There is in the northern portion of the Grecian Archipelago--and, from
being out of the usual track of vessels, little known even to the modern
voyager, and in the days of which I write still less so--a small island
called by the mariners of those regions the Island of Lissa, though I am
not aware under what name it appears in the English charts. In extent
it is five or six miles long, and from two to three broad; its lofty
sides rise in most places as rocky precipices from out of the blue
ocean, and only on the southern side can anchorage-ground be found. It
appears, on sailing round it at a short distance off, to be a barren,
inaccessible rock--a fit abode only for the wild sea-fowl which may be
seen hovering round it. Its aspect, on approaching nearer, alters, and
here and there a pathway, cut in zig-zag down the rock, may be
discerned; and at one spot on the north, which appears at first to be a
mere crevice in the rock, to the seaman who steers boldly towards it, an
opening is revealed between the lofty cliffs, so narrow that the yards
of a ship might touch either side, yet with the water so deep that one
of large tonnage may enter, and find herself in a beautiful basin
surrounded with a fringe of yellow sand--lofty rocks, of many hues,
rising on every side, with a deep ravine running up into the interior,
its sides also equally rugged and precipitous. Neither tree nor shrub
can be seen in this wild but picturesque spot: rock, water, sand, and
sky, are the only component parts of the landscape. At the time I speak
of a few small light boats were drawn up on the beach, and two crafts of
considerably larger size lay moored in the basin or cove. They were
long, low vessels, entirely decked over, and fitted to pull some twenty
oars; they had thick stumpy masts, and long tapering yards, for lateen
sails, now stowed fore and aft in the boats. The sails were bent, the
oars being placed along the thwarts, and they wore an air which showed
they would be ready for sea at a moment's notice.
There was somewhat a wicked look about them, at the same time they might
belong to peaceable fishermen; for there were several nets hung up on
poles along the shore, and at times a few old men might be seen mending
them or cleaning the boats. The chief communication between the cove or
basin I have described and the interior of the island was by a narrow
pathway, which ran along near the bottom of the ravine for some
distance, and then, turning to the right with many a zig-zag, led along
the edge of deep precipices till it reached the summit of the cliffs.
At the very bottom of the ravine leaped and sparkled a bright, clear
rivulet, the only stream in the island. It might be seen far up,
indeed, at what might be called the head of the ravine, rushing forth
from between two cliffs, and bounding down a fall of two or three
hundred feet in a mass of glittering foam.
One of the wildest and most inaccessible spots in the island was in that
portion to the right, or east of the cove--the point of land, indeed,
formed by it and the sea, and bounded on the north by the ravine. The
only access to it from the rest of the island was from the north-east by
a narrow neck of land, with the sea-cliffs on one side and those of the
ravine on the other.
This wild and rugged spot had been selected centuries ago, when the then
powerful republic of Venice held sway over considerable territories in
those seas, for the erection of a stronghold; and certainly no place
could have been better adapted, by its position and nature, for defying
the attacks of an enemy from without, or for guarding any rich argosies
taking shelter in the bay below. It was of course for the purpose of
protecting their commerce that this rock had been seized on and
fortified. It had probably also at some other period been increased and
strengthened on the land side, and occupied for less laudable objects
than the mere protection of commerce. Whatever might have been the
original intention of its erection and its subsequent use, the massive
towers and turreted walls had long since been disused, and had fallen
into the decay of years, unheeded and unknown, except by a few families
of fishermen who had from generation to generation followed the same
occupation. I call them fishermen, because such was the designation
they would have given themselves, had they been questioned on the
subject, and very properly so, for that was the occupation they and
their fathers had followed from time immemorial--when they happened to
have no other more lucrative or interesting employment. Another change
had, however, of late years come over the ancient ruins, and though it
could not be said that they had assumed much of their pristine
appearance, some of the least dilapidated portions, at all events, gave
signs of being the habitations of human beings. One tower especially
had been roofed in, as had a building attached to it, and smoke had been
seen to ascend from its hearth; and faces, hitherto strangers to the
island, had appeared at its windows. The village in which most of the
old inhabitants of the island resided was on the opposite side of the
ravine, in a spot almost as inaccessible as that on which the castle
stood, but somewhat more convenient for a congregation of persons; and
as it was in a manner fortified by art, in addition to what nature had
done, they never found the Turks anxious to attempt the no easy task of
dispossessing them. Although the exterior of the island was so rugged
and unprepossessing, and so destitute of verdure and cultivation, there
were spots in the interior where the orange, the citron, the pear, the
apple, and the vine flourished in rich luxuriance; the sides of the
hills were clothed with olive-trees, and the more even portions with
fields of waving corn, amply sufficient for the simple wants of the
population; and though cattle might be rare, thriving herds of goats
found herbage among the rocks, and on the narrow ledges of the rugged
cliffs. In fact, everything which the mere unsophisticated wants of man
could require, the island itself supplied, except clothing and weapons;
and for the purpose of collecting these the misticoes in the cove were
found extremely useful,--no spot, indeed, could be more calculated for
the abode of peace, innocence, and rural simplicity--a complete island
Arcadia; and so it would possibly have become, had the inhabitants been
less addicted to maritime adventure; but then they would have had to go
about in the state in which were our first parents, before the fall, or
to have dressed in goats' skins; and at all events they would have had
no arms to defend themselves against the Turks; so that their frequent
naval expeditions might have been prompted by the excess of their
patriotism, and would, therefore, to say no more about them, have been
most laudable.
But the part of the island with which we are most interested is that to
the east of the bay, where the ruined castle was situated. The tower
which I have described as having been rendered somewhat habitable, stood
in a position by which it commanded an extensive view to the southward
and eastward, as also of the bay or cove below. Yet, although placed
apparently in so exposed a situation, so completely surrounded was it by
rocks of the same hue as the stone of which it was constructed, that at
a short distance off only, on the sea, it could in no way be
distinguished from them.
I must introduce the reader to an apartment in the upper part of the
said tower, which possessed two windows, one looking to the south, the
other into the cove.
The room presented an appearance which could not at all have been
expected from the condition of the outside. It was furnished, not only
completely, but most richly and luxuriously, yet in a way which showed
that the hand of a professional artist had not been employed. The floor
was covered with a Turkey carpet of the most valuable description, and
round the room, in Oriental style, were arranged couches, with the
softest cushions, and carved with thick silks of varied patterns. The
walls were lined with damask hangings, of a light blue, and the ceiling
was arranged in the form of a tent, composed of cottons, which had
probably been fabricated in the looms of England. There were tables in
the room, and seats scattered about around them.
Besides the hangings on the walls, they were ornamented with pictures of
much value, and racks of arms, richly chased, and arranged so as to form
many fanciful devices.
The whole appearance of the apartment showed that it had been hurriedly
fitted up, with lavish disregard of expense, and with materials which
might have been most conveniently at hand, but were not originally
intended for the purpose to which they were devoted. The arrangements,
also, were such as a seaman might be supposed to have made, more,
probably, than any other person. The room had an occupant--a young and
very beautiful girl. Her beauty was of the pensive cast. She had large
black, gazelle eyes, a clear olive complexion--clear as purity itself,--
and a figure slight and graceful, with a cast of feature of the most
classic mould. As she sat at the window, gazing out on the blue sea,
ever and anon a slight roseate tinge would appear in her soft cheek, and
vanish rapidly as the thoughts which made it rise. Her costume was
rather fanciful, than either Grecian or of any other people, and though
elegant and becoming, she appeared to have formed it from a profuse
supply of costly materials placed at her disposal. It partook, however,
of the character of the dress of the East, though European taste might
have been detected in it.
She seemed very sad; for, though she held a book in her hand, with which
she was apparently endeavouring to divert her attention from melancholy
thoughts, her eyes would constantly wander over the wide blue sea, the
only object visible from the window, and a pearly drop from her dark eye
would steal down her cheek, and fall unheeded on the page before her,
while an unconscious sigh would burst from her heaving bosom.
There was evidently a weight on her young heart, a grief which was
wearing out the elasticity of her spirits, withering her glorious
beauty, and making her aged before her time. Perchance she mourned the
absence of one she loved, and was wearied with anxiety for his return;
perhaps the canker-worm of remorse was at work within her, for a fault
committed and irretrievable; perhaps she was the victim of lawless
outrage, a captive against her will; perhaps she had been severed from
all she loved on earth, and the bright hopes of life had been blasted
for ever. At last she closed her book with a smile; but it was one of
pain and bitterness at the hopelessness of her attempt to divert her
mind from the contemplation of the present. A guitar, such as is
generally used in Italy, lay on the divan near her; she took it up, and
ran her fingers over the strings. For a few minutes she struck a
plaintive air, in consonance with her feelings, and then, almost
unconsciously, she added her voice to the strain in a rich flow of
melody. Her words, too, were sad, and the language was that of Italy.
Nina's Song.
The earth is all as lovely here,
The sky as bright and fair,
And flowers of every hue and shade
Perfume the southern air.
The sparkling sea lies at my feet,
So clear, it seems a lake,
And tiny waves, with snowy crest,
Alone the silence break;
And yet I weep from day to day
For that loved home, now far away!
I almost wish 'twere not so like
My loved Italian land,
Its southern flowers, its gorgeous skies,
Blue sea, and golden sand.
For while I gaze, a whispering voice
Steals sadly through my brain,
And tells me, I must never hope
To see that spot again.
And I must weep, from day to day
For that loved home, now far away!
I close my eyes, and fancy paints
So vividly and clear,
Each lovely spot, each well-known sound.
To mem'ry ever dear;
I hear again the vesper-bell,
Chiming to evening prayer;
While the cheerful song of the Gondolier,
Floats through the balmy air.
And thus I dream till dawn of day,
Of that fair home, now far away!
And yet the chain which binds me hero
Is dearer far to me,
Than the beauties of my palace land,
Girt by the glorious sea.
For his dear love, I left them all,
And while that love is mine,
If dreary wastes were now my home,
Think not I would repine.
Yet still one thought, from day to day,
Tells of my home, now far away!
But if his love should ever fade,
Like twilight o'er this shore,
And whisper'd words of tenderness,
Now mine, be heard no more!
Then no reproach shall meet his ear,
No weeping meet his eye;
I'd leave him ere he form'd the wish,
And leave him but to die;
For I would seek, ere close of day,
Death, in that home now far away.
As she ceased, a tap was heard at the door; and she, bidding whoever was
without to enter, a young girl appeared, and closing the door,
approached her. She wore the red embroidered Greek cap, with her hair
hanging in two long plaits behind, full trousers, and a silk waistcoat,
reaching to the knees. Her age might have been about fourteen, and she
was very pretty, with black, flashing eyes, and a figure rather full
than slight, and somewhat below the common height, and a countenance to
which health and spirits gave an animated expression, which would have
made features far inferior to hers appear to advantage.
She seated herself on a cushion at the feet of the young lady with an
affectionate familiarity, and looking up in her face, said, in the soft
tongue of modern Greece--
"Oh, do continue those sweet strains, lady. Though they made me sad, I
came up on purpose to listen to them, and to make my heart lighten the
grief of yours by sharing it with you."
"Thanks, my good Mila. You are ever kind," answered the lady; and
though she spoke Romaic, she had difficulty in expressing herself. "I
value your love the more that I possess that of no other."
"Your sweet temper and your sweet voice have won you more friends than
you suppose, lady," answered the Greek girl. "My young brother would
die for you, I know, and my old grandfather, Vlacco, has his heart
softened towards you, I am sure."
"Does Vlacco feel pity for me? Then would he, do you think, allow us to
wander forth to explore this rocky island? I am weary of remaining shut
up in so small a compass for so long a time."
"I will try and persuade him, lady; and if it is not contrary to his
orders I think he will allow us to go together," returned the girl.
"But you know, lady, since the futile attempt of Signor Paolo, your
brother, to carry you off, you have constantly been watched."
"I know it, and therein is my misery. He knows I would not quit him if
I could; and how can a weak girl escape from this rock-bound prison
except--" she paused and looked at the deep blue sea which lay at their
feet--"except it were to seek that rest which can be found, by one like
me, only beneath the calm bosom of yonder ocean."
"Oh, lady, let not such dreadful thoughts enter into your mind!"
exclaimed the young Greek, looking up at her with a face in which pity
blended with alarm. "Come, we will wander forth, as you wish it, far
into the country; the change of scene, the fresh air, and exercise will
cheer your spirits, and I am sure my grandfather will not deny our
request to be allowed a little freedom."
A silk scarf and such boots as the Turkish women wear when they venture
abroad, completed the Italian lady's walking costume, and following the
young Greek, they descended from her lofty tower. The flight of the
steps which led to the ground was steep and narrow, and were the same
which had been used in former days, repaired in places where the stones
had given way, bywood work slightly run up. This, a few strokes of an
axe would serve to destroy, and the summit of the tower would be
immediately rendered inaccessible. The story immediately beneath the
one inhabited by the lady was fitted up as a residence, though with much
less attention to comfort and elegance. There were several couches for
sleeping, and a few seats and tables; but in the corners of the room
furthest from the windows were piled up in one, chests and bales of
goods, silks, cottons, and woollen cloths; in another, a collection of
arms, muskets, and cutlasses, and boarding-pikes. There were a few
small brass guns, some mounted on carriages and others on swivels, such
as are carried on the gunnels of ships, or on the bows of boats; and
there were shot and cases which looked as if they contained powder.
Indeed, there was altogether a large collection of valuable goods, and
arms and ammunition sufficient to protect, it if the men were found to
use them. In the recesses for the windows, which were very narrow, were
fitted platforms, which were evidently intended to place the
gun-carriages on, as there were ring-bolts to which to make breechings
fast, in order to prevent their running too far back at the recoil. The
windows, as in the story above, looked down on the harbour, and seaward,
but there was another on the land side which commanded a view of the
narrow neck of land which led to the platform on which the castle stood.
The lower part of the tower was much in the same state in which it had
been left centuries before. The first story, as it were, had
disappeared, so that there was an empty space for what may be called the
height of two stories; and, as there were no windows of any description,
it appeared dark and dreary in the extreme. A steep path led round it
several times till it reached the gateway, which looked towards the sea
and the most inaccessible part of the cliff. Any person, on entering
this lower division, would not have supposed, from what he could
observe, that the upper part would have afforded so great a contrast by
the richness and luxury displayed there. On a more minute examination,
however, of the basement floor, it would have been discovered that a
stage had been raised from the earth, on which were placed a number of
large jars of wine, casks of olives, cases of figs, and sacks of corn
and other grain, indeed, provision sufficient to support a body of men
for a considerable time. There were also some heavier guns than those
seen above, and spars, and cordage, and other munitions for fitting out
a ship.
The bottom of the flight of steps by which the two young girls had
descended led to the side of this chamber farthest from the door, and
they had some little difficulty, after leaving the bright light reigning
through the upper regions, in finding their way across it. The Greek
then, with her little hand, struck the door as hard as she was able, to
call the attention of some one without to open it; but the noise she
made was insufficient for the purpose. At last she was obliged to try
the effect of her voice.
"It is I, your grandchild, Mila. Open the door, I say; open the door,
Vlacco!" she exclaimed; but no one answered to her call. "So he thought
I was going to remain some time with you, lady, and I verily believe he
has gone off his post. Now, if we could but have managed to get the
doors open, we might have gone out without his leave, and when he comes
back, he would find the birds flown."
"It is useless wishing that," said the Italian. "The door is too
strongly fastened, and it shows me that I am a prisoner, and no longer
trusted; let us return up-stairs."
The Greek girl thought a little, as if unwilling to give up their
object.
"We will do as you propose, lady," she said at last; "but we will not
let him know that we came down, and are aware that he leaves his post;
so, another day he may not fasten the gate, and we may get out, and
wander where we like, without asking his leave."