A journey to Cyprus: (February and March 1845), Translated from the German of Dr. Ludwig Ross by Claude Delaval Cobham, Nicosia, 1910.
This month’s selection transports us to the mid-19th century through the eyes of German historian Dr. Ludwig Ross (1806-1859), a prominent archaeologist known for his work on classical Greek sites. Before his journey to Cyprus, Ross had established himself as a pioneering figure in early archaeological preservation through his work in newly-independent Greece. His background in both fieldwork and classical studies gave him a unique perspective when documenting Cyprus's historical sites and cultural landscape during his 1845 visit. In “A Journey to Cyprus: (February and March 1845),” “A Journey to Cyprus: (February and March 1845),” translated by Claude Delaval Cobham, this travelogue captures Cyprus at a fascinating historical crossroads, still under Ottoman rule yet bearing the unmistakable imprints of its multilayered past.
While traveling through the Cypriot countryside, Ross documents everything from farming practices to folk customs with remarkable precision. He notes that, “[…] the Cypriot villager is comparatively better housed than the peasant of the Greek mainland, and has by way of furniture what we do not find there, a bedstead, a few shabby cane chairs, and perhaps, even a table. But this luxury, as well as the use of a two-wheeled cart drawn by a pair of oxen, where the condition of the ground allows it, are legacies of European origin, dating from the days of the Franks.”
In urban centers, Ross depicts a once-magnificent capital in decline under Ottoman rule. “Leaving aside the remains of the Frankish magnificence the interior of the city, as I remarked before, is dirty and wretched […].” His fascination is evident in his accounts of repurposed Gothic cathedrals, now serving as mosques, physical embodiments of the island's layered history. “After S. Sophia the largest and most important church is that of S. Nichola which lies a little to the S of the first, and now serves as a grainstore. The third is S. Catherine, built by the Templars, and now a mosque”.
Ross's enthusiasm radiates when describing ancient sites. He writes, “[…] we visited the ruins of Salamis, on the site of which, from the time of Constantius Chlorus or Constantine the Great, stood the Roman city Constantia. They lie in heaps along the shore, stretching northwards from the mouth of the river.” He then describes the poor condition of these ruins: “But the building material was sandstone only: it is all dug out and broken up, and one sees the merest ruins, for the remains of the ancient city have not only supplied material for the fortifications, churches and palaces of Ammochostos, but serve even to this day as a quarry for the neighbourhood. Even the inhabitants of Levcosia & Larnaca (as did lately the Capucins for the building of their church) get squared stones from here.” His words express dismay at the continued destruction of antiquities, reflecting an era when archaeological preservation was still in its infancy.
His observations of Cyprus thus benefited from the perspective of a seasoned fieldworker who brought both scholarly rigor and practical excavation knowledge to his travels. What distinguished Ross from many contemporaries was his holistic approach. While primarily focused on ancient remains, he consistently placed them within living cultural contexts, creating a more nuanced picture than purely antiquarian accounts of the period. For contemporary readers, “A Journey to Cyprus: (February and March 1845)” serves as both a historical document and an engaging travelogue. The blend of scholarly rigor and genuine curiosity creates a narrative that transcends time, inviting us to experience Cyprus through the lens of an astute observer at a pivotal moment.
You can find this book, and many more, in the Research Centre of the CVAR.
