Only three days have elapsed since I last wrote to you, but those three

days have completely changed the prospects of things here. Then a move

forward appeared to be an event which, we hoped, might happen somewhere in

the dim future, but which, with the reports that provisions were scarcely

accumulating at Senafe, but were being consumed as fast as they were taken

up, seemed a very distant matter indeed. Now all this is changed, and

“forward” is the cry. The 25th Native Infantry are already on the move,

the 4th, “King’s Own,” are to go in a day or two, and the 3d Native

Infantry are to follow as soon as possible. Sir Robert Napier goes up

to-morrow or next day. Whether he will remain up there, and go forward at

once, or whether he will return here again for a short time, is a moot

point. I incline to the former opinion. From what I hear, and from what I

see in the English papers, pressure is being strongly applied to Sir

Robert Napier to move forward. Now, with the greatest deference for the

home authorities and for the leader-writers upon the London press, I

submit that they are forming opinions upon matters on which no one who has

not visited this place is competent to judge. No one, I repeat, can form

any opinion of the difficulties with which the Commander-in-chief has to

contend here. The first want is the want of water, the second the want of

forage, the third the want of transport. Twenty-eight thousand animals

were to have been here by the end of December; not more than half that

number have arrived, and of the 12,000 which have been landed 2000 are

dead, and another 2000 unfit for work. The remainder are doing quite as

much as could be expected of them, and are working well and smoothly; but

8000 are not sufficient to convey the provisions and stores of an army up

seventy miles, and to carry their own forage as well. That is, they might

convey quite sufficient for their supply from day to day, but they cannot

accumulate sufficient provisions for the onward journey. The difficulties

are simply overwhelming, and I do not know of a position of greater

responsibility than that of Sir Robert Napier at the present moment. If he

keeps the troops down here upon the plain, the increasing heat may at any

moment produce an epidemic; and, in addition to this, the English public

will ferment with indignation. On the other hand, if he pushes on with a

few thousand men, he does so at enormous risk. He may take any number of

laden animals with them; but if we get, as in all probability we shall

get, into a country where for days no forage is obtainable, what is to

become of the animals? It is not the enemy we fear—the enemy is

contemptible; it is the distance, and the questions of provisions and

transport. If a column goes on, it cuts itself loose from its base. With

the exception of the laden animals, which start with it, it can receive no

supplies whatever from the rear; it must be self-supporting. When Sherman

left Atalanta he travelled through one of the most fertile countries in

the world. We, on the contrary, go through one series of ravines and

passes, and although there are many intervening places where we may count

upon buying cattle, it is by no means certain that we can procure forage

sufficient to last the animals across the next sterile pass. Altogether,

it is a most difficult business, and one where the wisest would hesitate

upon giving any opinion as to the best course to be pursued. I am sure

General Napier will push forward if he sees any chance of a favourable

issue; and if he does not, he will remain where he is in spite of any

impatient criticism on the part of those who cannot guess at one tithe of

his difficulties. Since writing the above I have received reliable

information that the wing of the 33d will move forward to Antalo (a

hundred miles in advance) in a few days. This is palpable evidence that at

any rate we are going to feel our way forward. Personally I need not say

how pleased I am, for living with the thermometer from 104° to 112°, in a

tent, and surrounded and covered with a fine dust, existence can scarcely

be called a pleasure here.

Sir Robert Napier is making great efforts to reduce the weight to be

carried forward, and in this he is, without doubt, highly to be commended.

The great curse of this army is its enormous number of followers. European

regiments have quite a little host of sweepers, Lascars, water-bearers,

&c. &c. Even the native regiments have a number of followers. Had English

troops direct from England been employed, the weight to be carried would

have been very much less than it is at present, and the men, being

accustomed to shift and work for themselves, would have been more handy.

It is said that the soldier’s kit, now very heavy, is to be reduced; but

at present the efforts are being directed almost exclusively against

officers. An officer, whatever his rank, is to be allowed one mule only,

and there is some rumour that even that allowance is to be reduced. I do

not hesitate to say that that amount is insufficient. If an officer had

his mule merely to carry his baggage it would be ample, but this is very

far from being the case. On it he has to carry his groom’s luggage and

warm clothes, and those of his body-servant. He has to carry his

cooking-utensils, &c., and the rugs, &c., for his horse; consequently he

will be lucky if forty or fifty pounds remains for his own kit. This is

not a campaign for a week or a month; it may, in all human probability

will, last for a year, perhaps longer, and he has to carry clothes,

bedding, &c., for a hot and a cold climate. It is simply impossible to do

this in the limits of fifty pounds. Regimental officers are ordered to

send back their servants to Bombay, only one to be kept for every three

officers. Of course such officers will be able to get most of the work

they require performed for them by their own men; but, at the same time,

it is a hardship both to officers and servants. In all cases an officer

has made an advance of from two to three months’ pay to his servants; in

all cases he has provided them with warm clothing; and it is very hard

that he should lose all this, and be obliged to turn servants, whom he may

have had for years, adrift at a moment’s notice.

‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐

Senafe, January 31st.

After the heat and dust of Zulla this place is delightful. The heat of the

day is tempered by a cool wind, and the really cold nights brace us up

thoroughly. Above all, we have no dust. We are clean. One has to stop for

a month upon the Plain of Zulla thoroughly to appreciate the pleasure of

feeling clean. Here, too, there is water—not only to drink, but to wash

in. After being dust-grimed and unable to wash, the sensation of being

free from dust and enabled to wash at pleasure is delightful. Having with

great difficulty succeeded in purchasing baggage-animals, I started early

from Zulla, and arrived at Koomaylo in plenty of time to be able to

examine the wonderful changes which have taken place there in the last

three weeks. There were then some hundreds of animals there; now there are

thousands. The lines of the mules and ponies extend in every direction;

besides which are bullocks, camels, and elephants. Koomaylo is indeed the

head-quarters of the transport-train animals. The camel divisions are

here. They go down to the landing-place one day, are fed there, and come

back loaded next day, getting their water only here. The elephants work in

the same way, but they have to be watered at each end of their journey.

The bullock division is here, and works upwards to Rayray Guddy, three

days’ march, taking up stores and bringing down Senafe grass when there is

any to spare. Four mule and pony divisions are here; these, like the

bullocks, work to Rayray Guddy and back. The sick animals of these six

divisions are also here, and number nearly twelve hundred, including

camels. The watering of all these animals morning and evening is a most

interesting sight. There are long troughs, into which water is pumped

continuously from the little American pumps. The different animals have

each their allotted troughs. As they arrive they are formed in lines, and

as one line has drunk the next advances. There is no bustle or confusion,

for there is an ample supply of water for all. The water is very clear and

good, but is quite warm, and most of the animals object to it the first

time of tasting. Although the mules are in better condition than they were

some time since, very many of them are still very weak, especially those

that have been stationed at Rayray Guddy, where they get nothing to eat

but the coarse Senafe hay, and have had very frequently to go without even

this. The greatest difficulty of the transport train at present is most

unquestionably in its drivers. The greater part were, as I have before

said, collected haphazard from the scum of Smyrna, Beyrout, Alexandria,

Cairo, and Suez. They are entirely without any idea of discipline, are

perfectly reckless as to the Government stores, and are brutally cruel to

their animals. By cruel, I do not mean actively cruel, but passively

cruel. They do not thrash their mules much, they are too indifferent to

the pace at which they travel to put themselves to the trouble of hurrying

them. But they are horribly cruel in a passive way. They will continue to

work their animals with the most terrible sore backs. They will never take

the trouble to loosen the chain which forms part of the Bombay headgear,

and which, unless it is carefully watched, will cut into the flesh under

the chin, and in hundreds of cases has done so. They will jerk at the rein

of their draught-mules until the clumsy bit raises terrible swellings in

the mouth; they will say no word about the ailments of their beasts until

they can absolutely go no single step further, and then, instead of taking

them to the hospital lines, they turn them adrift, and report upon their

arrival at night that the mules have died upon the way. There is, however,

far less of this going on now than formerly, for a mounted inspector

accompanies each train, and many of the large convoys have officers in

charge of them. But not only for their cruelty and carelessness are these

Egyptian, Levant, and Turk drivers objectionable; they are constantly

mutinous. I saw the other day at Zulla a party of fifty who had arrived a

few days before deliberately refuse to work. They did not like the place,

and they would go back. Everything was tried with them; they were kept

upon less than half rations and water for days, but they sturdily refused

to do anything. The whole party might of course have been flogged, but

that would not have made them work; and the first day that they went out

with mules they would have thrown their burdens off and deserted with

their animals. I was present when Colonel Holland, director-general of

transport, endeavoured to persuade them to work. They steadily refused,

and even when he promised that they should be sent back to Suez by the

first ship, they refused to do any work whatever until the time for

embarkation. As they stood in a circle round him, some gesticulating, but

most standing in surly obstinacy, I thought I had never seen such a

collection of thorough ruffians in my life—the picked scoundrels of the

most lawless population on earth. I stopped one day at Koomaylo, and then

came rapidly up the pass. The road is now really a very fair road for the

whole distance, with the exception of four miles between Koomaylo and

lower Sooro. This piece of road has not, by some strange oversight, been

yet touched; but I hear that the 25th Native Infantry, one wing of which

regiment is at Koomaylo, are to be set to work at it at once. It is along

the flat of the valley, and only requires smoothing, and removing

boulders, so that a few days will see this, the last piece of the road,

completed. For the rest of the distance the road is everywhere as good as

a bye-road in an out-of-the-way district at home. In many places it is

very much better. Up the passes at Sooro and Rayray Guddy it is really an

excellent road. The vast boulders, which I described upon the occasion of

my first passing through it, are either shattered to pieces by blasting,

or are surmounted by the road being raised by a gradual incline. Too much

praise cannot be given to the Bombay Sappers and Miners, who have carried

out these works. The same party, after finishing these passes, have now

just completed a broad zigzag road from the bottom of the pass up to the

Senafe plain. This was before the most trying part of the whole journey,

now it is a road up which one might drive in a carriage and pair, and

which reminds one of the last zigzags upon the summits of the Mount Cenis

and St. Gothard passes. The whole of the works I have described are at

once samples of skilful engineering and of unremitting exertion. No one

who passed through six weeks ago would have believed that so much could

possibly be effected in so short a time. Next only to the Bombay Sappers

credit must be given to the Beloochee regiment, one wing of which under

Major Beville at Sooro, and the other under Captain Hogg at Rayray Guddy,

have made the road along those places where blasting was not required.

The Beloochees are a remarkably fine regiment, and work with a willingness

and good-will which are beyond praise. Great regret is expressed on all

sides that they have not been selected to accompany the 33d regiment upon

its advance, especially as they are armed with Enfield rifles.

The Beloochees are deservedly one of the most popular regiments in the

Indian service, and there is an _esprit de corps_—a feeling of personal

attachment between men and officers, and a pride on the part of the latter

to belong to so good a regiment—which the present extraordinary and

unsatisfactory state of the Indian service renders altogether out of the

question in the regular native regiments. There an officer forms no part

of the regiment. He belongs to it for the time being, but if he goes home

for leave, he will upon his return be posted in all probability to some

other regiment. In this way all _esprit de corps_, all traces of mutual

good feeling between men and officers, is entirely done away with. How

such a system could ever have been devised, and how, once devised, it has

ever been allowed to continue, is one of those extraordinary things which

no civilian, and no military man under the rank of colonel, can

understand.

At the station of Sooro and Rayray Guddy little change has been effected

since I last described them, and about the same number of men are

stationed there; but at Undel Wells, or Guinea-fowl Plain, as it was

formerly called, the place was changed beyond all recognition. When last I

was there it was a quiet valley, with a few Shohos watering their cattle

at a scanty and dirty well. My own party was the only evidence of the

British expedition. Now this was all changed. No city in the days of the

gold-mining rush in Australia ever sprung into existence more suddenly.

Here are long lines of transport-animals, here are commissariat-tents and

stores, here a camp of the pioneers. The whole of the trees and brushwood

have been cleared away. Here is the watering-place, with its troughs for

animals and its tubs for men—the one supplied by one of Bastier’s

chain-pumps, a gigantic specimen of which used to pour out a cataract of

water for the delectation of the visitors to the Paris Exhibition—the

other by one of the little American pumps. Everything works as quietly and

easily as if the age of the station was to be counted by months instead of

by days.

I found that the telegraph is making rapid progress. The wire now works as

far as Sooro, and is also erected downwards from Senafe to Rayray Guddy.

It is a very fine copper wire, and in the midst of the lofty perpendicular

rocks of the Sooro Pass it looks, as it goes in long stretches from angle

to angle, with the sun shining bright upon it, like the glistening thread

of some great spider.

It would have been long since laid to Senafe, but the greatest difficulty

has occurred in obtaining poles, all those sent from Bombay having been

thrown overboard to lighten the vessel in which they were shipped upon an

occasion of her running aground. It has been found impossible to procure

the poles for the remaining distance; and I hear that a wire coated with

india-rubber is to be laid a few inches under the soil.

Senafe itself is but little altered. The 10th Native Infantry are still in

their old camp. The 3d Native Cavalry have gone out about eight miles from

here to a spot called Goose Plain, and the sappers and miners are encamped

in the old lines of the 3d. The 33d lines are in a plain close to, but a

little beyond, the old camp, and concealed from view until one has passed

it.

On my arrival in camp I found that a deep gloom hung over everyone, and I

heard the sad news that Colonel Dunn, the commanding officer of the 33d,

had the day before accidentally shot himself when out shooting. The native

servant who alone was with him reports that he himself was at the moment

stooping to pour out some water, that he heard the report of a gun, and

turning round saw his master stagger back, and then sink into a sitting

position with the blood streaming from his breast. The man instantly ran

back to camp, a distance of five miles, for assistance, and surgeons at

once galloped off with bandages, &c., followed by dhoolie wallahs, with a

dhoolie to carry him back to camp. When the surgeons arrived, they found

Colonel Dunn lying on his back, dead. His flask was open by his side, his

cap pulled over his face. He had bled to death in a few minutes after the

accident. It is supposed that the gun was at full cock, and that the

slight jar of putting the butt to the ground must have let the hammer

down. There are very few men who could have been less spared than Colonel

Dunn; none more deeply regretted. As an officer he was one of the most

rising men in the service, and had he lived would probably have gained its

highest honours and position. He was with the 11th Hussars in the

Balaclava charge, and when the men were asked to select the man who in the

whole regiment was most worthy of the Victoria Cross, they unanimously

named Lieutenant Dunn. Never was the Victoria Cross placed on the breast

of a more gallant soldier. When the 100th regiment was raised in Canada,

he enrolled a very large number of men, and was gazetted its major. After

attaining the rank of lieutenant-colonel he exchanged into the 33d, of

which, at the time of this sad accident, he was full colonel, and was next

on the list for his brigadier-generalship. He was only thirty-five years

of age, the youngest colonel in the British service, and would, in all

human probability, have been a brigadier-general before he was thirty-six.

Known as a dashing officer, distinguished for his personal bravery, a

colonel at an age when other men are captains, there was no rank or

position in the army which he might not have confidently been predicted to

attain, and his loss is a loss to the whole British army. But not less

than as a soldier, do all who knew poor Dunn regret him as a man. He was

the most popular of officers. Unassuming, frank, kind-hearted in the

extreme, a delightful companion, and a warm friend—none met him who were

not irresistibly attracted by him. He was a man essentially to be loved.

In his regiment his loss is irreparable, and as they stood beside his

lonely grave at the foot of the rock of Senafe, it is no disgrace to their

manhood to say that there were few dry eyes amongst either officers or

men. He was buried, in accordance with a wish he had once expressed, in

his uniform, and Wolfe’s lines on the burial of Sir John Moore will apply

almost word for word to “the grave where _our_ hero we buried.”

Sir Robert Napier arrived here with his personal staff the day before

yesterday, having been five days _en route_, spending one day carefully

examining each station, inquiring, as is his custom, into every detail,

and seeing how each department worked. Never was a commander more careful

in this inquiry into every detail than is Sir Robert Napier. Nothing

escapes him. He sees everything, hears what everyone has to say, and then

decides firmly upon what is to be done. The army have rightly an unbounded

confidence in him. He is essentially the man for an expedition of this

sort. His reputation for dash and gallantry is well known, but at the same

time he has a prudence and sagacity which will fit him for the extremely

difficult position in which he is placed. If it is possible to make a dash

into Central Abyssinia, undoubtedly he will do it; if, on the other hand,

it cannot be done without extraordinary risk and difficulty—if it is next

to impossible—no amount of outcry at home will drive him to attempt it.

It is believed here that, moved by the home authorities, a rapid dash is

on the point of being made, and bets are freely exchanged that the

expedition will be over by the 1st of April. For myself, I confess that

even in the face of the approaching advance of the first division I have

no anticipations whatever that such will be the case. Sir Robert, I

believe, does mean to try. Urged on to instant action from home, he will

despatch two or three regiments, with cavalry and artillery, and with the

lightest possible baggage. But if the country at all resembles that we

have already traversed, if it is one tithe as difficult and deficient in

food and forage as Abyssinian travellers have told us, I am convinced that

the column will have to come to a halt, and wait for supplies, and will

have to proceed in a regular military way. I hope that I may be mistaken;

I sincerely hope that the advancing column may meet with no insuperable

obstacles; but, remembering that it is by no means certain that when we

get to Magdala we shall find Theodore and the captives there, I am far

more inclined to name nine months than three as the probable time which

will elapse before we have attained the objects of our expedition,—that

is, always supposing that Theodore does not deliver up the captives as we

advance. It is quite certain that the advancing column must depend

entirely upon themselves. They will be able to receive no supplies from

the rear, for other regiments will take the place of those that go on from

Senafe, and the transport train cannot do much more than keep Senafe

supplied with provisions at present, even supplemented as their efforts

are by those of thousands of the little native cattle. Indeed, had it not

been for the quantity of stores brought up by the natives on their own

cattle, there would not have been sufficient stores at Senafe to have

supplied the troops who now move on. As some 1500 animals will be

withdrawn from the strength of the transport train to march with the

advance brigade, it is evident that the stores sent up for some time will

not be much more than sufficient to supply Senafe, and that no animals

will be available to send on fresh supply to the front. The brigade that

advances, then, must depend entirely upon itself. It must not hope for any

assistance whatever. To say the least, it is an expedition upon the like

of which few bodies of men ever started. We have 330 miles to go, across a

country known to be exceptionally mountainous and difficult. We have

already learned that, with the exception of cattle, the country will

provide us with no food whatever. The kings or chiefs through whose

territory we march will be but neutral, and even if actively friendly,

which they certainly are not, could afford us no practical assistance. To

crown all, it may be that towards the end of the march we may have to

fight our way through difficult passes, defended by men who, if ill-armed,

are at least warlike and brave. History hardly records an instance of such

an accumulation of difficulties. Pizarro’s conquest of Mexico, perhaps,

ranks foremost among enterprises of this sort, but Pizarro fought his way

through the richest country in the world, and could never have had

difficulties as to his supplies. There is no question about our

conquering—the great question is as to our eating. If we were always

certain of finding forage our difficulties would be light in comparison.

Unfortunately our mules must eat as well as we, and we know that we shall

have long passes where no forage whatever is procurable. If the mules were

certain of their food it would be a mere arithmetical question—how many

mules are required to convey food for 2500 men for forty days? As it

stands now, we have no data to go upon, and whether our present advance

succeeds or not is almost entirely dependent upon whether we can obtain

forage for our animals. If we can do this, we shall get to Magdala; but if

we find that we have to pass long distances without forage, it becomes an

impossibility, and we must fall back upon the regular military method of

forming dépôts and moving on stage by stage. In this latter case there is

no predicting the probable limit of the expedition.

General Napier is taking the most stringent but necessary steps for

reducing the baggage to a minimum. No officer, whatever his rank, is to be

allowed more than one mule. Three officers are to sleep in each bell-tent,

and one mule is allowed for two bell-tents. One mule is allowed to each

three officers for cooking-utensils and mess-stores. Only one native

servant is to be allowed for each three officers. No officers, except

those entitled to horses in England, are to be mounted; they may, however,

if they choose, take their own horse as a pack-animal instead of the mule

to which they are entitled, in which case a pack-saddle will be issued to

them. Similar reductions are being made among the regimental baggage and

followers. The latter, whose name was legion, and who were at least as

numerous as the fighting-men, are to be greatly curtailed. The Lascars,

sweepers, water-bearers, &c. are either to be sent back, or to be turned

into grass-cutters for the cavalry and baggage-animals. The European

soldiers are to be limited to 35lb. weight of baggage, and part of this

they will have to carry for themselves. All this is as it should be. In

India it is policy as well as humanity to take every possible care of the

British soldier. He is a very expensive machine, and although, as was

found during the mutiny, he can work in the sun during an emergency

without his health suffering, still at ordinary times it is far better to

relieve him as far as possible from all duties whatever save drill and

guard. Labour and food are so cheap in India that the expense of this host

of camp-followers is comparatively slight. Here it is altogether

different. It was known long before we started that the ground would be

exceptionally difficult, that the difficulties of transport would be

enormous, and that every mouth extra to be fed was of consequence; and yet

in spite of this the European regiments arrived here with little short of

500 followers; and the native regiments have also hosts of hangers-on. As

I have said, all this is now very properly to be done away with. The army

will march as nearly as possible with European kit and following, and the

transport train will be relieved of the incubus of thousands of useless

mouths to be provided for. In speaking of the transport train, I should

mention that Sir Robert Napier is in no way accountable for its absurd

organisation and consequent break down. The Bombay authorities are alone

responsible. When the expedition was first seriously talked of in August

last, Sir Robert Napier drew up a scheme for a transport train, which I am

assured by those who have seen it was excellent. This he sent in on the

23d of August. No notice was taken of it until the middle of September,

when Sir Robert was told that a scheme would be prepared by the

commissary-general. Another precious month elapsed, and then in the middle

of October the present absurd scheme was hatched. It was sent to Sir

Robert for his opinion, and he returned it with the memorandum that it was

perfectly impracticable. The authorities persisted, however, in the teeth

of his opinion, in having their plan carried out; and it was only upon Sir

Robert’s repeated and earnest remonstrances that they consented to

increase the number of European inspectors and native overlookers to the

present ridiculously-insufficient number. The result has abundantly proved

the wisdom of the General, and the fatuity of the men who would interfere

in every detail, and overrule the opinion of the man to whom everything

was to be intrusted from the day of his leaving Bombay. Events have

abundantly proved the error of intrusting the management of the expedition

to civilians and men of bureaux.

And now, as to the advance brigade. Neither its composition nor its date

of advance are yet known for certain. The Chief is not a man who says

anything about his plans until the moment arrives when the necessary

orders are to be given. It will probably comprise the whole or part of the

33d regiment, the 4th regiment—a portion of which is expected to arrive

here to-day—the 10th Native Infantry, the Beloochees, the Punjaub

Pioneers, the Bombay Sappers and Miners, the 3d Native Cavalry, and the

Scinde Horse. Of these, two companies of the 33d regiment, and two of the

10th Native Infantry, are already at Attegrat, thirty-five miles in

advance. Three more companies of each regiment started to-day.

Brigadier-general Collings goes on with them, and will for the present

command the advance. Part of the Pioneers are here, as are the Bombay

Sappers. These go on in a day or two to make the road near and beyond

Attegrat, the intermediate part having been already made by the 33d

regiment. The Scinde Horse are some eight or nine miles away, and near

them are the 3d Native Cavalry. I have omitted in my list of troops for

the advance brigade to name the mountain trains, and three guns of the

artillery, which will be carried by elephants. These animals are expected

here in a day or two. I should be sorry to meet them on horseback in a

narrow part of the pass, and I expect that they will cause terrible

confusion among the transport-animals, for they have all a perfect horror

of the elephant—that is, the first time that they see one. When they get

to learn that he, like themselves, is a subjugated animal, they cease to

feel any terror of him.

There is one pleasing change which has taken place since I last left

Senafe, and which I have not yet spoken of. I mentioned that Sir Charles

Staveley, when he was up here, ordered huts to be built for the muleteers

by the 10th Native Infantry. These are now completed. They are long, leafy

bowers, running along in regular lines between the rows of animals. They

are very well and neatly built—so regular, indeed, that it is difficult at

a short distance to believe that they are really built of boughs. They may

not be as warm as houses, but they keep off the wind, and afford a great

protection to the muleteers at night. The division here, that of Captain

Griffiths, is the first which landed. It is now in very good order, and

will accompany the advance brigade. The disease up here is, I am happy to

say, on the decrease. The sick animals are out at Goose Plain with the

artillery.

Yesterday, in the afternoon, there was a parade of the 33d, and 10th

Native Infantry; small parties of the Royal Engineers, of 3d Native

Cavalry, and of Scinde Horse were also present. Sir Robert Napier rode

along the line, and the regiments then marched past. The little party of

the 3d Cavalry came first, followed by the Scinde Horse, and offering as

strong a contrast to each other as could be well imagined. The one was

upon the European, the other upon the Asiatic model. The Scinde horsemen

were much the heavier and more powerful men; and although they have not

the military seat or the dashing air of the 3d, they had in their dark

dresses, and quiet, determined look, the appearance of men who would be

most formidable antagonists. Their horses, although ugly, are strong; and

in a charge, it was the opinion of many of those who were looking on, that

they would be much more than a match for their more showy rivals. The

Scinde Horse are more discussed than any regiment out here; and, indeed,

it is so famous a regiment, and is always stationed so much upon the

frontiers, that its coming was looked forward to with considerable

curiosity. Its appearance is certainly against it; that is, its horses are

very ugly animals; but this is not the fault of the regiment, for its

station is so far in Northern India that it cannot procure, except at very

great cost, any but the native horses. I believe that this is almost the

only objection which can be urged against the regiment; the men are

remarkably fine; indeed, as I before stated, they are too heavy for

cavalry. They are, as a whole, drawn from a much higher and wealthier

class of natives than the men of any other regiment; they enlist in the

Scinde Horse just as a young nobleman takes a commission in the Guards.

There is a very great feeling of _esprit de corps_, and mutual

good-feeling between officers and men; and all are proud of their

regiment. The uniform, as I have said in a previous letter, is a long,

dark-green coat, with red turban. It is the men’s own choice, and is quite

an Eastern uniform; their long curved sabres are also quite Asiatic. The

men provide their own carriage; and from this point the transport train

will not be called upon to assist them in any way beyond carrying their

provisions. I alluded before to the wretched ponies they brought with

them; but the case has been explained to me, and there is no blame to be

attached to the corps on this score. The men were provided with camels to

carry their baggage, and were told that these would do for Abyssinia.

While upon their march down to the sea-coast a telegram arrived, stating

that camels would not do; and the men were obliged to sell their camels at

a sacrifice, and to buy any ponies they could get. I speak of the men

doing so, because the horses, &c., are not the property of the Government,

but of the men, or rather of some among the men.

The Scinde Horse are, and always were, an irregular cavalry, upon what is

called the “sillidar” system. Government contracts with the men to find

their own horses, accoutrements, arms, food, and carriage. This is the

irregular cavalry system, upon which all native cavalry regiments are now

placed. The sum paid is thirty rupees a month. Here, however, only twenty

rupees are to be paid, as Government finds food and forage. The advantages

of this system for frontier-work are enormous. The men are scattered over

a wide extent of country in tens and twelves, and it would be manifestly

impossible to have a series of commissariat stations to supply them.

Whether the system is a good one for regiments stationed for months or

years in a large garrison town is a very moot question, and one upon which

there is an immense difference of opinion. These regiments would have no

occasion for carriage. If they had to move to another town, it would be

cheaper for them to send their baggage in carts than to keep up a

sufficient baggage-train. When, therefore, the order to march on service

comes, there are no means of transport. The 3d Native Cavalry are exactly

a case in point. Four years ago they were changed from a regular to an

irregular cavalry regiment; but, like all regiments, the 3d had its

traditions, and stuck to them. They adhere to their old uniform and

equipments, and are, at a short distance, undistinguishable from a

European hussar regiment. They pay extreme attention to their drill, and

are to all intents and purposes a regular cavalry. They are mounted on

excellent horses, and are certainly wonderfully-cheap soldiers at three

pounds a month, including everything. But they have been long stationed at

Poonah, and consequently had no occasion to purchase baggage-animals, and

came on here without them. When it was found that the regiment had arrived

here without baggage-animals, there was, of course, considerable angry

feeling in the official mind; and had it not been that the animals were

dying in the plain, and that no other cavalry regiment was at hand to go

up with the advance brigade, it is probable that they would have been kept

in the rear of the army. However, they were badly wanted, and so carriage

was given to them. I have already spoken in the highest terms of their

bearing and efficiency. There is one point, however, in the sillidar

system which strikes me as being particularly objectionable. It is not

always with the men themselves that this contract is made; it is with the

native officers. Some of the men do supply their own horses, &c.; but the

native officers each contract to supply so many men and horses complete,

buying the horses and accoutrements, and paying the men ten rupees a

month. This, I cannot help thinking, is an unmixed evil. The man has two

masters—the man who pays him, and the Government he serves. This evil was

carried to a great extent in the days before the mutiny; and I have heard

a case of a regiment at that time of which almost the whole of the horses

and men were then owned by one native officer. Had that man been hostile

to the Government, he might have taken off the whole regiment. Efforts

have since been made to put a stop to this excessive contracting, and no

officer is now allowed to own more than six of the horses. It appears to

me that it should be altogether done away with, and that each man should

find his own horse.

But I have wandered very far away from the parade-ground at Senafe. After

marching past the regiments formed in close order, the General then

addressed a few words to each. To Major Pritchard of the Engineers he said

how glad he was to have his own corps with him again, and that he hoped

some day to employ them to blow down the gates of Magdala. To the 33d he

said a few words complimenting them upon their efficiency, and regretting

that they would not be led by the gallant officer whose loss he and they

deplored. The General then addressed the 10th Native Infantry,

complimenting them upon their conduct and efficiency. Sir Robert spoke in

Hindoostanee, a language of which my knowledge is unfortunately confined

to about eight words; none of these occurred in the speech, and I am

therefore unable to give the text. The regiments which go on are delighted

at the prospect of a move, and the 10th Native Infantry cheered lustily as

they marched off with their band at their head. Fresh troops arrive as

fast as others move on. While I have been writing this a portion of the

4th King’s Own have marched in, as also have the mule-battery with the

light rifled guns from Woolwich. The most important, however, of to-day’s

arrivals has been that of a hundred bullock-carts. A string of camels has

also come in, as I can tell by the lugubrious bellowings and roar which at

present fills the air. The pass is therefore proved to be practicable, and

the camels and bullock-carts will be a great assistance to us. The natives

must be astonished at seeing this string of carts coming up a place which

all their tradition must represent as almost impassable even for their own

cattle, which, like goats, can go almost anywhere. Their ideas about us

must altogether be rather curious; and as we know by experience how a

story expands and alters as it goes, the reports which must reach the

extreme confines of Abyssinia must be something astounding. Even here they

are not contented with the facts. There is a report among them that the

cattle we are buying up are intended to be food for a train of elephants

we have coming to help us fight Theodore, and that we have also a

lion-train, which will shortly be here. Our news from Magdala is as

before. Theodore is slowly, very slowly advancing. He has got heavy

cannon, and insists upon taking them with him. Waagshum, the king who has

been besieging Magdala, has fairly run away, and the tribes around Magdala

have all sent in their allegiance to Theodore. Theodore has been writing

to Rassam as if he were his dearest friend, and Rassam has been answering

him as if he were Theodore’s grovelling slave. Theodore’s letter runs in

this style: “How are you? Are you well? I am quite well. Fear not. I am

coming to your assistance. Keep up your head. I shall soon be with you. I

have two big cannon. They are terrible, but very heavy to move.” Rassam

answers somewhat in this style: “Illustrious and most clement of

potentates, I, your lowest of slaves, rejoice at the thought that your

coming will throw a light upon our darkness. Our hearts swell with a great

joy;” and more fulsome stuff of the same character. Dr. Blanc’s letters to

us are at once spirited and manly. “We are delighted,” he says, “at the

thought of your coming. How it will end no one can say. We are all

prepared for the worst; but we have at least the satisfaction of knowing

that our deaths will be avenged.” Up to the last moment of doing this we

have no day fixed for Sir Robert Napier’s advance upon Attegrat. The 5th

is named as the earliest date upon which a messenger can return from

Grant’s party, and say when Kassa, the King of Tigre, will be at Attegrat

to meet the General. It is probable that the King will start almost

immediately Grant arrives, and in that case Sir Robert will have to move

forward at once in order to arrive first at the place of meeting. I go on

to-morrow, unless any circumstance should occur to change my plan.

The scientific and the general members of the expedition are arriving very

fast. Dr. Markham, the geographer of the expedition, has long been here.

Mr. Holmes, of the British Museum, arrived yesterday, as archæologist; he

is going off to-morrow to a church a few miles distant, to examine some

manuscripts said to exist there. The Dutch officers arrive up to-day, and

I hear two French officers arrive to-morrow. In reference to these foreign

officers, I am assured to-day by a staff-officer, to whom I was regretting

that more was not done for them, that they are not really commissioners.

It may be so; but as, at any rate, they are officers who are paid by

foreign governments, and are allowed to accompany the expedition, I

confess that I am unable to see any essential difference. The

staff-officer assured me, as a proof of the beneficent intentions of the

authorities, that these foreign officers would not be charged for their

rations. John Bull is indeed liberal. He is much more sharp as to the

“specials;” for a general order was actually issued the other day, saying

that “gentlemen unconnected with the army were to pay for a month’s

rations in advance.” With the exception of the scientific men, who are all

sent out by Government, and must, I suppose, be considered official

persons, there are only four gentlemen here “unconnected with the army,”

namely, three other special correspondents and myself. I remarked to a

commissariat-officer, with a smile, when called upon to pay my month in

advance, that “I thought I might have been considered as good for the

payment at the end of each month as officers were.” “Ah,” said the astute

officer, “but suppose anything were to happen to you, whom should we look

to for payment?” The reply was obvious: “But, on the other hand, suppose

that unpleasant contingency should occur, of whom are my representatives

to claim the amount for the days paid for but not eaten?” At whose

suggestion this general order was issued I know not; but I do know that

anything more paltry and more unworthy the general order of a large army

was never issued. Who issued this order I know not, for I cannot but

repeat that no one could be more kind and considerate than are Sir Robert

Napier and every member of his staff to all of us.

I must now close my letter, for it is getting late, and my hand is so cold

I can hardly hold a pen. I may just mention that colds are very prevalent

here, and that at night there is an amount of coughing going on among the

natives in the tents around, that is greater even than could be heard in

an English church on a raw November morning during a dull sermon.

‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐

Senafe, February 3d.

When I closed my letter on the evening of the 31st ultimo, I had intended

to start early the next morning. My plan was to have gone on to Attegrat,

to have stopped a day or two there, and to have returned in plenty of time

to have gone up again with Sir Robert Napier. After I had closed my

letter, however, I heard that he would probably leave on the 5th; I should

not, therefore, have had time to carry out my plan, and determined, in

consequence, to wait here another day or two, and then to move on quietly

in advance of the General, so as to be able to devote a short time to the

examination of the country in the neighbourhood of each of the stations. I

had another course open to me. The extreme advanced party are pushing on

beyond Attegrat, on the road to Antalo. Should I go with them, or should I

remain near head-quarters and report the regular progress of events? It

was more amusing, of course, to be pushing on ahead; but it seemed to me

that the interest of the public lay not in the road, but in the progress

of the troops along that road. I have therefore made up my mind to jog

quietly along with the main body of the army, the more especially as the

meeting between Sir Robert Napier and the King of Tigre will be one of the

most interesting events in the whole expedition.

Mr. Speedy has arrived in camp. He is to act as political adviser to

General Napier, and his arrival is a general matter of satisfaction. Mr.

Speedy was at one time an officer in the 81st Foot; he afterwards

exchanged into the 10th Punjaubees, of which regiment he was some time

adjutant. He afterwards left the service and wandered out to Abyssinia,

where he entered the service of Theodore, and assisted him to organise and

drill his army. Finding he was likely to share the fate of other British

in this potentate’s employ, and to be cast into prison, Mr. Speedy threw

up his appointment, and has since been living in Australia. General

Napier, having heard of him, wrote to beg him to come; and Mr. Speedy

received the letter just in time to come off by the mail, with a kit,

according to popular report, consisting only of two blankets. He is not, I

am happy to say, an Abyssinian worshipper. Dr. Krapf, Colonel Merewether’s

adviser, is so. He seems to think that the black is a very much finer

specimen of humanity than the white man; and that deeds which would be

punished in the latter are highly excusable, if not laudable, when

perpetrated by the former. Dr. Krapf is not singular in his ideas. Had his

lines lain in England, I have no doubt that he would have been one of

Governor Eyre’s foremost persecutors. I am very glad that a healthier tone

is likely to be introduced in our dealings with the natives. Mr. Speedy

rode out yesterday, at the General’s request, to some of the villages

round, called upon the priests, and offered a present of money for the

relief of the poor and distressed. The answer in each case was the same.

The priests said that had it not been for our coming, a period of severe

distress and suffering would probably have occurred. The crops had been

devastated by the locusts, and the present drought would seriously affect

the next harvest. Thanks, however, to the money which the English had

distributed through the country in payment for cattle purchased by the

commissariat, and for hay, wood, milk, &c., and for the hire of transport,

the people were better off than usual; and therefore, with the exception

of three or four dollars for the aged and infirm, they would decline with

thanks General Napier’s gift.

The Engineer Corps here have been very busy for the last few days

practising signalling. The method used is Captain Bolton’s system, which

is in use in the Royal Navy. The method in which these signals are managed

on land is, however, less known, and is specially interesting, as it is

the first time they have been used in actual warfare. The present is,

indeed, a sort of experiment; and if it prove successful and useful, it is

probable that the system will be generally introduced into the army. The

Engineers are giving lessons in the art of signalling to soldiers of the

33d regiment, and will teach men of each regiment out here, so that the

system may be fairly tested. The signals by day are conveyed by flags;

there are white, white-and-black, and black, according to the alphabet or

method to be used. A single wave to the right means one; two waves, two;

and so on up to five; the remaining four numbers are made either by waves

to the left or by combination of wavings to either side. These numbers,

like the flags on board ship, refer to a number in a book with which each

signalman is furnished. Let us suppose, for example, that a general

situated upon rising ground wishes to signal to any given division of his

army. He makes the signal, let us say, “five.” The signal is passed along

by the line of signalmen to the fifth division, who all, by waving their

flags, testify readiness. The signal is then passed, “1015.” This means,

“move to the support of the fourth division,” which is instantly done

without loss of time. Or the flags may be addressed to all the corps of

the army; and the order, waved over thirty miles of country, might be,

“Concentrate on the centre division.” It is, indeed, astonishing how much

time would be gained by using this method instead of sending a score of

aides-de-camp scouring all over the country. At night the signals are

conveyed by means of flashing lights. These are extremely ingenious in

their construction. The signaller, who is always accompanied by a

companion with a signal-book, has a brass tube some eight feet long, at

the extremity of which is a lantern; in this lantern a spirit-lamp burns;

underneath this spirit-lamp is a receptacle in which is placed a powder

composed of magnesium, resin, and lycopodium, very much like the mixture

with which stage-carpenters produce lightning by blowing it through a

candle. This lamp acts on precisely the same principle. A bellows is

attached to the brass tube. This bellows the signaller works, either in

short or in long pressures; and the air, as it passes up, goes through the

powder and forces a small quantity of it through a pair of nozzles placed

close to the spirit-flame. The result is a brilliant flash, which is long

or short according to the pressure upon the bellows. This light can be

seen at a very great distance, and two or three parties of signallers

placed upon hill-tops could convey an order a distance of fifty miles in a

very few minutes. The difficulty, of course, lies in the liability to

error. A single puff more or less might entirely change the order. 1021

might mean “Concentrate upon your left flank;” 1022 “Concentrate upon your

right.” It is all very well to say that each signal is repeated, and

therefore that a mistake would be instantly corrected; but we all know

what mistakes occur in telegraphic messages, even if we pay for their

being repeated. The system appears as good and as little liable to error

as anything of the kind could be; but when we consider that a miscounting

of the flashes of light or of the waving of a flag might entirely alter

the order given, it is evident that the risk is so great that a general

would rather, if possible, despatch a mounted officer with written

instructions. At the same time, the system for distant communication is

undoubtedly adapted to expedite the movements of an army over a large

tract of country. General Napier has taken a great interest in the

experiments, and I have no doubt the system will be thoroughly tried

during the present expedition. The apparatus for each signalling-party is

singularly complete and handy; it is carried in two baskets or

mule-panniers, and includes everything which could be required, comprising

a light-tent, a canteen, flags, lanterns, a supply of alcohol and powder,

a small case for writing in the rain, signal-books, &c. Each of these

double panniers contains, in fact, everything required for the signalmen;

and with twelve such apparatus, distributed among parties placed upon

hill-tops, signals might be flashed at night from London to Edinburgh.

The elephants for the guns have not yet arrived, but are expected

to-morrow, and in that case will go on with Sir Robert Napier; who, I

believe, will positively leave in the afternoon. As several other bodies

of troops move on the same day, it will make his entry into Attegrat quite

an imposing affair. In fact, I should not be surprised if the sight of the

elephants created quite a stampede among the natives. Speaking of

elephants, a sad accident occurred a few days since at Sooro. These

animals are to be met with in the mountains between that place and the

sea, and three have been killed by officers of the Beloochees.

Accordingly, Major Beville and Lieutenant Edwards went out to try their

fortune, and were successful in finding a herd of them feeding in a

valley. The animals scented them before they could get within fair shot,

and began to run rapidly away; whereupon Edwards rushed out, crossed a

small intervening nullah, and followed upon their heels. Elephants,

however, are not animals that like being followed, and accordingly one of

them turned and charged his pursuer. Edwards fired at him, but failing to

check him, took to his heels. The animal overtook him in his descent of

the nullah, seized him in his trunk, dashed him to the ground, and

endeavoured to trample on him, but fortunately the slope of the ground

rendered this a matter of difficulty. At this critical moment Major

Beville arrived, and fired into the animal, who, most fortunately, upon

finding himself wounded, quitted his victim and fled. Extraordinary to

state, poor Edwards was not killed; but he has received some severe

internal injuries, and is now lying at Sooro in a very precarious state.

The bullock-carts, which arrived the day before yesterday, aroused, as I

anticipated, the admiration and wonder of the natives to the highest

point. I believe that they never saw a wheeled vehicle before; and the

apparition of the long line of carts, drawn by the splendid Brahmin

cattle, coming up laden with stores, from a defile which all their

traditions from time immemorial have represented to them as being

impracticable even for their own sure-footed little cattle, completed

their assurance that the English are truly sons of Sheitan. Our energy and

resources must indeed appear something quite supernatural to this

primitive people.

One of my principal grounds for objection to the Abyssinians is that they

are such an intensely lazy race. Now, if people like to be lazy, and to

eat the scanty bread of idleness instead of the large loaf gained by hard

work, it is their own business, and a mere matter of taste, in favour of

which there is much to be said. But the Abyssinian, although intensely

lazy, is by no means satisfied to eat the bread of idleness. The noble

savage is keenly awake to the value of labour, and insists that all the

members of his family, with the exception only of himself and such of his

sons as may be big enough to have their own way, work like the veriest

slaves. You will see a great lout of a man walking lazily along towards

the camp, armed with his spear and shield, while before him stagger his

old mother, his wife, his sister, and his four or five children, carrying

enormous bundles of hay. I am not exaggerating when I say that you will

frequently see little girls not more than seven years old carrying bundles

of hay of forty-five pounds weight into camp; and poor little mites of

three or four years old carry a proportionate burden. The weight is never

carried on the head, always upon the back, fastened by a thong of leather,

which goes over the arms just below the shoulder and across the chest. The

child or woman, as the case may be, walks bent forward, almost double. The

men never carry loads; it is beneath the dignity of a noble savage. The

whole of the work is done by the females and by the little boys of the

family. My blood has fairly boiled many times, and I have longed heartily

to lay my riding-whip across the shoulders of these lazy scoundrels, who

are too lazy to work, but not too proud to drive their little children to

work, and to live upon the result. The boys do, as I have said, a certain

amount. When they are quite little they do nearly as much as their

sisters, but as they grow up they do less and less, and it is rare to see

a boy over twelve years old carrying a burden. The women here carry their

babies on their backs, and not across the hip as the Hindoostanee women

always do. The children are held in a sort of small shawl of leather,

which is wrapped tightly round the mother, and only the top of the little

thing’s head is generally to be seen. In this way the mother has her arms

free, and can carry about her bundle of wood or grass for sale; but in

this case the burden is, of course, carried in her arms before her. I have

often wondered that the children survive the double risk—of suffocation,

from pressure against their mother’s backs, and of sunstroke, from the sun

coming down full upon the unprotected tops of their little bald heads.

They do not seem to mind it, and I do not think that I have heard more

than one or two infants utter a wail when being carried in that position.

I can only suppose that the natural warmth of their mothers’ naked backs

is agreeable to them; but, with our present style of dress, it is not an

experiment which I should recommend an English nurse to try with a

fractious child, unless she wishes a coroner’s inquest to be held upon it,

with possibly other more unpleasant proceedings to follow.

The stores in the commissariat-yard here continue to increase, thanks to

the amount brought up by the native cattle. At present there is, I

understand, about a month’s consumption for the troops here and in

advance. The arrangements of the commissariat-yard are very good; as,

indeed, most of the arrangements of that department have been throughout

the expedition. At times this yard presents a most interesting spectacle.

Here are large piles of rice- and flour-bags, and beside them the Parsees

weighing out the rations to the numerous applicants. A little farther on

is the butcher’s shop, where the meat-rations are cut up and distributed.

Here is a large enclosure fenced round with bushes, and containing cattle

purchased for the troops from the natives. Here are some hundreds of mules

unloading stores which they have brought from below. Farther on are more

being loaded with grass, to go down for the sustenance of the animals in

the pass. Here, again, are hundreds of women and children laden with

grass, which an officer of the commissariat is weighing and paying for;

giving, however, the money to the men; who, the instant the women have

brought in the grass, send them off, and exert themselves so far as to

receive the money. Near these is the wood-yard, where a similar scene is

being enacted. Back again by the store-yard are a host of native cattle,

which are waiting to receive stores to take forward to Attegrat. The

contract price for this is a dollar and a half per head; and I am glad to

say that we can obtain as many cattle as we like for the purpose. Here we

have men; the only employment, indeed, which the Abyssinian men will

undertake is driving cattle, or rather following them, for they never

attempt in any way to guide or influence their movements, but dawdle after

them with their eternal spears and shields, knowing well that the

sagacious little cattle will always follow the beaten track. Close by is a

space marked off for a market. Here we have groups of men squatted about

everywhere among their cattle, sheep, and goats: there are a good many

donkeys too, and a few mules. For these latter they have raised the price

very greatly during the last month: then a good mule could be bought for

fifteen dollars, now they charge thirty-five and forty. They are very

independent too, and refuse to abate a single dollar in the price they

ask: if they do not obtain the exact sum they demand, they will, after a

certain time, mount and ride off to their villages, to return again next

day with the price probably enhanced two or three dollars over that

demanded on the first occasion.

I must now close this, as I am on the point of starting for Attegrat. I

shall endeavour to send a few lines in from Goun-Gonna, the next station;

for as the next mail starts in four days, and I shall be getting farther

away every march, a letter from Attegrat could not get in here in time for

the post.

‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐

Goun-Gonna, February 4th.

I feel quite glad to be again getting forward. Senafe has so long been my

advanced post, that it seemed as if we were never going to get beyond that

point. However, now I am once more _en route_, I hope that I shall have no

further stop—beyond a few days at Attegrat, to see the meeting of the King

of Tigre and the General—until I arrive at Antalo. Antalo will be about

ten days’ march from here, and, once there, half the distance to Magdala

will have been accomplished. My ride yesterday afternoon was one of the

most pleasant I have had here. The temperature was delightful—a bright sun

and a strong cool wind; the road, too, for some distance, across an

undulating plain, descending sharply into a magnificent valley, was a

charming change after the monotony of the long valleys, up and down which

I have been riding for the last six weeks, and the wide expanse of the

sandy plain of Zulla. After leaving Senafe the plain falls for some

distance, and after about five miles’ ride we came down to the lowest

point, where, in ordinary times, a small stream of water crosses the road,

but which at present is perfectly dry, except where it has accumulated in

large pools. By the side of one of these, about two miles to our left, we

saw the camp of cavalry and sick animals. I may mention, by the way, that

although the disease among the mules is much upon the decrease, and has

altogether lost the virulence which at first characterised it, there are

still, by the last weekly statement, two thousand six hundred animals,

including camels, unfit for work, from one cause or other.

In this watered valley are immense herds of cattle. The plain is covered

with a thick coarse grass, which has now been everywhere cut, either by

the troops themselves for their horses, or by the natives for sale to us.

Crossing the plain, we have a steep rise up the side of the hill, and

then, surmounting the rise, we find ourselves at the head of a valley

running nearly due south. This we descend; and from the number of villages

perched on the eminences on either side, it is evident that water is

generally found in this locality. It was probably, at some not very

distant time, much more thickly populated than it is at present, for many

of the villages are ruinous and deserted. This valley is very pretty, and,

after the treeless plain of Senafe, is doubly agreeable, for the sides of

the hills are everywhere clothed with the gigantic candelabra cactus.

These are now just bursting into blossom. The blossoms grow from the

extremity of each of the innumerable arms of the candelabra; and as their

colour varies from white, through delicate shades of pink, to dark-red,

the effect is very beautiful; indeed, with their regular growth, and

perfect mass of blossom, they look as if they had just been transplanted

from the grounds of the Messrs. Veitch to this country for some gigantic

flower-show. There is a church in this valley, which is much venerated as

being the scene of the martyrdom of some eight or ten Christians in the

time of the persecution. My knowledge of Abyssinian history is, I confess,

of too meagre a nature for me to give you an approximate date of this

affair. Their bones are, however, still to be seen; and from this I should

say that the event could not be very distant, as in a climate subject to

great heat and heavy rains as this is, it is probable that bones would

very speedily decay. The church is at some distance from the road, and is,

like most of the churches here, upon a hill. I did not, therefore, turn

aside to examine it, as I shall have plenty of opportunities of examining

churches hereafter, and, with the exception of the martyrs’ bones, it

presents no feature of peculiar interest. Descending the valley, we find

it to be only a feeder of a wide valley running east and west. The valley

was, like Goose Plain, covered with coarse grass, and contained immense

herds of cattle. The side opposite to that by which we had entered it was

very steep; the mountains are nearly bare, and near their summits present

an appearance which, had I not seen it also upon the rock at Senafe, I

should have said had been caused by a very slight fall of snow. I learn,

however, that it is a very small lichen, which is abundant upon the rocks.

I presume that this lichen is at present in flower or seed; for I did not

observe the peculiar appearance at my first visit to Senafe, and it is so

remarkable that I could not have failed to notice it had it existed at

that time. We know now that we are near our destination, for we see the

grass-cutters going along with great bundles of hay. We cross the valley

and enter a smaller valley, which forks at a slight angle with the large

one. As we fairly entered it, we saw near its extremity the camp of

Goun-Gonna. A prettier situation could hardly have been selected. The

hills to the right-hand are almost perpendicular, and upon a ledge about

half-way up a village is nestled. The stream which flows down it has been

used for the purpose of irrigation, and the bright green of the young

crops was a delightful relief to our eyes. On the left-hand the hills are

less precipitous, but are still very steep. The valley is less than a

quarter of a mile in width, and ends abruptly with a semicircular sweep a

short distance above the spot where the camp is pitched. What adds greatly

to the beauty of the valley is, that it contains several of those immense

trees with distorted trunks and bright-green foliage, whose real name is a

moot point, but which are alike claimed to belong to the banyan,

india-rubber, or tulip-tree species. At any rate, whatever be their

species, they are one of the most picturesque species of tree I ever saw.

They cover an immense extent of ground, and their trunks sometimes lie

along the ground, sometimes rise in strange contorted forms. Their bark is

extremely rough, and whitish-gray, and if seen without the foliage, would

be certainly rather taken for strange blocks and pillars of stone than for

the trunks of trees. In the camp we found a company of the 33d and the

head-quarters of that regiment, who are upon their way to join the wing at

Attegrat, and who had just come in, as had the mountain battery of steel

guns under Colonel Milward, both having left Senafe two or three hours

before ourselves. There was also a convoy of the Transport Train on their

way to the front, and also a troop of the Scinde Horse. This station must

be fifteen hundred feet below Senafe, and the difference of temperature is

surprising. Last night I did not at all feel cold, whereas at Senafe it

was next to impossible to keep warm, however numerous the wrappings in

which one enveloped oneself. This morning I have been up a very pretty

little broad valley, about a quarter of a mile in length. This branches

off from the larger valley exactly opposite the camp, and it is down this

that the little stream of water comes. The valley is clothed in shrubs and

small trees, and the water falls into it over a perpendicular rock fifty

feet high at its upper extremity. It put me very much in mind of a

Westmoreland glen, with a little “force” at the extremity. Here, too, to

increase the resemblance, I found some old friends whom I have not seen

since I left England, namely dog-roses, common brambles, and honeysuckle.

Down by the water’s edge, upon the rocks, kept moist by the water-spray,

grew maiden-hair and other ferns. The air was sweet with arbutus-flowers,

and the plash of the water was most grateful to the ear after the dry

plains of Zulla and Senafe. Here, too, we had the aloe in flower, with its

long heads of reddish-orange blossom. Here we had a sort of scabius ten

feet high, and a rush or water-grass twenty feet in height, with its plumy

reed. Here over the shrubs crept the familiar clematis, with its great

clusters of white downy reed. Here was a sort of tares, with their pink

blossom, and growing straight and strong to a height of four or five feet.

Upon the trees were perched wood-pigeons and doves, which called to one

another with their soft coo. Altogether it was a lovely little spot, and

it was with the greatest reluctance that I left it to come back to camp to

write this letter previous to starting for Fokado, the next station.

You will see that, although the mail only goes once a week, I am, as long

as I am moving forwards, obliged to write every three days, as for every

day I move further the mail takes another day to come down. It is, in

addition, no easy matter to find time to write when upon the march. One

rises at daybreak, which is little before seven, and, using the very

greatest diligence, it is nearly two hours before the tent can be struck,

and the mules loaded and upon their way. I generally give them a start of

an hour, and then ride on, overtake them, and see that all is going on

well. If so, I ride forward, and use some friend’s tent until my own

arrives, which, if the distance is fourteen miles, will not be until

nearly four in the afternoon; for my mules, with stoppages to readjust

baggage, &c., do not make above two miles an hour. Then there is pitching

the tent, drawing rations, and seeing the horses watered and fed; and by

the time dinner is ready and our work done, it is past six o’clock. One

generally puts one’s rations with those of friends; and by the time the

meal is over, and the succeeding pipe and glass of arrack-and-water

discussed, one is far more fit for bed than for sitting down to chronicle

the events of the day. My next letter will be from Attegrat, where I

expect to stay for a few days.

‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐

Attegrat, February 7th.

I have been so long looking forward to arriving at Attegrat, that, being

here, I feel that I have made a long stage into the interior of Abyssinia.

I confess, however, that I am disappointed in Attegrat. It is foolish, I

own. I ought by this time to have learnt the utter hollowness and

emptiness of all statements connected with the country; and everything we

have been told, everything we have been led to expect, has alike turned

out utterly incorrect. Sometimes we have been told pleasant things,

sometimes we have been threatened with dire calamities; but in both cases

the vaticinations have turned out equally incorrect. Guinea-worms and

tape-worms, fever and cholera, small-pox and dysentery, tetse-fly and

sunstroke—all these have been distinguished by their absence: but as a

counterbalance, so have Colonel Phayre’s green fields and gushing springs

at Zulla, his perennial water between Sooro and Rayray Guddy, and his

emporium of commerce at Senafe, which turned out a village of six

mud-huts. Still, in spite of previous disappointments, I confess I clung

to the idea that I should find a town of considerable size at Attegrat.

The place was marked in Roman capitals upon the maps. It had been spoken

of as a town flowing with milk and honey; it was to be one of our main

halting-places; and altogether one certainly did expect to find rather

more than twenty hovels, a barn called a church, and another ruinous barn

which was once a palace. But before I describe Attegrat, let me detail my

journey here from Goun-Gonna. I sent my baggage off at seven o’clock in

the morning, at the same time that the baggage of the head-quarters of the

33d and Colonel Penn’s battery of mountain guns started. I then explored

the pretty valley I described in my last, and afterwards went into a

friend’s tent and finished my letter to you. At twelve o’clock I started

for what I was told was an eleven miles’ ride; but it turned out the

longest sixteen I have ever ridden. Every officer and man to whom I have

spoken—and among others I may quote Colonel Milward and Colonel Penn of

the Artillery, and Major Cooper, and all the officers of the 33d—agreed

with me that it was over sixteen miles. Colonel Phayre’s and the

quartermaster’s departments’ gross miscalculation of distances is becoming

a very serious nuisance. It is absolutely cruel upon the men. If soldiers

are told that they have a sixteen miles’ march across a rough country, and

beneath a hot sun, they will do the distance. It may be hard work; but

they know when they start what is before them, and they make up their

minds to it. But when they are told it is eleven miles, at the end of that

distance they begin to look out anxiously for their camping-place. They

become cross and impatient, and are infinitely more fatigued than they

would have been had they been told the real distance that was before them.

I now resume my account of my day’s march. For the first two miles the

road mounted very steeply, until we were at least a thousand feet above

Goun-Gonna, and had gained the great plateau out of which the valley is

cut. It must have been a very difficult ascent before the road was made by

the Sappers and Miners and Punjaub Pioneers. I do not know which parts of

the road between Senafe and Attegrat are to be assigned to each regiment;

but I believe that the road between Senafe and Goun-Gonna was executed

principally by the 33d, assisted by the 10th Native Infantry, and that

beyond this point it has been entirely the work of the Sappers and Miners

and the Pioneers. The road from Goun-Gonna to Attegrat has not been

continuously formed, as it is from Zulla to Goun-Gonna. It is only made in

very difficult places, where it would have been next to impossible for a

mule to have passed without its burden getting over its ears or tail. In

other places we have the mere track worn by the people of the country; but

where we ascend or descend gulleys or ravines, or where the road winds

along on the face of a hill, when a false step would have involved a roll

of a thousand feet down, there a fair road has been cut, which, although

frequently steep, is always safe and passable. The road, take it as a

whole, from Goun-Gonna to this place, is about as good as a bridle-road

among the Welsh or Scotch hills. There are some extremely-steep places,

where one mule falling down would stop a whole force, and where the loads

shift terribly; but there are no places which cannot with care be

surmounted, even by a baggage-train of mules. But this has been the easy

portion of the journey. From this place to Antalo the difficulties will be

vastly greater; beyond Antalo still greater again. It is for this reason

that I look forward to a time when my knapsack will contain my whole

luggage, and when sleeping in the open air will be the rule for everyone.

Upon getting fairly up to the top of the hill-side from Goun-Gonna, a flat

of apparently almost illimitable extent stretched away before us. Two or

three of the curious conical hills which abound in this country rose at a

considerable distance, and in the horizon were the peaks of the most

fantastically-jagged range of mountains I ever saw. Nothing in the Alps

will give any idea of the varied outline of this range of peaks. They are

serrated and jagged in every conceivable form. Single peaks and double

peaks, peaks like a cavalry saddle, and great square-topped blocks with

perpendicular sides. The plain itself was dotted with low bushes, and

covered everywhere with a luxuriant growth of grass, or rather hay, which

reached up to the horses’ girths. The ground was strewn with loose stones,

which, with the numerous small holes, made any progress beyond a

walking-pace difficult and even dangerous. The stones, and indeed the

whole formation of this upper plateau, are composed of a very white

sandstone. In the pass up to Senafe the formation was entirely schist,

broken and cracked-up in a wonderful manner, with numerous veins of

quartz, and occasional walls of very hard volcanic stone traversing it. On

the plain of Senafe, and throughout the whole country this side of it, we

have a superincumbent bed of sandstone, which has evidently been exposed

for a very long time to the action of water. The great rocks of Senafe are

everywhere water-worn, and were islets, which rose above the level of a

great sea, and resisted the action of the water, which has cleared away

the sandstone around them to the general regular level of the plateau.

Traversing the plain, we found that the seemingly almost boundless level

was apparent rather than real, for the road constantly wound to avoid

great valleys, which everywhere penetrated far into it. The sensation of

coming suddenly upon a valley of 1000 or 1500 feet deep when apparently

travelling upon a level plain was very singular. It quite upset all our

preconceived notions of scenery. One found that the mountains to our left,

which had appeared to rise a thousand feet or so above the plain, were

really double that height from the bottom of the before-invisible valley

which intervened between ourselves and them, and that the plain we were

traversing was not a plain at all, but a succession of flat mountain-tops.

Sometimes these valleys ran so far into the plateau that the road would

have to diverge too much from the straight line to pass round their heads,

and in these cases we descended some hundred feet and mounted up the other

side. The view down some of these valleys was extremely fine, the

mountains beyond frequently rising for miles in an unbroken perpendicular

wall of two or three thousand feet. The finest view, however, was about

two miles from our halting-place; and this, although I have seen much

splendid scenery in my varied wanderings, was certainly the finest and

most striking scene I ever beheld. Our path was winding along the face of

a high mountain, along which our pioneers had cut a path some ten or

twelve feet wide. We were perhaps a hundred feet above the general level

of the plateau, but were passing round the head of a valley which lay some

fifteen hundred feet below us. This valley was only a short branch of a

broader valley which ran at right-angles to it, and beyond and in the

middle of which a number of isolated hills rose up like islands; these

were all flat-topped, and rose to the exact level of the general plateau.

Some had sloping sides, others were perfectly perpendicular; and it

required no stretch of the imagination to picture the time when a mighty

river was sweeping down this great valley, and when these island-mountains

breasted and divided its waters. To our right this valley was ten or

twelve miles wide, and the numerous islands presented an extraordinary

vista of precipice and slope. On the opposite side of the valley the

plateau extended for a mile or two, and then rose into lofty rounded

mountains; more to the left it stretched away for many miles, and the view

was bounded by the extraordinary fantastic range of peaks of which I have

already spoken. It was a most glorious view, and, broken by the lights and

shadows thrown by a sinking sun, will always remain in my recollection as

the most extraordinary and magnificent landscape I ever saw.

We arrived at Fokado at half-past four, getting in half an hour before our

baggage, which had been eight hours and a half upon the road, and quite

determined that in future, whatever labour it involved, we would not again

let it out of our sight. The break-down of a baggage-animal, if one is at

hand oneself to see that one’s servants instantly and properly reload it,

is an affair of ten minutes at most; but if the servants are left to their

own devices, it will occupy over half-an-hour. First of all there are ten

minutes wasted in deploring the calamity, another ten in undoing the

cords, and at least twenty more in repacking and getting under way.

Fokado, like all our camping-stations, lies in a slight basin; this basin

is, like the rest of the plateau-land, covered with long grass. A dozen

men with scythes could cut enough in a day to supply a cavalry regiment;

but they would have to be very careful to choose such portions of the

plain as are not covered with stones. As it is, the grass-cutters are

supplied with very small sickles, which do very well to hack off a bunch

of grass, but which are of little use towards getting in any large

quantity. Fortunately the natives cut and bring it in in considerable

amount, and I am able to purchase an abundance from them; for no forage is

issued by the commissariat for our baggage-animals, and it would be out of

the question to expect our syces to go out and cut grass after a long and

fatiguing day’s march. There is a well at Fokado from which plenty of cool

and moderately-pure water is obtained. After having seen my tent erected

and my rations drawn and on the fire, I walked on with two or three

officers of the 33d to see the church. It stood, as most of the churches

here do, upon slightly-rising ground, and was surrounded by a high wall,

with the gateway entering beneath a sort of tower. Having paid my

dollar—the modest tariff here demanded for admission—I entered the

enclosure. It was in a state of the utmost disorder; loose boulders and

stones were strewn everywhere, and I saw no signs whatever of graves. This

was the case in the other three churches I have since visited, and is the

more singular as the graveyards I saw and described coming up the pass,

and which were those of the Mahometan tribes who inhabit that part of the

country, were so carefully constructed and so religiously preserved. I

have not seen a single grave since I entered the Christian part of

Abyssinia. Near the church-door was a framework of three cross-poles, and

from this were suspended, by straw ropes, two large stones of sonorous

qualities. These were the church-bells. The church itself was a low

edifice, built of rough stones, with large blocks forming the door-frame.

Entering, I found myself in a low chamber, the roof being supported by

four rough stone columns. The floor was littered down with rushes, and had

exactly the appearance of a stable. On the wall was a rude half-length

fresco of the Virgin, squinting terribly; and on the door leading to the

next chamber was a skin or parchment with a somewhat similar painting.

Having bowed deeply before each of these portraits at the request of the

officiating priest, I was admitted into the next chamber, which was

precisely similar to the first, but, having no windows, it only received

such light as came in through the crevices of the doors. There was some

demur as to my entering the next chamber, which indeed had been refused to

all the officers who had been previously there; but I pointed to my white

solar hat; and this and the fact of my not being in uniform convinced

them, I believe, that I was a priest; for I should mention that the

Abyssinian priests are distinguished by wearing white turbans, all the

rest of the population going bare-headed. I was therefore admitted into

the holy of holies. This was a more lofty chamber than the others, and was

lighted by a window high up on the side wall. Across the room, at a

distance of about a yard from the door, hung a screen about six feet high;

this screen was made of roughly-embroidered canvas, and was apparently

intended to prevent the eyes of the worshippers in the second chamber

catching a glimpse of the _penetralia_ when the door was opened. Looking

round the end of this curtain, I saw an erection resembling a painter’s

easel. A parchment or skin was stretched across the upper portion, and on

this probably was a painting of some sort; but as it was wrapped up in a

cloth, I was unable to examine it, as I was not allowed to go beyond the

line of the screen. Returning, I noticed in one corner of the first

chamber some long sticks, with a double bend at the top; that is,

resembling in form a cross, with the top piece broken off. These are used

in the service. Near them, in a niche in the wall, were some pieces of

iron fastened together so as to make a jingling noise when shaken. These,

no doubt, supply the place of the bell at the raising of the host. I have

omitted to say that in the churchyard were two rough fonts; they were

round blocks of stone, about two feet and a half high and eighteen inches

in diameter; the hollow at the top for water was about eight inches deep.

I have seen no fonts in the other churches I have entered.

The following morning I started for Attegrat, a march of about eleven

miles. For some distance the road kept along the top of the plateau, which

was here undulating, and the road in many places was very rough. At last

we came to the brink of a valley, into the bottom of which we had to

descend. How anything like a laden animal ever got down before the road

was made it is next to impossible to imagine. We came along a beaten track

to the top of the valley, and we could see the path again going straight

along below us from the bottom; but there was no trace of any track or

path down the tremendously-steep descent; and I suppose the little

bullocks, which are as sure-footed as goats, and the donkeys, were allowed

to pick their way down as they liked best. Fortunately, we were not

reduced to this alternative, which would certainly have ended in three out

of our four baggage-animals breaking their necks, even if the fourth—a

sturdy little Massowah mule, with the zebra-marks upon his back and

legs—had managed to get in safety to the bottom. A road has been cut along

the face of the hill by the Sappers and Pioneers; and this road, although

exceedingly steep in some places, is yet perfectly practicable. It is,

however, only six feet wide, and in two or three places even less, and

consequently a train of mules are a long time getting down; for if the

load of one shifts and gets over his ears, all the rest must wait until it

is readjusted-no easy matter upon a steep incline. If one fall from

weakness or disease, there would be no resource but to roll him at once

over the edge of the path into the valley below. Fortunately, none of

these contingencies happened to us. The loads all got on to the animals’

necks, but our men and ourselves were able to keep them balanced there

until we reached the foot of the hill, when all the loads had to be taken

off and entirely repacked. Just at the foot of the incline was a village.

During our journey across the plateau from Goun-Gonna to this point we had

only passed Fokado and one other village. We saw many down in the deep

valleys around whose heads we had skirted, but upon the flat level of the

plateau we did not see a single habitation. There were numerous herds of

cattle, but these probably come up to graze upon the thick grass during

the day, and descend into the valleys for water at night. We also passed

some curious piles of stones upon the plateau-land, which I omitted to

mention in my description of that part of my journey. These piles were

thirty or forty feet in diameter, and five or six feet high; they were of

stones roughly thrown together, and had I met with them in England I

should have supposed that they had been merely cleared off the fields; but

here there were no signs of cultivation, and the stones were too thickly

strewn everywhere to render it probable that any Abyssinian cultivator

would have undertaken the labour of clearing piles of stones of this size

off his land—a work which, without wheeled vehicles, would be very great.

These heaps always occurred near the track, and were generally surrounded

by bushes. I passed at least twenty of them. It is possible that these

cairns may be burying-places; but the deserted position, the fact that

they were far from villages, and the labour which they must have taken to

make, all seem to negative this supposition. Besides which, there was

hardly the regularity about their shape which one meets with in the

burying-cairns of even the most savage nations. I confess that they are to

me a perfect mystery. In the village at the foot of the descent was a

church which was exactly similar to the one at Fokado. It had no fonts

that I could observe, but boasted of a gong in addition to the sonorous

stones for summoning the faithful to prayers. In the enclosure, lying

among the stones, was a large volcanic bomb, the first of the sort I have

seen in the country; it had apparently been brought there as something

strange, and perhaps supernatural, and had therefore been put on holy

ground; for the enclosure within the walls is holy in Abyssinian eyes, and

we are always required to take off our hats on entering the outside gates.

From this village to Attegrat the road keeps in the bottom of a broad

valley, the great part of which is ploughed up and ready for the seed,

which is, I suppose, sown before the June rains. The soil is light and

good, in many places a rich light loam, which would delight an English

gardener’s heart. The ploughs are drawn by oxen, and are exactly similar

to those I have seen in parts of Italy, except that the share of this is

broader and does certainly more work. Indeed, it is by no means badly

adapted for shallow ploughing on a light ground. A ride of about five

miles down the valley brought us to a slight rise in the ground, and on

surmounting this, Attegrat lay before us. My first impression was that of

disappointment, for, with the exception of its containing two or three

larger buildings, it differed in nothing from the other villages we have

seen. The valley, at the point where Attegrat lies, is about two miles

wide, and the twenty or thirty flat-roofed huts, which, with the church

and a ruined palace, constitute the city, stand on rising ground nearly in

its centre. On the left of this valley, near the slope, is the British

camp. Behind it the ground rises gradually, affording camping-ground, if

necessary, for a considerable force. Indeed, with the exception of some

ploughed fields round the town, the whole valley is well suited for a

camp. The force at present here are the five companies of the 33d

regiment, whose camp, with that of Penn’s mountain battery of steel guns

and the Royal Engineers, is the first we arrive at. Next to the 33d lines

are the commissariat stores. A few hundred yards farther down in the

valley is the camp of the six companies of the 10th Native Infantry. Their

tents, like those of the European troops, are upon the slope. Beyond them

this slope becomes much steeper, and accordingly the 3d Native Cavalry are

camped in the bottom. Next to them come the Mule Train. The divisions here

are the Lahore Mule Train and the A Division under Captain Griffiths. It

was this division which first landed, and brought up the pioneer force. It

has been ever since in the front, and is now in admirable condition. The

Egyptian, Arab, Italian, and, in fact, all the drivers, except only the

Hindoostanee drivers, have been during the last few days sent down to the

coast to be returned to their own countries, and their places have been

filled with the Hindoo dhoolie bearers, and others whose services will be

no longer required, now that the regiments have all to march without

followers. It need hardly be said that this will very greatly improve the

efficiency of the division, for the Hindoo, if he has less strength than

the Arab, Egyptian, or Persian, is yet amenable to discipline, and will,

to the best of his power, carry out the orders he receives; whereas the

other men were utterly reckless and disobedient, and could not be trusted

out of reach of the eye of their officers. The camp of the Scinde Horse is

still farther down the valley, beyond the transport lines. Sir Robert

Napier arrived yesterday afternoon. His camp had been pitched for him on

some slightly-rising ground in front of the 33d lines, and distant three

or four hundred yards. To-day, however, the tents are being struck, and

will be pitched in a line with the 33d tents, and forming a connection

between them and the artillery. His tent, therefore, is in the exact

centre of the European line, with the artillery on his right, the 33d on

his left flank.

I now proceed to describe Attegrat. The most conspicuous building, as seen

from our camp, is a detached sort of fortress, which looks like nothing so

much as the castle of Bluebeard in a pantomime. It stands on a rising

knoll, and consists of a square building of two stories high. Upon the

top, and greatly overhanging each side, are four extraordinary-looking

erections, like great dog-kennels or pigeon-cots, but which must be six or

seven feet square. Almost the whole of these constructions project over

the walls. What may be the use of these curious appendages to the tower,

it is impossible to say. Next to this square tower stands a building as

incongruous with it in its construction as it is possible to conceive. It

is round, and has a high thatched roof, like a beehive. In addition to

these main structures are several low sheds. The whole are enclosed in a

high wall with a tower in it, underneath which is the gateway. The

buildings are, no doubt, of stone, but they are all plastered over with

mud, and look as if made of that material. As I have said, it is exactly

one’s idea of Bluebeard’s castle, and one expects to see sister Anne

waving her handkerchief out of one of the pigeon-cots at its summit.

Certainly, if the gate were to open, and a stout figure in an immense

pasteboard head, with a blue beard trailing upon the ground, and

surrounded by a host of retainers also with big heads—which their chief

would, of course, belabour occasionally with his staff—were to issue out,

it would be in such admirable keeping with the place, that one would feel

no astonishment. And yet this fortress has its history, and has stood its

siege. It seems that the king or chief of this part of the country used

seldom to live in his palace in the town itself, and his brother had his

abode there. The brother took too much upon himself, and the jealousy and

ire of the chief were aroused, and he ordered his brother to move out of

the palace. This he did, but constructed at half-a-mile from the town this

formidable castle. A disagreement arose, and the king attacked the castle,

which he took after twenty hours’ siege. The castle is at present

inhabited by the wife of a chief—I cannot say whether it is the same

chief, for dates in Abyssinia are somewhat confused—who is a prisoner of

Gobayze, King of Lasta. She has, I hear, taken a vow never to go out of

doors while her husband is in captivity. Passing Bluebeard’s castle, it is

a good half-mile to the town. At the right-hand on a rising rock is the

church, which at a distance exactly resembles a Swiss châlet. It is, of

course, surrounded by its wall, and within the enclosure grow some of the

gigantic candelabra cactus. The church itself is more lofty than any I

have yet seen. It is square, and is covered with a high thatched roof, the

eaves of which project all round a considerable distance, and are

supported by poles. Upon paying the usual fee, I was admitted in the

enclosure, and saw at once that this church was of far greater pretensions

than any I had yet seen. The entrance was by a doorway of squared beams,

with two arches, each cut out of one piece, and each ornamented with five

rolls of wood underneath. Entering this, we were in a sort of lobby or

hall. The walls of this were covered with frescoes representing the feats

of the founder of the church, who was either the father or grandfather of

the present chief. Here that redoubted warrior is represented spearing an

elephant; again he is kneeling and taking aim at a lion, whose claws are

of truly-formidable dimensions. Here there are two or three battle-scenes,

in which he is defeating his enemies with immense slaughter. To judge by

his portraits, the founder of the church was a fair, round-faced man, with

short hair and a slight moustache. I passed from this vestibule into the

church itself. Its construction differs entirely from the others I have

seen, inasmuch as instead of the sacred chamber being placed beyond two

others, it was in the centre of the building, and was surrounded by a

passage, the walls of which were covered with frescoes representing events

in Old and New Testament writing, and in the lives of the saints. Here we

have St. George nobly spearing the dragon, while the King of Egypt’s

daughter and her maidens stand by with clasped hands and admiring eyes.

Here we have St. Peter suffering martyrdom by being crucified head

downwards; with a vast number of other martyrdoms. The biblical events all

strictly follow the scriptural description; the only remarkable difference

being that at the Last Supper thirteen apostles are represented as being

present. In all these, as in the first frescoes, the faces of the actors

are represented as white; while in the Temptation the tempter has his

traditional sable hue. These frescoes are all in the early Byzantine

style, and were they but really ancient, would be extremely curious and

valuable; but as the church is not, at most, more than sixty or seventy

years old, it is evident that they are the work of some Egyptian or Greek

artist brought down for the purpose. I was not allowed to see what was in

the central chamber. Leaving the church, I crossed the town, sixty or

seventy yards, to where, at its other extremity, stands the ruined palace.

It is surrounded by a wall, which encloses a considerable extent of

ground. The principal portion of the palace far more resembles a church

than do any of the actual churches of the country. It consists of a hall

fifty feet long by twenty-five feet wide, with a small round room at the

end opposite to the door. The entrance is underneath a porch; and along

this, at about eight feet from the ground, there are built into it a line

of bullocks’ horns, with their points projecting outwards. The hall was

thirty feet high to the springing of the roof, and must have been really a

fine hall, country and place being taken into consideration. The greater

part of one side-wall has, however, fallen; and the roof is entirely gone.

Some of the great beams which crossed it lie on the ground, and it would

be a matter of considerable interest to inquire whence, in a treeless

country like this, these massive beams were obtained. The most interesting

portion of the ruin is the room beyond the great hall, and which was

probably the king’s own room. It is entered by a double-arched door, of

workmanship and design similar to that I have described at the church; the

two buildings being coeval, and the woodwork unquestionably worked by some

foreign artificer brought here for the purpose. The chamber itself is

about fifteen feet across, with three deep recesses, each lighted by a

small double-arched window of the same pattern as the door. The room was

about twelve feet high, and was ceiled by a circular arched roof, which

still remains. It is made of reeds or rushes sewn side by side, like the

basketwork of the country, and dyed with a pattern in reel and blue. This

was all worth describing in the palace; there were several other buildings

attached to it, but none worthy of any special notice.

About a mile beyond Attegrat, upon the other side of the valley, there is

another church, whose site might well have been selected by the monks of

old for a monastery, so charming is the grove in which it is situated.

This grove is of considerable extent, and consists of several sorts of

really lofty trees: there is a thick undergrowth—with plenty of paths for

walking, however—of all sorts of plants. There are some tall bananas with

their broad, graceful leaves, the first I have seen since I left Bombay.

There are roses and honeysuckles, wild figs and acacias; over all of which

a thick cordage of various creepers twines in clusters. To add to the

enjoyment, the whole air is heavy with the fragrance of the wild jasmine,

which grows in great bushes, covered with clusters of its white star-like

flowers. While sitting down with a party of three or four officers of the

33d enjoying the delightful shade and the charming fragrance, the priest

with several natives came up to us, and taking seats, or rather

squatting—I do not think an Abyssinian knows how to sit down—beside us,

they entered into a species of conversation with us, inquiring

particularly, as do all the natives, if we were Christians. Presently they

made signs they would like to see some sketches I had been taking; but

when they took them in their hands they were completely puzzled, turned

them upside down and sideways, and even looked behind at the back of the

paper: they could evidently make nothing of them. Presently the priest,

with an air of great self-satisfaction, made signs that he could write,

and demanded if I could do so. I had no writing at hand, but in my

sketch-book I had a column of your paper which I had cut out for purposes

of reference; this I gravely handed over, and it was received with a

perfect shout, first of astonishment, then of delight. They had never seen

such even and perfect manuscript in their lives. The priest evidently

thought I must be a priest of high grade, and he at once offered to show

us the church, which he did without demanding the usual dollar from any

one of the party. It was so similar to those I have previously described

that I need not say anything about it, except that in the holy of holies,

in place of a frame like a painter’s easel, the shrine was composed of

three poles, seven or eight feet long, inclining towards each other, and

meeting at the top like a tripod: a piece of cloth was wrapped round the

upper part of this frame. I cannot say whether it concealed anything, but

it did not appear to me to do so. Below this a skin was stretched between

the three legs, so as to make a sort of shelf, and upon this were placed a

number of withered flowers. I should mention that, in the inner chamber of

most of these churches, those who have entered with me have agreed that

there was a faint but distinct odour of incense. It may be, however, that

in all of them might have been some flowers, such as jasmine, the perfumes

of which may have deceived us. It is rather singular that the grape has

not been introduced into a country which would seem by its climate to be

well suited for it. There is no wine to be obtained here; and the

sacrament is administered by squeezing a raisin into a chalice of water.

Raisins are, however, very scarce; and in some churches years have elapsed

without the administration of the sacrament, owing entirely to the absence

of even a single raisin.

In my description of Attegrat I have omitted to say, that although the

town itself does not contain more than twenty or thirty houses, yet the

population within a short distance is very large; for on the hill-side,

behind the church I have just been describing, there are numerous

villages, which are probably known in the local tongue as lower and upper

Attegrat, new and old, eastern and western Attegrat. Attegrat, at any

rate, is their centre; and judging by the number of natives one sees in

and about the camp, and the number of houses in the various villages,

there must be a population of six or eight thousand clustered in a circle

of three or four miles from the town.

I have now described the general features of the place, and shall close

and send off this letter, although it is only four days since I posted my

last, and the next mail is not advertised to start for another eight days.

I shall write again for that post; but my experience has taught me that

the mail here is one of those charming uncertainties upon which it is

impossible to calculate. Besides this, I may at any moment find myself

compelled to push on; and, in that case, there would be no saying when my

next letter would reach you. I hope, however, to be enabled to give you a

full description of the visit of the King of Tigre, who is expected

to-morrow or next day.

‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐

Attegrat, February 13th.

Our grand Christmas farcio-pantomime, entitled “Harlequin and the Magic

Durbar; or the Ambassador, the Archbishop, and the Barbarian Cortege,” has

been played to an immensely amused and numerous audience. The title had

been advertised as “The King, the Archbishop, &c.;” but, owing to the

unavoidable absence of the principal actor, the Ambassador was at the last

moment substituted for the King. The opening scene may be described as

“The camp of the Knight Errant, Sir Robert Napier, with Bluebeard’s Castle

in the middle distance, and the town of Attegrat and the mountains in the

background.” Flourish of trumpets! A herald arrives, the part being

enacted by Major Grant, who states that the King is unable to come in

person to wait upon the valiant Knight, but that he had sent his dear

brother, the Grand Vizier, together with his Archbishop, to assure the

Knight of his friendship. Bustle and excitement in the camp. A pause.

Sound of strange and barbaric music in the distance. This gradually

approaches, and then, from the rear of Bluebeard’s Castle—of which a full

description was given in my last—enter the head of procession, consisting

of—three men blowing upon cow-horns. These were inserted into the ends of

long sticks, and in appearance were very like the long horns used by

heralds of old. Their sound is lugubrious in the extreme. Next follows a

man of tall stature, beating violently upon a tom-tom. Next follow the

musqueteers of the body-guard; dress—dirty clothes miscellaneously draped;

bare heads frizzled and oiled; arms—any stage-properties which might come

conveniently to hand; old Portuguese match-locks, and new fowling-pieces

from Liège; double-barrelled guns, and guns with one long and frequently

crooked barrel, the large proportion quite incapable of being fired. Next

follows the Ambassador of the King on a mule, with gorgeous caparisons of

stamped green and red leather, bearing the tiger rampant, the arms of the

great potentate his master. The Ambassador is clothed like his body-guard,

in whity-brown cloth of coarse cotton, with red ends. With this, as a sign

of his dignity, he envelopes not only his body, but his mouth and chin, as

do the chiefs behind him. He wears round his neck a fur collar with long

tails. The Ambassador of the great King is bareheaded. His hair is

arranged, as is the manner of the chiefs of his people, in a series of

little plaits, which run in parallel lines from his forehead over the head

to the nape of the neck. This style appears to be copied from the Assyrian

bas-relievos in the British Museum. Next to the Ambassador of the great

King rides the Archbishop, upon a mule similarly caparisoned. The

Archbishop is clothed in absolutely white robes, with turban to match.

These dignitaries have both stirrups to their saddles, in which the

great-toes only are placed, to, I should say, the imminent danger of those

members if the mule should stumble. Behind these great personages ride the

inferior chiefs. These, either from a feeling of modesty, or from a lack

of animals, ride two upon each mule. Behind follow the spearmen of the

guard on foot. These are about thirty in number, and are armed with lance,

sickle, and shield. When this procession has fairly wound round the corner

of Bluebeard’s Castle, it halts to await the arrival of a herald from the

good Knight. All this time the barbaric music continues to sound, and is

answered by sister Anne and Fatimah in the castle, and by the women all

over the country, by a prolonged cry on a single note, kept up with a

quavering modulation for a considerable time. This is a welcome on the

part of the people of the country to the ambassador of the great King.

While the procession halts, the soldiers of the Knight Errant flock out to

inspect them. Irregular chorus of soldiers: “My eye, Bill, if these are

the sort of chaps we’ve come to fight, we sha’n’t have much trouble with

them.” The remainder of the pantomime I will, for brevity’s sake, describe

as if it had been a real event in the expedition; but the reader must bear

in mind that the whole piece, its accessories and appointments, were

infinitely funny and amusing. After conferring with the

Commander-in-chief, Major Grant and Mr. Speedy went out to meet the

procession, and conducted them through the camp to the tent of General

Merewether. During their progress the wild music continued to sound, and

nearly effected a stampede of the whole of the animals in camp. In the

mean time three companies of the 33d regiment, two of the 10th N.I., with

the bands of both regiments, were drawn up in line in front of and facing

Sir Robert Napier’s tent, an interval of about fifty yards being left. On

the flanks of the line two squadrons of the 3d N. Cavalry and of the

Scinde Horse were drawn up. When all was ready, the cortége advanced,

horns blowing and tom-toms beating. At their head strode Mr. Speedy, who

is nearly six feet six inches tall, and who carried in his hand a sword

nearly as tall as himself. As the procession approached, the military

bands struck up and the troops saluted. The din at this moment was

astounding. The bands played different tunes, and the cow-horns and

tom-toms played no tune at all. Mr. Speedy with some trouble marshalled

his ragged irregulars in line, and, this accomplished, led the two

ambassadors to the chief’s tent. The tent was one of the long narrow tents

called native routies, and, being lined with scarlet, made a very good

tent for the reception. Sir Robert Napier was seated with his helmet on at

one end. The ambassadors were introduced by Mr. Speedy, who acted as

interpreter, and after bowing very deeply, they shook hands with the

chief. They then took seats upon the ground beside him; as many officers

as could find room without crowding ranged themselves along the sides of

the tent, and also took their places behind Sir Robert Napier, the back of

the tent being open as well as the front. The conversation commenced by

one of the ambassadors stating “that the King of Tigre, his brother, had

sent him to assure the British Commander-in-chief of his friendship. The

King would have come in person to welcome Sir Robert, but he had been just

solemnly proclaimed king, and it was strict etiquette that he should not

leave his capital for thirty days afterwards.”

Sir Robert Napier replied that he was very glad to receive the assurance

of the King’s friendship; that we ourselves had come with the most

friendly intentions to all in Abyssinia, with the exception only of those

who held our countrymen captives; that in our progress we should violently

interfere with no one; and that, our enterprise over, we should return at

once to our own country. The Ambassador said “that the King and everyone

in the country wished well to our cause; for that Theodore was a tyrant

who had ravaged the whole country, and had murdered thousands of people,

including his own near relations. Therefore, he hoped, that we should

punish him for his wickedness.” He then said “that the King was very

anxious to see Sir Robert, and would be very glad if he would let him know

how long he was likely to remain at Attegrat.” The General answered “that

he could not say when he should leave; that his preparations were not yet

completed; but that when he was able to fix a day for his departure he

would, if the King wished, send a message to let the King know; but that

he feared he could not give sufficient notice for the King to arrive in

time.” The Ambassador then made a statement which showed that his last

question was not _bonâ fide_, and that the King had really no intention of

coming at all. He said “that the King had a large army—that as long as he

was with them they behaved well, but that he could not leave them, for if

he did so they would spread over the country and oppress the peasantry.”

The Chief replied that, “under these circumstances he could quite

understand the King’s reluctance to leave his army, but that he hoped on

his return from Magdala he should have the pleasure of meeting his

Majesty.” There was then a pause in the conversation, and the Ambassador

begged to know when he might be allowed to leave. Sir Robert answered that

early in the morning he would show him our soldiers, and after that he

could leave whenever he chose. A few trifling articles were then presented

to the Ambassador and Archbishop as tokens of friendship, and after again

bowing and shaking hands with Sir Robert Napier, they took their leave,

and, surrounded by their guards, moved off amid the din of music which had

greeted their arrival. The next morning at seven o’clock the whole of the

troops turned out to a general parade. The Ambassadors were present. After

riding along the whole line, the General and staff took up their position

in front, and the 33d regiment were put through the bayonet exercise,

which they performed exceedingly well, especially when it is considered

that it is nearly four months since they last did it. They then went

through the platoon drill; but the natives did not at all comprehend this.

They heard the snapping of the locks as the Sniders were supposed to be

fired in rapid volleys. When informed what was being done, they entirely

disbelieved it, and plainly said so, stating that no guns could be fired

so quickly as that. It is a very great pity that a small number of

cartridges were not broken up and served out as blank cartridges; or

better still, had a hundred ball cartridges been served out to ten men, to

have been discharged as rapidly as possible against a rock on the

hill-side. Weight is of course precious, but the lesson those hundred

cartridges would have taught would have been cheaply purchased at any

cost. It was emphatically a penny-wise-and-pound-foolish economy. Colonel

Penn’s batteries of steel guns were then examined, and these fired a few

rounds with blank cartridges.

Our savage visitors, however, were more impressed with the artillery than

they had been with the infantry. The guns, they said, were small, and did

not make much noise; the infantry were pretty to look at, but of no use in

a hilly country, and their long lines would be very easy to shoot at.

These criticisms are very amusing on the part of the ragged savages, of

whom I heard an Irish soldier of the 33d say, “And bedad it’s ashamed I’d

be to have to fire me rifle at such a miserable set of divils intirely. It

’ud be like killing a definceless brute baste.” The general feeling in the

camp, indeed, upon the subject was that of disappointment. It was exactly

the reverse of “the stern joy that warriors feel in foe-men worthy of

their steel.” We did hope that if we were to fight it would be against

something in some way or another formidable. We had heard a good deal

about Theodore’s army, who were said to be armed with guns and were

drilled, and we did have a faint hope that our foe would not be utterly

contemptible. But the first appearance of Abyssinian soldiery has quite

dispelled any such idea. Mr. Speedy and our interpreters assure us that

they are a fair sample of Abyssinian troops. Why, Falstaff’s ragged

regiment was a disciplined and regular body to this band of savages. As

for their guns, I should say by their appearance that at least two-thirds

would burst at the very first volley fired, and would be infinitely more

dangerous to themselves than to anyone else.

If, however, our visitors thought very little of the infantry and

artillery, they were greatly impressed by the cavalry. The Scinde Horse

and 3d Native Cavalry made several charges, and these, they acknowledged,

would upon level ground be irresistible. The horses themselves also struck

them particularly. In Abyssinia there is nothing which could by the utmost

stretch of courtesy be called a horse. They have nothing but little

rawboned ponies, together with mules and donkeys. The cavalry animals, and

those of the staff, therefore, strike them as being prodigies of strength

and beauty. It is satisfactory to know that one arm of the service at

least found favour in the sight of our military critics, who, however,

qualified even that meed of approbation by adding that it was not likely

that Theodore would fight us upon ground where the cavalry could charge at

all. Our show, therefore, as a show, was completely thrown away, and they

saw nothing of the one thing which would have impressed them—namely, an

exhibition of the powers of the Snider rifle.

The next day the embassy took its departure with its barbaric music

playing, and the strange quavering cries of the women answering it over

the country. There is still a possibility that the King of Tigre may

himself come to meet the Commander-in-chief either at Antalo or at some

place on our march thither. I hardly think, however, that he will do so.

These native kings are generally so faithless and treacherous among

themselves that they do not like to trust their persons into anyone else’s

hands. Still, as the Ambassador was allowed to take his departure

unharmed, it is quite upon the cards that the King will muster up courage

and come in.

The following is a summary of the news from the front, as communicated to

us by General Napier’s orders:

“Letters were received on the 9th instant by General Merewether from Mr.

Rassam and Dr. Blanc, dated Magdala, Jan. 17th, with enclosures from Mr.

and Mrs. Flad, dated King’s Camp, Jan 9th. All the prisoners are reported

well up to date. A detachment of troops, which had left Magdala on Jan.

8th, had joined the King in his camp, and had received charge of a party

of about 400 prisoners to escort from the camp to Magdala. The imprisoned

Europeans were among the number. Their leg-fetters had been removed and

handcuffs substituted, so that they might march. It is said Mr. Rosenthal

would accompany them. The King was using every endeavour to get the road

made, working with his own hands, and making the free Europeans help. He

had made some slight progress, and had arrived at the bottom of the valley

of the Djedda River. Mr. Rassam calculates he would reach Magdala about

the end of February with his camp, though by abandoning the latter he

could any day arrive there. The people of Dalanta continue submissive; but

those of Davout had rebelled again. His soldiers had suffered from the

scarcity of provisions and transport. It was reported at Magdala that

Menilek, the King of Shoa, had again set out for Magdala, better prepared

to act against Theodorus than on his former visit. A detailed

communication from one of the captives, sent to his friends in England,

and there published, has by some means reached the King’s camp, and is in

the hands of M. Bardel. Apprehensions are entertained that it may do

injury there.”

These letters add but little to what we knew before. Our last advice told

us that Theodore was only distant a single day’s march from

Magdala,—which, by the way, is spelt Magdalla throughout the summary, but

which is pronounced Māgdālā, the _a_ being always long in Amharic,—and

that he could at any moment ride in and fetch the captives confined in

that fortress, or could send those with him to Magdala under a guard. He

has chosen, it appears, the latter alternative. The captives have at least

the melancholy satisfaction of being together. That the news of our coming

has in no way influenced the tyrant’s treatment of them is shown by the

fact, that although their leg-chains have been removed to enable them to

march, yet handcuffs have been substituted in their stead.

From rumours among the natives, we hear that his cruelties are more

atrocious than ever. Women are being put to death by being thrown down

wells, at the bottom of which spears are fixed point upwards. Men are

executed by having their feet first chopped off, then their hands, then

their legs at the knees, and then being left as food for wild-beasts. I do

not vouch for the truth of these stories; but they have been brought by

deserters from Theodore’s camp, and are generally believed. I do sincerely

trust that in no case shall we make a treaty with this demon which may

save him from the punishment due to him.

The great question here is, first, whether Theodore will fight; and

secondly, what we shall do if, when we arrive, he offers to deliver the

prisoners to us as the price of our instant departure. As to the first

point I can only repeat what I have before said, namely, that I am of

opinion that he will fight, and I think fight at Magdala. The enormous

trouble he is taking in conveying cannon with him to Magdala points

conclusively to that result. If he only wished to carry his baggage and

treasure into Magdala he might easily, with the force at his command,

construct a mule-path in a few days at the latest; but he clings to his

guns, and he can only require them so imperiously that he puts up with

months of hardship for their sake that he may defend Magdala against us.

These savages measure the offensive powers of a gun entirely by its size,

and by the noise it makes. Thus Tigre’s ambassador regarded our mountain

train as mere pop-guns; and no doubt Theodore believes that with the great

guns his European workmen have cast, and with the natural strength of the

fortress, he can easily resist the attacks of the English. I believe that

we shall find the King at Magdala, get there when we will; and that as he

will offer no terms that we can accept, and as he will not assent to the

demand for unconditional surrender which we are certain to make, we shall

finally have to take the place by storm. The next question, as to what our

course will be if he offers to deliver up the captives upon the condition

of our instant retreat, is one which it is very difficult to predicate

upon. No doubt Sir Robert Napier has instructions from home for his

guidance under such a contingency; but I cannot bring myself to believe

that these terms would be acceded to.