted for eight days, and when it ceased, what had once been a fair city was a mere open space, covered with blackened ruins, with only its still towering cathedral dome looking down upon the scene. Two thousand Turks remained to keep possession, whilst the rest of the army marched on to Famagusta.
Nikosia was in the hands of the Mussulmans, and the last Christian city in the East entirely destroyed. Enormous booty, comprising an immense amount of jewels, gold cloth, and fine works of art, and nearly a thousand of the fairest and noblest maidens, were put on board three ships to be sent to Constantinople, as tribute from Cyprus to the Sultan. A Greek lady on board; preferring death to the fate that awaited her, found her way to the powder magazine, which she ignited. The ship at once exploded, setting fire to its companion vessels, which were also totally destroyed; only a few sailors saved themselves by swimming. Four years later Sultan Selim, having enjoyed the choicest Cyprian wine to his heart’s content, happened one day to take a fuller cup than usual before entering his bath, his foot slipped and his skull was fractured on its marble floor. He only survived this accident eleven days.
CHAPTER V.
DRAWING UP OF THE STATUTES.
We will now give our readers a brief sketch of the position held by the various classes during these three centuries. The knights and citizens, the former principally French and Italian by birth, and the latter Greeks, Romans, Syrians, and Jews, were free. The patrician families in the towns took rank with the knights, and the household slaves were under the protection of the Government. The peasantry, on the contrary, were all held in bondage, and may be divided into three classes. The first class gave their lord two days’ service in the week, paid a poll-tax, and a third of all profits. The second class only paid the poll-tax, but were compelled to remain upon the land, whilst the third class (ελευθερα) were free to change their master, but were compelled to pay the half of their earnings to the lord under whose protection they preferred to live.
The king held his crown in the character of vassal to the German Emperor, and the heir-apparent was called Prince of Antioch. The chief officials of the crown were the Seneschal, Marshal, Chamberlain, and Constable; after them came the baronial vassals (les hommes du royaume), and next in order their dependents (les hommes liges). The barons were privileged to carry a square banner, with the motto “Cour, coin, justice,” to indicate that they enjoyed the homage and tribute of their serfs, and had power to chastise the latter by right of law. The eldest son inherited the fief, and in default of male issue, the eldest daughter. Homage had to be rendered for feudal tenure, and was performed in this wise: The vassal, male and female, knelt before the king, who took their hands in his own, whilst they declared themselves his true vassals, “ready to protect and revenge him to their last breath.” To which the king replied: “In God’s name and my own I receive your homage.”
If the vassal was a lady above twelve years old, her feudal lord was obliged to give her the choice of three knights, one of whom she must marry within a given time; should she refuse, her fief was forfeited for a year and a day, and she was called upon every year to yield until she was sixty years of age. Should the feudal chief on the contrary neglect this part of his duty, the lady was privileged to demand a choice of three knights, and bestow her hand on the one she preferred. All the barons appeared at stated times at the high court, accompanied by their vassals. In these assemblies all kind of weighty business was discussed in presence of the king, disputes arranged, and sentences of death passed for heavy crimes. There was also a lower court for the decision of legal suits. One of the decrees is worthy of note: “Whoever shall appear in this court and bear false witness, be he the noblest in the land, he shall lose his head.” The court was composed of the king’s vicomte or deputy, and twelve sworn justices chosen from the free citizens. All questions of the privileges of the citizens and commercial rights, as well as of theft and falsehood, were brought before this court. The laws and statutes in force were contained in a volume called “The Assizes of Jerusalem,” the “Livres des Assises et Bons Coutumes,” a splendid memorial of painstaking wisdom and anxious thought.
It has been stated that this fine collection of statutes was compiled by Godfrey de Bouillon, with the assistance of the wisest and noblest of his followers, after the conquest of Jerusalem. This was most probably a mere fable. Certain, however, it is that a double volume of laws, one for the upper, and the other for the lower court, was compiled in Jerusalem, inscribed in large letters, and sealed by the king, patriarch, and vicomte. This work was enclosed in a chest and deposited in the church of the Holy Sepulchre. It was decreed that the volume should not be taken from the chest except in the presence of those who had signed it, two priests belonging to the church, and four magistrates.
This collection of statutes was also known as the “Lettres du Sépulcre.” After the loss of Jerusalem this volume disappeared, but the same statutes were enforced in the high court at Akkon or Ptolomais, and were adopted in Cyprus. From thence they were taken to Constantinople in 1204, and to the Morea in 1210.
In the schools of jurisprudence in Nikosia the statutes contained in the “Assizes of Jerusalem,” were brought to great perfection with the aid of many able and leading men in the island; of these latter a long list of names has been preserved. The founder of this famous school of law, John d’Ibelin, Baron of Beyrout, was called John the Old, to distinguish him from his nephew, who bore the same name.
This noble, and Philip of Navarre, who boasted of having been present at every siege and attack of any importance in his time, were the most celebrated of this noteworthy group of public benefactors. Amongst other names, were those of Ralph of Tiberias, Godfrey le Tort, Gerard of Montreal, and John of Ibelin, Count of Jaffa and Askalon, and nephew of John the Old. The elder Ibelin and Philip of Navarre had been leaders in the long and bloody strife in which French chivalry in the East had frustrated the plans of the Emperor Frederick the Second,[3] who was anxious to combine the political and military strength of Cyprus under his own imperial rule.
All the other knightly law-makers above enumerated, took part in this war. This emperor, who had already overcome the unruly nobility of his Italian dominions, had attained so high a reputation for wisdom and justice during his sojourn in the East, that many of the highest in rank and intellect supported his claims either openly or secretly. Philip of Navarre, who had diligently searched through many collections of laws, set himself to obtain all possible assistance from the law courts of Nikosia, Akkon, and Beyrout, and completed his arduous labours by arranging his materials into one grand statute book. This valuable work was afterwards considerably improved and enlarged by John of Ibelin. Like the “Lettres du Sépulcre,” this work was sealed up and placed in the cathedral in Nikosia, and might only be opened in the presence of the king and four barons: In this volume we find the entire code of the Middle Ages, and might take to heart many a lesson from the careful wisdom and far-seeing acuteness with which its laws were compiled.
CHAPTER VI.
SAN CHRISOSTOMO.
Cyprus, the most eastern island of the Mediterranean, must be regarded as belonging to Western Europe, if we are to class it by its architecture, its Gothic cathedrals, lordly castles, and ruined abbeys; yet its mountain ranges would seem to connect it with Syria and its open plains with Egypt. Of all the ruins of the age of chivalry, that of the castle of Buffavento, “the defier of storms,” is certainly the noblest and most interesting. Never, even in Spain or Italy, have I seen a finer combination of rugged grandeur and romantic charm than is to be found in this extensive ruin. Most ancient castles stand on an eminence of some few hundred feet, but the crest of Buffavento is reared as high as the Lion Mountain, a dark rocky pyramid 3000 feet above the level of the sea. Early on the morning of the 24th of April I rode forth followed by my dragoman, zaptieh, and other servants, to visit this interesting ruin, the foot of the mountain on which it stands being about four leagues from Nikosia. My dragoman and I carried our guns with us, and as we left the town were at once stopped by some soldiers who wished to take them from us, it not being legal, they told us, for foreigners to carry arms in Cyprus.
After a lengthened parley, and many assurances from my men that I was under the protection, and a personal friend, of the pacha’s, we were allowed to proceed, and went on our way rejoicing. Our road now lay through the broad and fruitful plain of Messaria: golden corn was waving in the breeze, and not a living creature was visible on the vast expanse; only the song of the lark was to be heard as it rose and fell in the blue sky above us.
It was still early morning, and the Cypriotes have an opinion that it is not safe to visit their fields and pastures till later in the day. The silence was so intense as to be almost painful, and the lovely landscape did not seem to coincide with the death-like quiet that reigned around.
We passed two small villages, which appeared deserted, but for the crowing of a cock which was perched on a mud wall. When we reached Manilia, we had to ride through the bed of the ancient river Pedias, the water of which, it being the end of April, was low enough to admit of our crossing in safety. As we landed on the other side, we saw, for the first time that day, some labourers in the fields. These were the four wives of an amply bearded old Turk, who calmly smoked his pipe, keeping his eye on his family meanwhile, to see they did not shirk their work, which consisted of lopping off the ears of corn with a small sickle—mere child’s play. As we approached the old man shouted out something to his better halves, and one of them, a negress, immediately threw part of her garment over her face, and turned away. With the other three, however, curiosity overcame their bashfulness, and their veils were only slowly drawn down after we had enjoyed a good look at their very ordinary faces. As we continued our way, the line of mountains that bordered the coast lay before us in an uninterrupted line, thirty leagues in length, forming a natural bulwark along the northern portion of the island, and terminating in the Carpasian peninsula. This range reminded me of the Vosges mountains, but is much more varied in form, and is far richer in its productions.
The highest peak of this range is only from 2000 to 3000 feet high, but passing as it does through an extensive open plain, the effect of its height is very deceptive, the mountains appearing very much higher than they actually are. The crests of this range display every form of rocky beauty, and its peaks, chasms, precipices, and bold bluffs are covered in some parts with tints of reddish brown, and in others with a purplish blue mist that gives them an indescribable charm which I have never seen elsewhere. As we approached these mountains, the ground rose gradually, and we perceived the rocks were quite bare, every variety of tint being produced by the play of the sunbeams on the rugged stones.
We now drew nigh the monastery of St. Chrisostomo, and very refreshing was the sight of its walls standing embowered in green trees at the base of bare and rugged mountains. Olive-trees were planted in some of its declivities, and oleanders, which had finished flowering, bordered a small rivulet. Everything around seemed to woo us to repose; the air was fresh and balmy, and from the mountain height we heard from time to time the tinkle of the bells of the sheep and goats browsing down below. Two old monks stood at the door to bid us welcome, and insist upon our dismounting and accepting their hospitality. These appeared to be the only inhabitants of the half-ruined pile. I have since learnt that the number of monks is steadily decreasing in all the monasteries of Cyprus. In the cloister garden were three lofty cypresses, and a fine palm-tree. Masses of ivy were clinging about the branches of the old apple and orange-trees. This garden is at the height of 1300 feet above the sea, backed by a wall of rock fully 2000 feet high. The eye turned with relief from this vast, lofty, and rugged expanse, and the dry parched plain beyond, to the soft green of the shady garden, and its rippling water.
The two old men appeared delighted to meet with an inhabitant of the outer world, and earnestly pressed me to remain for some days. My time was too valuable even for lingering in this delightful retreat. Our fare consisted only of vegetables. Cyprian monks would appear to be always fasting—one day they eat turnips and onions, and on the next pumpkins and beans. This fashion is none of the pleasantest in a country where the monasteries are the only houses of entertainment that are always open. As soon as my hosts learnt I was a Bavarian, they informed me that the celebrated Maria of Molino was the foundress of their monastery, and a Bavarian by birth. I think the simple-hearted creatures had a sort of vague idea that she must have been an ancestress of my own. Dinner over, I seated myself in a cool corner, but was at once entreated, with outstretched hands, to take another place, as I was still warm after my journey. This is always the way in the East. If you are tired and heated, you must not drink, you must not sleep, and above all, in Heaven’s name! never sit in a draught, without you want to have fever. The only thing you are permitted to do is to throw a covering over you and wait till you are cool.
These constant precautions are no doubt necessary in these climates, still they produce an impression that danger is always at hand. This monastery of St. Chrisostomo, which was, probably, founded at a very early date, contains an ancient picture of Panagia. Great additions have been made to the original edifice, including a fine entrance and portal. The church is formed by two chapels with cupolas. At the time of my visit the floors of the chapels were thickly strewn with branches of myrtle in celebration of the feast of Easter. It is probable that Mary of Molino only beautified this edifice and increased its revenues. Tradition says that the unfortunate saint being a leper, was advised by St. Chrisostomo to bathe in the rivulet in the monastery garden. She did so, and was healed; her gratitude being shown by munificent gifts to the brotherhood. Certain it is that two hundred years ago crowds of lepers visited this spot, in order to wash in the monastery stream, to be cured of their fearful disease. This pilgrimage is now never undertaken, either because the water is not as abundant as in days gone by, or because happily this hideous malady is comparatively rare. During my stay in Cyprus I did not see one leper except outside Nikosia. This same Mary of Molino, whose bones lie in these mountains, according to another tradition, built the castle of Buffavento, choosing this elevated situation, we may suppose, to remove herself entirely from the haunts of men. If she executed such an undertaking, she must have enjoyed the revenues of a princess. Looking up at this grand old pile one is struck by its strength and size, and when, on closer survey, one finds that two similar fortresses are situated on the same chain of mountains, at about four leagues right and left of Buffavento, called respectively Kantara and St. Hilarion, that these castles command the mountain passes and the roads to the city of Keryneia, and that this town had the best haven on the north side of the island, one is naturally led to conclude that these fortresses were in fact erected by some enterprising conqueror, in order to hold the whole island under his control. Buffavento, perched high upon the Lion Mountain, looks down upon its companion fortresses with the air of a defiant spirit gazing down upon the country that it formerly kept in check. On my inquiring of my hosts if any one ever climbed to the castle, they assured me the ascent was some thousand feet high, and that they had no guide to assist me. Their awestruck manner whilst speaking of such an attempt led me to suppose that they fancied the ruins were infested by evil spirits. They, however, informed me that ten years ago two Germans attempted the ascent, and that the younger of the two reached the top. This was no doubt the traveller Kotschy, an account of whose ascent is given by his companion Unger.[4] Encouraged by this report, I determined to make the attempt myself.
CHAPTER VII
BUFFAVENTO.[5]
Our road (with my servants we were a party of four) lay now for half a league along the declivity, our path appearing and disappearing at frequent intervals. As we passed along I observed many bee-hives. These were formed by earthen pots placed one upon another, with a small hole at the side. Close against a rocky flight of steps we found a small building in ruins. Here, I am told, there was formerly a garden, so lovely that it was known as “Paradise,” Buffavento was previously called “the Queen’s Castle,” Castello de Regina, from its having been a favourite resort of the island queens during the hot season. We can well imagine that whilst they held court above, their knights and squires had jovial times in the neighbouring monastery of San Chrisostomo. When we reached the house called “Paradise,” I dismounted and looked around. Certainly the spot was one on which the eye loved to linger. Formerly the mountain was covered with trees, which have now disappeared. Below lay rippling waters and fertile pastures, and in the background the beautiful capital of the island. As I looked I saw in the distance a shepherd boy, who, it occurred to me, might be willing to act as guide in our adventurous undertaking. My zaptieh galloped after him and brought him to me. The young peasant seemed to regard the matter as an excellent joke, and willingly agreed to conduct us, honestly assuring us, however, that he had never yet reached the summit himself. Our guide at once commenced mounting with the agility of a young goat, and I followed in his wake, whilst behind came my dragoman and zaptieh, groaning and panting, with drops of anguish upon their brows. My heart beat with delight when, after half an hour’s climbing, we reached the mountain’s ridge, and looked down from a precipice several thousand feet high, broken in all directions by enormous clefts and gullies, whilst beyond lay a broad expanse of blue sea. The coast from here is about a league from the foot of the mountain, and every inch of the ground is valuable. Gardens, orchards, and meadows extended formerly in all directions. Along the coast are small villages, lying, as is very unusual in Cyprus, so near, that I could see from the one to the other. In this narrow strip of country are still to be found some traces of the ancient beauty and fertility of this neglected island. This is certainly rightly regarded as the richest district in Cyprus, whilst its fine sea breezes and numerous mountain streams render it one of the healthiest. My gaze lingered long on Keryneia, whose elevated fortress formed a most striking object on the line. Directly beneath us, so close that I could have dropped a stone upon it, lay Bellapais embedded in olive-trees, the finest monastic ruin I am told in Cyprus. Cloisters, refectory, and the knight-chamber are still recognisable. The abbot was entitled to carry the spurs and dagger of a knight, and his monastery was a favourite resort of crusaders and pilgrims. As I turned towards the interior of the island, I beheld a broad expanse glowing in the sunlight. This, the extensive plain of Messaria, occupies nearly half of the island, and two centuries ago was one huge highly-cultivated field, filled with corn, vines, fruit, and vegetables. Numerous cotton and silk weaving establishments also formerly flourished here. Every year this once fruitful plain becomes more unfit for cultivation, and stones and marshes usurp what was once a scene of the highest cultivation. Nothing fills the mind of the traveller in Cyprus with sadder reflections than the sight of this general ruin and rapid decay.
I now commenced climbing the precipitous mountain before me, which towered aloft in rugged majesty, stretching its peaks and precipices to the right hand and the left. My dragoman endeavoured to follow me, but sank down in dismay at the task before him. Indistinct murmurings reached my ear, and I have no doubt that if I could have heard his words, they were not prayers for my success, but maledictions on my adventurous head. I believe he and my zaptieh were fully convinced that my ascent was made in the hope of finding concealed treasure; for when at last they reached the ruin, my slightest movement was jealously watched, and my every act evidently regarded with suspicion. We entered the ancient fortress by an arched doorway, which is still in good preservation, and mounted slowly from one ruin to another; many of the chambers in these being mere excavations in the solid rock, and resembling bakers’ ovens in appearance.
In such places as the nature of the rocks would permit, hollow basins were formed and channels cut to receive the springs that then flowed in all directions on the mountain. We came upon several of these receptacles, and saw traces of what had evidently been much more important water tanks. In the fortress itself, comparatively slight walls were interspersed with rude masses of masonry, and both were cemented to their foundations by mortar, literally as hard as stone. The ruin appeared to consist of six divisions rising one above the other, and all connected by the ramparts. Such a fortress could never have been reduced as long as its defenders had bread and wine enough to support life. Perhaps there are few stranger scenes than that of a ruin situated thus in mid-air. Danger in climbing there was none, beyond the risk of slipping, as we seized at a piece of old masonry in mounting from rock to rock and tower to tower.
One of the principal towers is still in tolerable preservation, and to this I at once ascended, and was more than rewarded for the attempt. Before me lay on the one side an awful precipice, at the foot of which stretched green plains and a broad expanse of sea, and on the other side a sunny plain extending to the lofty mountains of the western part of the island with Mount Troados showing its snow-capped head. On one side a wall or rock rose towering towards the sky and hid a portion of the coast from my view. Observing the summit of this rock attentively, I felt convinced that I could discern a building on its peak. My servants were tired and refused to assist me in any further explorations. Formerly, no doubt, this eminence had been reached by means of wooden bridges, but no trace of them was left, and a sheer and rugged wall towered above us and presented the appearance of being perfectly inaccessible. In vain I sought for anything like a foothold. At last a bright idea flashed upon me; I seized our guide by his shoulders and pointing out the building at the summit of the rock, put my arms about a block of stone, mounted upon it by this means, and then again pointed to the summit. The boy laughed and nodded, and, without a moment’s hesitation, commenced scrambling up the face of the rock, pausing as he every now and then reached a safe footing, to look down upon us after the manner of the mountain goat, whose agility he emulated. My zaptieh gazed upon me with a countenance highly expressive of the conviction that all chance of his sharing any hidden treasure I might find was now over; but I have no doubt comforted himself with the hope of getting from the boy a full account of all that was done above. I now commenced following my nimble guide, and, thanks to a steady head, found the attempt by no means as dangerous as it had appeared from below; reaching the summit considerably sooner than we anticipated. Here I found a tower and the remains of a wall with apertures where windows had once been, and chambers excavated in the rock. The view from this point amply repaid me for all my exertions. A long greenish yellow line of coast lay between the sea and the mountain, whilst the towering rocks of Asia Minor were visible on the horizon. At first they appeared like clouds, but gradually I distinctly recognised the Caramanian range and the Cilician Mount Taurus, and could distinguish their various outlines and fields of snow.
The most remarkable feature in this scene, however, was the range of mountains on which I stood, and of which the peak of Buffavento, rising some 3000 feet above the sea, appeared the highest point. Seen from this view the ranges resembled enormous furrows, extending along the coast and stretching far into the sea. The narrow neck of land, the tongue of the island, as the Greeks call it, which extends towards the opposite continent, forms the Carpasian peninsula. The inhabitants of this part of the island are of fairer complexion, and are stronger, and of more lively disposition than the rest of their countrymen; they have also, we are told, many customs peculiar to themselves. It is supposed this peninsula was formerly colonised by a band of German crusaders. In St. Andronika a fête is annually held in honour of a German lady, who came over from Syria and settled in this spot, where she lived as a recluse, and died in the odour of sanctity. Other authorities tell us that many traces of ancient Greek are to be met with in the dialects spoken by the inhabitants, which are quite unknown to the languages spoken in other parts of Cyprus. A gentleman who visited this peninsula informed me that the people are very inhospitable, dirty, and shy of strangers. Their food consists principally of barley bread; their clothes are made of sackcloth, and their dwellings formed in caves, in the rocks, and other equally wretched situations, and are without either tables or beds. The north-western declivities are covered with fig-trees. Altogether, the description did not tempt me to make my own observations in this, but rarely-explored spot. As I descended from my lofty perch I noticed that the walls and towers had been blown up with gunpowder. This was done by the Venetians, shortly after they took possession of the island. In 1489 they proceeded to destroy all the noble castles and fortresses of the interior, in the fear that they might be used as strongholds in case of rebellion against their rule. These fortresses were, therefore, thrown down as dangerous, and useless to the Venetians themselves, whose fine fleet enabled them to land men at any part of the island. Some few fortresses, however, on the coast, such as Famagusta, were kept in tolerable repair. The crown lands were put up for sale to the highest bidder, and were, in many instances, bought by the lower class of nobles, who in this manner became a power in the land, opposed to the barons of long descent, who had been the pride of Cyprus under the dynasty of Lusignan. These latter felt themselves highly injured, but what could they do? The Venetian senate gave them the title of allies, and made no attempt to interfere with the book of statutes, but left the barons no occupation beyond that of hunting and feasting. They, therefore, retired to their castles or abbeys, and commenced leaving the country. The Venetians had rendered Cyprus defenceless and taxed her so heavily that a strong desire arose among the inhabitants for a change of government. Such were the destroyers of Buffavento; as to who actually built the noble fortress in such a commanding situation opinions greatly differ.
CHAPTER VIII
TURKISH GOVERNORS.
I had scarcely reached my lodging in Nikosia when the pacha came to return my visit, accompanied by his dragoman and first secretary. He inquired with great interest what I had been doing since we met, and seemed much surprised on hearing that I had reached the summit of Buffavento, he having always been given to understand that it was quite inaccessible. In the evening I called upon him, and we talked far into the night on the history of the past.
My kind friend had travelled far and read deeply, and in all points of political history showed himself an excellent authority. As we sat chatting I could not help contrasting this highly educated gentleman with the pachas who formerly inhabited his palaces. Only 101 years ago a most curious scene was enacted under this very roof.
In July, 1764, there came to Cyprus as governor, a necessitous and avaricious man, named Izil Osman Aga. The first decree he issued was to the effect that every Christian should pay him 44-1/2 piastres (10 francs); and every Mussulman 22 piastres (about 5 francs). This impost was exactly double the usual poll-tax required from the subjects by their governors. The begs, agas, and bishops assembled shook their heads and declared the charge to be beyond the capacity of the people. Izil Osman Aga replied that the money must be forthcoming, and sent out officials in all directions to make fresh extortions. All remonstrances were met by the remark, that if the people considered he was acting illegally they were at liberty to report him at Constantinople. Deputies were, therefore, sent at once to the Bosphorus. Week after week passed but nothing was heard of these emissaries. The bishops, after some consideration, decided to follow the delegates, but were seized and prevented by the governor from executing their plan. In the mean time the unfortunate citizens secretly found a powerful advocate at Constantinople, and on October 31st an emissary from the Grand Vizier landed in Cyprus, cited the governor to appear before him in his palace, at Nikosia, to receive the commands of his prince. These commands were threefold: he was to return half the poll-tax, his other extortions were to be inquired into, and his advisers punished. Izil Osman Aga affected to apologise, and suggested that it would be more worthy the dignitary who had to reprimand him if he were to read his decrees publicly in the state-chamber of his residence, before the assembled body of his accusers. On this suggestion the Tschokodar[6] invited begs, agas, bishops, and noble Greeks to attend. On the 5th of November these assembled, followed by a dense crowd, who filled the grand hall, and crowded the courts and staircases. At least three hundred people were in the chamber, and on every countenance commendation of the Sultan’s justice was to be read. The Tschokodar seated himself beside the governor, on the divan, which was placed at the upper end of the hall, drank his coffee, and after handing his cup to an attendant, began his announcement. The first sentence was read and the people nodded their approval, when suddenly the entire floor gave way directly in front of the divan, and the whole crowd fell pell-mell into the space below. Cries and shrieks filled the air. Shaken and bruised the frightened crowd scrambled to their feet, for the fall had not been great, and a few broken legs was all the damage done. When the three hundred victims of this strange occurrence had recovered themselves, they proceeded to investigate the cause of the accident; a very simple explanation was at once discovered—all beams and supports below the floor of the state-chamber had been sawn away, and were ready to fall the moment a cord was pulled. Cries of rage and vengeance resounded through the streets, and all agreed that the governor had contemplated nothing less than the destruction of the whole assembly; the Tschokodar also felt uneasy, for certain sharp pains felt after drinking his coffee led him to suppose that it had been poisoned. Under these circumstances a protocol was drawn up by the Tschokodar, mollahs,[7] kadis, and other citizens of rank, containing a statement concerning the accident in the state-chamber, requiring the governor to answer for it to them. Their messenger was received with mockery and insult: a second and a third delegate were sent, but with the same result. The mollahs pronounced the governor an offender against the law and the Sultan.
Scarcely was this sentence declared than the populace rushed to the palace. The governor, however, had foreseen this. All the entrances were closed and soldiers with guns in their hands placed at the open windows, who shot down any men who ventured to approach as coolly as if they had been cocks and hens. Enraged beyond endurance the people now rushed on, and a fight ensued which raged for two hours. At last bundles of straw and brushwood were placed against the grand entrance and ignited. In a very short time the door gave way and the people crowded in, killing all they found, amongst them the governor himself. Nineteen of his attendants fell on this occasion and the rest found safety in flight; the treasury was rifled and everything of value secured. This done the crowd quietly returned home. In three hours time the town looked just as usual, and the Grecian feast of St. Demetrius was carried on next day as if nothing had occurred. Five days later the Tschokodar returned to Constantinople, leaving perfect order and discipline behind him.
So matters stood till the following year, when a new governor, Hafiz Mahommed Effendi, landed; a shrewd and prudent man, who speedily won the confidence of his people. Shortly after his arrival some of those around him, wishing to curry favour, laid before him a list of all those who had attacked the palace, and tried to convince him that these should not go unpunished, if only for the sake of his own position and dignity. After long consideration the governor at last decided to issue an edict, announcing that he had been sent to Cyprus for the preservation of order, and that any attempt to disturb the same would be punished by the loss of the offenders’ heads, and that in consideration of past events he must demand a poll-tax of fourteen piastres from all Turks and Greeks, old men, women, and children being excepted. After payment of this fine all was to be forgotten and forgiven.
The Greeks were delighted to be let off so easily, but the Turks laid their heads together and asked each other by what right the new governor interfered with what had occurred before his time. Izil Osman Aga had been declared an offender against the law and the Sultan, and in executing him they had only acted as protectors of law and justice. They therefore replied to the demand that they had only acted as faithful servants of the Sultan in revenging themselves upon his enemies, whilst the governor on his side responded that his dignity would not permit of his withdrawing the edict.
On this some hundreds of the malcontents assembled in the village of Kytherea and took possession of the mill at which corn was ground daily for all the inhabitants of Nikosia. They also cut off the water supply to the city. The greatest consternation prevailed, and the prudent governor thought it best to send a deputy to Kytherea to offer to withdraw the fine. This wise act was fully appreciated by the people, and order and peace were once more restored. The governor, however, felt deeply the contempt shown for his authority, and at once set himself seriously to bring some of the higher officials to his way of thinking. He laid in a good store of weapons and powder, and then considering himself strong enough to maintain his authority, again issued the edict.
The men of the city were less inclined than before to submit. On this occasion they chose as their rallying point the famous fortress, on the coast, called Keryneia, five leagues north of Nikosia. This castle was inhabited by a rich and respected noble named Halil Aga, who was as ambitious as he was resolute. His castle was soon bristling with arms and occupied by 2000 men, who at once announced to the governor that they purposed to do battle with him, to decide the question of the fourteen piastres. Some days later they again cut off the mill at Kytherea from the use of the city, and appeared before the walls of the capital. Hafiz Mahommed Effendi thought it best to strike a decisive blow without further delay. He therefore fell upon the attacking party, but met with a severe and bloody repulse. The rebels followed him up and endeavoured to storm the town. The walls and defences, however, proved too strong for them, and Halil Aga therefore decided to blockade the city and summon the whole island to his assistance. People flocked to him from all parts, and such as refused to join him were treated as enemies of their country, and their houses burnt about their ears. Whole villages were set in flames. The unfortunate governor of Nikosia was at his wit’s end, for the citizens were suffering severely from famine. For the second time he was compelled to announce that he would withdraw his claim. The desired effect was at once obtained, and the besiegers laid down their arms, but not before the ringleaders had bound themselves by an oath to stand by each other in case of future necessity.
Whilst these events were taking place in Cyprus the three archbishops of Nikosia, Baffo, and Keryneia, had privately sailed for Constantinople, laid their complaint before the Porte, and had so far succeeded in their mission that a new governor was to be sent out; Soliman Effendi, a very worthy old man, was appointed for this purpose, and he, they hoped, would prove a mere puppet in their hands. Acting under these advisers the new governor landed at Keryneia, and sent Halil Aga some magnificent presents, highly complimenting him on his zeal for the public good. On this Halil Aga allowed Soliman Effendi to land and proceed at once, without any opposition, to the capital. A serious complication now arose with the old and new governors of Cyprus, and the former declared he would not resign until he had quelled the insurrection. The weak but good-natured Soliman at once agreed to this view of the case, and put himself completely under the advice and influence of the man he ought to have supplanted. He sent messenger after messenger to Halil Aga with the most dazzling proposals, and assured him that if he would come to Nikosia he should be put in command of the cavalry. Halil Aga was, however, too wise to put his neck in such a noose. Further steps were taken on either side; the insurgents gradually returned to their homes, and order was again restored. This happy state of things continued until early in the following year, when the two governors, who could not let the question of the fourteen piastres rest in peace, again issued an edict commanding the immediate payment of the sum in question. Hafiz Mahommed had now a strong party, and many in the city would willingly have paid the fine for the murdered governor’s death sooner than aid and abet in fresh disturbances. The mass of the inhabitants, on the contrary, declared that the carrying out of the edict must be prevented, even at the risk of fresh bloodshed, and made the matter a question of their civil and religious liberty. The governor had his proper sources of revenue, and the Sultan his import duties and tithes, but such a thing as a fine for the death of a murdered person, could be claimed only by the relatives of the victim, and the demand, they maintained, was in direct opposition to the Koran. In these terms the mollahs had condemned the action of the governors, and the janissaries, as the ancient defenders of freedom and religion, had confirmed their judgment. An open revolt at once took place, the citizens flew to arms and hurried to Keryneia, and in a very short space of time Halil Aga had 5000 men mustered under his banner. In order to obtain possession of two out of the principal fortresses, Halil Aga suddenly appeared before Famagusta, the famous stronghold on the opposite side of the island, but was speedily repulsed. He now encamped before Nikosia, and put the capital in a state of siege, announcing that he demanded, himself, to be appointed governor of the island. Neither Mahommed nor Soliman would agree to the proposition, and Halil Aga then informed them that he had private commands from the Sultan, and requested they would visit him in his camp and hear them read. This wily message met with no response beyond such as came from the mouths of the defenders’ guns. Meanwhile disturbances arose all over the island. After many attempts to storm the capital, and many sallies on the besieging army from within her fortifications, Halil Aga also obtained some cannon, and at once commenced a merciless attempt to force a passage through the walls. Distress and alarm filled the unfortunate town. At the earnest petition of such of the inhabitants as desired peace the English consul came over from Larnaka and endeavoured to mediate between the opposing parties. Halil Aga demanded on his part that a sealed deed should be given him, offering free pardon to all who had fought under his banner, and that all the janissaries and officials who had joined his flag, should be reinstated in all their former posts. Secondly, that the people of Nikosia should accept him as their governor if he could obtain the approval of the Sultan. The besieged governors would only give way as to the free pardon, so the fighting continued as before. Meanwhile news of what was going on in the island had reached the adjacent lands and seas, and foreign powers, who had sufficient troops to carry out the undertaking began to speculate as to the advisability of taking advantage of such a tempting opportunity to appropriate the island. The Porte could be readily appeased, it was supposed, by offers of gold, and plentiful doses of flattery, and would not refuse to confirm any new government in its acts. Ibrahim Bey was the first who arrived in Cyprus, having crossed over with his men in two small galliots, but finding his forces too weak to attempt anything he at once retired. Directly after this, another corsair, Dschassar Bey, appeared upon the scene with a frigate and three small munition vessels. Having speedily landed his men, he took possession of the castle, near the salt works of Larnaka. Halil Aga having heard of this new arrival marched to remonstrate with him, and his overpowering force proved such an excellent argument that this invader also hurried from the field. The third adventurer was Giergil Oghlu, the governor of Karamania, situated on the opposite coast to Cyprus. On the 27th of June he appeared before Famagusta with a few hundred men, who overran the adjacent country, plundering and destroying with the utmost brutality. Before the very gates of the fortress, they are said to have speared seven Greeks and beheaded two Turks. Happily on this same day Kyor Mahommed Pacha, of two tails, landed at Larnaka with 2000 foot soldiers and 500 cavalry bearing orders from the Sultan to restore peace. He requested the consuls of the various European powers to meet him, and seems to have much astonished them all by permitting them to sit in his presence during the discussion that ensued. Having heard a full account of the state of things, his first step was to command Giergil Oghlu to place himself and his troops under his standard. He then requested the English consul to write a letter to the camp around Nikosia, stating that the pacha commanded all to retire quietly to their homes, promising to show justice to all, and announcing that his mission was only intended to restore peace. On the 1st of July, shortly after the despatch of this letter, the pacha marched towards Nikosia with all his men and accompanied by the Karamanian troops.
Terror and consternation went before him, for report had much exaggerated the number of his followers. Deserters streamed out of Halil Aga’s camp until only about two hundred faithful followers were left; with these he retired to his fortress of Keryneia. This castle, which is situated on the coast, is backed by steep rocks, with the sea in front, whilst the country round is so plentifully supplied with flowers and fruit as to form a veritable paradise.
Ample means of entertainment for the garrison were provided, and they thought themselves prepared to make an obstinate resistance. Should the worst come to the worst they trusted to save themselves readily by sea, as the fortress had an entrance which opened directly on the shore, and some small ships were anchored in the haven. Message after message was sent from the pacha, commanding Halil Aga to surrender in the name of the Sultan, to which he replied that he was defending the castle for that potentate. On the 28th of July, Kyor Mahommed encamped about Keryneia, and at once commenced filling up the moats and making breaches in the walls for the purpose of mounting the latter with their scaling ladders. The besieged knew how to use their guns, and behaved with so much spirit, that every attack was repulsed.
The troop ships of the pacha now arrived and opened fire on the fine old fortress, trying it most severely. Behind them were seen Dschassar Bey, with his frigate and two other ships; and last, though not least, Ibrahim Bey and his three little galliots. These new arrivals completely closed Keryneia on the sea side, and rendered escape that way utterly hopeless. The efforts of the besieged were now prompted by despair. The pacha was becoming uneasy at the long delay, fearing daily that there would be a general rising against him in the island, and had recourse to base cunning to overcome his brave antagonist.
The captain of the line ships, Meleky Bey, was desired to demand a secret interview with Halil Aga. This meeting took place on the night of the 14th of August, on which occasion Meleky forcibly urged that it would be advisable for Halil Aga to come on board the ships of the line, and trust to his friendly intervention for favourable terms. There could be no question of safety, for was it not well known that Turkish sailors would be hewn in pieces before they would betray a man who had trusted to their honour? Meleky spoke with so much apparent frankness that Halil Aga fell into the trap, and before night he had taken shelter on one of the ships. Next day he was handed over to the pacha, who, however, received him kindly, and offered him a tent for his own use.
As soon as this reception was known in the castle, the garrison surrendered at discretion. The position was at once changed. All the women were allowed to retire with bag and baggage, but the men were declared prisoners. Halil Aga’s officers were thrown into chains, and he himself closely watched.
On the 19th instant, the unfortunate captive was brought before the pacha, who received him kindly, and requested to hear from his own lips who had been implicated in the rising. This done, the pacha changed his tone, and angrily demanded whether Halil Aga supposed that the Sultan intended that his fortresses should be used for seditious purposes? As he spoke, some of his minions entered, and the unhappy victim of his treachery was strangled on the spot.
On the 21st of August, Giergil Oghlu and his wild crew were desired to set sail, without having been allowed to land. The pacha retired with his prisoners, and his myrmidons at once spread over the island. All those who had been implicated in the late revolts, and were still free, quitted Cyprus. Many, however, were captured before they reached the coast. Investigations into the recent events were set on foot in Nikosia, and at its conclusion two hundred of the accused were decapitated. Their heads, with that of Halil Aga, were salted down, and sent to Constantinople, with a full account of what had occurred in this island.
Kyor Mahommed was made a pacha of three tails and governor of the pachalik of Koniah. Hafiz Mahommed had been previously desired to leave Cyprus, and Soliman Effendi reigned in his stead. So ended a sad page in the history of this unlucky island, which during these three years of insurrection, had lost the flower of her Turkish population, and seen her castles and buildings destroyed.
These ruins were never rebuilt; successive misfortunes and the insecurity of the future prospects of the island seem to have quenched all spirit of emulation and progress in the much-tried population, and Cyprus appeared to have finally lost her proud place in the world’s history.
CHAPTER IX
THE PLAINS OF CYPRUS.
Early on the morning of the 25th of April, I bade adieu to Nikosia, the capital of Cyprus—a fair city even in these days of her ruin and decay. As I look back at her, as she appeared to me, I always find myself comparing the image with that of a stately and beautiful dame over whose faded charms, faint and occasional flashes of former loveliness are now and then visible. The day was glorious as I left the dark city gates and stepped forth upon the bright and boundless plains; cornfields extended to the feet of the long chain of mountains, which glowed with deepest purple in the foreground, and towered black and shadowy in the far distance; whilst straight before me, from behind the dark, cloud-like masses, peeped the snowy head of Mount Olympus. This name “Olymp,” which is conferred in almost every Grecian island upon the noblest snow-capped mountains, has the same signification as our word “Alp.”
I had determined to ascend the Cyprian Olympus, and to this end had made many inquiries concerning it. Had I desired information about some unknown and unexplored region, the few particulars I gained could not have been more vague and trifling. I could meet with no one who had ever made the ascent of Troados, as the mountain is now called, or even learn whether the monastery of Troaditissa was situated on its summit or lay below in one of the neighbouring valleys. The Cypriotes love their ease too well to undertake these kind of excursions, and only ridicule what they consider such unnecessary exertion on the part of the traveller. Our party had not ridden more than a mile and a half before cultivation ceased, and on all sides nothing was visible but a dry and barren waste. On this occasion I travelled over about fifteen leagues of country, and did not see more than two or three small villages in the whole distance. One of these was built upon a stream which certainly must contain water enough to irrigate the neighbouring fields and gardens during the winter and spring, yet all the dwellings were in ruins, and no plough had turned the pastures for certainly ten or twenty years.
With his usual kindness, my good friend the pacha had sent a zaptieh who was to accompany me throughout the island and give an account to his master on his return. This was a great convenience to me, as it is usual to exchange the zaptieh at every successive district. The country was very plentifully stocked with game; quails, partridges, and larks rose in large quantities into the air, disturbed by our approach. In the presence of this, my body guard, the pacha had explicitly stated that I was at liberty to shoot where and as I pleased, so my dragoman, who had had some experience of sport in his leisure hours, and I were able to obtain some good shooting on our journey. Zaptieh Hussein, my man, was a fine fellow in his way, prompt and quick at expedient. Like most other Turkish soldiers, his mind was rude and shallow, but his frame strong, muscular, and enduring. Those who understand the management of these men will find them faithful and contented servants. In either mounting or dismounting, when going after these birds, I had managed to lose my tobacco pouch; this pouch and contents were a little memento of my visit to Cavalla, on the Roumelian coast, where the finest Turkish tobacco grows. In the East, where the slave smokes equally with the noble, from morning till night, to lose one’s tobacco may be regarded as a real misfortune. My dragoman pulled a long face when he heard what had happened, and my horse-boy informed me that he had only a little very bad tobacco to offer me. Hussein did not say a word, but put spurs to his horse and was out of sight in a moment.
We rode on slowly for an hour before my zaptieh overtook us, and when he reached me, he drew my pouch from his breast pocket. When a pacha or a kaimakan has half a dozen such men on his staff he will not fail to be obeyed in his district. A zaptieh will ride ten leagues to secure an offender, seize him in the midst of his own friends, fasten his prisoner to his saddle-girths, and bring him, dead or alive, to his master. These are the men whose obstinate and manly spirit has so prolonged the agonies of their country in its struggles with its enemies. Call it fanaticism if you will, but one can but admire the courage and devotion that will sacrifice life and property, if their rulers or religion are in danger. On such emergencies the scanty earnings of a life are drawn from the chest, where they have been hoarded for years, to assist in procuring what is necessary for the strife. Sabres and guns are girded on, and for weeks these devoted servants of the Prophet will fight without pay and deprived of every comfort, under the very guns of the enemies’ batteries.
We now rode directly for the foot of the mountain over ground covered with short grass, stunted shrub, and dwarf palms. Now and again we passed spots covered with a variety of red, yellow, and blue flowers, besides many tulips and bulbous plants. It was a glorious ride and the air delightful, so clear that the eye was never weary of endeavouring to penetrate farther and farther into the horizon.
About 11 o’clock, having never passed an inhabited dwelling, we reached a village that lies about five miles from Nikosia, called Akazi. I can only give its Grecian name, as, though I found the place on the map the pacha had given me, none of our party could read its Turkish designation. We breakfasted in this village, and after a two hours’ rest proceeded on our way.
It being Easter every one was taking advantage of the fête to lounge or lie about in the open air, while some stood in groups round the church where the village priest was celebrating mass. This fête lasts four days, but the people generally manage to make a whole week’s holiday of it, and give up themselves to hearing masses and perfect idleness. The population of this village looked strong and healthy, which is the more surprising when one considers the amount of fasting imposed upon them. Not only are there two fast days in every ordinary week, but on all sorts of extraordinary occasions. I am told that the number of these fast days amounts to no less than a hundred and fifty in the course of the year! I must here remark that this is no child’s playing at abstinence—only bread and green stuff are permitted, not even milk or oil may be partaken of. Wonderful indeed is it to our minds to observe on how few meals a Greek family can subsist. Even in the houses of tolerably well-to-do people they never cook more than twice or three times in the week, and fish or flesh are rare delicacies. This fact will partly explain the slight degree in which the island is now cultivated. Fruits in great variety and vegetables of many kinds grow wild and form staple articles of food. It is no uncommon thing to see the Cypriotes gathering their repast as they go along and eating it without farther ceremony.
When we once more started on our way, the sun’s rays beat down upon us with terrible power, and as I panted beneath it, I could not but compare it with that monster of the African desert, the yellow lion, prowling about with ravening jaws “seeking whom it may devour.”
I had heard much of the unbearable heat of the island during the summer season, when the air is heavy and damp, when foliage and grass are withered up, a drop of water scarcely to be obtained, and man and beast are panting for a breath of fresh air. We felt the sun oppressive, but seeing the country as we did in its pride of verdure and covered with flowers, one could scarcely picture the spot under so different an aspect.