ATHIENU.
At seven o’clock the following morning I started for Athienu, and as I
passed through the streets of Larnaka, the town was still quiet, and
almost empty.
The better class of houses stand within a court-yard and garden, and
are furnished with large verandahs, supported by light pillars. Women
and girls of the lowest class were to be seen lounging about the
narrow, crooked streets. As I quitted the town, the day became all that
a traveller could desire. The air was bright and pure, and a balmy
breeze swept over the green plains. The swallows were skimming through
the air, and countless larks were trilling their sweetest notes.
Cyprus, I must here observe, is very bountifully supplied with birds. I
was told that many thousand larks were offered in the market-place of
Larnaka. The eggs of the partridge are still more esteemed, and I have
often heard the call of these birds in the grass towards evening.
As I pursued my journey, I soon found myself between ranges of chalk
hills, and then passed for miles over bleached and barren highlands.
These form part of a chain of hills, connected towards the south
with the western range of mountains, and extending in a long line to
the sea. Very rarely, we passed a little hut, standing in a blooming
garden, and forming a veritable oasis in this miniature desert. As I
reached the last height, I obtained a peep of the sea near Larnaka,
whilst before me, towards the northern portion of the island, towered
a superb range of mountains, bristling with innumerable peaks, and
tinted with various shades of brown. This chain extends north of the
western mountains to the coast, where passing onwards into the sea, it
forms the groundwork of the Carpasian peninsula. To my left were also
broad, dark, stupendous mountains, running through the whole western
portion of the island. One peak, the “Troados,” formerly the Cyprian
“Olympus,” reared a snow-covered crown. At my feet lay the extensive
plains of Messaria, watered by mountain streamlets, and forming one
huge cornfield. A group of thirteen camels, tended by two negroes,
stood in a pasture ground beneath me, and imparted a still more Eastern
character to the scene. These negroes were probably paid servants,
but formerly black slaves were commonly employed in this island. The
Government has forbidden this traffic in human flesh; but as a negro
will do a better day’s work than five Cypriotes, their introduction is
winked at, and many are landed in the northern havens, and are taken by
night to the neighbouring mountains.
About noon I reached the town of Athienu, the inhabitants of which are
considerably above the average Cypriote in manliness and intelligence.
I learnt that they trace their descent from the famous defenders of
the powerful fortress, Famagusta, which, in the Middle Ages, stood
upon the western part of the island. Famagusta is encumbered with
_débris_, and the covered pits from which the Turks assaulted the walls
in the sixteenth century, are now stagnant marshes. After the fall of
Nikosia, this fortress had resisted the Turkish arms for more than a
year, under the command of the brave Venetian captain, Bragadino. In
vain the Turkish General Seraskier Mustapha stormed the place. Six
times his men rushed on, their swords between their teeth, fascines
and ladders in their hands, and six times they were driven back with
great slaughter. Mustapha was furious, his best troops were gone, and
he well knew his head must pay the penalty at Constantinople should he
return unsuccessful. The town was invested, and six months later, when
every scrap of food and ammunition was exhausted, the starving people
forced their captain to surrender. Mustapha at once proposed the most
honourable terms. The garrison were to retain their arms and baggage,
and be sent in Turkish ships to Crete. Whoever desired to go to another
part of the island might do so with all his possessions, whilst those
who preferred to remain, were to be perfectly unmolested, both as
regarded their religion and property.
On the 5th August, 1571, the fortress was taken possession of by
the Turkish fleet, and Bragadino at once rode down to the shore,
accompanied by three generals, to deliver up the keys to his captors.
Over his head was a red silk umbrella, and on his shoulders a purple
mantle that swept the ground, in token of his distinguished rank.
Mustapha received him, at first, with all honour; but in the course
of conversation, became so insolent that Bragadino replied to him in
angry terms. The four generals were at once attacked, Bragadino’s nose
and ears cut off, and his companions hewn to pieces. Three hundred men
of his garrison were mercilessly butchered, and a scene of carnage and
pillage ensued which lasted three days. Only a small remnant of the
higher classes were allowed to escape, on condition that they should
separate and settle in the principal towns.
Bragadino was fastened to a rope and dropped into the sea, from which
he was again fished out, laded with two baskets of earth and sent to
the new Turkish entrenchments. On his arrival he was seized, thrown
down, and slowly tortured to death, amidst the gibes and brutal
laughter of Mustapha and his followers. He died as he had lived, like
a hero, but this did not protect his body from insult. His skin was
stuffed with hay, placed on a cow, and led throughout the camp and
town, and was finally attached to the mast of Mustapha’s ship, and
taken to Constantinople, where the pitiless conqueror was received with
open arms.
I dined at the table of an Athenitan, and have seldom been better
entertained; the room was small, but clean, and my hostess young and
charming. Our fare, which was admirably cooked, consisted of fried
eggs, roast fowl and pillau. For dessert, oranges, artichokes, and
some excellent dark wine, were set before me. After dinner I enjoyed a
refreshing sleep, and then bidding adieu to my good hosts, proceeded on
my way.
Dali, the ancient Idalion, was my next resting-place; here was formerly
the Temple of Venus, now a mere heap of ruins, but I saw little worthy
of note. These plains of Cyprus are watered by two streams, one of
which flows east, and the other west. Both are named after the towns
towards which they flow, the larger being called the Dali and the
lesser the Morfu. In ancient times these rivers were known as the
Pedias and Satrachos, and both much resemble the Nile in appearance.
During the rainy season these streams run rapidly, spreading their
yellow waters over the surrounding country, and when they retire, leave
a thick deposit of slime or mud. I am told that the Pedias was formerly
called the Cyprian Nile. The table-like rocks of the plain of Messaria
through which I now journeyed, form a very peculiar and interesting
feature of its scenery. These rocks, called τραωεζαι, from their
table-like appearance, are considered by the Cypriotes to be useless
for agricultural purposes; I rode over several of them to test the
truth of this assertion, and found the chalk only visible in certain
parts, the rest of the surface being well fitted for the growth of
vines and other plants. But of what avail is it, that a few hills might
be cultivated, in a country whose fruitful plains for generations have
not been touched by a plough or hoe? Not a sheep or goat was to be
seen in the plains, once called by the ancients μακαρια, or the
blessed. Now that Cyprus again enjoys the comforts of a judicious
government, she will speedily bring forth all the fruits of the earth
with profusion. This, however, will not be done without much difficulty
and patient perseverance.
A Cyprian ox! βοῦς χύωριος was the ancient nickname conferred upon the
Cypriotes in derision of their stolid obtuseness. Dirty, but contented,
they lounge through life without making the slightest effort to improve
their condition. All emulation, or pride in their professions, seems
to have died out under the weight of a tyrannical and unsympathetic
government.
The following short sketch of the cultivation of Cyprus, under the
various dynasties, will show its extraordinary natural resources, and
the field for enterprise that will be opened out under British sway:
During the long centuries of Byzantine rule, many circumstances
conduced to the animation of trade and proper cultivation of the
fertile soil. Cyprus was long regarded as a veritable harbour of
refuge, not only by those inhabiting the neighbouring Asiatic
continent, but by the persecuted victims of various religious
denominations, many of whom being quiet, industrious men, settled down
at once in the country of their adoption as skilful tillers of the
soil; whilst the Armenian and Syrian refugees taught and improved the
arts of trade and commerce.
The introduction of the silkworm into Cyprus must, however, be regarded
as a main cause of its long prosperity. Until that time the wearing of
silk was confined entirely to the highest classes, and it could only
be procured, at enormous cost, of merchants travelling from India and
China. In the year 557 two monks brought a quantity of silkworms’ eggs
from India to offer them to the Emperor Justinian, who, appreciating
their commercial value, caused them to be distributed over different
provinces. In no place did their culture succeed as in Cyprus; the
warm soft air, rarely agitated by wind and storm, exactly suited their
requirements, and in a very short space of time the southern coasts,
and other parts, were covered with mulberry trees for their sustenance,
and the celebrated silk factories established and in full work. The
rule of the Arab in Cyprus brought on the contrary decadence and
misfortune in its train. These sons of the desert destroyed all before
them, churches and temples were laid in ruins, and books committed
to the flames. Once, however, settled in the conquered dominion,
they gave themselves up to the enjoyment of their new possessions.
Jews and Christians were employed in building new palaces, and in
translating into Arabic the poetry of Persia and works of Eastern lore.
For their own share of improvement the Arabs devoted themselves to
the cultivation of plants, and arranged splendid and well-irrigated
gardens, which they filled with trees and shrubs brought from Egypt,
Syria, and Arabia.
We learn that, as far as the island has been yet explored, it contains
no less than one thousand different sorts of plants. The forest
growth is more especially luxuriant. According to Herr linger, the
“Pinus maritima,” in Cyprus, covers the hills and mountain regions to
the height of 4000 feet, and one of the commonest trees, the “Pinus
laricio,” which covers all the heights to 4000 feet above the sea, is
met with on the western mountains of the island to 6000 feet, and gives
them a dark appearance from the coast. The wild cypress, “Cupressus
horizontalis,” is the third tree which grows commonly in the eastern
part of the island, and in some places forms, by itself, whole woods.
On the entire northern chain of mountains this wild cypress often grows
at the height of 2000 feet to 3000 feet above the sea. Great forests
of wild cypresses must have covered the whole of the south of the
island, interspersed with a shrub, the “Juniperus Phœnicea.” In the
north several varieties of oak are found, and throughout the island
the arbutus abounds. The carob-tree, “Ceratonia siliqua,” and olive
flourish on the banks of all the rivers, and up to an elevation of 1000
feet above the sea. The succulent pods of the carob-tree are exported
to Egypt and Syria, while the pulp, which is called St. John’s bread,
from its resemblance to manna, is used as an article of food. Orange
and lemon trees, and date-palms, are also met with in great profusion.
The cultivation of Cyprus during the thirteenth and fourteenth
centuries was carried to great perfection, and was still flourishing
in the two succeeding centuries. During the chivalrous dominion of
the Lusignans, inconceivable wealth and almost unprecedented luxury
overspread the whole island, and in all the neighbouring countries
of the Mediterranean, Cyprus was spoken of as a miniature India,
overflowing with treasure. Knights, philosophers, and adventurers
streamed into the island. The prosperity of Cyprus must not, however,
be attributed to these new and able immigrants, but to the fact
that its revenues were no longer drained by its tributes to foreign
potentates, and that its princes ruled with prudence and justice. These
new comers to the island at once commenced cultivating the fruit trees
of their native lands. Apple, pear, plum, and medlar trees, however,
did not thrive, but cherries, peaches, bananas, and apricots came
to great perfection, and Cyprus is still noted for its walnuts. An
attempt was next made to introduce the sugar-cane, with much success,
and Cyprian sugar was soon in great request. The art of refining had,
however, not been introduced, and the sugar only took the form of small
blackish grains.
The cultivation of the grape, which had dated from most ancient times,
acquired new vigour under these influences and was speedily recognised
as the choicest vintage in the world. In no less esteem were held the
silks and velvets woven in Cyprus, and the extended cultivation of the
mulberry and the perfection of the art of weaving went hand in hand.[2]
Syrian industry was united with European talent, and operatives from
Persia, who came to give their services, brought with them seeds of
the cotton-plant. So marvellously did this new venture prosper, that
cotton was commonly known as the gold-plant, on account of its great
commercial success. In Nikosia, the capital of Cyprus, large weaving
establishments were at once formed for the production of the fine
calico, for which Cyprus was soon noted. During the whole of the Middle
Ages, Cyprus must be regarded as the garden in which tropical plants of
all kinds were carefully acclimatised, and from thence introduced and
distributed over Greece, Italy, S. France, Spain, the Canary Islands,
and America.
A short distance from Nikosia, I observed a party of soldiers standing
in a court-yard on the roadside. As I approached they quietly sprang
into their saddles, and rode towards me with their sabres in their
hands. On reaching me they saluted, and one of the party advancing,
informed me, with a graceful wave of his hand, that he had been sent by
the Pacha of Cyprus to meet and conduct me to the lodging he had found
for me. My new companion, who was a Catholic Armenian, speaking both
French and Italian, chatted gaily to me as we rode on side by side. Our
path lay through a valley between the hills which still hid the city
from our eyes. As soon as we reached the rising ground, hundreds of
waving palm-trees were before us, interspersed with slender minarets,
whilst here and there a fine dome, towering high, announced to me that
the capital of Cyprus lay before us. A veritable gem of Eastern beauty
it looked in the bright sunlight, its white walls and painted minarets
standing gaily out from the green, well-watered plain and graceful
palms, whilst fine belfries and Gothic churches gave an air of grandeur
to the view. As we approached the sun went rapidly down, gold and
purple clouds rolled over our heads, and the air was filled with a soft
and delicious breeze.
At the gates of the town we were met by a party of lepers begging for
alms; the revolting sight seemed to throw a feeling of horror over the
whole scene. Happily the unfortunates are not permitted to enter the
city. We were now requested to form ourselves into a file in order to
make our entrance in a becoming manner. Two soldiers went first with
naked sabres in their hands, then followed the captain, then myself,
and in my rear, our servants and baggage. In this wise we galloped
along as rapidly as our mules would carry us, and as we passed through
the bazaars and streets the people gathered about us and offered a
respectful welcome. A narrow dirty street brought us to the door of my
lodging, where I was received by the host and his servants with many
impressive genuflections.
Here I parted with my friendly conductors, after offering them a
return, in solid cash, which they evidently expected, for their
civilities. The captain of the party shortly after returned to invite
me to visit the governor, who belonged to a noble Bosnian family, at
his residence. This gentleman had travelled much, and had visited both
Paris and Vienna. He received me with all the grace of a European, and
gave me much valuable information respecting this interesting town.
What delighted me most, however, was the gift of an excellent map of
the country, a treasure I had vainly attempted to obtain ever since my
arrival, and which proved invaluable to me in all my journeyings.
As I returned home the city lay in perfect rest, not a creature was to
be seen, and the streets were only enlivened by the gambols of a few
wretched homeless dogs.