KOLOSSIN.
On our approach to this village, I sent forward my dragoman to secure
us lodgings for the night. As we followed him at the distance of about
a mile we saw a huge square tower standing on a farmstead, and on
advancing found that it was a building belonging to mediæval times,
but whether it had been part of a castle or a fortress I was unable
to determine. The owner received us at the entrance of the court-yard
in the kindest manner. He was a man of substance and good deportment,
holding a position similar to that of the owner of a vineyard on
the Rhine, and his house very much resembled that of a small farmer
in the South of France. The lower part of the house was occupied by
his numerous family. He himself lived in the upper part, to which we
ascended by a wooden staircase leading from a kind of entrance hall.
The furniture in these comfortable apartments had something of a
European aspect; in the room were some fine greyhounds of a light
yellow colour. Our host informed us that there were fifteen yoke of
oxen upon the farm, but there was land enough to give employment to ten
times the number.
After a short rest, we went to inspect the tower, under the guidance
of the owner, who had ordered the servants to light it up from top to
bottom with torches. It is a massive square building, with walls so
thick that benches were placed in the recesses of the windows. A very
simple coat-of-arms, carved in stone upon the exterior, shows that it
was erected in the thirteenth century. The whole is a fine specimen
of the very few baronial castles that remain. This structure is in
excellent preservation, and furnishes a good example of Anglo-Norman
architecture. I do not think that in all Europe there is any building
of the sort in such good condition, except perhaps the well-known
castle at Hedingham.
There are two lofty stories above the ground, and a deep cellar-like
excavation beneath the level of the soil. The latter is divided into
three compartments, and each of the former into two roomy chambers.
Over the fireplaces are carved lilies, without any ornamentation,
exactly resembling those represented in the coat-of-arms upon the outer
wall. The portal is narrow, and a flight of small stone steps leads
from one story to another; at the top is a broad platform surrounded by
battlements. In the cellar there is a deep cistern or well partially
filled up. The owner talked of having it cleared out, and I wished that
he might have the luck to find some treasure at the bottom, to repay
him for the bad harvests of the last two years, which, owing to want of
rain, had been very scanty.
Manifestly the whole building had been constructed, not so much for a
residence as for defensive purposes. It is situated near the middle of
the peninsula, just where on the one hand the ground slopes towards the
sea, and on the other spreads a wide amphitheatre of hills; it thus at
once commands the sea, the coast, and the surrounding mountain region.
This colossal structure must evidently have been unassailable by fire,
by ladders, or by breaching the walls, while its defenders if hard
pressed could retreat from one story to another. Under the battlements
were numerous loop-holes, through which arrows might be shot with
deadly precision against an advancing enemy.
The prospect from the lofty platform was extensive and beautiful.
Sunset was rapidly approaching, and the clouds, illuminated by the
departing rays of the glorious orb, were arranged in blood red masses
and streaks, whilst beneath, the deep blue of the tranquil sea was
here and there lighted up by broad patches of golden splendour. The
mountains, however, were shrouded in a veil of grey mist. Low beneath
us was the old church, whose architecture seemed a mixture of the
ancient Roman with the earliest Gothic.
I learned that these old castles were crown property and belonged
to the Sultan. During the course of our conversation the origin and
intention of the building became manifest to me. I found that I was
in the very centre of the world-renowned Commanderia. The Knights of
St. John, after they were obliged to quit the Holy Land, established
the head quarters of their order at Cyprus, just as at a later period
they did in Rhodes and Malta. From Cyprus they issued forth under the
protection and leadership of its knightly king, to fight gloriously
against the Crescent, and very frequently the victory was due to the
courage and prowess of these soldiers of the Church. The Bishop of
Akkon, Jacques de Vitrey, in his account of the Holy Land gives us the
following sketch of the Knights Templars:
“Covered with their white mantles, which were embroidered with a red
cross, with their black and white banner ‘Beauseant,’ they rush forward
to battle in silence. They have no war-cry. As soon as the general’s
trumpet sounds, they lay their lances at rest, and repeating from one
of the Psalms of David ‘Lord give us the victory, not for us but for
thy holy name,’ they throw themselves upon the strongest part of the
enemies’ forces. They never give way! they must break through or die!
Does one of the brotherhood lose heart, he is deprived of his mantle
and all his knightly honours for a year, and must eat his meals from
the ground, without a tablecloth, disturbed by the dogs, that he is
forbidden to drive away.” The order already possessed a “commande” (as
the possessions of the knights were called) in Cyprus, and important
privileges were conferred upon them by King Hugo I., in the year
1210. They were allowed to acquire territory, wherever they wished,
to import or export all sorts of produce, and to grind their corn
without charge in the king’s mills, which were situated on the stream
Kythrea, near Buffavento. They had residences and gardens in Nikosia
and Limasol, where the head-quarters of the order were established, and
in addition to this occupied Platanistia and Finika, in the district of
Paphos, and Mamgrallu and Kolossin in the district of Limasol.
In Kolossin, a French proprietor had possession of considerable
domains, all of which were bought by the king and presented to the
knights. And now Kolossin became their head-quarters; here dwelt
the general of the order, and here was built, during the first part
of the thirteenth century, the strong castle, which during war was
their fortress, and in peaceful times the place where the festivals
and assemblies of the order were held. Towards the close of the
Middle Ages, not fewer than forty-one districts belonged to them in
Cyprus. Their knowledge of husbandry and business-like habits enabled
the Knights of St. John to bring their estates into a very thriving
condition. The cultivation of corn, oil, vines, sugar-cane, and cotton
increased in a wonderful manner, and because wine was produced only
in the one district, or because the wine of that district surpassed
the rest in quality, it was called Commanderia wine, and Kolossin was
regarded as the centre of the wine-growing region.
We thankfully remembered the brave knights as we sat at table and
tasted the excellent wine still produced on these hills. From them
likewise the islanders learned how to preserve the little birds called
beccafices, by simply plucking them, and packing them in jars filled
with wine. The wine soaks thoroughly into the flesh, which becomes
slightly hardened, and of most delicious flavour. Great numbers of
these delicate little birds are killed in Cyprus.
The export of wine might easily be made a source of great wealth to the
inhabitants; as matters at present stand, the wine imported has to pay
a duty of one-sixteenth of its value, but fifty times more than is now
grown might be produced from the rich lands, which at present lie waste
and useless.
It is a wonder how, seeing the rude manner in which the wine is made,
that it is so good as it is. Very little trouble is taken with it.
Goats and young donkeys wander at their own wicked will through the
vineyards during the early part of the year, and feed upon the young
grapes. The clusters are gathered without the slightest selection,
and thrown upon the ground, where probably they may remain until
soaked with rain. After lying for a week to rot, they are pressed
in the roughest way; the must is poured into large earthen vessels,
which are frequently put into a room where rancid oil, grain, dried
leaves, fruit, and all sorts of bad smelling things are standing and
hanging around. In this polluted atmosphere the must has to undergo
two fermentations. Over the earthen pot that contains the wine a flat
slate is laid, or a cover with a little hole in it, through which at
intervals a straw is introduced and a mouthful sucked out, partly as a
drink, but perhaps more properly to ascertain how the wine is getting
on; it may have grown sour or it may not. Should the fermentation have
proved successful, the merchants come, ready to bargain about the
price. This wine is kept in casks, through which the air is allowed to
pass, and after a year is considered to be in good condition. As in
many neighbouring countries, it is the custom in Cyprus to buy wine
when a child is born and keep it to be drunk at its marriage feast.
Commanderia is first the colour of a topaz, and then becomes deep
red, finally attaining the hue of good curaçoa. Muscadine, the second
quality of Cyprian wine, is very sweet and has a slight violet tinge
when new, after some years it attains the thickness of syrup. Mavro,
a dark red wine, is also much drunk in Cyprus; it is very dry and
resembles Chateau Margaux.