Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

CHAPTER XI.

PAPHOS AND THE SPONGE FISHERY.

"AND when they (Barnabas and Saul) had gone through the island unto Paphos, they found a certain sorcerer, a false prophet, a Jew, whose name was Bar-Jesus which was with the deputy of the country, Sergius Paulus, a prudent man; who called for Barnabas and Saul, and desired to hear the word of God. But Elymas the sorcerer (for so is his name by interpretation) withstood them, seeking to turn away the deputy from the faith. Then Saul (who is also called Paul) filled with the Holy Ghost, set his eyes on him and said, O full of all subtilty and all mischief, thou child of the devil, thou enemy of all righteousness, wilt thou not cease to pervert the right ways of the Lord? And now, behold, the hand of the Lord is upon thee, and thou shalt be blind, not seeing the sun for a season. And immediately there fell upon him a mist and a darkness; and he went about seeking some one to lead him by the hand. Then the deputy, when he saw what was done, believed, being astonished at the doctrine of the Lord. Now when Paul and his company loosed from Paphos, they came to Perga in Pamphylia." Such is the wonderful record in the words of Holy Writ, of the visit of the apostle of the Gentiles and his companions to Paphos. They had travelled through the island from Salamis, probably by the coast, along the very same road as that by which we had journeyed-past the salt-marsh of Salina, the Teze, the Amathonte, and the ancient Limassol. They had probably forded, like us, the torrent called Lycus by the ancients, at the entrance of the district of Episcopi embowered in gardens. They had probably crossed the mountains between Episcopi and the region of Cytherea and Paphos by the same rugged, uneven road, leaving the orchards of citron, orange and olive trees behind them, which doubtless then as now made Episcopi the garden of Cyprus. They had passed too the celebrated temple of Cytherea, then standing in all its glory, now utterly destroyed and covered with vegetation that its very site is difficult

[ocr errors]

to determine, and, at last, wearied doubtless and physically depressed, tho' mentally vigorous, they had arrived at Paphos to strike the sorcerer with darkness and open the mental eyes of Sergius Paulus.

However neglected Cyprus may be by Europe, however neglected too at Constantinople, this memorable visit of the most active of the apostles will ever render it an object of interest to the Christian world. It has its own claims on the classical student-it cannot but be interesting to any man that has loved ancient Greece; whilst to the student of modern history it presents as strange a lesson of flourishing prosperity followed by commercial paralysis and depopulation as any island in the world. But, however interesting to the classical reader or the student of history, the visit of "Barnabas and Saul" must ever remain as the great fact which connects the island with the struggling Christianity of the first century, and must ever render its claims great upon the sympathies of Christendom-to say nothing whatever of Richard and the crusaders, considerations through which it more particularly appeals to British notice.

The ancient Paphos was situated on what appears to have been a rocky ledge close by the sea shore. Its position, like that of all the temples to Venus in the island, was peculiarly picturesque and delightful. The blue waters of the Mediterranean must have spread out before its base like a vast plain-and even when agitated with storms could not but be an object of supreme interest. Behind, an undulating, well-wooded country, terminated in the mountain range which traverses the island; so that there was every feature of nature within view which could charm and interest.

Ancient Paphos, however, exists no more. The temple of Venus, the deputy's palace, the town itself, have all equally disappeared. An earthquake, which must have happened within the first four centuries of the Christian era, swallowed up alike the scene of the debaucheries of the vota

ries of Venus and the labours of the apostles. Not a vestige of buildings is to be seen. A few excavated rocks, doubtless tombs originally, alone indicate the neighbourhood of its site to the inquisitive tourist. It was on the shore in the immediate vicinity that Dido's armament seized seventy Cyprian damsels, the mothers of the future Carthaginian race. Justin (xviii. 5) tells us, indeed, that it was the custom of the island virgins to wander by the sea-shore, "pro reliqua pudicitia libamenta Veneri," &c.

A lake exists in the neighbourhood of the ancient Paphos, or rather, in the neighbourhood of the site of ancient Paphos, which, like all the lakes of the island, is a miasmatic marsh in summer. Doubtless this could be remedied by introducing supplies of water artificially, for there is no want of water; Cypriot supineness and Turkish misgovernment prevent all improvement. At Famagosta, at Larnacca, at Paphos, the lakes are the fertile sources of the fevers which desolate the country, and to which the poor, debilitated by scanty and unwholesome diet, are particularly liable.

On the western side of this lake lies the modern Baffa, once the seaport of ancient Paphos. It must originally have been a town of considerable extent, for its ruins indicate the fact; but at the present day it contains only a few hundred inhabitants-perhaps between two and three hundredincluding the guard of soldiers which Occupy a tower, erected on a cliff adjoining. If one wishes to obtain a lively idea of the desolation of Cyprus, let him visit Paphos.

The Aga who governed the district and commanded the soldiers was a fierce, brigandish sort of man, a perfect contrast to his brother of Limassol. He spoke with contempt of the Cypriot Greeks a contempt approaching to disgust. He spat as he spoke of them. And he was the governor of a district containing perhaps a thousand or fifteen hundred of these much despised people!

The ruins of the ancient gardens of Baffa, together with its amphitheatre, are striking and remarkable. Yet this was but the seaport to the town proper. If the port then had its temples and its gardens, its amphitheatre, capable of containing more

than a thousand spectators, and its massive mole to protect the shipping in the harbour, what must the city have been to which it was but the outlet?

Beneath the tower which occupies, as I have mentioned, a projecting cliff, there is a strange excavation, evidently artificial, for which we were at a loss to account. We needed no Edipus to tell us that it had been cut out before the Turkish occupation of the island; that was plain enough from its magnitude and importance. The question was, to what use was it applied by the ancient Greeks. The only probable answer to the question was, that it was intended as a refuge for a few ships before the mole was constructed, to defend them against the surf of the Levant when agitated by storms. The excavation is probably a hundred feet long by fifty or sixty in breadth, and descends to a considerable depth. It might have been partly natural in the first instance.

the

We had not much time to devote to the inspection of the neighbourhood of Paphos, for we had heard that an English vessel at Larnacca had almost finished her lading, and would, for a few days only, await us. Except ruins of Baffa and the remains of Venetian sugar factories, however, there is little except wild natural beauty in the neighbourhood to detain the tourist.

We were determined, however, before our departure, to see the sponge fishery, which is here extensively carried on by Arab divers. For this purpose we hired a boat, and rowed out early one morning into the bay. Three Arab fishing boats were at the moment engaged in the search for sponges. Four divers were attached to each boat, whilst two seamen took care of it. They were courteous and friendly enough, looking forward to the invariable buksheesh of course on the termination of our inspection. Each diver, preparatory to descending, divested himself of his clothing, armed himself with a knife and a string, put his feet on a large stone attached to a rope, and was let down instantaneously into the water. The sea at this place might have been two or three fathoms deep. It was clear almost as crystal, and we could distinctly discern the divers moving about at the bottom in search of the

sponges. They found these attached to rocks or large stones, cut off the bunches or clusters with their knives, passed a string through them, and then rose to the surface. Sometimes, by a vigorous spring from the bottom, the diver would reach the surface in an instant, in the immediate vicinity of the boat. When he happened to have a large quantity of the sponge, however, this could not be done. He then stepped on the stone, shook the rope, and was hauled up forthwith by the men in the boat, who were only awaiting the signal. Only one left each boat at a time, the four following each other of course in regular and rapid succession; so that, after each dive, there was an interval of about ten minutes before the same diver descended again.

It seemed to us that the labour of the two men left in the boat was far greater than that of the divers, for they were obliged constantly to be on the alert, and frequently to exert themselves considerably, in order to bring up the others rapidly. We observed that each diver had his own rope with the large stone attached. They did not all use the same. Doubtless, the weight of each bore some relation to that of each diver.

The noiseless, business-like way in which the whole matter proceeded was interesting and curious. Some

of the divers threw themselves at full length at the bottom of the boat on emerging from the water, as if thoroughly exhausted, covering themselves with a thick piece of coarse blue cloth. Others threw the piece of cloth over their shoulders, and squatted, tailor-fashion, in the bows. Every five or ten minutes the position of the boat was altered by a few strokes of the oar, and that apparently without reference to the success or want of success of the divers. Sometimes, though rarely, three of them would descend in succession from the same boat and bring up nothing. On such occasions they usually sprang from the bottom without the assistance of the rope or of the men above. The fourth again would bring up a large bunch, partly sea-weed, partly shells, partly sponge. It was thrown into the stern with the rest, usually without a word. This silence surprised us, for the Arabs are of the noisiest when working on shore. We

were told by the Aga that they were silent in order that the sharks might not hear them; and probably there is some superstition connected with the fact, although they themselves would not enlighten us on the subject, simply remarking in answer to our inquiries, that they had nothing to talk about. Once only, on a magnicent piece of fine sponge being borne to the surface, did an exclamation burst from the lips of those in the boat to which we had attached ourselves.

Monotonous enough, one would suppose, such a scene must have been, and it was certainly not without monotony, but it was interesting and curious too. We watched it all day. The sea was perfectly calm and smooth, a gentle swell giving the boat a heaving undulating motion. The sea was not only calm and smooth but clear. We could see the shoals of small fish disporting at its bottom merrily. Sometimes a diver was let down into the very midst of such a shoal, and then the bounding off as from a centre, the flutter and agitation, the scampering terror of the tiny denizens of the deep were curious to witness.

The divers usually remained beneath the surface from half a minute to a minute and a-half. Some of them, it was said, could remain below three minutes; but we deprecated any attempt to exhibit the feat, being anxious to see their usual practice, not to have them torture themselves for our satisfaction. They are not usually long-lived. Their method of living is unnatural, and the vital organs will not stand with impunity the constant playing upon them. Few of them pass their fortieth year; none of the habitual divers reach their fiftieth. Such at least was the information we received on the subject from those who ought to be well acquainted with the facts.

The whole of the western coast of Cyprus is an excellent fishing-ground for sponges, whilst, strange to say, they are not to be found at all upon the eastern. It is not usually, however, the finer descriptions which are found on the coasts of Cyprus, but rather the coarser and the least valuable. From our inspection of the pieces brought up by the divers, we should say that the nearer to the

rock to which it is attached, the coarser the sponge; the further from the rock the finer. This, we were told, is not an invariable rule, but it certainly was the case in all the specimens we saw.

The divers themselves speculate in the proceeds. They divide equally the value of the week's or the month's fishing, taking care of course to associate themselves with as skilful a band as possible. The boatmen are paid by them for the use of the boat and their own attendance.

We remained with the fishing-boats all day, interested and amused. When the muezzin's voice was heard, towards the evening, calling the faithful to prayers, all the diving ceased. A solemn silence pervaded the bay, as the voice from the minaret came booming over the waters. All pros trated themselves towards Mecca, and were at once engaged in fervent prayer. Surely there is something more than a vain form in this solemn prostration and earnest outpouring, periodically, of devotional formulæ. Why

is it that all over the East man is ever so attached to his creed, so ready to put himself to any sacrifices in order to fulfil its requirements, whilst in the West religionseems to be rather a troublesome external, a thing of custom and convenience, not a heartfelt want and an inward conviction? Pondering much on this, we made our way silently to the shore, as the muezzin's voice still rang clearly from the minaret, proclaiming that there is no God but God, and that Mohammed is the prophet of God.

The next day, having previously sent our mules back to Larnacca we sailed in a Greek ship for Salina. The wind was propitious, the sea smooth, the voyage pleasant and prosperous. The English ship was ready for departure the day after our arrival. Our horses and mules were disposed of at the usual sacrifice; buksheesh was plentifully administered amongst our servants, and we were soon on our way to old England, mourning over the desolation of Cyprus as we went.

JOHN TWILLER.

BY GODFREY MASSINGBERD.

CHAPTER I.

THE ORIEL WINDOW.

"There was once a poet, who wrote --for fame. But it came not.

"He toiled on-suffered-loved

married-grew in years--became poor-was forced to work with his hands; but continued to write.

Men

"He met with no support-no encouragement - -no praise. laughed at him. It is no new thing. Poets a hundred, nay, a thousand years ago, were thought to be behind their time, too childish for the day they lived in, and were treated accordingly. And indeed he was childish, as it might be called: he did many silly things, and left many wise things undone; and though some loved him, none looked up to him.

"He wrote; his heart fainted, but he wrote-poetry. He spread the sails of his soul on a dusty desert. They failed to advance the helpless bark over the sands of life.

VOL. XLVIII.-NO. CCLXXXVII.

"He gave his genius over unto death.

"He hoped to be understood some other time; thought that to die might mitigate the rigor of a just censure, and bring asperity softened to his grave. But even a grave was grudgingly afforded him. A few sods were cut, laid over the mound his body had presumed to raise in the churchyardand trodden down.

"His family had loved him, and wished to think his merit great. But with his family his name ceased. His son had no son; or, if he had, he was down among the poor, and lost sight

of.

[blocks in formation]

"And then some one stumbled upon the writings of the poet; and pored surprisedly over them-and wept; and showed them to others, who wept also. And there was a wonder where they had been hid all this time. And then enquiry after the writer was set on foot; and all marvelled that so little information could be collected concerning him. His grave was discovered at lastwith difficulty; for it was nearly trodden out and people flocked about it, and whispered. And pilgrims-great intellects-came from afar, and knelt upon it. And his haunts-the little chambers of the anguish of his soul --were entered on tiptoe, and the lips of the gifted and of the beautiful pronounced his name with rapture, and strong men trembled before his memory. And people found in his poems some words descriptive of himselfobscure, humble, and vague enough; for indeed he had no outward comeliness; but on this hint they wrought out an imaginary portrait, a model of manly beauty; and ideal statues were raised in his honor, of godlike proportions;-for art insensibly adopts the outlines of the soul to reconstruct the body upon, forecasting the resurrection of the dead. And his nation entered his name on the muster-roll of its glory; and other nations envied it on that account. And his writings spread to the ends of the earth, and sunk to the depths of the heart-and wrought miracles.

"And it was given to the patient spirit of the poet to look down-and be satisfied."

In the above rhapsody, John Twiller had obscurely shadowed forth his idea of his own position at the present, and his aspirations for the future.

Meantime, youth had come-and gone; and advanced manhood found the work of life still to do.

Such fragments as the foregoing were the balm with which he used to salve his heart's wound. They afforded him the consolation man has ever derived from casting his own horoscope, in the mingled characters of aspiration and inspiration.

True, as life had worn on, and the chances against him multiplied, these little ebullitions of fancy and feeling had become rarer and more evanescent. Still, each of them, ere it burst in

Twiller's mind, manifested itself as the nucleus of a vast design, intended in its subject to immortalise the disappointment of his hopes, but in its object to promote the realization of them. For convinced John Twiller was that the world could not possibly come to an end, without arriving at some period of intelligence in which his works and name should be accorded those honors to which he was so continually making ineffectual claim.

They had been absent from homehis wife and he-for some days in the neighbouring metropolis. It was very late when they arrived at their quiet abode; and, having allowed his fatigued partner to retire to rest, the melancholy humorist had placed himself in an oriel window overlooking the sea, and become entranced. His gentle and affectionate wife agreed with the doctor in the opinion that rest was the business of the night, as business ought to be the rest of the day. John Twiller argued rather after the fashion of those melancholy temperaments which prefer baying the moon at that season.

Well, after all, the temptation was strong. Gas-light, smoke, mud, rattle and roar, exchanged for the holy calm of nocturnal nature. The moon

was

now just withdrawing, like a deposed queen, leaving upon the surface of the rippling ocean the last bright tokens of her presence, like the Maunday silver distributed to the waters of earth, at the gate of the palace of night. On the other side, ambitious morning was on the rise. Already had she unclothed herself of her humble grey shawl; and the hours were casting about her a roseate gossamer of glory. She looked at her face in the ocean, and smiled; whereupon every obsequious billow clothed itself in her livery, and passed on an ambassage towards her chamber, to tell her that the world was ready to offer her the crown of day.

One star was there, a gem upon her forehead. That gem would remain ; but the brow of the wearer was soon to wax too dazzlingly radiant to enable mortals to see it. Thus it is-so thought John Twiller-that those tinsel honors which are our chief pride while we have nothing really our own to be proud of-birth, rank, fortune-are extinguished and disap

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »