Another member of council was called Bitwaddad Wassié: he also was in

charge of the prison alternatively with Hailo. He was a good-tempered man,

always laughing, but, it appears, not beloved by the prisoners, for, after the

taking of Magdala, the women flew at him, and gave him a sound thrashing.

He was remarkable in one respect: he would never accept anything, and

though money was repeatedly offered to him he always declined it.

Dedjazmatch Goji, in command of 500 spearmen, a tall old man, was as big

a fool as he was bulky; he loved but one thing, tej, and worshipped but one

being, Theodore. Bitwaddad Bakal, a good soldier, a simple-minded man,

in charge of the Imperial household, and a few insignificant old men,

completed the quorum.

Let us suppose a wet day during the rainy season of 1867. Our money was

getting very scarce, and all communication with Metemma, Massowah, or

Debra Tabor was completely interrupted. War had been talked of more

seriously at home, and, in the absence of news, we were in anxious

expectation of what would be decided. The weather did not permit us to do

much gardening; and other occupations were few. We wrote home, (an

easier task during the rains, as the guards kept to their huts,) studied

Amharic, read the famous Commercial Dictionary , or visited one another,

and smoked bad tobacco, simply to kill time. Mr. Rosenthal, a very clever

linguist, managed, with an Italian Bible, to master that language, and, to

drive away dull care, spent his evenings studying French with only the help

of a portion of Guizot's Histoire de la Civilisation . If it cleared up a little,

we puddled about in the small road between the now increased huts; but

probably, before long, would be scared away by some one shouting out,

—"The Ras and the chiefs are coming!" If we could directly run away we

did so; but if perceived, we had to put on our blandest smile, bow to the

rude inquiry, "How art thou? good afternoon to thee" (the second person

singular is only employed as a sign of disrespect, towards an inferior), and,

O gods! pull off our ragged caps and keep our heads uncovered. To see

them waddling along, ready to burst with self-conceit; whilst we knew that

the clothes they were clad with, and the food they had partaken of that day,

were all purchased with British money, was very annoying. As they

accepted bribes the least they could do was to be civil; on the contrary, they

looked down upon us as if we were semi-idiots, or a species between them

and monkeys,—"white donkeys," as they called us when they spoke of us

among themselves. Preceded by Samuel, they would make straight for Mr.

Rassam's house; they were hardly swore civil to him than to us, though they

always swore to him eternal friendship. I often admired Mr. Rassam's'

patience on these occasions: he could sit, talk, and laugh with them for

hours, gorging them with bumpers of tej until they reeled out of his place,

the laughing-stocks, yet envied objects, of the soldiers who helped them to

regain their homes. On the whole they were a vile set: to please their master

they would have shuddered at no crime, and stopped at no infamy. When

they thought that any cruel act of theirs might please Theodore, their god,

no consideration of friendship or family ties would arrest their hands or

soften their hearts. They came to Mr. Rassam, though he was kind to them,

out of no regard, only because it was part of their instructions, and they

could indulge their appetite for spirituous drinks; but had we been, by want

of money, reduced to appeal to them, I doubt whether they would have

sanctioned for us, to whom they owed so much, even the small pittance

daily doled out to the poor Abyssinian prisoners.

About that time these wretches had a good opportunity of showing their

zeal for their beloved master. One Saturday two prisoners took advantage of

the bustle always attending market-days, to attempt their escape. One of

them, Lij Barié, was the son of a chief in Tigré; some years before he had

been imprisoned on "suspicion," or, more likely, because he might prove

dangerous, as he was much liked in his province. His companion was a

young lad, a semi-Galla, from the Shoa frontier, who had been kept for

years in chains on the Amba awaiting his trial. One day, as he was cutting

wood, a large splinter flew off, and, striking his mother in the chest, caused

her death. Theodore was, at the time, on an expedition, and to conciliate the

Bishop, he made over the case to him; who, however, declined to

investigate it as it did not fall under his jurisdiction. Theodore, vexed at the

Bishop's refusal, sent the lad to Magdala, where he was chained, awaiting

the good pleasure of his judges. Lij Barié had only been able to open one of

the rings, the other being too strong; so he fastened the chain and ring on

one leg by means of a large bandage as well as he could, and put on the

shirt and cloth of one of the servant-girls, who was in his confidence, and,

carrying on his shoulder the gombo (earthen jar for water), left the prison

inclosure without being seen. The boy had fortunately been able to get rid

of his fetters altogether, and he slipped out also without being noticed; not

being encumbered with much clothing, and quite free in his limbs, he soon

reached the gate, passed out with the followers of some chief, and was

already far away and in safety before his disappearance was noticed.

Lij Barié failed in his attempt. What with the chain fastened on one leg, the

woman's dress, and the gombo, he could not advance quickly. He was,

however, already half way between the prison and the gate, somewhere not

far from our inclosure, when a young man, perceiving a good-looking girl

coming in his direction, advanced to speak to her; but as he came closer, his

eyes fell upon the bandage, and to his astonishment he saw a piece of chain

peeping through the interstices of the cloth. He guessed at once that this

was a prisoner endeavouring to escape, and followed the individual until he

met some soldiers; he told them his suspicions, and they fell upon Lij Barié

and made him a prisoner. A crowd soon collected around the unfortunate

young man, and the alarm being given that a prisoner had been seized as he

was endeavouring to escape, several of the guards rushed to the spot, and at

once recognizing their old inmate, claimed him as their property. In an

instant all his clothes were torn off his back, and the cowardly ruffians

struck him with the butt-ends of their lances, and with the back of their

swords, until his whole body was a mass of wounds and sores, and he lay

senseless, nearly dead, on the ground. But even this was not enough to

satisfy their savage revenge; they carried him off to the prison, hammered

on hand and foot chains, placed a long heavy log of wood round his neck,

put his feet in the stocks, and left him there for days, more dead than alive,

until the good pleasure of the Emperor should be known.

An immediate search was made for his companion and for the servant-girl,

his accomplice. The first was already beyond their reach, but they

succeeded in capturing the unfortunate young woman. The Ras and council

immediately assembled, and condemned her to receive, in front of the

Emperor's house, one hundred blows from the heavy girãf. The next

morning the Ras, accompanied by a large number of chiefs and soldiers,

came to the spot to witness the execution of the sentence. The girl was

thrown down on the ground, stripped of her skirt, and leather ropes tied to

her feet and hands to keep her at full stretch. A strong, powerful ruffian was

entrusted with the execution of the punishment. Each fall of the whip could

be heard from our inclosure, resounding like a pistol-shot; every blow tore

off a strip of flesh; and after every ten strokes the girãf became so heavy

with blood that, it had to be wiped before the operation could be continued.

She never said a word, nor even groaned. When she was removed, after the

hundredth stroke, the naked ribs and the back-bone were visible through the

flowing blood: the whole of the flesh of the back having been torn to pieces.

Some time afterwards a messenger brought back Theodore's answer. Lij

Barié was first to have his hands and feet cut off, before all the Abyssinian

prisoners, and afterwards to be thrown over the precipice. The chiefs made

quite a holiday of that execution; and even sent a polite message to Samuel

requesting him to "come and see the fun." Lij Barié was brought out, a

dozen of the bravest fell upon him at once; and, with their ungainly blunt

swords, hacked away at his hands and feet with all the delight an

Abyssinian has for spilling blood. Whilst submitting to this agonizing

torture, Lij Barié never lost his courage or presence of mind, and it is very

remarkable that whilst they were so unmercifully murdering him, he

prophesied, almost to a letter, the fate that before long awaited them. "You

cowards," he shouted out, "fit servants of the robber your master! He can

seize no man but by treachery; and you can kill them only when they are

unarmed and in your power. But before long the English will come to

release their people; they will avenge in your blood the ill treatment you

have inflicted upon their countrymen, and punish, you and your master for

all your cowardice, cruelties, and murders." The wretches took little notice

of the dying words of the brave lad; they hurled him over the precipice, and,

in a body, walked over to our place to finish the day, so well begun, by

partaking of Mr. Rassam's generous hospitality.

CHAPTER XIV.

Second Rainy Season ends—Scarcity and Dearness of Provisions—

Meshisha and Comfou plot their Escape—They succeed—Theodore is

robbed—Damash pursues the Fugitives—The Night Attack—The Galla

War-cry and the "Sauve qui peut"—The wounded left on the Field—

Hospitality of the Gallas —Theodore's Letter on the Subject—Mastiate's

Troubles—Wakshum Gabra Medhin—Sketch of Gobazé's Career—He

invites the Co-operation of the Bishop in seizing Magdala—The Bishop's

Plan—All the rival Chiefs intrigue for the Amba—Mr. Rassam's Influence

overrated.

Another Maskal (Feast of the Cross) had gone by and September ushered in

fine, pleasant weather. No important change had taken place in our daily

life: it was the same routine over again; only we were beginning to be very

anxious about the long delay of our messengers from the coast, as our

money was running short: indeed, we had hardly any left, and every

necessary of life had risen to fabulous prices. Five oblong pieces of salt

were now given in exchange for a Maria Theresa dollar, whilst formerly, at

Magdala, during their first captivity, our companions had often got as much

as thirty, never less than fifteen or eighteen. Though the value of the salt

had so greatly increased, the articles purchased with it had not followed the

same proportion, they were, on the contrary, lowered in amount and quality.

When the salts were abundant we could buy four old fowls for a salt; now

that they were scarce, we could only buy two; and everything in the same

ratio; consequently all our expenses had risen 200 per cent. Supplies. in the

market were also getting very scarce; and often we could not purchase grain

for our Abyssinian servants. The soldiers on the mountain suffered greatly

from this scarcity and high prices; they were continually begging, and

many, no doubt, were saved from starvation by the generosity of those they

kept prisoners. Very fortunately, I had put aside a small sum of money in

case of accident, otherwise I believe the Abyssinian difficulty would have

been at an end, so far as we were concerned. I kept a little for myself, and

handed the rest over to Mr. Rassam, as he usually supplied us with money

from the sums forwarded to him by the agent at Massowah. We dismissed

as many servants as we possibly could, reduced our expenses to a

minimum, and sent messengers after messengers to the coast to bring us up

as much money as they could. At that time, if we had fortunately been

provided with a large sum of ready cash, I do really believe that we might

have bought the mountain; so discouraged and mutinous were the soldiers

of the garrison at the long privations and semi-starvation they were

enduring for a master of whom they had no reliable information. The agent

at the coast did his best. Hosts of messengers had been despatched, but the

condition of the country was such that they had to bury the money they

were carrying in the house of a friend at Adowa, and abide there for several

months, until they could, with great prudence and by travelling only at

night, venture to pass through districts infested with thieves, and a prey to

the greatest anarchy.

On the morning of the 5th of September, whilst at breakfast, one of our

interpreters rushed into the hut, and told us that our friend Afa Negus

Meshisha (the lute-player), and Bedjerand Comfou, one of the officers in

charge of the godowns, had run away. Theirs was a long-preconcerted and

ably managed plan. At the beginning of the rainy season, ground had been

allotted to the various, chiefs and soldiers, at Islamgee and at the foot of the

mountain. Some of the chiefs made arrangements with the peasants living

below for them to till the soil on their account, they supplying the seed

grain, and the harvest to be divided between the two; others, who had many

servants, did the work themselves. Afa Negus Meshisha's and Bedjerand

Comfou's lots happened to be at the foot of the mountain; they themselves

undertook the cultivation, occasionally visited their fields, and sent once or

twice a week all their male and female servants to pull out the weeds under

the superintendence of their wives. The whole of the land they had received

had not been put under cultivation, and, a few days before, Comfou spoke

to the Ras about it, who advised him to sow some tef, as, with the

prevailing scarcity, he would be happy to reap a second harvest. Comfou

approved of the idea, and asked the Ras to send him a servant on the

morning of the 5th, to allow him to pass the gates. The Ras agreed. On that

very morning Meshisha went to the Ras, and told him that he also wanted to

sow some tef, and asked him to allow him to go down. The Ras, who had

not the slightest suspicion, granted his request. Both had that morning sent

down several of their servants to weed the fields, and, not to excite

suspicion, had sent their wives by another gate, also under the same

pretence. As the Gallas often attacked the soldiers of the garrison at the foot

of the mountain, the door-keepers were not surprised to see the two officers

well armed and preceded by their mules; nor did they take much notice of

the bags their followers carried, when they were told that it was tef they

were going to sow, a statement moreover corroborated by the Ras's servant

himself. Off they started in open daylight, meeting many of the soldiers of

the mountain on the way down. Arrived, at the fields, they told their

servants to follow them, and made straight for the Galla plain. Some of the

soldiers who were at the time working at their fields suspected that all was

not right, and at once returned to the Amba and communicated their

suspicions to the Ras. He had but to take a telescope to perceive the two

friends winding their way in the distance along the road that led to the Galla

plain. All the garrison was at once called out, and an immediate pursuit

ordered; but during the interval the fugitives had gained ground, and were at

last perceived quietly resting on the plain above, in company with such a

respectable-looking body of Galla horsemen that prudence dictated to the

braves of Magdala the advisability of not following any further. On their

way back they found, hiding herself in the bushes, the wife of Comfou,

carrying her infant babe in her arms. It appears that, flurried and excited,

that young woman failed to find the place of rendezvous, and was

concealing herself until the soldiers had passed by, when the cries of her

child attracted their attention. She was triumphantly brought back, chained

hand and feet, and cast into the common gaol, "awaiting orders."

Whilst the garrison had been sent on their unsuccessful errand, the chiefs

had met together, and as one of the runaways was superintendent of the

storehouses and magazines, an immediate search was made, in order to

ascertain whether he had helped himself to some of the "treasures" before

taking his unceremonious leave. To their horror they soon found out that

silks, caps, powder, even the Emperor's gala dress, his favourite pistol and

rifle, together with a large sum of money, were missing: in fact, the bags of

tef were full of spoils. The Ras felt the gravity of his position; he had not

only allowed himself to be grossly duped, but, moreover, some of the most

valuable of the Emperor's property intrusted to his care had been carried off

by his former friend. He utterly lost his head; he painted to himself

Theodore's rage on hearing the news; he saw himself an inmate of the gaol,

loaded with fetters, or perhaps condemned to a speedy and cruel death. He

assembled the council, and laid the case before the chiefs; the wisest and

most experienced were for trusting to his relationship with the Emperor, and

to his well-known friendship for him; others proposed an expedition in the

Galla country, a night attack on the village where it was supposed the

fugitive would spend the nights: a few hundred would start in the evening,

they said, surprise the fugitives, bring them back, recover the lost property,

and, at the same time, murder a few Gallas, and plunder as much as they

could—exploits that would immensely gratify their royal master, and make

him forget the easy way the Ras had been imposed upon.

This last advice was carried out; and, though some still dissented, the Ras

overruled their objections: he was already so deeply compromised that he

clutched at every chance that offered itself of retrieving his position.

Bitwaddad Damash, the friend and countryman of Theodore, the brave

warrior, was intrusted with the command; under him were, placed

Bitwaddad Hailo, Bitwaddad Wassié, and Dedjazmatch Goji, all of them

"old friends of ours," and of whom I have given a short description. Two

hundred of Damash's gunmen, and two hundred of Goji's spearmen, all

picked soldiers, well armed and well mounted, formed the attacking party.

Towards sunset they all assembled. Before leaving, Damash, clad in a silk

shirt, wearing gallantly over his shoulders a splendid tiger's skin, armed

with a pair of pistols and a double-barrelled gun; came to our prison to bid

us good-by; or rather to gratify his vanity by our compelled admiration, and

to obtain a parting blessing from his friend Mr. Rassam, who courteously

performed the ceremony.

Twice before, Damash had, during our stay at Magdala, started for Watat, a

village some twelve miles distant from Magdala, not far from where the

Bechelo separates the province of Worahaimanoo from the plateau of

Dahonte. There the Emperor's cattle were kept, and messengers had been

sent to the Amba by the peasants requesting immediate assistance, as a

Galla force had made its appearance, and they felt themselves unable to

protect Theodore's cows. On these occasions the very sight of Damash and

his gunmen had driven the Gallas away: at least so they said on their return;

but mauvaises langues asserted that it was only a trick of the country people

themselves, who desired to be reported to the Emperor as faithful subjects

of his and anxious to protect the cattle they had in charge. Many of the

younger and inexperienced soldiers felt confident that on this occasion the

result would be the same; the fugitives would be surprised, and the Gallas

run away in all directions at the sight of Damash and his valiant

companions, leaving their homesteads and property at the mercy of the

invaders.

The Ras passed an anxious, sleepless night; at day-dawn he and his friends

went upon the small hillock near the prison, and telescope in hand

anxiously watched the Galla plain. Hours passed away, and they saw

nothing. What had occurred? why had not Damash and his men come back?

such were the questions every, one asked: the old men shook their heads;

they had fought in their days in the Galla country, and knew the valour of

these savage horsemen. Even our old spy, Abu Falek, probably to see what

we would say exclaimed, "That fool Damash had the impudence to make a

raid in the Galla country, when even Theodore himself could not go there

now." At last the welcome intelligence that Damash and his men were

coming back, spread like wild-fire all over the mountain: they had been

seen descending a steep ravine, not the road they had taken on going, but a

shorter one. Soon afterwards horses and men were perceived on the plain;

and something like confusion, and cattle being hurried down could be made

out by the glasses. The party from the garrison were seen to halt at a short

distance from the ravine they had descended, and march on very slowly.

Something was wrong evidently; horsemen were at once despatched by the

Ras to ascertain the result of the expedition. They returned with a doleful

tale, and the Amba soon rang with the wailing of widows and orphans;

eleven dead, thirty wounded, scores of fire-arms lost, the fugitives at large,

was in sum the intelligence they brought back to the desponding Ras.

A Galla renegade had the night before led Damash and his men straight to

the village of the chief in whose company they had been seen in the

morning, and under whose hospitable roof he justly surmised that they

would spend the night. At first all succeeded as they had expected. They

reached the doomed village an hour before day-dawn, and surrounded at

once the house of the chief, whilst a small body was sent to search and

plunder the village itself. A fearful massacre took place; surprised in their

sleep, the men were murdered before they were aware of the presence of the

enemy; only a few were spared, together with some women and children,

by the less blood-thirsty of these midnight assassins. Before retiring to rest,

Meshisha and Comfou, thinking that perhaps an attempt might be made to

capture them, advised the chief to be on his guard, and proposed to sleep

with him in a small broken-down hut at some distance from his house.

Fortunately for them and the chief, they adopted that prudent course; awoke

by the cries and shouts in the village, they bridled their ready-saddled

steeds, and were off before even their presence had been suspected.

Damash collected his men, and with his prisoners and plunder at once

retraced his steps, glorying in his great deed and rejoicing in his success; it

is true he had not caught the fugitives, but after all that was the Ras's

business. He had planned the expedition, carried fire and sword into the

Galla country; and without the loss of a single man was returning to the

Amba with prisoners, horses, cows, mules, and other spoils of war. He

knew how pleased Theodore would be, and he fancied himself already the

fortunate successor of the disgraced Ras. He was within a few hundred

yards of the short road he intended to take on his way back, leading from

the Tanta plateau to the valley below Magdala, when he saw on the distant

horizon a few horsemen riding towards him at full speed. The cattle and

prisoners under charge of Goji and a few men were already engaged in the

narrow road, and retreat was impossible. He placed his gunmen so as to

face the horsemen, only a dozen, hoping to scare that handful off by the

very sight of his large force; but he was mistaken. Brave Mahomed Hamza

had the blood of his relations to avenge, and, though at the head of only

twelve men, he bravely charged the 400 Amhara soldiers. A shot struck him

in the forehead, and he fell dead from his horse. His companions, however,

before the Amharas could reload, made a second brilliant charge, avenged

their chief, and carried away the body all were anxious to mutilate. More

horsemen came pouring in from all directions; the war-cry was echoed far

and wide; men, women, and children assailed the Amharas with lances and

stones. Mahomed's brothers, now supported by fifty lances, charged again

and again the affrighted enemy, and drove them like sheep to the very brink

of the precipice.

Damash, however, had not come to fight but to slay; he was only brave

when he had prisoners to bully, defenceless men to murder, and children to

reduce to slavery: the cattle had reached the valley below and the road was

clear, so throwing away his tiger's skin, his shield, his pistols, his gun, and

abandoning his horses, he gave the example of the sauve qui peut , and

rolled rather than ran down the steep descent. His example was followed by

all the Amharas. A complete rout followed; the ground was strewed with

matchlocks, spears, and shields; wounded and dead were alike abandoned

on the battlefield. The Gallas did not follow them down the ravine as they

could not charge on the broken ground below; they, however, killed several

with sharp stones—a dreadful weapon in a Galla's hand—as their terrified

foe hurried down the narrow pass and tumbled one over the other in their

eagerness to reach the valley, where these cowards knew well that they

would be safe.

Almost all the wounded came to me; and for twelve hours I was busy

bandaging and dressing their wounds. In several cases, where I knew that

recovery was impossible, I informed the relations of the fact; as otherwise

their death would have been laid to me, a rather serious matter in our

critical position. Those thus warned always sought native advice, but they

found out very soon that charms and amulets were of no avail, and that my

prognostic had been but too true. I remember one case: a chief who had

often been on guard at night over our prison had his left leg completely

smashed by a stone; without entering into professional details, suffice it to

say that I at once pronounced amputation as the only possible remedy; but

to please the chiefs, who took a great interest in him, I agreed to dress his

wound for a week, and after that time, should I be still of the same opinion

to inform them of it. He had a small godjo built in our inclosure, and

remained there until I gave for the second time as my opinion that nothing

could save his life but immediate amputation. He was on that taken to his

house and made over to a Shoa doctor, who promised not only to save his

life but also the limb. The poor man was tortured by that ignorant quack for

a week or ten days, until death put an end to his misery.

Two days after, on a female spy reporting that in the ravine where the

Amharas had been slaughtered, she had seen two wounded men hidden

among the bushes, and still alive; an old chief, also a Galla renegade, with a

few hundred men, was ordered to proceed to the spot, and endeavour to

bring them back and bury the dead; they were on no account to engage in

any action with the Gallas, but to retreat at once should he meet with

resistance. He saw no enemy except his old comrade Comfou, who, from a

rock above, fired at them with his rifle, without wounding or killing any

one; they returned his fire, but to no purpose, and, having fulfilled their

instructions, brought in the two wounded men: both, however, died shortly

afterwards. One of them had his right arm and left leg broken; moreover, a

spear had cut open the abdominal integuments, and the bowels protruded:

he said that he had suffered greatly from thirst, but that his greatest trouble

was, with his left hand, to keep off the vultures from tearing his intestines.

The Ras, it is true, was now in a worse plight than before; but this time not

alone. Damash had abandoned his men, run away, and lost the gun, pistols,

and horse the Emperor had given, or rather lent, him. Many of the petty

chiefs and soldiers had followed Damash's example, and some twenty-five

matchlocks could not he accounted for, and of spears and shields the

number missing was still greater. By-the-by, Damash pretended to be

wounded, and for a long time we saw nothing of him, a circumstance at

which we rejoiced extremely, but his friends told us that he was only

suffering from a few excoriations due to his rather too rapid retreat.

If force had failed, perhaps negotiations might succeed. It was known that

the two fugitives were still living in some of the villages belonging to the

relations of Mahomed, awaiting the return of a messenger they had sent to

the Galla Queen Mastiate, whose camp was a few days distant. The

Magdala chiefs, therefore, proposed to the Gallas in their power that if they

could induce their relations to give up the two fugitives, with the things

they had taken away with them, they would set them all—men, women, and

children—free, and restore the cattle that had been plundered. A woman,

the wife of one of the principal men captured, volunteered to go. To the

honour of the Gallas, they proudly and with scorn refused to give up their

guests: they preferred to allow their relatives to linger in chains at Magdala,

and abandon them to tortures and death, rather than obtain their release by a

dishonourable action.

The Magdala magnates had now to give up all hope of redeeming their

conduct in the eyes of Theodore; the good understanding between them was

much shaken: they taxed one another, when in their cups, with cowardice,

sent messengers separately to the Emperor, accusing one another, and lived

in as much dread of the arrival of an Imperial messenger as we did

ourselves. But Theodore, surrounded by difficulties, almost cut off from his

amba, was far too cunning to show his displeasure: his letter on the subject

was perfect. What if two of his servants had run away? they were

unfaithful, and he was only too glad that they had left his amba; as for the

arms lost, what did it matter? he had more to give them; and when he came

they should take their revenge. A few, not many, were taken in, but all

pretended to be so, and several only awaited a favourable opportunity to

follow the example of those they had endeavoured to capture.

Every one suspected that Mastiate, the Galla Queen, would resent the foray

made in her country, and avenge the death of her subjects so treacherously

murdered. She would probably, they feared, destroy their crops at the foot

of the Amba, stop the market, and starve out the place. She had, they knew,

faithful allies in Comfou and Meshisha, and as the latter had been almost

brought up on the mountain, and knew the many paths by which to lead; at

night, the Galla host, much anxiety, therefore, prevailed, and great

precautions were taken to protect the Amba against a sudden attack.

I believe that it was indeed Mastiate's plan, and that she was on the point of

executing it when a serious danger from, another side required her presence.

Wakshum Gobazé, at the head of a powerful army, had invaded her

dominions.

Our days of calm repose were at an end; if it was not one rebel chief or the

other that threatened the Amba, it was the good news from home that at last

an expedition for our deliverance had been decided upon, or the less

welcome information that the King was about to move in our direction; and

one excitement had hardly subsided before we were again a prey to another

—one day full of hope, the next, perhaps, desponding and cast down.

Watshum Gobazé's career, had been full of adventure. As a young man he

accompanied his father, Wakshum Gabra Medhin, the hereditary chief of

Lasta, to the Imperial camp. On Theodore's first campaign in Shoa, which

ended in the submission of that country, Gobazé's father fell under

Theodore's displeasure, and was on the point of being executed when the

Bishop interfered, and, as he was of great use to Theodore at the time, his

request was granted. However, not long afterwards, Gobazé and his father

seized their opportunity, deserted from Theodore's army, and retired into

Lasta. They had not much difficulty in inducing the mountaineers to

espouse their cause, and declare themselves independent. Theodore deputed

to suppress that insurrection the rebel's own cousin, called Wakshum Teferi,

a brave soldier and splendid horseman. He pursued his relative, totally

defeated his army, and brought him a chained prisoner to the foot of the

throne. Theodore was at the time in Wadela, a high plateau situate between

Lasta and Begemder. He condemned the rebel chief to death; and as but few

trees are to be found on that elevated plateau, he had him hung on the one

near which his tent was pitched, so that the body of his enemy might be

seen far and wide. Gobazé had managed to escape; and some time

afterwards, Theodore, who was afraid of Wakshum Teferi, as he was

beloved and admired by the soldiers, put him in chains,—forgetting that the

man had served him so faithfully as even to bring to the scaffold his blood

relation, —on the pretext that he had willingly allowed Gobazé to escape.

Gobazé for a while remained hidden in the fastnesses of the high mountains

of Lasta, but no sooner did he perceive that the Emperor's power was

weakened and that the peasants were discontented with his tyrannical rule,

than he came forth from his retreat, and having collected around him some

of the former followers of his father, hoisted the standard of rebellion, and

loudly proclaimed himself the avenger of his race. All Lasta soon

acknowledged him. His rule was mild; and before long Gobazé found

himself at the head of a considerable force. He advanced in the direction of

Tigré, subdued the provinces of Enderta and Wajjerat, marched into Tigré

proper, conquered Theodore's lieutenant, and left there his deputy, Dejatch

Kassa. He himself returned to Lasta, having in view the extension of his

power towards Yedjow and the Galla country, so as to protect Lasta from

being invaded by these tribes during his proposed conquest of the Amhara

country. Circumstances were greatly in his favour, and for a while he was

the man to whom all Abyssinia looked to as their future ruler. On his return

to Lasta he was at once acknowledged by Wadela, and at the same time

some runaway chiefs of Yedjow having come to him, he availed himself of

their assistance to make himself master of that province. He had some

trouble, however, in settling it, as part of it was strongly in favour of an

alliance with the Wallo Gallas: he deemed it the wisest course, therefore, to

invade the Wallo country after the rainy season, and dictate his terms. He

detached a small force, and sent with it one of his relations to receive the

submission of Dalanta; and not long afterwards Dahonte was evacuated by

the Gallas, and occupied by his troops. In the beginning of September he

entered the Wallo Galla country by its north-eastern frontier, not far from

Lake Haïk. On the intelligence reaching Queen Mastiate she hastened to

oppose his march, and encamped a few miles in advance of his army, on a

large plain, where her splendid cavalry would have all advantage. For at

least a fortnight or three weeks the two armies remained in front of each

other; Gobazé awaiting his enemy on the broken ground he had encamped

upon, and where the Galla horse could not charge, but where his gunmen

would be all-powerful; while the Queen, on her side, would not leave the

ground she had chosen, and where she was almost certain of victory.

Gobazé had been long before in communication with the Bishop and with

Mr. Rassam. Before the rainy season of 1867, he had sent word to the

Bishop that he was coming to Magdala, presented him a few hundred

dollars, and asked him to afford all the assistance in his power should he

advance towards the place. The Bishop said he would do his utmost, and

that as soon as the Amba was invested he would leave no stone, unturned to

facilitate his plans. Gobazé sent back word that if the Bishop would secure

him the services of Damash, Goji, and the Ras (the three who had all the

garrison under their joint command), that he would come at once. This

request was simply absurd; if we had been able to gain over these men to

our cause, we could have dispensed with the presence of Gobazé altogether.

What the Bishop proposed was, that Gobazé should encamp at Islamgee;

the moment he appeared below the mountain, the Bishop would supply us

and some men upon whom he could depend with fire-arms and

ammunition. We should in the meanwhile open our chains with the

assistance of our servants, and arm all those amongst them who could be

trusted; and on the Bishop being informed, that we were ready, he would

come out in full canonicals, carrying the holy cross, and excommunicate

Theodore and every one who adhered to him, placing under an irrevocable

curse all who attempted to arrest him or us. Our party, including

Portuguese, natives of Massowah, and messengers, would have amounted

to at least twenty-five; the Bishop could bring fifty men, and surround

himself with about 200 priests and defteras, so as to form a mixed sortie;

all, however, ready to fight in case of need. Should persuasion or threats fail

to force the way to the gate, they were to shoot down any one attempting to

molest us in our advance. Arrived at the gate, the Bishop and the priests

would stand before the inner door, whilst the armed party would seize upon

the outer gate and hold it until the Wakshum and his men, ready at hand,

would march in and take possession of the fort.

The plan was a very good one, and no doubt would have succeeded. We

knew well, that no pity would have been shown to us had we been

recaptured, and we would have fallen one after the other, rather than allow

ourselves to be made prisoners again. In presence of even a handful of men,

determined to sell their lives dearly, few of the soldiers would have

ventured on an open attack; the affair would have been sudden, and the

garrison taken by surprise: moreover, we had to deal with bigoted people,

and many who might have rushed upon us, would have been kept back by

the presence of the Bishop, and would kiss the ground before his feet rather

than encounter his dreaded excommunication. The Bishop informed Gobazé

of this plan, and for days we lived in a fearful state of excitement, always

hoping that the messenger would return with the grateful intelligence that

Gobazé had accepted it. However, we were doomed to disappointment:

Gobazé did not approve the suggestion; he sent word to the Bishop, "It is

better for me to go to Begemder and attack there my blood enemy: only

give me your blessing. On the fall of Theodore, the Amba belongs to me; it

is far preferable that I should fight him instead of attacking Magdala, as you

know well that we cannot take forts." The blessing was duly given; but

Gobazé thought better of it: he did not venture to attack the murderer of his

father, and a few days afterwards we heard that he had marched into

Yedjow. Gobazé behaved always very well towards us; he assisted, as much

as lay in his power, our messengers on their way to the coast, and was

anxious to effect our deliverance; unfortunately he had not sufficient

courage to fight when Theodore was his opponent.

Gobazé and Mastiate after a time got tired of staring at one another. The

latter was aware that before long she would have to deal with even a more

serious enemy, in the person of her rival Workite, and she would willingly

have come to terms. She sent a horse to Gobazé as a peace-offering, but he

returned the present, accompanied with a parcel of cotton and a spindle,

with a message to the effect that she had nothing to do with horses, and as

her occupation was to spin cotton, he had sent her the necessary articles.

Gobazé, however, shortly afterwards heard that in Tigré, Dejatch Kassa,

who for some months had abandoned his cause, had made himself very

powerful, and marched upon Adowa. Supplies also began to run short in his

camp, whilst Mastiate being in her own country, could draw them with all

facility; he therefore retraced his steps towards Yedjow. Mastiate followed

him in the rear, only biding her time to fall upon him when a favourable

opportunity presented itself. Gobazé found his position difficult, and made

advances. Mastiate saw her advantage and made her own terms. She

promised not to interfere in the affairs of Yedjow, on condition that he made

over to her the provinces of Dahonte and Dalanta, which he had shortly

before occupied. He agreed, and peace was made between the two parties; it

was even reported that an offensive and defensive alliance had been

concluded between them; but this could hardly have been the case, as soon

afterwards, when Mastiate was hard pressed by Menilek, her new ally did

not afford her any assistance.

To us these constant changes of rulers was most annoying, more so as we

had no money, and were constantly obliged to make presents to the new

chiefs appointed by the conqueror of the day. We had hardly made "friends"

with the shums (governors) Theodore had left in those provinces, than we

had to open communications with the deputies of the Galla Queen, and

again with those of Gobazé on the evacuation of those districts by the

Gallas, and a fourth time on their reoccupation by the Gallas: we had to

ensure their neutrality, at least,—for they had already plundered several of

our messengers—by suitable offerings and promises of more, should they

favour our cause. In one respect we were very fortunate: on our arrival we

were saved from much discomfort, if not from something worse, by the

money the Emperor gave to his workmen; who made it over to us. During

the rainy season we were again saved from starvation by a few dollars I had

kept in reserve; for the third time, everything appeared desperate, and we

were so reduced that some sold and others were talking of selling their

mules and anything available, when a messenger at last reached us with a

few hundred dollars.

Whilst Mastiate was negotiating with Gobaz, her son wrote to Mr. Rassam

and to the Bishop. He asked Mr. Rassam to use his influence and give him

the mountain, promising in return to treat us honourably if we liked to

remain in his country, or enable us to reach the coast if we desired to return

to our own native land. To the Bishop he promised all protection; he would

allow him to take away his property, and would not injure what he called

"his idols."

So long as we could get out of the clutches of Theodore, it did not matter

much into whose hands we fell: not that we ever expected,—such, at least,

was the opinion of the majority amongst us,—that we should be allowed to

leave the country: but, at all events, we should not be in daily fear of our

lives, of tortures, and of starvation, as we were then. We should not have

liked to fall into the hands of the peasants or of some petty chief: the first

would have at once put us to death out of hatred to the white men; the

second, most probably would have ill-treated us or have sold us to the

highest bidder. The great rebels would have acted differently: we should

have been, for a time, at least, comparatively free, and allowed to depart on

a suitable ransom being given. Therefore, to Ali, to Gobaz, to Ahmed the

son of Mastiate, or to Menilek the King of Shoa, Mr. Rassam's answer was

always the same, "Come; invest this place, and then we will see what we

can do for you."

It amused us sometimes to watch all these different rivals of Theodore, each

of them endeavouring to seize upon Magdala even before Theodore was

quite out of the way. Gobazé and Menilek, had both in view to make

themselves rulers of Abyssinia, by the possession of Magdala: (indeed the

latter had also written before the rainy season, informing the Bishop of his

coming to take possession of his amba, and requesting the bishop to take

care of his property.) Apart from the great prestige it would confer upon

them, they would obtain the three things they rightly judged would most

likely insure the fulfilment of their ambitious views: viz., the throne, the

Bishop, and the English prisoners. All wanted Mr. Bassam, not merely to

help them, but to give them the mountain: they were aware that the chiefs

were on friendly terms with us, and supposed that we were in possession of

fabulous sums of money, so that, by means of friendship and bribery, we

might open the gates to the candidate we selected.

Magdala could only become theirs by treachery: in their immense armies,

they could not have found twenty men with sufficient courage to venture on

an assault. Magdala had the reputation of being impregnable; and, indeed,

against natives badly armed, it was very nearly so. Even Theodore only

took possession of it because the Galla garrison, through fear, evacuated the

place during the night. He had pitched his camp at the foot of the Amba,

and attempted an assault; but soon retired from his hopeless task before the

shower of missiles thrown from above. It was not until several days after

the Gallas had retired, that one of the chiefs, suspecting the place to be

empty, cautiously ventured to ascertain the fact, and returned to inform

Theodore that he might quietly walk in as the enemy had disappeared.

CHAPTER XV

Death of Abouna Salama—Sketch of his Life and Career—Grievances of

Theodore against him—His Imprisonment at Magdala—The Wallo Gallas

—Their Habits and Customs—Menilek appears with an Army in the Galla

Country—His Policy—Advice sent to him by Mr. Rassam—He invests

Magdala and fires a feu-de-joie —The Queen's Behaviour —Steps taken by

the Chiefs—Our Position not Improved—The Effects of Smoke on Menilek

—Our Disappointment followed by Great Joy—We receive News of the

Landing of British Troops.

On the 25th of October, Abouna Salama (the Bishop of Abyssinia) died

after a long and painful illness.

Abouna Salama was in many respects a remarkable man. Two such

characters as Theodore and himself are seldom met with at the same time in

those distant lands. Both ambitious, both proud, both passionate, it was

inevitable that sooner or later they must come into collision, and the

stronger crush the weaker.

Abyssinia had been for years without a bishop. Priests could no more be

consecrated, nor new churches dedicated to Christian worship, as the ark

could not contain the tabot blessed by the bishop of the land. Ras Ali,

although outwardly a Christian and belonging to a converted family, had

still too many connections amongst the Mussulman Gallas, his true friends

and supporters, to care for more than an apparent profession of the State

religion, and troubled himself very little about the inconvenience to which

the priesthood was subjected by the long-continued vacancy of the

bishopric.

Dejatch Oubié was at that time the semi-independent ruler of Tigré. From

the position of a simple governor he had gradually risen to power, and now

at the head of a large army strove for the title of Ras. Though still on

apparent terms of friendship with Ras Ali, even to a certain degree

acknowledging him as his superior, he was all the while secretly exerting

his influence to overthrow the Ras's power in order to reign in his stead. For

these reasons he despatched some of his chiefs, with Monsignor de Jacobis,

an Italian nobleman and Roman Catholic bishop at Massowah, to Egypt, to

obtain a bishop for the Abyssinian see; [Footnote: According to the rules of

the Abyssinian Church, the bishop must be a Coptic priest ordained at

Cairo. The expenses required for the consecration of a bishop amount to

about 10,000 dollars] and in order to secure for himself such a powerful

weapon as the support of the priesthood, he incurred the heavy expense

required for the consecration of an Abouna. De Jacobis made strenuous

efforts to have a bishop anointed who would favour the Roman Catholics;

but he failed, as the Patriarch chose for that dignity a young man who had

received part of his education at an English school at Cairo, and whose

views were more in favour of Protestantism than of the Copt's long-standing

adversary, the Church of Rome.

Andraos, this young priest, was only in his twentieth year. When informed

that he must leave his monastery and the companionship of the monks his

friends to proceed to the distant and semi-civilized land of Habesch, he

firmly declined the honour proposed for him. He requested his superiors to

fix their choice on a worthier man, declaring himself unfit for the dignity so

suddenly thrust upon him. His objections were not admitted, and as he still

persisted in his refusal, the superior of the convent put him in irons;

wherein he should remain, he was told, until he agreed to obey the head of

the Coptic Church. Andraos gave in; and having been duly anointed and

consecrated Bishop of Abyssinia, under the title of Abouna Salama, with all

the pomps and ceremonies proper to the occasion, started shortly afterwards

in an English man-of-war, reaching Massowah in the beginning of 1841.

Dejatch Oubié received him with great honours; added numerous villages

and large districts to those the hereditary possession of the bishops, and

made every endeavour to attach him to his cause. He succeeded even

beyond his expectations. Abouna Salama, instead of needing the

persuasions of Oubié to join him in the overthrow of Ras Ali, proposed the

attempt. Through his influence Oubié concluded an alliance with Goscho

Beru, the ruler of Godjam. The two chiefs agreed to march on Debra Tabor,

attack Ras Ali, wrest from him the power he had usurped, and divide the

government of Abyssinia, confirming the Bishop's alleged rights to a third

of the revenue of the land.

Oubié and Goscho Beru kept to their engagements, offered battle to Ras Ali

near Debra Tabor, and utterly routed his army; Ras Ali with difficulty

escaping from the field with a small body of well-mounted followers. It so

happened, however, that Oubié celebrated his success in potations too many

and deep. Some of the fugitive soldiers of Ras Ali accidentally entered

Oubié's tent, found their master's conqueror in the condition known as dead

drunk, and availed themselves of his helpless condition to make him their

prisoner. This sudden contretemps changed the aspect of affairs. Certain

well-mounted horsemen galloped after Ras Ali and succeeded in overtaking

him towards evening. He would not at first believe in his good fortune; but

others of his soldiers arriving and confirming the glad tidings, he returned

to Debra Tabor, reunited his scattered followers, and was able to dictate

terms to his captive conqueror. Oubié was pardoned and allowed to return

to Tigré, the Bishop being answerable for his fidelity. Ras Ali treated the

Bishop with all respect, fell at his feet and implored him not to listen to the

calumnies of his enemies, assuring him that the Church had no more

faithful son than himself, nor any more willing to comply with the holy

father's wishes. The Bishop, now on friendly terms with all parties, and all

but worshipped by them, soon made his authority felt; and had not

Theodore risen from obscurity, Abouna Salama would, no doubt, have been

the Hildebrand of Abyssinia.

During the campaigns of Lij Kassa against the ruler of Godjam, and during

that period of revolution ending in the overthrow of Ras Ali, Abouna

Salama retired to his property in Tigré, residing there in peace under the

protection of his friend Oubié. Ever since his arrival in Abyssinia Abouna

Salama had shown the bitterest opposition to the Roman Catholics: an

enmity not so much engendered by conviction, perhaps, as inflamed by the

fact that some of his property had been seized at Jiddah at the instigation of

some Roman Catholic priests, who had through his influence been

plundered, ill-treated, and expelled from Abyssinia. When the intelligence

reached the Abouna that Lij Kassa was marching against Tigré, he publicly

excommunicated him, on the ground that Kassa was the friend of the

Roman Catholics, protected their Bishop, De Jacobis, and wanted to subvert

in favour of the creed of Rome the religion of the land. But Kassa was a

match for the Abouna; he denied the charge, and at the same time stated

"that if Abouna Salama could excommunicate, Abouna de Jacobis could

remove it." The Bishop, alarmed at the influence his enemies might

possibly obtain, offered to recall his anathema, on condition that Kassa

would expel De Jacobis. These terms having been agreed upon, Abouna

Salama shortly afterwards consented to place the crown of Abyssinia on the

usurper's head, and did so in the very church Oubié had erected for his own

coronation, under the name of Theodore II.

Pleased with the Bishop's compliance, Theodore showed him the utmost

respect. He carried his chair, or walked behind him with a lance and shield

as if he was nothing but a follower of his, and on all fit occasions fell down

to the ground in his presence and respectfully kissed his hand. Abouna

Salama for a time believed that his influence over Theodore was

unbounded, as it had been over Ras Ali and Oubié; mistook Theodore's

show of humility for sincere admiration and devotion; and the more humble

Theodore seemed disposed to be, the more arrogant did the Bishop, publicly

show himself. But he had not quite understood the character of the Emperor

he had anointed; and overrating his own importance, at last he made of

Theodore an open and relentless enemy. The crisis came when Abouna

Salama least expected it. One day Theodore went in state to pay him his

respects. Arrived at the Abouna's tent, he informed him of his visit; the

Bishop sent word that he would receive him when convenient, and

meanwhile bade him wait without. Theodore complied; but as time passed

and the Bishop made no appearance, Theodore walked away, the enemy of

his prelate, and burning for revenge.

For years afterwards they lived in open enmity, or enmity slightly masked:

each worked hard at the destruction of the other. If Theodore's reign had

been a peaceful one, the Abouna would have gained the day; but the

Emperor, surrounded as he was by a large army of devoted followers, found

ready listeners to his descriptions of the Bishop's character. Abouna Salama

was never very popular; he was, without being a miser, far from liberal.

Friendship in Abyssinia means presents: it is accepted as such by all; and

every chief, every man of note, who courts popularity, lavishes with an

unsparing hand. The Emperor naturally took advantage of this want of

liberality in the Bishop's character, to contrast it with his own generosity.

He insinuated that the Abouna was only a merchant at heart; that instead of

selling the tribute he received in kind to the people of the country, as was

formerly the custom, he sent it by caravans to Massowah, trafficked with

the Turks, and hoarded all his money in Egypt. Little by little Theodore

worked on the minds of his people, impressing them with the idea that, after

all, the Bishop was only a man like themselves; and, at least in Theodore's

camp, he had already lost much of his prestige when the Emperor spread

the report that his honour had been assailed by the Bishop whom they all

worshipped.

Theodore, when detailing to us his grievances one day on our way to Agau

Medar, introduced the subject of his quarrel with the Abouna. He then

stated as the reason of his enmity against him that, one day when he was

entertaining his officers at a public breakfast, the Bishop, taking advantage

of his absence, and under pretence of confessing the Queen, went into her

tent. When Theodore returned after the breakfast was over, he presented

himself at the door of his wife's apartment, but on being informed that she

was engaged in her religious duties with the Abouna he walked away. In the

evening he returned again to his wife's tent. When he entered, she flew to

him, and sobbing on his neck told him that she had been that day

unwillingly unfaithful to him, having been unable to resist the violence of

the Bishop. He forgave her, he said, because she was innocent; and as for

the suborner of his honour he could not punish him: nothing but death could

avenge such a crime, and how could he lay violent hands on a dignitary of

the Church?—There is no doubt that the whole was an abominable

invention; but Theodore had evidently told the same story over and over

again until at last he had come to believe it himself.

Abouna Salama lost reputation, though, perhaps, few people believed the

Emperor's assertion. But on the principle that if you throw mud some will

stick, the Abouna's character was amongst a certain class fairly gone; and

henceforward his friends were only to be found amongst the King's

enemies, while his foes were Theodore's bosom friends. In public Theodore

still always treated him with respect, though not with such a great show of

humility as before; but he evidently, for the sake of his people, made a

distinction between the official character of the Abouna, respecting it on

account of his Christian faith, and his private one, for which he expressed

the greatest scorn.

For a long while the question of the Church lands was a great deal

discussed between them. Theodore could not tolerate any power in the State

but his own. He had fought hard to be the supreme ruler of Abyssinia; he

had done his utmost to bring the Abouna into contempt, and when he

thought the occasion favourable to do away entirely with his power and

influence, he confiscated all the Church lands and revenues—some of the

Bishop's hereditary property by the same stroke—and placed himself

virtually at the head of the Church. The Abouna's anger knew no bounds.

Naturally of a violent temper, he grossly abused Theodore on every

occasion. Some of their quarrels were most unbecoming; the intense hatred

burning in the prelate's heart showing itself in expressions that ought never

to have fallen from his lips. The Bishop of Abyssinia was never tolerant. I

have mentioned that towards Roman Catholics he was most intolerant. He

persecuted them at every opportunity, and even when himself a prisoner at

Magdala he never sought to obtain the release of an unfortunate Abyssinian

who had been years before cast into chains at his instigation, for the sole

reason that the man had visited Rome and become a convert there. Towards

Protestants he was better inclined; still, he would not hear of "conversions."

Missionaries might instruct, but they had to stop there; and when, as it

happened, some Jews were led by the teachings of the missionaries to

accept Christianity, they had to be baptized and received as members of the

Abyssinian Church. He showed himself on all occasions friendly towards

Europeans, not Roman Catholics, and in time of trouble proved of good

service to the European captives; even helping them with small sums of

money at a time of great scarcity and want. But his friendship was

dangerous. Theodore distrusted, nay, disliked any one who was on friendly

terms with his great enemy; the horrid torture the Europeans suffered at

Azzazoo was due entirely to that cause; and the quarrels or reconciliations

between Church and State always influenced their and our fate. The

Abouna left Azzazoo with the King's camp after the rainy season of 1864.

A serious rebellion had broken out in Shoa, and Theodore, leaving his

prisoners, wives and camp-followers at Magdala, made a quick march

through the Wallo Galla country; but he found the rebels so strong that he

could do nothing against them. He was greatly annoyed at the Bishop's

refusal to accompany him. The Shoa people are of all Abyssinians the most

bigoted, and have the greatest regard for their Abouna; with him in his

camp many of the opposing chiefs would at once have laid down their arms

and returned to their allegiance. But the Bishop, who had in view his fertile

districts in Tigré, proposed accompanying Theodore first to that province;

and after the rebellion had been put down in that part of the kingdom, to

proceed with him to Shoa. Their interview on that occasion was very

stormy; and Theodore must have had great command over himself to have

refrained from extremities. Abouna Salama remained at Magdala, according

to his desire; but a prisoner. He was never put in chains; though it is said

that Theodore had several times resolve it should be done, and even had the

fetters prepared; but he was always restrained by dread of the effect that

such a measure might have on his people. The Bishop was allowed to go as

far as the church, should he desire it; but at night a small guards always

watched outside his house; sometimes even a few of the soldiers passed the

night in the Abouna's apartment. Almost all his servants were spies of the

King. He could trust no one, except a few of his slaves—young Gallas

given to him in former days by Theodore—and a Copt, who, with some

priests, had accompanied the Patriarch David on his visit to Abyssinia:

some of them had accepted the King's service, whilst others, like the Copt

servant I have mentioned, devoted themselves to their compatriot and

bishop.

During the former imprisonment of the captives at Magdala, the intercourse

between the Bishop and them had been very limited. They never saw each

other; but occasionally a young slave of the Bishop's would carry a verbal

message, or a short Arabic note containing some piece of news, generally

some exaggerated rumours of the rebels' doings (always believed by the too

credulous Abouna), or simple inquiries about medicine, &c.

The day of our arrival, and whilst the chiefs were reading Theodore's

instructions concerning us, the young slave above mentioned came up to

Mr. Rosenthal with kind compliments from the Abouna, to inform us that as

far as his master then knew there was nothing bad for the present, but great

fears for the future. The Bishop, we knew, had frequent communications

with the great rebel chiefs (Theodore was also well aware of the fact, and

hated him all the more for it); he had shown himself at all times well

disposed towards us, and as he was as anxious as ourselves to escape from

the power of Theodore, we deemed it of the highest importance to open

communication with him. But the difficulties in the way were enormous.

Nothing would have injured our prospects more than the betrayal of our

intercourse with the Bishop to the Emperor. Samuel in that respect could

not for a long time be trusted; as a deadly enmity existed between himself

and the Bishop. It required all the persuasive powers of Mr. Rassam to bring

on a good understanding between the two; he, however, managed the affair

so skilfully that he not only succeeded, but after mutual explanations, they

became affectionate friends. But, until this difficulty had been overcome,

great precautions were necessary.

The small slave was soon suspected by our vigilant guards. It would have

been dangerous to confide to him anything of importance, for he might at

any time be seized and searched. We therefore employed servant-girls, who

were known to the Bishop, as they had resided on the mountain with the

former captives. The Bishop accepted with eagerness our proposal to escape

from the Amba, and, sanguine as he was hasty, at first gave us great hopes;

but when we came to the details of his plot, as far as we were concerned,

we found it was perfectly ridiculous. He wanted some nitrate of silver in

order to blacken his face, so as to pass unperceived through the gates. Once

free, he was to join either Menilek or the Wakshum, excommunicate and

depose Theodore, and proclaim the rebel emperor in his place. He had

evidently forgotten that the days of Oubié and Ras Ali were gone long ago,

that the man who held Magdala cared but little for excommunication, and

that, deposed or not, Theodore still would virtually be king. The Bishop

might have succeeded, perhaps; but had he been caught, or had it ever been

known that we were parties to his escape, no power in the world would

have saved us from the rage of the infuriated monarch.

After the Bishop's reconciliation with Samuel our relations with him were

more frequent and intimate. He was at all times willing to help us to the

best of his ability, lent as a few dollars when we were hard pressed for

money, wrote to the rebels to protect our messengers, invited them to come

to our release, promising to the successful one his support, and, I believe,

would even have accepted a reconciliation with the man from whom he had

received so many injuries, solely for our sake.

Disappointed in his ambition, deprived of his property, insulted, degraded,

without power, without liberty, Abouna Salama succumbed to the too

common temptation of men who suffer much. Almost without society,

leading a dull misanthropic life, he did not remember that sobriety in all

respects was essential to his health and that over-indulgence at table was not

consistent with his forced seclusion. Constant annoyances, added to

intemperate habits, could but bring on sickness. During our first winter I

attended him, through Alaka Zenab, our friend and his, and under my care

he recovered. Unfortunately, he only listened to my advice and obeyed my

injunctions for a short time; soon missing the stimulants he had for years

been accustomed to, he gradually felt the want of their cheering influence,

and again resorted to them. During the rainy season of 1867 he had a more

serious attack. This time Samuel, being able to visit him at night, was our

medium, and being a very intelligent man could give us a correct account of

his condition. For a while his health improved; but he was even more

unreasonable than formerly: hardly was he convalescent than several times

a day he sent to inquire if he could drink some arrack, take a little opium, or

indulge in some of his more favourite dishes. It is not astonishing that

relapse quickly followed: though I showed him the danger of the course he

was pursuing, he persisted in it.

In the beginning of October the Bishop's condition became so critical that

he applied to the Ras and chiefs to allow me to visit him. They met in

consultation, and in a body repaired to Mr. Rassam, when I was called and

asked if I would attend him. I replied that as far as I was concerned I was

perfectly willing. The chiefs then retired to consider the matter; and on one

of them insinuating that Theodore would not be sorry if his enemy the

Abouna died, and that he would be angry if he knew that the Bishop had

been brought in contact with the Europeans, they decided on refusing his

request; though they consented to the attendance of the cow-doctor . With

the Abouna we lost a staunch ally, a good friend; nay, the only one we had

in the country. Had a rebel succeeded in making himself master of the

Amba his protection would have been invaluable: not that I believe his

influence would have been sufficient to ensure our release; but still, with

him, we should have met at the hands of any of the great rebel chiefs

nothing but good treatment and courteous demeanour.

The messenger sent to convey the tidings of the Abouna's death to the

Emperor, was rather puzzled how to express himself, not knowing in what

light his Majesty would receive the news. He adopted a middle course as

the safest, and tried to appear neither sorry nor rejoiced. Theodore listened

to his tale and exclaimed, "Thank God, my enemy is dead!" Then,

addressing the messenger, he added, "You fool! why did you not on

reaching me shout out 'Miserach' (good tidings)? I would have given you

my best mule."

With the death of the Bishop, our hopes, though always of the faintest kind,

when natives were expected to be the deliverers, seemed for ever crushed.

Wakshum Gobazé had, for a time at least, by his treaty with Mastiate, given

up his pretensions to the possession of Magdala; and Menilek, even if he

kept to his word and attempted the siege of our amba, would, no doubt, fall

back on Shoa as soon as he should be apprised of the death of his friend

whom he was so anxious to release. We had no precise information as to the

steps that were taken at home for our rescue; and, until certain that troops

had landed, we felt very anxious lest some contretemps should, at the last

instant, occur, and the expedition be abandoned, or some more or less

chimerical plan adopted in its stead. We had received a little money of late,

but as everything was scarce and dear, we had to be very careful, and refuse

many a "friend's" request—rather a dangerous proceeding in those days.

We believed—but events proved we were wrong—that if any great rebel,

any rising man of influence, should present himself before the Amba, the

discontented, half-starved wretches would be only too glad to open the

gates and receive him as a saviour. The garrison, we knew, would not on

any account surrender to the Gallas. For years they had been at enmity, and

the marauding expeditions which the soldiers of the mountain had lately

made into their territory, had increased that bad feeling, and quite destroyed

any hope of reconciliation. This was the more vexatious, as now that

Mastiate had, by her treaty with Gobazé, obtained possession and

garrisoned all the districts around Magdala, it was but natural to expect that

she would make some efforts at least to seize upon a fortress that lay within

her dominions. Not many days after the departure of Gobazé for Yedjow,

she issued orders to the people of the neighbourhood to cease supplying the

Amba, and forbade any of her subjects from attending the weekly market;

she even fixed a day for the troops she had detached to Dalanta and

Dahonte to rendezvous at a short distance from Magdala, as she intended to

destroy the whole of the country for miles around, and reduce the garrison

by famine.

The Wallo Gallas are a fine race, far superior to the Abyssinian in elegance,

manliness, and courage. Originally from the interior of Africa, they made

their first appearance in Abyssinia towards the middle of the sixteenth

century. These hordes invaded the fairest provinces in such numbers, they

excelled so greatly the Amharas in horsemanship and in courage, that not

only did they overrun the land, but lived for years on the resources of the

country in imprudent security. After a while they settled down on the

beautiful plateau extending from the river Bechelo to the highlands of Shoa,

and from the Nile to the lowland inhabited by the Adails. Though retaining

most of the characteristics of their race, they adopted many of the customs

of the people they conquered. They lost in great measure their predatory

and pastoral habits, tilled the soil, built permanent dwellings, and to a

certain, extent adopted in their dress, food, and mode of life the usages of

the former inhabitants.

In appearance the Galla is tall, well made, rather slender, but wiry; the hair

of both men and women is long, thick, waving, rather than curly, and is

altogether more like coarse European hair than the semi-woolly texture that

covers Abyssinian skulls. Their dress is in many respects identical; both

wear trousers, only those of the Gallas are shorter and tighter, somewhat

resembling those worn by the people of Tigré. They both wear a large

cotton cloth, a robe by day and a covering by night; the only difference

being that the Galla seldom weaves in the side the broad red stripe, the

pride of the Amhara. The food of both races is nearly the same; both enjoy

the raw meat of the cow, the shiro or hot spiced dish of peas, the wât, and

the teps (toasted meat); they only differ in the grain they use for bread, the

Amhara delighting in pancakes made of the small seed of the tef, whilst the

Galla's bread is more loaf-like, and is prepared with the flour of wheat or

barley, the only grain that prospers on their elevated land. The Galla women

are generally fair; and when not exposed to the sun, their large, black,

brilliant, shining eyes, their rosy lips, their long, black, and neatly-braided

hair, their little feet and hands, their graceful and well-rounded forms, make

them comparable to the fairest daughters of Spain or Italy. The long shirt

falling from the neck to the ankle, and fastened round the waist by the

ample folds of a white cotton belt; the silver anklets, from which hang tiny

bells, the long necklace of beads and silver, the white and black rings

covering the taper fingers, are all very much the same articles as those that

are thought necessary for the toilette of the Galla amazon and the more

sedentary Amhara lady.

The most apparent difference is in their religion. At the time of their first

appearance, the Wallo Gallas, like many of the divisions of the same family

who, having settled further inland and having less intercourse with

foreigners, are still plunged in the grossest idolatry, worshipped trees and

stones; or rather under these natural objects rendered adoration to a being

called the Unknown, who was to be propitiated by human sacrifices. It is

impossible to obtain any correct information as to the exact date of their

conversion to Islamism; but it has been accepted by the Wallo tribe almost

universally. None at the present day are given to heathen practices, and only

a few families belong to the Christian faith.

If we compare the races still further, and examine the morality and social

habits of the two, at a first glance it would seem that both are licentious,

both dissolute. But, on closer inspection, the degradation of the one is seen

to be so thorough, that the other may claim, by contrast, something like

primitive simplicity. The Amhara's life is one round of sensual debauchery;

his conversation seldom deviates to pure or innocent subjects: no title is so

envied by the men as that of libertine, and the women, also, are all

ambitious of a like distinction: an "unfortunate" is not regarded as

unfortunate there. The richest, the noblest, the highest in the land are

profligates in love, or mercenary: more frequently both. Nothing is so

disagreeable to an Abyssinian lady's ear as an insinuation that she is

virtuous; for that would be taken to mean that she is either ill-looking or for

some other reason is not favoured with many lovers.

In some parts of the Galla country the family exists in the old patriarchal

form. The father is in his humble hut as absolute as the chief is over the

tribe. If a man marries and is afterwards obliged to leave his village on a

distant foray, his wife is immediately taken under the close protection of his

brother, who is her husband until the elder's return. This custom was for

many years very prevalent; now it is more limited: it is most common in the

plateau arising from the Bechelo to Dalanta or Dahonte, where Galla

families, almost isolated from the general tribe, have preserved many of the

institutions of their forefathers. The stranger invited under the roof of a

Galla chief will find in the same large smoky hut individuals of several

generations. The heavy straw roof rests on some ten or twelve wooden

pillars, having in the centre an open space, where the matrons, sitting near

the fire, prepare the evening meal, while a swarm of children play around

them. Opposite the rude door of small twigs, held together by nothing but a

few branches cut from the nearest tree, stands the simple alga of the "lord of

the manor." Near his bed neighs his favourite horse, the pet of young and

old. In other partitioned places are his stores of barley or wheat. When the

evening meal is over, and the children sleep where they last fell in their

romping games, the chief first sees that the companion of his forays is well

littered; he then conducts his guest to the spot where some sweet-smelling

straw has been spread under a dried cow-hide. Nor is that the end of his

hospitality, which at this point becomes rather embarrassing to the married

traveller. But the strange way in which the guest is honoured must not be set

down to licentiousness; it really is simplicity.

Every Galla is a horseman, every horseman a soldier; and thus is formed a

perfect militia, an always ready army, where no discipline is required, no

drill but to follow the chief. As soon as the war-cry is heard, or the signal

fire is seen on the summit of the distant peak, the ever-ready steed is

saddled, the young son jumps up behind his father to hold his second lance,

and from every hamlet, from every apparently peaceful homestead, brave

soldiers rush to the rendezvous. When Theodore himself, at the head of his

thousands, invaded their land, then farewell to their homes. His revengeful

hand burnt forms and villages far and wide wherever he was opposed, and

the defenceless peasants fled in order to save their lives, knowing well how

futile were their hopes of safety, should they fall into his power.

The Wallos are divided into seven tribes. Presenting no differences amongst

themselves, they were simply separated by civil wars. Could these brave

horsemen only understand the motto "Union is strength," they could make

as easy a conquest of the whole of Abyssinia as their fathers did of the

plains they now dwell upon. When united, they have always carried their

arms successfully into an enemy's country. Children of their race, the

Gooksas, the Mariés, the Alis, have held the Emperor in their sway, and

governed the land for years. Unfortunately during the days of our captivity,

as had been but too frequently the case before, petty jealousies, unworthy

rivalries, weakened to such an extent their power that, far from being able

to impose their laws on others, they in turn became but tools in the hands of

the Christian kings and rulers. With Abusheer died the last vestige of union.

If not at actual war, one party was always working against another; and no

distant campaign could be thought of when their enemies in their own

country dwelt.

Abusheer, the last Imam of the Wallo Gallas, left two sons by different

wives, Workite [Footnote: Fine gold.] and Mastiate. [Footnote: Lookingglass.] The son of the former, as we mentioned in a previous chapter, was

killed by Theodore on the escape of Menilek to Shoa, and Workite had no

option left but to seek the hospitality of the young king for whom she had

sacrificed so much.

Thus for more than two years Mastiate was left in undisturbed possession of

the supremacy vested in her by the unanimous consent of the chiefs, a

regent for her son until he attained his majority.

Menilek, after his escape, had no easy task before him: the chief who had

headed the rebellion in the name of his king, after the gallant repulse and

the check he inflicted upon Theodore, declared himself independent—

became the Cromwell instead of the Monk of Abyssinia. Menilek was,

however, well received by a small party of faithful adherents; Workite had

also been accompanied by a small force of trusty followers; and on a large

number of the chiefs abandoning the usurper and joining the standard of

Menilek, he marched against the powerful rebel, who still held the capital

and many strong places, utterly defeated his army and made him a prisoner.

This victory was shortly afterwards followed by the complete submission of

Shoa to his rule; chief after chief made their obedience, and all

acknowledged as their king the grandson of Sahela Selassi. Once his rights

admitted by his people, he led his army against the numerous Galla tribes

who inhabit the beautiful country extending from the south-eastern frontier

of Shoa to the picturesque lake of Guaragu. But, instead of plundering these

agricultural races, as his father had done, he promised them honourable

treatment, a kind of mild vassalage, on the payment of a small annual

tribute. The Gallas, surprised at his unexpected generosity and clemency,

willingly accepted his terms, and, from former foes, enrolled themselves as

his followers, and accompanied him on his expeditions. Theodore had left a

strong garrison on an almost impregnable amba, situated at the northern

frontier of Shoa, commanding the entrance into the pass leading from the

Galla country to the highlands of Shoa. Menilek, before his campaign in the

Galla country, had invested that last stronghold of Theodore in his own

dominions, and, after a six months' siege, the garrison, who had repeatedly

applied to their master for relief, at last gave in and opened their gates to the

young king. Menilek treated them exceedingly well, many were honoured

with appointments in his household, others received titles and commands,

or were placed in positions of trust and confidence.

Menilek owed much to Workite; without her timely protection he would

have been pursued, and as Shoa had shut its gates upon him, his position

would have become one of great difficulty and danger. He could not forget,

either, that to save his life she had sacrificed her only son and lost her

kingdom: his debt of gratitude towards her was immense, and nothing he

could do could adequately repay her for her devotion. But if he could not

give her back her murdered son, he would, at all events, march against her

rival, and restore by force of arms the disgraced queen to the throne she had

lost on his account. At the end of October, 1867, Menilek, at the head of a

considerable army, computed at 40,000 to 50,000 men, composed of 30,000

cavalry, some 2,000 or 3,000 musketeers, and the rest spearmen, entered the

Wallo Galla plain: he proclaimed that he came not as an enemy, but as a

friend; not to destroy nor to plunder, but to re-establish in her rule the

deposed and lawful queen Workite. She was accompanied by a young lad

who, she asserted, was her grandson, the child of the prince who had been

killed more than two years before at Magdala. She stated that he had been

born in the Wallo country, before her departure for Shoa, the result of one of

those frequent casual unions so common in the country, and that she had

taken him away when she sought refuge in the land of the man whom she

had saved. To avoid any attempt being made by her rival to secure the

person of her grandchild, she had until then kept the matter secret.

However, her story was but little credited: I know on the Amba the soldiers

laughed at it; still it offered an excuse to many of her former adherents for

again joining her cause, and if they did not credit her tale they pretended at

least to do go.

The Galla chiefs for some time remained undecided. Menilek kept to his

word; he neither plundered nor molested any one, and, before long, he

reaped the reward of his wise policy. Five of the tribes sent in their

adhesion, and recognized Workite as regent for her grandson. Mastiate, in

presence of such defection, adopted the most prudent course of retiring with

her reduced army before the overwhelming forces of her adversaries; they

followed her for some days, but without overtaking her. Menilek, believing

that they had nothing more to fear on that side, settled as he best could the

claims of Workite, and, accompanied by a large force of his new allies,

marched against Magdala.

Menilek had evidently placed much confidence in the well-known

disaffection of the garrison, and he expected that, through the influence of

the Bishop (of whose death he was not aware), of his uncle Aito Dargie, and

of Mr. Kassam, he would find on his arrival a party in his favour, who

would materially assist him, if not make over the Amba to him at once. No

doubt, had the Bishop been still alive he would either have succeeded by

promises, threats, or force in opening the gates to his beloved friend. Aito

Dargie, I believe, contrived to secure a promise of assistance from a few

chiefs; but they were not powerful enough, and at the last moment lacked

courage.

As for Mr. Rassam, he adopted the most prudent course of suiting his policy

to the movements of Menilek; too much caution could not be used, as there

was much reason to fear that the great deeds about to be achieved would

end in empty boasting. To Menilek he gave great encouragement, offered

him the friendship of England, and even went so far as assuring him that he

would be acknowledged by our Government as king, should we be indebted

to him for our deliverance; he requested him to encamp at Selassié, fire his

two guns against the gate, and should the garrison not give in, to encamp

between Arogié and the Bechelo, and keep Theodore from reaching the

Amba until the arrival of our troops.

We had been greatly disappointed by Wakshum Gobazé: for six weeks he

was always coming, but never came. Next we had Mastiate as our great

excitement: she, we thought, would strive to gain possession of her amba;

but she also never made her appearance; and now for nearly a month we

were in daily expectation of the arrival of Menilek. We had already given

him up when, to our great surprise, on the morning of the 30th of

November, we perceived a large camp pitched on the northern slope of

Tanta; and on the top of a small eminence commanding the plateau, and

opposite to Magdala, stood the red, white, and black tents of the King of

Shoa, the ambitious young prince who styled himself already "King of

kings." Our astonishment was complete when, towards noon, we heard the

report of a steady musketry-fire mingled with the occasional discharge of

small cannon. We at once gave credit to Menilek for greater pluck than we

ever believed him capable of; expecting that under cover of his fire the elite

of his troops would assault the place; and aware of the little resistance he

would meet with, we already rejoiced at the prospect of liberty, or at least of

an advantageous change of masters. We had not finished our mutual

congratulations when the firing ceased: as everything was calm and quiet on

the Amba, we could not make out what was going on, until some of our

guards came into our huts and asked us if we had heard Menilek's "faker."

Alas, it was indeed nothing but a mere boast: he had fired from the verge of

the Galla plateau, far out of range, to terrify into submission the wavering

garrison; then, satisfied with his day's work, he and his men had retired to

their tents, awaiting the result of their warlike demonstration.

The fact of Menilek being encamped on the Galla plain was full of peril for

ourselves without being of any avail to him. The next morning he sent a

message to us through Aito Dargie, asking what he should do. We again

strongly urged upon him the necessity of his attacking the Amba by the

Islamgee side; and in case he deemed it impossible to assault the place, to

stop all communication between the fortress and the Imperial camp. Our

great fear was that Theodore, on hearing that Menilek was besieging his

amba, would send orders for the immediate execution of all prisoners of

note, ourselves included. No doubt great disaffection existed on the Amba,

and if Menilek had gone the proper way to work, before many days the

place would have been his. But he never did anything; he remained

encamped on the spot he had first chosen, and made no other attempt to

rescue us.

Waizero Terunish, Theodore's queen, acted well on that occasion: she gave

an adderash (public breakfast), presided over by her son Alamayou, to all

the chiefs of the mountain. It being a fast-day, the feast was limited to tef

bread, and a peppery sauce; and as the supply of tej in the royal cellars was

scanty, the enthusiasm was not very considerable. Still it had the desired

effect—chiefs and soldiers had publicly to proclaim their loyalty to

Theodore; as with the party, still strong, that would give ear to no treachery,

she was prepared to seize the malcontents individually, before they had time

to declare themselves in open rebellion as the adherents of Menilek. Every

one who thought that he was in any way suspected, and many who had no

doubt made promises to Menilek and accepted his bribes, felt very nervous.

Samuel was sent for; he did not like the prospect at all, and we were very

much afraid for him ourselves, and glad when we saw him come back. On

its being perceived that some of the chiefs had not made their appearance,

inquiries were made as to the cause of their absence; they, seeing that there

was very little hope of securing a strong party in favour of Menilek, gave

explanations that were accepted, conditionally that on the following day

they would repair to the King's inclosure, and there, in presence of the

assembled garrison, proclaim their loyalty. They went as they had been

ordered, and were the loudest in their praise of Theodore, in their

expressions of devotion to his cause, and in their abuse of the "fat boy" who

had ventured near a fortress entrusted to their care.

The Queen had done her duty well and honourably. The Ras and chiefs

consulted together, and considered it advisable, in order to show their

affection and devotion for their master, to do something themselves also.

But what should be done? They had already placed extra guards at night on

the gates, and protected every weak point on the Amba; nothing remained

but to bully the prisoners. The second evening after the arrival of Menilek

before the mountain, Samuel received orders from the chiefs to make us all

sleep at night in one hut; the only exception being made in favour of the

king's friend, Mr. Rassam. But poor Samuel, though sick, went to the Ras

and insisted on having the order cancelled: I believe his influence was

backed on that occasion by a douceur he quietly slipped into the Ras's hand.

The chiefs in their wisdom had also decreed, and the next morning enforced

the order that all the servants, Mr. Rassam's excepted; should be sent down

from the mountain. The messengers and other public servants employed by

Mr. Rassam were also obliged to leave. To Prideaux and myself they

allowed, apart from our Portuguese, a water-girl and a small boy each. I had

no house down at Islamgee; Samuel could not think of allowing me to pitch

a tent, so the poor fellows would have been very badly off if Captain

Cameron had not very kindly allowed them to share his servants' quarters.

We were put to great inconvenience by this absurd and vexatious order, and

I had some trouble, when everything was again quiet, in getting the servants

up again; it required all the influence of Samuel and a douceur to the Ras,

out of my pocket, to gain my object.

As may well be expected, the Abyssinian prisoners were not spared; all

their servants were counted, and sent down the mountain, one only being

allowed to three or four during the daytime to carry wood, water, and

prepare their food. They were not suffered to leave the night-houses, but

had to remain day and night in those filthy places. Every one on the

mountain was exceedingly anxious that Menilek should decide on

something, and put an end to that painful state of anxiety.

Early on the morning of the 3rd of December we were apprised by our

servants that Menilek had struck his camp and was on the move. Where he

was going to no one knew; but, as we were to some extent in his

confidence, we flattered ourselves that he had accepted our advice, and

would before long be seen on Selassié, or on the plateau of Islamgee. We

spent a very anxious morning; the chiefs seemed perplexed, evidently

expecting an assault from that direction, and we were confidentially

informed that we should be called upon to man the guns should the Amba

be attacked. However, our suspense was shortly at an end. The smoke rising

in the distance, and in the direction of the road to Shoa, showed us but too

clearly that the would-be conqueror had, without striking a blow, returned

to his own country, and, with great gallantry, was burning a few miserable

villages, whose chiefs were adherents of Mastiate.

The excuse Menilek gave for his hasty retreat was, that his supplies had run

short, and that, having no camp-followers with him he could not have flour

prepared; that his troops being hungry and dissatisfied, he had decided on

returning at once to Shoa, collect his camp-followers, and advance again

better provisioned, and remain in the neighbourhood of Magdala until it

fell. The truth was, that to his great disappointment he had heard from his

camp the muskets fired during the "fakering;" he knew that, as far as

treachery was concerned, his chance was gone for a while, and that he must

await the effects of want and privation induced by a long siege. Supplies he

might have obtained in abundance, as he was the ally of Workite and in a

friendly country. Should he even have required more, the undefended

districts of Worahaimanoo, Dalanta, etc., would have been quite willing to

send abundant provisions into his camp on the assurance that they would

not be molested. But if this "fakering" somewhat deranged his plans,

something he saw on the evening of the second day, a mere speck of smoke,

made him fairly run away. That smoke was kindled by the terrible

Theodore. He was, it is true, still far away; but who could say? His fatherin-law, Menilek knew well, was a man of long marches and sudden attacks.

How his large army would be scattered like chaff before the wind at the cry,

"Theodore is coming," he was well aware, and he came to the conclusion

that the sooner he was off the better.

Our disappointment was something beyond description. Our rage, our

indignation and scorn for such cowardice, I cannot express. The "fat boy,"

as we also now called him, we hated and despised. Had we been imprudent

enough openly to take his part, what would have become of us? Menilek,

doubtless, meant well, and probably would have succeeded had the Bishop

lived a few weeks longer. As it is, he did us a great deal of harm. Had he

and Workite never left Shoa, Mastiate would have laid siege to the

mountain. Sooner or later it must have surrendered, and neither Theodore

nor his messengers would ever have ventured south of the Bechelo if

Mastiate had been there with her 20,000 horsemen.

With Menilek's departure, I, for one, made up my mind never again to credit

any of the promises of the native chiefs, which always ended in mere moonshine. Since then, I heard with the utmost indifference that so-and-so was

marching in such a direction, that he or she would attack Theodore, or

invest the Amba and stop all communication between the rascals on the top

and "our friend" Theodore. We had been a long time without messengers,

and the last had not brought us the intelligence so anxiously looked for. Our

impatience was greater since we knew that we could expect nothing from

the natives, and believed the expedition from England to be on its way: we

felt that something was going on and we longed for the certainty.

How well I remember the 13th of December, a glorious day for us! No lover

ever read, with more joy and happiness the long-expected note from the

beloved one, than I did that day the kind and cheering letter of our gallant

friend, General Merewether. Troops had landed! Since the 6th of October,

our countrymen were in the same land that saw us captives. Roads, piers,

were being made; regiment after regiment were leaving the shores of India,

some already marching across the Abyssinian Alps to rescue or avenge. It

seemed too delightful to be true: we could hardly credit it. Ere long all must

be over! Liberty or death! Anything was better than continued slavery.

Theodore was coming—qu'importe ? Was not Merewether there? the brave

leader of many a hard fight; the gallant officer and accomplished politician.

With such men as a Napier, a Staveley at the head of British troops, who

could feel but contempt for petty vexations? We were prepared even for a

worse fate, if it was to be our lot. At least, England's prestige would be

restored, her children's blood not left unrevenged. It was one of those

exciting moments in a man's life that few can realize who have not passed

through months of mental agony, and then been suddenly overcome with

joy. We laughed more than ever at the idea of giving even a thought to such

poltroons as Gobaz and Menilek. The hope of meeting our brave

countrymen cheered us. In the mind's eye we beheld them, and in our hearts

we thanked them for the toils and privations they would have to undergo

before they could set the captives free . For the second time, Christmas and

New Year's Day found us in fetters at Magdala; but we were happy: they

would be the last, at all events, and, full of trust in our deliverance, we now

looked forward to spending the next at home .

CHAPTER XVI.

Theodore's Proceedings during our Stay at Magdala—His Treatment of

Begemder—A Rebellion breaks out—Forced March on Gondar—The

Churches are Plundered and Burnt—Theodore's Cruelties—The Insurgents

increase in Strength—The Designs of the Emperor on Kourata Frustrated—

Mr. Bardel Betrays the New Workmen—Theodore's Ingratitude towards the

"Gaffat People"—His Raid on Foggara Unsuccessful.

Theodore remained at Aibankab for only a few days after our departure, and

returned to Debra Tabor. He had told us once, "You will see what great

things I will achieve during the rainy season," and we expected that he

would march into Lasta or Tigré before the roads were closed by the rains,

to subdue the rebellion that for years he had allowed to pass unnoticed. It is

very probable that if he had adopted that course he would have regained his

prestige, and easily reduced to obedience those provinces. No one was so

much Theodore's enemy as himself; he seems to have been possessed with

an evil spirit urging him to his own destruction. Many a time he would have

regained the ground he had lost, and put down to a certain extent rebellion;

but all his actions, from the day we left him until he arrived at Islamgee,

were only calculated to accelerate his fall.

Begemder is a large, powerful, fertile province, the "land of sheep" (as its

name indicates), a fine plateau, some 7,000 or 8,000 feet above the sea, well

watered, well cultivated, and thickly populated. The inhabitants are warlike,

brave for Abyssinians, and often have repulsed the rebels venturing to

invade their province, so firm in its allegiance to Theodore. Not many

months before Tesemma Engeddah, a young man, hereditary chief Of

Gahinte, a district of Begemder near its eastern frostier, with the aid of the

peasants, attacked a force sent into Begemder by Gobazé, utterly routed it

and put every man to death; except a few chiefs who were kept for the

Emperor to deal with as he thought fit.

Begemder paid an annual tribute of 300,000 dols., and supplied at all times

the Queen's camp with grain, cows, &c., and during the stay of the Emperor

in the province liberally provided his camp. Moreover, it furnished 10,000

men to the army, all good spearmen, but bad shots. Theodore, therefore,

preferred for his musketeers the men of Dembea, who showed more skill in

the use of fire-arms.

Begemder, the proverb says, "is the maker and destroyer of kings;" certainly

it was so in the case of Theodore. After the flight of Ras Ali, Begemder at

once acknowledged him, and caused him to be looked upon as the future

ruler of the land. Theodore was well aware of the difficult game he had to

play, but believed his precautions were such that he would inevitably

succeed. At first he was all smiles; chiefs were rewarded, peasants flattered;

his stay would be short; every day he expected he would leave. The annual

tribute was paid; Theodore gave handsome presents to the chiefs, honoured

many with silk shirts, and swore that as soon as the cannons his Europeans

were casting should be completed, he would start for Godjam, and with his

new mortars destroy the nest of the arch-rebel Tadla Gwalu. He invited, all

the chiefs to reside in his camp during his stay, to rejoice his heart. They

were his friends, when so many rose against him. Would they advance him

a year's tribute? could they not provide more liberally for the wants of his

army? He was going away for a long time, and would not for years trouble

them for tribute or supplies. The chiefs did their best; every available dollar,

all the corn and cattle the peasants could spare, found its way into

Theodore's treasury and camp. But the peasants at last got tired, and would

not listen any longer to the entreaties of their chiefs. Good words Theodore

perceived would be of no avail any more, so he adopted an imperious,

menacing tone. One after the other, on some good ground, he imprisoned

the chiefs; but it was only to test their fidelity: they would, he knew get for

him what he wanted, and then he would not only release them, but treat

them with the greatest honour. The poor men did their best, and the

peasants, in order to obtain the deliverance of their chiefs, brought all they

had as a ransom. At last, both chiefs and peasants found that all their efforts

failed to satisfy their insatiable master.

This state of things lasted for more than eight months, and during that

period, first by plausible and honeyed words, afterwards by intimidation, he

kept himself and army without difficulty and without trouble. He made no

expeditions during that time, except one against Gondar. He hated Gondar

—a city of merchants and priests, always ready to receive with open arms

any rebel: any robber chief might sit undisturbed in the halls of the old

Abyssinian kings and receive the homage and tribute of its peaceful

inhabitants. Several times before Theodore had vented his rage on the

unfortunate city; he had already more than once sent his soldiers to plunder

it, and the rich Mussulman merchants had only saved their houses from

destruction by the payment of a large sum. It was no more the famous city

of Fasiladas, nor the rich commercial town that former travellers had

described; confidence could no longer dwell under the repeated extortions

of king and rebel, nor could the metropolis of Abyssinia afford to answer

the repeated calls made upon its wealth. But still the forty-four churches

stood intact, surrounded by the noble trees that gave to the capital such a

picturesque appearance; no one had dared extend a sacrilegious hand to

those sanctuaries, and until then Theodore himself had shrunk from such a

deed. But now he had made up his mind: the gold of Kooskuam, the silver

of Bata, the treasures of Selassié should refill his empty coffers; her

churches should perish with the doomed city: nothing would he leave

standing as a record of the past, not a dwelling to shelter the people he

despised.