The Longer I Remained In The Neighbourhood Of Kyrenia The Deeper Was My
Regret That The Arrivals Of Strangers Should Take Place In The Southern
Ports, Instead Of Receiving Their First Impressions Of Cyprus By An
Introduction To This Lovely Coast.
I was never afloat on the northern
side, but the view must be strikingly impressive, as the trees, ever
Green almost to the water's edge, shadow the rocky coves, and clothe the
surface to the base of the mountains, whilst, at a short distance from
the land these must appear as though rising abruptly from the sea. The
castles upon the extreme summits form unmistakable landmarks, resembling
sentries on either side the fort and harbour of Kyrenia.
On 6th April the general rendezvous was the monastery of Bellapais,
three and a half miles distant from Kyrenia, in response to the
invitation of Major McCalmont, 7th Hussars, on the staff of Sir Garnet
Wolseley, who had taken immense trouble for the gratification of his
guests by sending tents, baggage, and sleeping accommodation for two
nights, in addition to every kind of necessary refreshments.
The route from Kyrenia lay through a country of the brightest shades of
green, parallel with the sea, about a mile and a half distant, towards
which a succession of deep ravines, which formed river-beds in the rainy
season, drained from the mountains at right angles with the path. This
side of the Carpas range formed a strong contrast with the parched
southern slopes, as every garden and farm was irrigated by water
conducted from the mountains in artificial channels, which would
otherwise have been absorbed and lost in the wide and stony stream-beds
if left to its natural course. We passed through sombre groves of very
ancient olives of immense girth; then through villages concealed among a
luxuriant growth of fruit-trees, the almonds being already large, and
eaten eagerly by the inhabitants, although still unripe. The oranges in
heavy crops weighed down the dark green branches, the deep yellow fruit
contrasting brightly with the foliage, and the fields of barley that had
benefited by artificial irrigation looked like green carpets spread
between the neighbouring villages and gardens. Having crossed several
deep and wide stream-beds, in one of which the water still trickled in a
clear but narrow channel, we commenced a steep ascent among scattered
but numerous caroub-trees, which gave a park-like appearance to the
country, and upon gaining an eminence we came suddenly upon the view of
Bellapais. The monastery was not more than 600 yards distant, but a deep
hollow intervened between the opposing heights, which necessitated a
circuit of more than a mile before we could reach the village. It would
be impossible to select a more beautiful position for a house than the
flat summit of the height upon which we stood. The valley at our feet
nursed a rippling stream deep in the bottom of a precipitous gorge, the
rough sides clothed with myrtles, which now occupied basket-makers who
were completing their work upon the spot where they cut their wands of
this tough wood in lieu of willow. The fine old Gothic building stood
before us on the opposite height upon the extreme edge, surrounded by
trees of various kinds, including tall poplars which unfortunately were
not yet in leaf. This grand old pile was an impressive contrast to the
scene around; there were neat villages with flat-topped roofs of clay,
down in the vale far beneath, with the intense blue sea washing the
rocky shore: there was also the adjoining village at the rear, occupying
the same plateau as the monastery, with its rich gardens and groves of
orange-trees; the ruined walls and towers of Buffavento upon the highest
crags dominated our position by more than 2,500 feet, and the castle of
St. Hilarion stood upon a still higher elevation on the western sky-line
behind Kyrenia. There was nothing modern that appeared compatible with
the style and grandeur of Bellapais. When this monastery was erected,
Cyprus must have been a flourishing and populous country worthy of such
architecture, but the present surroundings, although harmonising in
colouring, and in a quiet passiveness of scene, in no way suggested a
connection with a past that gave birth either to the Gothic building or
to the important castles of Buffavento and St. Hilarion.
Having skirted the amphitheatre upon the monastery level, we passed
through an orange-garden and entered the courtyard. The church occupies
the right side, and the wall is fronted by cloisters which, supported
upon arches, form a quadrangle. A stone staircase ascends from the
cloisters to the refectory upon the left; this is in considerable ruin,
but must originally have formed an imposing hall. Upon the flat roof of
the cloisters, which is perfect for three sides of the quadrangle, a
magnificent view is obtained through the fine old Gothic open window,
which looks down sheer to the great depth below, and commands the entire
country seaward. Descending into the courtyard to the northern cloister
we pass two large sarcophagi of white marble. One of these has been
elaborately worked in rich garlands of flowers and very grand bulls'
heads, together with nude figures, all of which have been much damaged.
These sarcophagi have been used as cisterns for containing water, as the
tap is still visible. Immediately opposite is the entrance to the great
hall, which is in good repair, as a new cement floor was added by the
British authorities, with the intention of converting it into a
temporary hospital when the troops were suffering from fever at Kyrenia.
This hall is 102 feet long and 33 feet wide, with a height of upwards of
30 feet. Nothing can exceed the beauty of the view from the windows of
this grand entrance, and in the deep recesses we found Sir Garnet and
Lady Wolseley enjoying the scene, while our host, Major McCalmont,
welcomed his guests in this splendid vestige of the Knights Templars.
The abbey, which belonged to the Latin Church, was built during the
Lusignan dynasty by Hugh III.
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