To the European, accustomed to find at his door every necessary of life, the

fact that not a shop exists throughout the breadth and width of Abyssinia

may appear strange; but still it is so. We had, therefore, to be our own

butchers and bakers, and as for what is called grocery stores, we had simply

to dispense with them. Our food was abominably bad; the sheep we

purchased were little better than London cats; and as no flour-mill is to be

found in Abyssinia, far less any bakers, we were obliged to purchase the

grain, beat it to remove the chaff, and grind it between two stones—not the

flat grinding-stones of Egypt or India, but on a small curved piece of rock,

where the grain is reduced to flour by means of a large hard kind of pebble

held in the hand. It was brown bread with a vengeance. On the mountain we

might buy eggs and fowls; but as the first were generally bad when sold to

us, we soon got disgusted with them; and though we put up with the fowls

as a change of diet, their toughness and leanness would have made them

rejected everywhere else. Being the rainy reason, we had great difficulty in

purchasing a little honey. Wild coffee was now and then obtainable; but it

made, in the absence of sugar, and with or without smoky milk, such a

bitter, nauseous compound, that, after a while, I and others preferred doing

without it. Such was then the amount of "luxuries" we had to depend on

during our long captivity,—coarse, vitreous-looking, badly-baked bread; the

ever-returning dish of skinny, tough mutton, the veteran cock, smoked

butter, and bitter coffee. Tea, sugar, wine, fish, vegetables, &c., were not,

either for love or money, to be obtained anywhere. The coarseness and

uniformity of our food, however, was as nothing compared with our dread

of being starved to death; for even the few and inferior articles I have

mentioned would fail us when our money was expended.

I was very badly off for clothes. Before leaving Debra Tabor, I was told to

leave everything behind in the charge of the Gaffat people, and only take

with me the few things I required for the road. My only pair of shoes, what

from rain, sun, and climbing, had become so thoroughly worn-out, and so

hard, as to bring on a wound that took months to heal, so that until the

arrival of one of my servants from the coast, many months afterwards, I had

to walk, or rather crawl, about on naked feet.

Life in common among men of different tastes and habits is, indeed,

dreadful. There we were, eight Europeans, all huddled up in the same small

place, a waiting-room, a dining-room, a dormitory; most of us entire

strangers before, and only united by one bond—common misfortune.

Adversity is but little fitted to improve the temper: on the contrary, it breaks

down all social habits; the more so if education and birth do not enable the

sufferer to contend against the greatest difficulties. We feared above all

things that familiarity which creeps on so naturally between men of totally

different social positions, and leads to harsh words and contempt. We had to

live on terms of equality with one of the former servants of Captain

Cameron; we had to be quiet if some remained talking part of the night, and

put up silently with the defects of others in the hope that our own might

meet with the same leniency.

A party of soldiers, varying from fifteen to twenty, came every evening a

little before dusk, and pitched a small black tent almost opposite our door.

As it frequently rained at night, the greater number of the soldiers remained

in the tent; only two or three, supposed to be watching, went to sleep under

the shelter of a projecting part of the roof. They did not disturb us, and, if

we went out after dark, they merely watched where we went, but did not

follow. In the daytime we had four guards, two taking it in turn to watch the

gate of our inclosure. These men were never changed during all the time of

our stay; but we had not much reason to be satisfied with the selection

made, as, with one exception, our day guards were fearful rascals and

dangerous spies.

We had already spent three days at Magdala, and were beginning to hope

that our punishment would be limited to "simple imprisonment," when

about noon on the 16th we perceived the chief, accompanied by a large

escort, coming in the direction of our prison. Samuel was sent for, and a

long consultation took place between him and the chief outside the gate. We

were yet in ignorance of what was going on, and felt rather uncomfortable

when Samuel returned to us with a serious countenance, and told us that we

must all go into the room, as the chief had a "little business" with us. We

obeyed, and shortly afterwards the Ras (Head of the mountain), the five

members of council, and about eight or ten more presented themselves. The

Ras and the principal chiefs, all armed to the teeth, squeezed themselves

into the room, the others remaining outside. The ordinary Abyssinian

conversation—that is to say, a great deal of talking about religion, looking

pious, taking God's and the King's name in vain every minute—opened the

proceedings. I was sitting near the door, and as the conversation did not

interest me much, I was looking at the motley crowd outside, when all at

once I perceived that two or three men were carrying large bundles of

chains. I pointed them out to Mr. Rassam, and asked him if he believed they

intended them for us; he spoke to Samuel in Arabic on the subject, and the

affirmative answer he received revealed to us the subject of the long

consultation that had taken place outside.

The Ras now dropped the desultory conversation he had been holding since

his arrival, and in quiet terms informed us that it was the custom of the

mountain to chain every prisoner sent there; that he had received no

instructions from the Emperor, and would at once despatch a messenger to

inform him that he had put us in irons, and he had no doubt that before long

his master would send orders for our fetters to be removed, but that in the

meanwhile we must submit to the rules of the amba; he added that in our

case it was with regret that he felt himself obliged to enforce them. The

poor fellow really meant well; he was kind-hearted and, for an Abyssinian,

had gentlemanly manners; he had some hope that Theodore might have by

that time regretted the unnecessary and cruel order, and would perhaps seize

the opportunity he thus offered him and cancel it. I may as well add here

that, not many months afterwards, the Ras was accused of being in

correspondence with the king of Shoa; he was taken in irons to the camp,

where he shortly afterwards died from the consequences of the many

tortures inflicted upon him.

The chains were brought, and the real business of the day began; one after

another we had to submit to the operation, the former captives being first

served and favoured with the heaviest chains. At last my turn came. I was

made to sit down on the ground, tuck up my trousers, and place my right leg

on a large stone that had been brought for the purpose. One of the rings was

then placed on my leg a couple of inches above the right ankle, and down

came, upon the thick cold iron, a huge sledge-hammer: every stroke

vibrated through the whole limb, and when the hammer fell not quite

straight it pressed the iron ring against the bone, causing most acute pain. It

took about ten minutes to fix on properly the first ring; it was beaten down

until a finger could just be introduced between the ring and the flesh, and

then the two pieces, where they overlapped one another, were hammered

down until they perfectly joined. The operation was then performed on the

left leg. I was always afraid of the blacksmith missing the iron and

smashing my leg to pieces. All at once I felt as if the limb was being torn

asunder; the ring had broken just when the operation was nearly completed.

For the second time I had to submit to the hammering process, and this time

the fetter was rivetted to the entire satisfaction of the smith and chief.

I was now told that I might rise and go to my seat; but that was no easy

matter, and, having no practice in this, for me, quite new way of

locomotion, I could hardly take the necessary three or four steps. Although

I was in great bodily pain, and felt deeply the degradation we were

subjected to, I would not give the officers of the man who was thus illtreating us cause to believe that I cared in the least about it. On rising to my

legs I lifted up my cap and shouted, to their great astonishment, "God save

the Queen," and went on laughing and chatting as if I felt perfectly happy.

As every detail of our life was reported to Theodore, and my contempt for

his chains was public, he was at once informed of it: but he only mentioned

the fact twenty-one months afterwards, when he alluded to it in

conversation with Mr. Waldmeier, to whom he said that every one allowed

themselves to be chained without saying a word; that even Mr. Rassam had

smiled upon them; but that the doctor and Mr. Prideaux had looked at them

with anger.

After the operation was over, and the witnesses of the scene had each

favoured us with a "May God open thee," the messenger the chiefs were

sending to Theodore (a fellow named Lib, a great spy, and confidant of the

Emperor; the same who had brought our lettres de cachet ,) was introduced

to receive any message Mr. Rassam desired to convey to his Majesty. That

gentleman, in quiet and courteous words, reproached his Majesty for his

treachery, and cast upon him the onus of the consequences such unfair

treatment would most likely bring upon him. Unfortunately Samuel, always

timid, and at this time almost dead with fright, as he did not know whether

chains were not in reserve for him also, declined to interpret, and simply

sent the ordinary compliments instead.

When our gaolers had withdrawn, we looked at one another, and the sight

was so ridiculous, so absurd, that for all our sorrow we could not help

laughing heartily. The chains consisted of two heavy rings connected

together by three small thick links, leaving just a span between one ring and

the other; and these we wore for nearly twenty-one months! At first we

could not walk at all; our legs were bruised and sore from the hammering

on, and the iron pressing on the ankles was so painful that we were obliged

to tie bandages under the chains during the daytime. At night I always took

off the bandages, as the constant impediment to the circulation they

occasioned, caused the feet to swell; yet at night we felt the weight and

pressure even more than during the day: our legs seemed for a long time

never to get rest; we could not move them about, and when in our sleep we

turned from one side to the other, the links, by striking the bone of the leg,

caused such acute pain as to awake us at once. Though after a time we got

more accustomed to them, and could walk about our small inclosure with

more ease, still every now and then we had to remain quiet for some days,

as the legs got sore, and small ulcers appeared on the parts where the

greatest pressure bore. Even since they have been removed, for months my

legs were weaker than before, the ankles smaller, and the feet somewhat

enlarged.

The evening we were put in chains we had to cut open our trousers as the

only way of getting them off. During their former captivity at Magdala,

Messrs. Cameron, Stern and others, either wore petticoats or native

drawers, which they had been taught to pass between the leg and the chain.

But we had no material at hand to make the first, and as for passing even

the thinnest cambric through the rings in the swollen condition of the limb,

that was quite out of the question. Necessity, it is said, is the mother of

invention: at all events I invented the "Magdala trousers." On taking off

mine that evening, I cut them near the outward seam, and collecting all the

buttons I could obtain, had them sewed on, and button-holes made along the

Beam as near to one another as my limited supply allowed. Some weeks

afterwards I was able, with the assistance of a native, to pass through the

rings calico drawers; and as my legs grew thinner, in time, I was able to put

on trousers made of thin Abyssinian cotton cloth; and such is the force of

habit and practice, that at last I could take off or put on my trousers as

quickly almost as if my legs were free.

We had gone to bed early that evening, not knowing what to do, when we

heard a discussion going on outside our hut between Samuel and the chief

of the guard that night, named Mara, a descendant of some Armenian and a

great worshipper of his Imperial master. Samuel at last came in and told us

that he had endeavoured to persuade the officer not to disturb us, but that he

insisted on examining our chains to see if they were all right. We declined

at first to submit to the inspection, and only consented, in order to get rid of

the fellow, to shake our chains under the shama with which we were

covered, as he passed from one to another.

As we expected to be at least six months in Magdala—giving time for the

news to reach England, and the troops to arrive that we felt certain would

immediately be despatched to set us free and punish the despot—Mr.

Rassam endeavoured, through Samuel, to obtain a few more huts for our

accommodation. Samuel spoke to the Ras and to the other chiefs, and they

agreed to give us a small hut and two godjos, (small huts, the roof formed

by the ends of the twigs being tied together at the free extremity, and the

whole covered with straw,) when they would have collected wood enough

to make a new fence. In the meanwhile two of us, Pietro and Mr. Kerans,

were induced to live in the kitchen, where they would have more room and

leave more space for ourselves.

Our first thought on reaching Magdala was to communicate the intelligence

to our friends and to Government; since we had been chained we knew that

every hour lost was a day added to our discomfort and misery, and that we

ought to lose no time in sending a trusty messenger to Massowah. It was

always very difficult for us to write, but more so in the beginning, as we

were afraid even of Samuel, afterwards so useful in all that concerned our

messengers. All the country up to Lasta still recognized Theodore, and we

were obliged to be very guarded in our expressions, in case the letter should

fall into the hands of some of his chiefs and be forwarded to him. On the

18th, our packet was ready; but, strange to say, it was the only time our

letter came to grief. We could only trust servants that had been some time

with us,—at least, so we thought at the time,—and therefore selected an old

servant of Cameron who had been formerly, on several occasions,

employed as messenger. He was a good man, a first-rate walker, but very

quarrelsome; and to spite his adversary was capable of anything. To

accompany him through the rebel country we obtained a servant from a

political prisoner, Dejatch Maret: they were to travel together and return

with an answer from Mr. Munzinger. Soon after, leaving Magdala, the two

began to quarrel, and on reaching the rebels' outposts, a question of

precedence between them led to the discovery of our packet; both

messengers were seized, tied with ropes for a few days, and when released,

our man was told to go back, and the letters were burnt. Afterwards we

made better arrangements: the messengers carried in their belts the letters

which were of a dangerous nature; otherwise we sewed them up in leather,

in the shape of the amulets and charms worn by the natives, or had them

stitched between patches on old trousers, or near the seams. Those writing

from the coast used the same precautions; and though we must have sent

about forty messengers with letters during our captivity, without mentioning

those employed elsewhere, they all, with the one exception I have

mentioned, reached in safety.

Next came the question so vital to us, how to get money. It so happened that

Theodore, about that time, gave a thousand dollars to each of his workmen.

Many of them, judging from the political condition of the country that the

Emperor's power would soon fall entirely, were desirous of sending their

money out of the country, and as we were only too anxious to get some, the

matter was easily arranged to our mutual satisfaction. We sent servants to

Debra Tabor; and as the road was still safe, and we had, by suitable

presents, made friends of the chiefs of the districts that lay in the way, the

servants were not molested or plundered. They carried the dollars either in

bags, on mules, laden at the same time with grain or flour which the Gaffat

people now and then sent us, or tied in the long cotton sash that Abyssinians

wear as a belt. Directions were also given to Mr. Munzinger to forward

money to Metemma, from whence we could draw it by sending servants. It

was only during the second year of our captivity that we experienced any

serious difficulty on that score. The Emperor's power became more and

more limited; rebels and thieves infested the roads; the route between

Metemma and Magdala was closed; the Gaffat people had none to spare;

and at one time it seemed as if it was perfectly impossible for messengers to

reach us. Though for months we were rather hard up, what by employing

servants of political prisoners, friends or relatives of the rebels, by using the

influence of the Bishop, or through the protection of Wagshum Gobazé,

money again found its way to Magdala, and relieved us from our

apprehensions. Theodore knew indirectly that we sent servants to the coast,

but as it is the custom to allow prisoners' servants to go to their masters'

families to beg for them, he could not well forbid us; the more so as he

never gave us anything. If messengers had fallen into his hands he would

probably have plundered the money, but not injured them. As for letters it

was quite a different affair: if those we wrote had by accident come into his

possession, he would have made short work of the messenger, and most

certainly of us also.

It might appear strange that the Abyssinians—a race of thieves—should

have proved themselves so honest on these occasions, and not absconded

with the couple of hundred dollars entrusted to them: a fortune for a poor

servant. Though it would be ungrateful to run down these men, who

exposed themselves to great perils, often travelled the whole distance from

Massowah to Magdala at night, and who, I may say, saved us from

starvation; still I believe that they acted more on the old adage that honesty

is the best policy, than from any innate virtue. First, they were handsomely

rewarded, well treated, and expected a further reward (which they very

properly received) should fortune once more smile upon us; Secondly, all

the great rebel chiefs befriended us, and we should have had but to

communicate with them directly, or, better still, through the Bishop; for

them to have at once seized the delinquent, deprived him of his ill-gotten

wealth, and punished him severely. This they knew perfectly well.

Looking back, I cannot imagine how I got through the long, dreary days of

idleness, always the same, for twenty-one months. Chains were nothing

compared to the fearful want of occupation. Suppose we had kept a daily

diary, the entries would have been generally as follows:—"Took a bath (a

painful operation, as the chains, unsupported by the bandages, hurt

fearfully); small boy helps to pass my trousers between the chains. To-day,

being dry, we crawled up and down our fifteen yards' walk. Breakfast; felt

happier that task over. Sick came for medicine. As I am doctor and

apothecary, prescribed and made the medicine myself. Samuel, or some

trusty native friend who knows that my tej is ripe, came for a glass or two.

Go now and smoke a pipe with Cameron. Lay down and read McCulloch's

Commercial Dictionary ; very interesting book, but sends me to sleep.

Afternoon, lay down and got up again; tried once more the Commercial

Dictionary . Dinner (I wonder what age the cock we ate had reached);

crawled about for, an hour between the huts; lay down, took Gadby's

Appendix ; but as I knew it by heart, even his curious descriptions have no

more attraction. Small boy lighted the fire; the wood was green, the smoke

fearful. Had a game of whist with Rassam and Prideaux. I do not suppose

they would play with our dirty cards in a guard-room. Lost twenty points.

Small boy took off the trousers. The guards were cursing us because they

had to sleep outside in the rain. Bravo, Samuel, you are a friend indeed!"

This imaginary page I might repeat ad infinitum . As a change, sometimes

we wrote to our friends, or received letters and some scraps of newspapers

—delightful days; few and far between. On Sundays we had divine service;

Mr. Stern, though sick and weary, always did his utmost to comfort and

encourage us. Such was, as a rule, our daily life: it is true we had our

exciting times, perhaps too much of it at the end; we had also, now and

then, a few other occupations, such as building a new hut, making a small

garden, settling a quarrel amongst the servants: details that will come in our

narrative as we proceed. I mentioned that the chiefs had promised to enlarge

our fence; they kept to their word. Four or five days after we had undergone

the chaining operation, they made us another visit, consulted, discussed for

a long time, and at last agreed to make a small break in the fence and

inclose the three huts they had promised us. Samuel, who had the

distribution of the new premises, gave the small house to Rassam, took one

of the godjos for himself, and gave the third one to Prideaux and myself.

Kerans and Pietro were still to remain in the kitchen, so that our first house

was left to Messrs. Cameron, Stern, and Rosenthal.

On the 23rd July, 1866, Prideaux and myself entered our new abode: and,

without exaggeration, if a dog were tied up in a similar shed in England I

may say that the owner would be prosecuted by the Society for the

Protection of Animals. As it was, we were only too happy to get it, and at

once went to work—not to make it comfortable, that was quite out of the

question, but—to try to keep out the rain.

CHAPTER XII.

Description of Magdala—Climate and Water Supply—The Emperor's

Houses—His Harem and Magazines—The Church—Prison-house—Guards

and Gaol—Discipline—A previous Visit of Theodore to Magdala—

Slaughter of the Gallas—Character and Antecedents of Samuel—Our

friends Zenab the Astronomer, and Meshisha the Lute—player—Day

Guards—We build new Huts—Abyssinian and Portuguese Servants—Our

Inclosure is enlarged.

Amba Magdala, distant about 320 [Footnote: According to Mr. C.

Markham.] miles from Zulla, and about 180 from Gondar, arises in the

province of Worahaimanoo, on the border of the Wallo Galla country. The

approach is difficult on account of the steep ascent and narrow precipitous

ravines that separate it from the rivers Bechelo and Jiddah and from the

table-land of Wallo. It stands almost isolated—amongst gigantic

surrounding masses, and viewed from the western side possesses the

appearance of a crescent. On the extreme left of this curve appears a small

flat plateau called Fahla, connected by a strip of land with a peak higher

than the amba itself, and called Selassié (trinity), on account of the church

erected upon it, and designated by that name. From Selassié to Amba

Magdala itself there is a large plain called Islamgee, several hundred feet

lower than the two peaks it separates. At Islamgee several small villages

had been erected by the peasants who cultivate the land for the Emperor, the

chiefs, and soldiers of the amba. The servants of the prisoners had also there

a spot given to them where they were allowed to build huts for themselves

and cattle. On Saturday a weekly market, formerly well supplied, was held

at the foot of Selassié. Numerous wells were generally sunk during the dry

season close to the springs of Islamgee, which wells afforded a small but

constant supply of water. From Islamgee the road up to Magdala is very

steep and difficult. To the first gate it follows, at times very abruptly, the

flank of the mountain. To the right, the sides of the amba rise like a huge

wall; below is a giddy abyss. From the first to the second gate the road is

exceedingly narrow and steep, turning to the right at a sharp angle with the

first part of the road. Small earthworks had been erected on the flanks near

the gates, protecting every weak point; The summit of the ridge was

strongly fenced and loopholed. Two other gates led from the amba to the

foot of the mountain; one had some time before been closed, but the other,

called Kafir Ber, opened in the direction of the Galla country. The amba is

well fortified by nature, and Theodore, to increase its strength, added some

rude fortifications.

The Magdala plateau is oblong and somewhat irregular, about a mile and a

half in length, and on the average about a mile broad. It was one of the

strongest fortresses in Abyssinia, and by its position between the rich and

fertile plateau of Dahonte, Dalanta, and Worahaimanoo, easily provisioned.

Magdala is more than 9,000 feet above the level of the sea; and enjoys a

splendid climate. In the evenings, almost all the year round, a fire is

welcome, and, though a month or two before the rains the temperature rises

somewhat, in the huts we never found it too hot to be uncomfortable. The

high land that surrounds the amba in the distance is barren and bleak, due to

the great altitude, and many of the peaks in the Galla country are, for

several months in the year, covered with snow or frozen hail. Water, during

and for some months after the rainy season, is abundant, but from March to

the first week in July it gets scarcer and scarcer, until it is obtained only

with difficulty. In order to remedy this disadvantage, Theodore, with his

usual forethought, had several large tanks constructed on the mountain, and

also sunk wells in promising places. The effort was pretty successful; the

wells gave only a small supply of water, it is true, but it was a constant one

all the year round. The water collected in the tanks was of very little use.

Those reservoirs were not covered after the rains, and the water,

impregnated with all kinds of vegetable and animal matter, soon became

quite unfit to drink. The principal springs are at Islamgee; there are a few on

the amba itself, and numerous less important ones issue from the sides, not

many feet from the summit, at the base of the ridge itself.

Magdala was not only used by Theodore as a fortress, but also as a gaol, a

magazine, a granary, and as a place of protection for his wives and family.

The King's house and the granary stood almost in the centre of the amba; in

front towards the west a large space had been left open and clear; behind

stood the houses of the officers of his household; to the left, huts of chiefs

and soldiers; to the right, on a small eminence, the godowns and magazines,

soldiers' quarters, the church, the prison; and behind again another large

open space looking towards the Galla plateau of Tanta.

Theodore's houses had nothing regal about them. They were built on the

same pattern as the ordinary huts of the country, but only on a larger scale.

He himself, I believe, never, or at least very rarely, lived in them; he

preferred his tent at Islamgee, or on some neighbouring height, to the larger

and more commodious abode on the amba. To his dislike to houses in

general, I believe was added a particular objection to shutting himself up in

the fort. The majority of these houses were occupied by Theodore's wives

and concubines, the eunuchs, and female slaves. The granary and tej houses

were in the same inclosure, but separated from the ladies' department by a

strong fence; the granary consisted of half a dozen huge huts, protected

from the rain by a double roof. They contained barley, tef, beans, peas, and

a little wheat. All the grain was kept in leather bags piled up until they

reached almost to the roof. It is said that, at the time of the capture of

Magdala by our troops, there was grain in sufficient quantity stored in these

granaries to last the garrison and other inhabitants of the amba for at least

six months. The dwellings of the chiefs and soldiers were built on the

model of the Amhara houses—circular, with a pointed thatched roof. The

huts of the common soldiers were built without order, in some places in

such close proximity that if, as it happened on one or two occasions, a fire

broke out, in a few seconds twenty or thirty houses were at once burnt to

the ground: nothing could possibly stop the conflagration but rapidly

pulling down to leeward the huts not as yet on fire. The principal chiefs had

several houses for themselves, all in one inclosure, surrounded and

separated from the soldiers' huts by a high and strong fence. Since about a

year before his death Theodore had been gradually accumulating at

Magdala the few remnants of his former wealth. Some sheds contained

muskets, pistols, &c.; others books and paper; others carpets, shamas, silks,

some powder, lead, shot, caps; and the best the little money he still

possessed, the gold he had seized at Gondar, and the property of his

workmen sent over to Magdala for safe custody. All the store-huts were

during the rainy season covered with black woollen cloth, called màk,

woven in the country. Once or twice a week the chiefs would meet in

consultation in a small house erected for that purpose in the magazine

inclosure to discuss public affairs, but, above all, to assure themselves by

personal inspection that the "treasures" entrusted to their care were in

perfect order and in safe keeping.

The Magdala church, consecrated to the Saviour of the World (Medani

Alum), was not in any respect worthy of such an important place. It was of

recent date, small, unadorned with the customary representations of saints,

of the life of the Apostles, of the Trinity, of God the Father, and the devil.

No St. George was seen on his white charger, piercing the dragon with his

Amhara lance; no martyr smiled benignly at his fiend-like tormentors. The

mud walls had not even been whitewashed; and every pious soul longed for

the accomplishment of Theodore's promise—the building of a church

worthy of his great name. The inclosure was as bare as the holy place itself;

no graceful juniper, tall sycamore, or dark green guicho solemnized its

precincts, or offered cool shade where the hundred priests, defteras, and

deacons who daily performed service, could repose after the fatiguing

ceremony—the howling and the dancing to David's psalms. On the same

line, but below the hillock on which stood the church, the Abouna

possessed a few houses and a garden; but, alas for him, his pied-à-terre had

for several years become his prison.

The prison-house, a common gaol for the political offenders, thieves, and

murderers, consisted of five or six huts inclosed by a strong fence, and

surrounded by the private dwellings of the more wealthy prisoners and

guards, extending from the eastern slope of the hillock to the edge of the

precipice and to the open space towards the south. At the time of our

captivity these houses cannot have contained less than 660 prisoners. Of

these, about 80 died of remittent fever, 175 were released by his Majesty,

307 executed, and 91 owed their liberty to the stormers of Magdala. The

prison rules were in some respects very severe, in others mild and foreign to

our civilized ideas. At sunset every prisoner was ordered into the central

inclosure. As they passed the gate they were counted and their fetters

examined. The women had a hut for themselves; only a late arrangement,

however, as before they had to sleep in the same houses as the men. The

space was very limited and the prisoners were packed in like herrings in a

barrel. Abyssinians themselves, hard-hearted as they are, described the

scene at night as something fearful. The huts, crowded to excess, were

close, the atmosphere fetid, the stench unbearable. There lay, side by side,

the poor, starved vagabond, chained hands and feet, and often with a large

forked piece of wood several yards long fixed round his neck, and the

warrior who had bled in many a hard-won fight, the governor of provinces

—nay, the sons of kings and conquered rulers themselves. In the centre the

guards, keeping candles lighted all night, laughed or played some noisy

game, indifferent to the sufferings of the unfortunates they watched. At daydawn, always about 6 A.M. in that latitude, the prison-door was opened,

and those who were lucky enough to possess any, repaired to the huts they

had erected in the vicinity of the sleeping-houses, while the poorer crawled

about the prison inclosure, awaiting their pancake loaf with all the

impatience of hungry men, just kept from immediate starvation by the

bounty of the Emperor. Others strolled about in couples, begging from their

more favoured companions, or, when leave was granted, went from house

to house imploring alms in the name of the "Saviour of the World."

The prison guards were the greatest ruffians I have ever seen. They had

been for so many years in contact with misery in its worst shape that the last

spark of human feeling had died out in their callous hearts. Instead of

showing compassion or pity for their prisoners, many of them innocent

victims of a low treachery, they added to their misery by the harshness and

cruelty of their conduct. Had a chief received at last a small sum of money

from his distant province, he was soon made aware that he must satisfy the

greed of his rapacious gaolers. But that was nothing compared to the moral

tortures they inflicted on their prisoners. Many of them had been for years

confined on the amba, and had brought their families to reside near them.

Woe to the woman who would not listen to the solicitations of these

infamous wretches; threatened and even beaten, few indeed of the sorrowful

wives and daughters held out; others willingly met advances; and when the

chief, the man of rank, or the wealthy merchant, left his day house, he knew

that his wife would immediately receive her chosen lover, or, what was still

more heartrending, a man she despised but feared.

Such was the daily life of those whose fault was to have given ear to the fair

words of Theodore, an error that weighed heavier upon them than a crime.

But when the Emperor, on his way, stopped a few days at Magdala, what

anxiety, what anguish, reigned in that accursed place! No day house, no

hours spent with the family or the friend, no food hardly; the prisoners must

remain in the night houses, as the Emperor at any moment might send for

some one of them to set him at liberty, or, more likely, to put an end to his

miserable existence. Let us take, for example, his visit to Magdala in the

first days of July, 1865, on his return from his unsuccessful campaign in

Shoa. No doubt long-continued misfortunes crush the better qualities of

men, and induce them to perform acts at the mere thought of which in better

days they would have blushed. Such was the case with Beru Goscho,

formerly the independent ruler of Godjam. Since years he had lingered in

chains. In the hope of improving his position, he had the baseness to report

to his Majesty that when a rumour was started that he had been killed in

Shoa, a great many of the prisoners had rejoiced. Theodore, on receiving

this message, gave orders for all the political prisoners who were only

chained by the leg to have hand chains put on—exempting only from this

order his informer Beru Goscho. However, some days later, this chief

having sent a servant to Theodore to ask as a reward to be allowed to have

his wife near him, the Emperor, who did not approve of treachery in others,

pretended to be annoyed at his request, and gave orders that he should also

be put in hand chains. But this was trifling compared with the massacre of

the Gallas, which happened during that same visit of Theodore. After

subduing the Galla country he required hostages. Accordingly, the Queen

Workite sent him her son, the heir to the throne; and many chiefs, believing

in the high character of Theodore, willingly accompanied him. The Galla

prince had at first been kindly treated; even made governor of the mountain;

but soon, on some pretext or other, he was disgraced: first made a prisoner

at large, and then sent to the common gaol, to endure chains and misery for

years.

Menilek, the grandson of Sehala Selassié, had been since his youth brought

up near the Emperor; he was entrusted with an independent command, and

in order to strengthen his adherence to his cause, Theodore gave him his

daughter in marriage. Under these circumstances, I can easily fancy the rage

and passion of Theodore when, one morning, he was informed that Menilek

had deserted with his followers, and was already on his way to claim the

dominions of his fathers. The Emperor with a telescope saw on the distant

Wallo plain Menilek received, with honour by the Galla Queen Workite.

Blind, with rage, he had no thought but revenge. He dared not venture to

pursue Menilek and encounter the two allies; at hand he had easy victims—

the Galla prince and his chiefs. Theodore mounted his horse, called his

body-guard, and sent for those men, who had already lingered long in

captivity through trusting to his word, and then followed a scene so horrible

that I dare not write the details. All were killed some—thirty-two, I believe

—and their still breathing bodies hurled over the precipice. It is probable

that shortly afterwards Theodore regretted having allowed himself to be

guided by passion. With Menilek he had lost Shoa; by the murder of the

Galla prince he had made those tribes his deadly foes. He sent word to the

Bishop, "Why, if I was acting wrongly, did you not come out with the 'Fitta

Negust' (Abyssinian code of law) in your hands, and tell me I was wrong?"

The Bishop's reply was simple and to the point:—"Because I saw blood

written in your face." However, Theodore soon consoled himself. The rains

were late, and water scarce on the amba: the next day it rained. Theodore,

full of smiles, addressed his soldiers, saying, "See the rain; God is pleased

with me because I have killed the infidels."

Such is Magdala, the sun-burnt barren rock, the arid lonely spot where we

had to undergo nearly two years of captivity in chains.

We furnished our house without much expense; two tanned cows' hides

were all we required. These, together with a few old carpets Theodore had

presented us with at Zagé, was about the extent of our worldly goods. I had

a small folding table and a camp-stool (some of our kit had arrived a few

days before); but our hovel was too small to admit them and us. The rainy

season had fairly set in, and the broken roof of our godjo was rapidly giving

way under the weight of the wet grass; we propped it up as best we could

by means of a long stick, still it looked very shaky, and leaked worse and

worse. The ground, always damp now, had quite the appearance of an Irish

bog; and if the straw that was placed underneath the skins to make our bed a

little softer was not removed every other day, the steam rose even through

the old carpets that adorned our abode. At last I could stand it no longer: I

was afraid of falling ill. It was bad enough to be in chains and in a hovel,

but sickness into the bargain would have driven me to despair. I sent my

Abyssinian servants to cut some wood, and made a small raised platform; it

was rather irregular and hard, but I preferred it to sleeping for so long on

the wet ground.

Well do I still remember that long, dreary, rainy season, and with what

impatience we looked for the Feast of the Cross, about the 25th of

September; as the natives told us that the rains always ceased about that

time! I had brought with me from Gaffat an Amharic grammar. "Faute de

mieux," I struggled hard to study it, but the mind was not fitted for such

work; and, book in hand, I was in spirit, thousands of miles away, thinking

of home, dreaming awake of beloved friends, of freedom and liberty.

Towards the end of August, shortly after the return of our ill-fated

messenger, we wrote again and sent another man: by this time we had

abundant proof that Samuel,—formerly our introducer, now our gaoler,—

was completely in our interests; and by his good arrangements the

messenger started without any one knowing of it, and managed to reach

Massowah with his letter.

I have spoken often of Samuel, and shall again and again have to mention

his name in my narrative. He was, from the beginning, mixed up with the

affairs of the Europeans, and I believe at one time he was rather unfriendly

towards them; but since our arrival and during our captivity, he behaved

exceedingly well. He was a shrewd, cunning man, and one of the first who

perceived that Theodore was losing ground. Outwardly he swore by his

name, and kept his confidence; but all the while he was serving us, and

helping us in our communications with the coast, the rebels, &c. In his

youth his left leg had been broken and badly set; and though Theodore liked

him, he did not give him a military command, but always employed him in

a civil capacity. He did not like to speak of the accident that occasioned his

deformity, and would, if asked, always give an evasive answer. Pietro, the

Italian, was a great gossip, and his stories could not always be relied upon.

His account of the broken leg was that when Samuel went to Shoa, some

Englishman there gave him a kick which sent him rolling down some small

ravine, and in the fall the leg was broken. It was on account of that blow

from an Englishman, Pietro said, that Samuel hated them all so much, and

was so bitter against them at first. It may be so; but I believe that he had not

been understood.