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.

Cyprus: Historical and Descriptive · 第 9 / 32 章