The Thistle and the Cedar of Lebanon. Habeeb Risk Allah

having been contracted for.

      The land breeze blew freshly all night, and at daylight next morning, when I staggered up, holding fast by the cords of the mast, there was not a vestige of Beyrout to be seen; indeed, my inexperienced eyes could discern nothing but sea and clouds, though the Arab raīs (captain) positively affirmed, that what I mistook for clouds was the high land of Cyprus, looming right a-head. This was the first time in my life that I had ever found myself so far out at sea. At first the novelty of the sight, the lovely, cool, blue colour of the waves—the azure sky, tinged with a hundred brilliant hues, all harbingers of the rising sun—the fish sportively bounding into the air—the sea-gulls—the white sails of vessels in the distance; all these were a source of amusement and speculation for the mind; but when the sun rose, and its heat soon drove me to take shelter under the lee of the large mainsail—when I had nothing to do but to watch the little boat dipping and plunging into the water—when the smell of tar, pitch, tobacco-smoke, and fried onions, assailed my nostrils; then I was fairly and dreadfully sea-sick.

      I wrapped myself up in my kaboot, and only groaned out answers to the many kind enquiries made by my new friend and the assiduous boat’s company. These latter became an intolerable nuisance. First would come the fat, greasy-looking old raīs, with an abominable skewer of fried meat and onions in one hand, and a nasty, well-mauled piece of bread in the other. “Eat, my son,” he would say; “eat these delicious morsels, rivalling in flavour and richness the Kabābs of Paradise; it will strengthen your heart.” A lizard or a toad could not have been more nauseous to me than was that man at that moment. Throughout the morning it was nothing but “yar Ibn-i, koul, yar Ibn-i Risk Allah” (O son, eat, O son Risk Allah). The heat grew intense towards midday. My European friend was almost as great a sufferer as myself. Happily the sea-breeze held on, and at eleven, p.m., that night our felucca was safely moored at Larnaca, the sea-port town of Cyprus.

      During our stay at Larnaca we were lodged with the English vice-consular agent at that time, a native of the island. He was an obliging old man, who did all in his power to make our stay agreeable. I was very much pleased with this place and its hospitable inhabitants; though only so short a distance from Beyrout, the change was very great. Here there were numerous carriages and other vehicles, drawn by horses and oxen; and a drive in an open carriage was both a treat and a novelty to me, who had never been accustomed to any other mode of locomotion than walking or riding on horseback. The Greeks and the Roman Catholics had neat churches here, and the loud chiming of the church bells on a Sunday was a clear proof that the Christians of this island enjoyed more privileges, and mixed more freely with the Turks than their brethren on the mainland. To such an extraordinary pitch is this neighbourly intercourse carried, that they intermarry with each other without any distinction of creed; the only part of the Turkish dominions where such a license exists. At Larnaca the houses were neatly built, and the streets cleanly swept; there were many pleasant rides and drives about the neighbourhood, but the climate is insalubrious and peculiarly ill adapted to European constitutions. The heat in the summer months is beyond endurance; and there are many salt-pits and marshes in the neighbourhood, which contribute greatly towards the sufferings of the inhabitants. I am sorry to say that what I saw of the natives, only helped to confirm me in those prejudices which exist against them in the East. The men are, for the most part, notorious gamblers and drunkards, and when drunk or excited, capable of any act of ferocity. Besides this, they are possessed of all the cunning of the fox, and are such lovers of mammon, that for the acquirement of wealth they would be guilty of any dishonesty or treachery, and sacrifice even the honor and virtue of their families, at the shrine of their household deity—gold. How painful to reflect that so many precious souls are thrown away for the want of better teaching and example; how sad to know that they have no opportunity offered them of throwing off the heavy yoke of sin, and of bursting the bonds of Satan. But their bishops and priests are a wicked set, full of conceit and sinful lusts, selling their own souls, as well as those confided to their care, for the acquirement of filthy lucre; and so long as they encourage the vices and dissipations of their flocks as a sure source of revenue to themselves (for however great the crime, absolution may be purchased, and slight penances imposed to expiate the most heinous sins); so long as such a sad state of affairs is permitted, there can be no hope of any amelioration in their degraded condition. I know not what the motives for it may be; but poor Cyprus has, so long as I can remember, been more neglected than other parts of the East by the Missionary Societies in England and America. This is much to be lamented, and may, I hope, soon be remedied. Doubtless for the first few years, missionaries would have almost insuperable difficulties to contend against; but, with God’s blessing, these would gradually disappear. The climate, though perhaps unfavourable to their constitution, would be favourable to their cause, and a skilful physician a boon to an island, where heretofore only quacks and charlatans have been within the call of suffering humanity. The late Doctor Lilburn has left a name behind him in Cyprus still reverenced by the poorer and sicklier inhabitants; his kind urbanity, his charity, and attention to the sufferings of the sick, and his skill as a physician, displayed in many extraordinary cures, all these contributed to work out for him a fame which would have gradually enlarged itself, and penetrated to the remotest corners of the island, had it pleased the Almighty to spare him yet awhile on earth; but he died, and we have every hope that his good Christian spirit is now reaping an eternal harvest of bliss.

      With all the crimes and vices attached to the character of the Cypriote Greeks, they are all staunch observers of the outward forms prescribed by the elders of their church. They are rigid observers of fast days, and the same man that would hardly hesitate to rob you of your life, would rather endure any torments of hunger, or any temptation, than break through the prescribed rules of abstinence. This, in conjunction with their frequent attendance at the confessional, clearly shews the implicit faith they place in the powers and virtues of their priests; and it appears to me that this strict command over certain lusts of the flesh might, if diverted into a proper channel, redound much to their credit, and these very ruffians become devoted Christians, when they have once learnt the instability of all human hopes, the impotency of man’s agency to avert a pending destruction, and to give all the glory to God, and no portion of it to princes or men.

      We visited severally Nicosia, the inland capital of the kingdom, Fuma Gosta, and a few other unimportant sea-side villages. Nicosia is a very handsomely built town, with beautiful gardens, and surrounded with strongly built fortifications. The streets are sufficiently wide, and for the most part kept in admirable repair; good roads are a rare thing to meet in the East. The majlis, or government council, of which the Pasha himself is president, is composed of Turks and Greeks; but the greater portion are Greeks. These are the wealthiest part of the community, and carry everything before them. In some caves attached to the houses of the most ancient Greek families, there are large supplies of old Cyprus camandarea, upwards of half a century in earthen jars. This wine is very expensive, and is only used as a luxury or for convalescent invalids. The supposed sites of Salamis and Paphos were pointed out to us; in the former place we are told, in the Acts of the Apostles, that Paul and Barnabas, who landed in Cyprus a.d. 44, preached Christ crucified; here also, Barnabas, who is reverenced as the principal Apostle and first Bishop of Cyprus, was stoned, being martyred by the Jews of Salamis: at Paphos St. Paul struck Bar-jesus with blindness, and the pro-consul embraced Christianity. The spiritual blindness of the people of the whole island is, alas! more appalling than that miraculous visitation on the blaspheming impostor. During our stay in the island, my friend was much occupied surveying and sketching, and from seeing him apparently so much attached to the elegant accomplishments, I first acquired a passion for drawing, but he had no time to instruct me; I had no means of improving myself; and so I was obliged to let the matter rest till a favourable opportunity should present itself.

      The prevailing language of the island is Greek—Turkish is also spoken, but Arabic is almost unknown in the interior; a strange circumstance, considering the proximity of Cyprus to the Syrian coast.

      After a month’s ramble in the island, we hired a native boat at Cyprus, and sailed over to Cilicia, a voyage which we were three days in accomplishing, owing to the then prevalent light winds and calms. Mersine, the seaport of Tarshish, or Tersous, the birthplace of St. Paul, and once a city of no mean repute, is a miserable little village consisting of some half a hundred huts,