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.