Лоренс Даррелл - Prospero's Cell

The ramparts of the fortress are deserted. Here, it is said, the inhabitants of the town can hear the chink of armour and the footfalls of ghostly Roman sentries changing guard; and it was in the little harbour below that we discovered the remains (for so we thought them to be) of Tiberius' summer villa, or else of the forgotten temple of Zeus. One summer evening we tied up in the harbour and, it then being tea-time, went over the side for a swim, while Niko brought out the food. We had just received a pair of diver's goggles, which transform the under-water world into a miracle of clarity. Idly playing, in about two fathoms, I saw a Greek newspaper lying on the lucent floor of the bay, moved slowly by the current, and decided to see whether I could make out the headlines in the green gloom below. Three feet from the floor I struck an icy vein of water which pushed me back with some force. It was so cold that involuntarily I opened my mouth and drew in a mouthful. It was fresh water. At the same moment the current moved the thick green fronds of seaweed aside and I saw the irregular coping of a well-top, and the faint white marks which seemed to me to look like an overgrown garden path. This was so exciting, and the stone-work so obviously man-made, that N. and L. and myself spent half an hour trying to clear the seaweed which obstructed the view, or to move one of the stones. But such an attempt would need tackle, good divers, and a calm day to be successful. Yet the sweet spring plays there, in the middle of the harbour; in the sunken garden of Tiberius' summer villa. No one seemed to have noticed it; neither the priest, nor the policeman nor the barber. Nor did they show any interest. Kassopi was too busy with her great dance to bother with trifles.

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I must not forget to mention that Kassopi does not boast a petrified rock in the shape of a boat; Mouse Island suggests to the lovers of Paleopolis that it was here that the weary rowers on their return from Ithaca were swallowed up in the stony wrath of Poseidon. While off Paleocastrizza there is another and more perfect rock which resembles the fantastic boat much more closely. Zarian never fails to take his friends up the steep road to Lakones to gaze out across the dazzle of waters towards this motionless boat. It is sufficient corroboration for him.

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Across the rich screen of this landscape many names, ancient and modern, offer themselves to the mind like the translation of flesh into ghostly appearances which still delude the living by their resemblance to them.

Corcyra's history is a chequer-board; little of it is interesting because of its variety of detail, and the stubborn sameness of the general pattern. Spawned by Corinth, she was sensible enough to assert herself as a maritime force during the Persian War of 475. Herodotus' scornful account of her treachery has earned him the withering vituperation of Zarian in more than one Armenian article. Xenophon, writing of the Spartan invasion under Mnesippus, records a paradise of fertility and cultivation; a paradise so rich in loot that it unmanned the invaders and glutted them with booty in food and oxen, fruit, sculpture and slant-eyed Corcyrean girls.

In this noble harbour Augustus gathered together his fleet for a battle which gave him a world.

Guiscard conquered her, one of the twelve sons of Tancred, and in aspect as terrible and bold as any Teutonic God. Gibbon's podgy prose commends for 'patient vigour of health and commanding dignity of form' while we are informed that the Apulian poet praised him for excelling the cunning of Ulysses and the eloquence of Cicero. Invested Duke of Calabria, he crossed to Sicily in an open boat, and won the island by incredible endurance in hardship. The saga of his life and adventures still awaits a chronicler apt enough for so great a theme.

Richard the Lion paused here on his way back from the farcical adventure of Cyprus.

Michael the Despot reigned and fell.

Caught for an instant assembled in the great harbour, Villehardouin spent some magical words on the shabby hirelings of the fourth Crusade: 'The wind was favourable, and the sky pure and serene, and a profound calm reigned over the waters. Three hundred vessels of all sizes with their colours afloat from their sterns, covered a vast space. The helmets and cuirasses of the 30,000 warriors reflected back the rays of the sun. And now over the waters came the hymns of priests, invoking heavenly blessings, and the tones of the soldiers, lightening the leisure of the voyage with martial songs, the winding of horns and the neighing of horses all mingled with the splashing of oars.' Impenitent glory of that Whitsun Eve, with the great fleet motionless on the shining mirror of the bay. 'I bear you witness,' he cries, 'that never was so gallant a sight seen.'

And then the sleek Genoese Vetrano, fattened with politics and cruelty, described impartially as pirate or admiral. He is Zarian's favounte character. Never, says Zarian, were the Venetians more at fault than when they did him to death.

Corcyra, like her St. Spiridion, was once a dowry for a beautiful woman, destined for a tragic fate. Helen, daughter of Michael II, died in prison far from the island.

The waves of the invading East reached as far as the island; burst into these green valleys and groves. Corcyra stands as a boundary stone in the history of Turkish conquest for it did not reach farther east. Here it broke and fell, and the key to the Adriatic was held firm by the Venetians.

Under Venice she prospered — at least in forests; for the Venetians gave ten gold pieces for every grove of a hundred olive-trees planted, until when they left, it is said, the islanders possessed nearly two million trees.

Lithgow published an account of Corfu in 1632. It is as follows: 'Corfu is an island no less beautiful than invincible: it lieth in the Sea Ionean, the inhabitants are Greeks, and the Governors Venetians; this Ile was much honoured by Homer for the pleasant gardens of Alcino which were in his time. This Alcino was that Corcyrean poet who so benignly received Ulysses after his shipwracke, and of whom Ovid said:

Quid bifera Alconoi referam pomaria? Vos que Qui nunquam vacui prodistis in aethere rami.

Why blaze I forth Alconoe's fertile soil And trees, from whence, all times they fruit recoyle?

This Isle was given to the Venetians by the Corsicans [sic], Anno 1382, because they were exposed to all injuries in the world: It lieth like to a half moon, or half a circle east and north.

'The City Corfu, from which the Ile hath its name, is situate at the foot of a Mountain whereupon are builded two strong fortresses, and invironed with a rock. The one is called Fortezza Nova and the other Fortezza Vecchia. They are well governed and circumspectly kept, lest by the instigation of the one Captain the other should commit any treasonable effect. And for the same purpose the Governors of both castles, at their election before the senators of Venice are sworn; neither privately nor openly to have mutual conference; nor to write to one another for the space of two years, which is the time of their Government.

'The Castels are inaccesable and unconquerable, if that the keepers be loyal, and provided with natural and martial furniture. They are vulgarly called The Forts of Christendom, by the Greeks; but more justly, The Strength of Venice; for if these forts were taken by the Turks, or by the Spaniard who would gladly have them, the trade of the Venetian merchants would be of none account; yea, the very means to overthrow Venice itself.'

Despite the slight inaccuracies Lithgow's sketch of the island is as charming and as fresh as a water-colour. The Corsicans are, of course, mythological — unless the word is a misprint for 'Corcyreans'; and at no time could the hillock upon which the old fort stands be called a mountain. But in its general particulars the account captures much of the charm of the place.