CHRYSOROGIATISSA.
As we gradually emerged into the open country, I recognised our
geographical position, and experienced fresh astonishment at the
number of fine streams, by which, if proper justice were done to them,
the island would be once more readily fertilised. From this place we
observed numerous tributaries of the ancient Lycopotamos (River Kurio),
which flows into the sea at Episkopi (Curium), and of the Keysoypotamos
(River Diorizos), which discharges its waters near Kuklia (Palea
Paphos), and a little further on passed the principal branch of the
latter river. Every mountain gully and valley seemed filled with the
sound of rippling water, and I could not but compare the whole range of
hills, to one huge rocky spring or reservoir.
At this season, the country was saturated with the late snows and
winter rains, but in summer, doubtless, these numerous sources rapidly
dry up under the burning sun, and the earth again becomes scorched and
arid. From the eminence upon which I stood, I could see innumerable
streamlets coursing down the sides of the mountains, which extended
their undulating brown-tinted declivities as far as the eye could
reach. In the distance, on our right hand, we saw the monastery of
Kikku (the richest and most extensive cloister in the island, and the
very stronghold of Cyprian brotherhoods), towering like a pyramid into
the air. This monastery is four or five leagues from Troaditissa, and
is perched so high on the upper ridge of the mountains as to be very
difficult of access. This does not prevent numerous pilgrims visiting
her shrine, which possesses a very valuable and ancient picture of the
Madonna.
Towards evening we reached the village of Panagia, and again found
all the inhabitants assembled around their church; on this occasion,
however, old and young were enjoying a little social intercourse. The
men and women chatting and laughing, whilst the youngsters sported
around under the shadow of the trees, and lent an animated charm to the
scene. Again I could not fail to remark that almost every kind of fruit
tree flourishes, and bears good fruit in a wild state. Mulberries,
apricots, almonds, and cherries were here in great profusion.
Our arrival at the monastery of Chrysorogiatissa, which was delayed
until after dark, did not appear to please the worthy brothers. Monks
and servants were all in bed; but after much knocking and delay, a
monk and negro appeared, who admitted us, and brought out some bread
and bony goats’ flesh for our delectation. Next morning when I left my
hard and comfortless bed, I found that both cloister and mountain were
enveloped in a thick white mist. This monastery, which for size ranks
next to Kikku, contains fifteen monks, and employs fifteen servants,
who cultivate part of the land belonging to the monastery, the rest is
let out on lease. All the Cyprian cloisters are richly endowed, and
are required to pay but few taxes to Government; but in spite of this
wealth, these religious houses can bear no comparison with the abbeys
of England. The church, which reminded me of the archiepiscopal chapel
at Nikosia, has a fine figure of the Saviour, with nimbus, and right
arm and hand of silver (the latter is raised as though in the act of
blessing). Among the representations in wood carving, I noticed Eve
holding the apple, and Adam with a fine moustache.
As the mist disappeared I was able to observe the scene that lay
beneath me. The cloister stands back towards the south upon the highest
range, and commands a magnificent view. This monastery was formerly
called Rogio.
At breakfast, which was a much more appetising repast than our supper
could have led us to expect, we were honoured by the presence of the
Father-Abbot, who came accompanied by the negro and another servant.
From him I learnt that this place had formerly been the seat of the
bishopric, until about thirty years ago, when the bishop preferred
removing his residence to the more busy town of Baffo. This worthy
priest also gave me some valuable information concerning the present
deserted state of the surrounding districts. For seven leagues, north,
south, and west, the country, he informed me, was almost uninhabited.
Whilst I was chatting with the friendly abbot, my dragoman appeared
with consternation written on every feature. The whole mountains, he
assured me, were infested by robber hordes; Michaili, my horse boy,
substantiated the statement, and both refused to leave the monastery.
On inquiry I found that three men had been making requisitions on the
cloister at Troaditissa, and after other acts of violence had been
lodged in the gaol at Nikosia. This prison, which is situated beneath
the late governor’s palace, often contains as many as a thousand
convicts, guarded by a strong force of police. In the centre of this
square, is a forlorn-looking tree, from the branches of which many
wretches have been hanged by order of the Governor-General of Cyprus.
At the present day the governor cannot put a man to death without
special orders from Constantinople; when this order arrives a policeman
is summoned, whose duty it is to pass a rope round the victim’s neck,
and, without more ado, to drag him to the fatal tree, where he is left
hanging for several hours after life is extinct.
Whilst upon the subject of Cyprian prisoners, we must not fail to
lay before our readers the great severity of punishment now being
undergone by an unfortunate now in the fortress of Famagusta. To Mrs.
Cesnola, the amiable wife of the well-known author from whom we quote,
the unhappy man was indebted for obtaining some mitigation of his
sufferings.
It is scarcely too much to hope that under British rule these terrible
dungeons may be investigated, and the hands of mercy in many instances
extended to their suffering occupants.
“On one occasion,” writes the general, “when visiting the armoury of
the prison, the attention of the ladies of my party was attracted
to some trailing crimson flowers which overhung a parapet. To their
astonishment a short, broad-shouldered man who had remained near them,
and who had attracted the attention of all, by his commanding figure
and fine, manly face, sprang to the parapet with the agility of a cat,
broke off some of the blossoms, and returning, presented a spray to
each of the ladies with the utmost grace. As he did so, they observed
to their horror that he was shackled with heavy iron chains from the
wrist to the ankle.”
His large, sad blue eyes, and hair prematurely streaked with grey,
seemed to plead in his favour, and on inquiring his crime the general
learned that he was no less a personage than the celebrated Kattirdje
Janni, the Robin Hood of the Levant. This robber chief, it is stated,
never committed a murder, or permitted one to be perpetrated by his
band. It appears, that whilst in the service of a gentleman in Smyrna
he fell in love with his master’s daughter, with whom he planned an
elopement, but having been betrayed, he was overtaken and thrown into
prison. From thence he escaped into the mountains, near the ruins of
Ephesus, and entered upon the wild career which finally brought him
to Famagusta. He and his band were in the habit of lying in wait for
the parties who they knew were travelling with large sums of money,
and kindly relieving them of its charge. They also frequently captured
persons of wealth and detained them until a ransom had been paid.
Kattirdje Janni would often give this money in alms to the poor, and
we are told he presented about one thousand young Greek girls with
marriage portions. No one ever dreamed of informing against him, owing
to a superstitious belief amongst the peasants that evil would befall
the man who did so, and all attempts of the Government to take any of
the band were long futile.
“At the time of the Crimean war, whilst the English army was at Smyrna,
five hundred soldiers went out, assisted by the Turks, in order to
secure him, but were entirely unsuccessful. The following authentic
incident will testify to the boldness of this robber chief, and the
terror in which he was held. One evening, when a family near Smyrna
were sitting at supper, they were amazed at beholding twelve men armed
to the teeth enter the apartment, headed by the bold outlaw. These
uninvited guests, quietly seated themselves, remarking that they would
wait until the family had finished eating, and then they would have
some supper. When Kattirdje Janni had finished his repast, he told his
trembling host that he and his family were henceforth free to hunt
and travel where they liked, as he, Kattirdje Janni, never forgot a
kindness.
“Tiring of this wild life, he gave himself up to the Turkish
authorities, on the understanding that he was to be exiled to Cyprus,
and not otherwise punished. The Turks would probably have been merciful
to him, but, unfortunately, a young Frenchman, connected with the
consulate of Smyrna, had been very badly used by his band. On this
account the French ambassador insisted, that Kattirdje Janni should be
imprisoned and treated in the most rigorous manner. He was immured in a
dungeon, and for seven years chained like a wild beast to the walls of
his cell. He was afterwards removed to the fortress of Famagusta, where
he is still confined.”
The two superiors of the monastery accompanied me to the gates, where I
found eight stalwart grey-bearded brothers waiting to bid me farewell.
I could not refrain from commenting on their fine figures, when they
laughingly assured me, there were many more of their stamp to be found
in these mountains. Their faces were sunburnt and ruddy, and contrasted
strangely with the white robes of their order. I may here mention that
these mountaineers love their native hills with an ardour not to be
surpassed by any people in the world. As we descended the steep face
of the mountain the whole scene was still enveloped in a thick mist.
At the bottom we saw two Turkish women tending their cows, and looking
in their white veils like a couple of substantial ghosts. About a
league and a half further on, we passed a deserted church, which was
perched upon a rock, and completely in ruins. We also observed some
sheep, with broad flat tails, grazing on the mountain side. During the
whole of this journey to the coast I could readily have imagined I was
travelling over one of the rocky parts of Northern Germany, whilst the
scenery to the north-east, with its craggy peaks, strongly recalled to
my remembrance some parts of the Vosges mountains. I must, however,
admit that the Cyprian scenery is decidedly finer than that of Upper
Alsace. Such human habitations as we passed were miserable in the
extreme; mere mud-roofed huts with a small aperture to admit of ingress
and egress. These structures closely resemble those I have seen in
the north parts of Samothrace, but the latter are somewhat larger and
certainly cleaner.
After four hours’ hard riding we at length descended into a narrow
valley which opened upon the plains beyond, and afforded us a good
view of the sea, with its yellowish green coast. Our journey through
the mountains was almost over, and on the whole, I must confess to a
feeling of disappointment, as I looked back over all I had seen. During
the last four days the neglected state of the country and the wretched
condition of its people seemed to have thrown a veil of depression
and melancholy over every spot I visited, whilst even the grand and
imposing mountain ranges I had traversed, would not bear comparison
with those of Crete or the Canary Islands.
As we now approached the coast I saw before me the portion of country,
formerly dedicated to the worship of the Goddess of Beauty. This tract,
which is about one and a half leagues broad, extends for three or four
leagues along the shore, and slopes gently to the sea. Directly before
me lay the small town of Ktima, whilst somewhat lower down, nestled a
small fort. On this spot formerly stood the city of New Paphos, and
on the left, about two leagues distant, the village of Kuklia, which
stands upon the site of Old Paphos. The scenery at this spot possesses
much quiet beauty. In the rear tower the dark hills, looking down upon
an extensive open tract of fields, whilst in front spreads the sea,
the waters of which encroach upon the land in a picturesque variety
of curves and tiny bays. At this spot, the ocean-born goddess was
supposed to have been borne upon the waves to shore, and here, upon a
slight eminence, the most famous and ancient of her numerous temples
was erected. Crowds of pilgrims and eager worshippers hurried to the
spot and joined in the excited processions that passed backwards and
forwards between Old and New Paphos.