Death of Abouna Salama--Sketch of his Life and Career--Grievances
of Theodore against him--His Imprisonment at Magdala--The Wallo
Gallas--Their Habits and Customs--Menilek appears with an Army in
the Galla Country--His Policy--Advice sent to him by Mr. Rassam--He
invests Magdala and fires a _feu-de-joie_--The Queen's Behaviour
--Steps taken by the Chiefs--Our Position not Improved--The Effects
of Smoke on Menilek--Our Disappointment followed by Great Joy--We
receive News of the Landing of British Troops.
On the 25th of October, Abouna Salama (the Bishop of Abyssinia)
died after a long and painful illness.
Abouna Salama was in many respects a remarkable man. Two such
characters as Theodore and himself are seldom met with at the same
time in those distant lands. Both ambitious, both proud, both
passionate, it was inevitable that sooner or later they must come
into collision, and the stronger crush the weaker.
Abyssinia had been for years without a bishop. Priests could no
more be consecrated, nor new churches dedicated to Christian worship,
as the ark could not contain the tabot blessed by the bishop of the
land. Ras Ali, although outwardly a Christian and belonging to a
converted family, had still too many connections amongst the Mussulman
Gallas, his true friends and supporters, to care for more than an
apparent profession of the State religion, and troubled himself
very little about the inconvenience to which the priesthood was
subjected by the long-continued vacancy of the bishopric.
Dejatch Oubié was at that time the semi-independent ruler of
Tigré. From the position of a simple governor he had gradually
risen to power, and now at the head of a large army strove for the
title of Ras. Though still on apparent terms of friendship with
Ras Ali, even to a certain degree acknowledging him as his superior,
he was all the while secretly exerting his influence to overthrow
the Ras's power in order to reign in his stead. For these reasons
he despatched some of his chiefs, with Monsignor de Jacobis, an
Italian nobleman and Roman Catholic bishop at Massowah, to Egypt,
to obtain a bishop for the Abyssinian see; [Footnote: According to
the rules of the Abyssinian Church, the bishop must be a Coptic
priest ordained at Cairo. The expenses required for the consecration
of a bishop amount to about 10,000 dollars] and in order to secure
for himself such a powerful weapon as the support of the priesthood,
he incurred the heavy expense required for the consecration of an
Abouna. De Jacobis made strenuous efforts to have a bishop anointed
who would favour the Roman Catholics; but he failed, as the Patriarch
chose for that dignity a young man who had received part of his
education at an English school at Cairo, and whose views were more
in favour of Protestantism than of the Copt's long-standing adversary,
the Church of Rome.
Andraos, this young priest, was only in his twentieth year. When
informed that he must leave his monastery and the companionship of
the monks his friends to proceed to the distant and semi-civilized
land of Habesch, he firmly declined the honour proposed for him.
He requested his superiors to fix their choice on a worthier man,
declaring himself unfit for the dignity so suddenly thrust upon
him. His objections were not admitted, and as he still persisted
in his refusal, the superior of the convent put him in irons; wherein
he should remain, he was told, until he agreed to obey the head of
the Coptic Church. Andraos gave in; and having been duly anointed
and consecrated Bishop of Abyssinia, under the title of Abouna
Salama, with all the pomps and ceremonies proper to the occasion,
started shortly afterwards in an English man-of-war, reaching
Massowah in the beginning of 1841.
Dejatch Oubié received him with great honours; added numerous
villages and large districts to those the hereditary possession of
the bishops, and made every endeavour to attach him to his cause.
He succeeded even beyond his expectations. Abouna Salama, instead
of needing the persuasions of Oubié to join him in the overthrow
of Ras Ali, proposed the attempt. Through his influence Oubié
concluded an alliance with Goscho Beru, the ruler of Godjam. The
two chiefs agreed to march on Debra Tabor, attack Ras Ali, wrest
from him the power he had usurped, and divide the government of
Abyssinia, confirming the Bishop's alleged rights to a third of the
revenue of the land.
Oubié and Goscho Beru kept to their engagements, offered battle
to Ras Ali near Debra Tabor, and utterly routed his army; Ras Ali
with difficulty escaping from the field with a small body of well-mounted
followers. It so happened, however, that Oubié celebrated his
success in potations too many and deep. Some of the fugitive soldiers
of Ras Ali accidentally entered Oubié's tent, found their master's
conqueror in the condition known as dead drunk, and availed themselves
of his helpless condition to make him their prisoner. This sudden
contretemps changed the aspect of affairs. Certain well-mounted
horsemen galloped after Ras Ali and succeeded in overtaking him
towards evening. He would not at first believe in his good fortune;
but others of his soldiers arriving and confirming the glad tidings,
he returned to Debra Tabor, reunited his scattered followers, and
was able to dictate terms to his captive conqueror. Oubié was
pardoned and allowed to return to Tigré, the Bishop being answerable
for his fidelity. Ras Ali treated the Bishop with all respect, fell
at his feet and implored him not to listen to the calumnies of
his enemies, assuring him that the Church had no more faithful son
than himself, nor any more willing to comply with the holy father's
wishes. The Bishop, now on friendly terms with all parties, and all
but worshipped by them, soon made his authority felt; and had not
Theodore risen from obscurity, Abouna Salama would, no doubt, have
been the Hildebrand of Abyssinia.
During the campaigns of Lij Kassa against the ruler of Godjam, and
during that period of revolution ending in the overthrow of Ras
Ali, Abouna Salama retired to his property in Tigré, residing
there in peace under the protection of his friend Oubié. Ever
since his arrival in Abyssinia Abouna Salama had shown the bitterest
opposition to the Roman Catholics: an enmity not so much engendered
by conviction, perhaps, as inflamed by the fact that some of his
property had been seized at Jiddah at the instigation of some Roman
Catholic priests, who had through his influence been plundered,
ill-treated, and expelled from Abyssinia. When the intelligence
reached the Abouna that Lij Kassa was marching against Tigré,
he publicly excommunicated him, on the ground that Kassa was the
friend of the Roman Catholics, protected their Bishop, De Jacobis,
and wanted to subvert in favour of the creed of Rome the religion
of the land. But Kassa was a match for the Abouna; he denied the
charge, and at the same time stated "that if Abouna Salama could
excommunicate, Abouna de Jacobis could remove it." The Bishop,
alarmed at the influence his enemies might possibly obtain, offered
to recall his anathema, on condition that Kassa would expel De
Jacobis. These terms having been agreed upon, Abouna Salama shortly
afterwards consented to place the crown of Abyssinia on the usurper's
head, and did so in the very church Oubié had erected for his own
coronation, under the name of Theodore II.
Pleased with the Bishop's compliance, Theodore showed him the utmost
respect. He carried his chair, or walked behind him with a lance
and shield as if he was nothing but a follower of his, and on all
fit occasions fell down to the ground in his presence and respectfully
kissed his hand. Abouna Salama for a time believed that his influence
over Theodore was unbounded, as it had been over Ras Ali and Oubié;
mistook Theodore's show of humility for sincere admiration and
devotion; and the more humble Theodore seemed disposed to be, the
more arrogant did the Bishop, publicly show himself. But he had not
quite understood the character of the Emperor he had anointed; and
overrating his own importance, at last he made of Theodore an open
and relentless enemy. The crisis came when Abouna Salama least
expected it. One day Theodore went in state to pay him his respects.
Arrived at the Abouna's tent, he informed him of his visit; the
Bishop sent word that he would receive him when convenient, and
meanwhile bade him wait without. Theodore complied; but as time
passed and the Bishop made no appearance, Theodore walked away, the
enemy of his prelate, and burning for revenge.
For years afterwards they lived in open enmity, or enmity slightly
masked: each worked hard at the destruction of the other. If
Theodore's reign had been a peaceful one, the Abouna would have
gained the day; but the Emperor, surrounded as he was by a large
army of devoted followers, found ready listeners to his descriptions
of the Bishop's character. Abouna Salama was never very popular;
he was, without being a miser, far from liberal. Friendship in
Abyssinia means presents: it is accepted as such by all; and every
chief, every man of note, who courts popularity, lavishes with an
unsparing hand. The Emperor naturally took advantage of this want
of liberality in the Bishop's character, to contrast it with his
own generosity. He insinuated that the Abouna was only a merchant
at heart; that instead of selling the tribute he received in kind
to the people of the country, as was formerly the custom, he sent
it by caravans to Massowah, trafficked with the Turks, and hoarded
all his money in Egypt. Little by little Theodore worked on the
minds of his people, impressing them with the idea that, after all,
the Bishop was only a man like themselves; and, at least in Theodore's
camp, he had already lost much of his prestige when the Emperor
spread the report that his honour had been assailed by the Bishop
whom they all worshipped.
Theodore, when detailing to us his grievances one day on our way
to Agau Medar, introduced the subject of his quarrel with the Abouna.
He then stated as the reason of his enmity against him that, one
day when he was entertaining his officers at a public breakfast,
the Bishop, taking advantage of his absence, and under pretence of
confessing the Queen, went into her tent. When Theodore returned
after the breakfast was over, he presented himself at the door of
his wife's apartment, but on being informed that she was engaged
in her religious duties with the Abouna he walked away. In the
evening he returned again to his wife's tent. When he entered, she
flew to him, and sobbing on his neck told him that she had been
that day unwillingly unfaithful to him, having been unable to resist
the violence of the Bishop. He forgave her, he said, because she
was innocent; and as for the suborner of his honour he could not
punish him: nothing but death could avenge such a crime, and how
could he lay violent hands on a dignitary of the Church?--There is
no doubt that the whole was an abominable invention; but Theodore
had evidently told the same story over and over again until at last
he had come to believe it himself.
Abouna Salama lost reputation, though, perhaps, few people believed
the Emperor's assertion. But on the principle that if you throw mud
some will stick, the Abouna's character was amongst a certain class
fairly gone; and henceforward his friends were only to be found
amongst the King's enemies, while his foes were Theodore's bosom
friends. In public Theodore still always treated him with respect,
though not with such a great show of humility as before; but he
evidently, for the sake of his people, made a distinction between
the official character of the Abouna, respecting it on account of
his Christian faith, and his private one, for which he expressed
the greatest scorn.
For a long while the question of the Church lands was a great deal
discussed between them. Theodore could not tolerate any power in
the State but his own. He had fought hard to be the supreme ruler
of Abyssinia; he had done his utmost to bring the Abouna into
contempt, and when he thought the occasion favourable to do away
entirely with his power and influence, he confiscated all the Church
lands and revenues--some of the Bishop's hereditary property by the
same stroke--and placed himself virtually at the head of the Church.
The Abouna's anger knew no bounds. Naturally of a violent temper,
he grossly abused Theodore on every occasion. Some of their quarrels
were most unbecoming; the intense hatred burning in the prelate's
heart showing itself in expressions that ought never to have fallen
from his lips. The Bishop of Abyssinia was never tolerant. I have
mentioned that towards Roman Catholics he was most intolerant. He
persecuted them at every opportunity, and even when himself a
prisoner at Magdala he never sought to obtain the release of an
unfortunate Abyssinian who had been years before cast into chains
at his instigation, for the sole reason that the man had visited
Rome and become a convert there. Towards Protestants he was better
inclined; still, he would not hear of "conversions." Missionaries
might instruct, but they had to stop there; and when, as it happened,
some Jews were led by the teachings of the missionaries to accept
Christianity, they had to be baptized and received as members of
the Abyssinian Church. He showed himself on all occasions friendly
towards Europeans, not Roman Catholics, and in time of trouble
proved of good service to the European captives; even helping them
with small sums of money at a time of great scarcity and want. But
his friendship was dangerous. Theodore distrusted, nay, disliked
any one who was on friendly terms with his great enemy; the horrid
torture the Europeans suffered at Azzazoo was due entirely to that
cause; and the quarrels or reconciliations between Church and State
always influenced their and our fate. The Abouna left Azzazoo with
the King's camp after the rainy season of 1864.
A serious rebellion had broken out in Shoa, and Theodore, leaving
his prisoners, wives and camp-followers at Magdala, made a quick
march through the Wallo Galla country; but he found the rebels so
strong that he could do nothing against them. He was greatly annoyed
at the Bishop's refusal to accompany him. The Shoa people are of
all Abyssinians the most bigoted, and have the greatest regard for
their Abouna; with him in his camp many of the opposing chiefs would
at once have laid down their arms and returned to their allegiance.
But the Bishop, who had in view his fertile districts in Tigré,
proposed accompanying Theodore first to that province; and after
the rebellion had been put down in that part of the kingdom, to
proceed with him to Shoa. Their interview on that occasion was
very stormy; and Theodore must have had great command over himself
to have refrained from extremities. Abouna Salama remained at
Magdala, according to his desire; but a prisoner. He was never put
in chains; though it is said that Theodore had several times resolve
it should be done, and even had the fetters prepared; but he was
always restrained by dread of the effect that such a measure might
have on his people. The Bishop was allowed to go as far as the
church, should he desire it; but at night a small guards always
watched outside his house; sometimes even a few of the soldiers
passed the night in the Abouna's apartment. Almost all his servants
were spies of the King. He could trust no one, except a few of his
slaves--young Gallas given to him in former days by Theodore--and
a Copt, who, with some priests, had accompanied the Patriarch David
on his visit to Abyssinia: some of them had accepted the King's
service, whilst others, like the Copt servant I have mentioned,
devoted themselves to their compatriot and bishop.
During the former imprisonment of the captives at Magdala, the
intercourse between the Bishop and them had been very limited. They
never saw each other; but occasionally a young slave of the Bishop's
would carry a verbal message, or a short Arabic note containing
some piece of news, generally some exaggerated rumours of the rebels'
doings (always believed by the too credulous Abouna), or simple
inquiries about medicine, &c.
The day of our arrival, and whilst the chiefs were reading Theodore's
instructions concerning us, the young slave above mentioned came
up to Mr. Rosenthal with kind compliments from the Abouna, to inform
us that as far as his master then knew there was nothing bad for
the present, but great fears for the future. The Bishop, we knew,
had frequent communications with the great rebel chiefs (Theodore
was also well aware of the fact, and hated him all the more for
it); he had shown himself at all times well disposed towards us,
and as he was as anxious as ourselves to escape from the power of
Theodore, we deemed it of the highest importance to open communication
with him. But the difficulties in the way were enormous. Nothing
would have injured our prospects more than the betrayal of our
intercourse with the Bishop to the Emperor. Samuel in that respect
could not for a long time be trusted; as a deadly enmity existed
between himself and the Bishop. It required all the persuasive
powers of Mr. Rassam to bring on a good understanding between the
two; he, however, managed the affair so skilfully that he not only
succeeded, but after mutual explanations, they became affectionate
friends. But, until this difficulty had been overcome, great
precautions were necessary.
The small slave was soon suspected by our vigilant guards. It would
have been dangerous to confide to him anything of importance, for
he might at any time be seized and searched. We therefore employed
servant-girls, who were known to the Bishop, as they had resided
on the mountain with the former captives. The Bishop accepted with
eagerness our proposal to escape from the Amba, and, sanguine as
he was hasty, at first gave us great hopes; but when we came to the
details of his plot, as far as we were concerned, we found it was
perfectly ridiculous. He wanted some nitrate of silver in order
to blacken his face, so as to pass unperceived through the gates.
Once free, he was to join either Menilek or the Wakshum, excommunicate
and depose Theodore, and proclaim the rebel emperor in his place.
He had evidently forgotten that the days of Oubié and Ras Ali
were gone long ago, that the man who held Magdala cared but little
for excommunication, and that, deposed or not, Theodore still would
virtually be king. The Bishop might have succeeded, perhaps; but
had he been caught, or had it ever been known that we were parties
to his escape, no power in the world would have saved us from the
rage of the infuriated monarch.
After the Bishop's reconciliation with Samuel our relations with
him were more frequent and intimate. He was at all times willing
to help us to the best of his ability, lent as a few dollars when
we were hard pressed for money, wrote to the rebels to protect our
messengers, invited them to come to our release, promising to the
successful one his support, and, I believe, would even have accepted
a reconciliation with the man from whom he had received so many
injuries, solely for our sake.
Disappointed in his ambition, deprived of his property, insulted,
degraded, without power, without liberty, Abouna Salama succumbed
to the too common temptation of men who suffer much. Almost without
society, leading a dull misanthropic life, he did not remember that
sobriety in all respects was essential to his health and that
over-indulgence at table was not consistent with his forced seclusion.
Constant annoyances, added to intemperate habits, could but bring
on sickness. During our first winter I attended him, through Alaka
Zenab, our friend and his, and under my care he recovered.
Unfortunately, he only listened to my advice and obeyed my injunctions
for a short time; soon missing the stimulants he had for years been
accustomed to, he gradually felt the want of their cheering influence,
and again resorted to them. During the rainy season of 1867 he had
a more serious attack. This time Samuel, being able to visit him
at night, was our medium, and being a very intelligent man could
give us a correct account of his condition. For a while his health
improved; but he was even more unreasonable than formerly: hardly
was he convalescent than several times a day he sent to inquire if
he could drink some arrack, take a little opium, or indulge in some
of his more favourite dishes. It is not astonishing that relapse
quickly followed: though I showed him the danger of the course he
was pursuing, he persisted in it.
In the beginning of October the Bishop's condition became so critical
that he applied to the Ras and chiefs to allow me to visit him.
They met in consultation, and in a body repaired to Mr. Rassam,
when I was called and asked if I would attend him. I replied that
as far as I was concerned I was perfectly willing. The chiefs then
retired to consider the matter; and on one of them insinuating that
Theodore would not be sorry if his enemy the Abouna died, and that
he would be angry if he knew that the Bishop had been brought in
contact with the Europeans, they decided on refusing his request;
though they consented to the attendance of the _cow-doctor_.
With the Abouna we lost a staunch ally, a good friend; nay, the
only one we had in the country. Had a rebel succeeded in making
himself master of the Amba his protection would have been invaluable:
not that I believe his influence would have been sufficient to
ensure our release; but still, with him, we should have met at the
hands of any of the great rebel chiefs nothing but good treatment
and courteous demeanour.
The messenger sent to convey the tidings of the Abouna's death to
the Emperor, was rather puzzled how to express himself, not knowing
in what light his Majesty would receive the news. He adopted a
middle course as the safest, and tried to appear neither sorry nor
rejoiced. Theodore listened to his tale and exclaimed, "Thank God,
my enemy is dead!" Then, addressing the messenger, he added, "You
fool! why did you not on reaching me shout out 'Miserach' (good
tidings)? I would have given you my best mule."
With the death of the Bishop, our hopes, though always of the
faintest kind, when natives were expected to be the deliverers,
seemed for ever crushed. Wakshum Gobazé had, for a time at least,
by his treaty with Mastiate, given up his pretensions to the
possession of Magdala; and Menilek, even if he kept to his word and
attempted the siege of our amba, would, no doubt, fall back on Shoa
as soon as he should be apprised of the death of his friend whom
he was so anxious to release. We had no precise information as to
the steps that were taken at home for our rescue; and, until certain
that troops had landed, we felt very anxious lest some _contretemps_
should, at the last instant, occur, and the expedition be abandoned,
or some more or less chimerical plan adopted in its stead. We had
received a little money of late, but as everything was scarce and
dear, we had to be very careful, and refuse many a "friend's"
request--rather a dangerous proceeding in those days.
We believed--but events proved we were wrong--that if any great
rebel, any rising man of influence, should present himself before
the Amba, the discontented, half-starved wretches would be only too
glad to open the gates and receive him as a saviour. The garrison,
we knew, would not on any account surrender to the Gallas. For years
they had been at enmity, and the marauding expeditions which the
soldiers of the mountain had lately made into their territory, had
increased that bad feeling, and quite destroyed any hope of
reconciliation. This was the more vexatious, as now that Mastiate
had, by her treaty with Gobazé, obtained possession and garrisoned
all the districts around Magdala, it was but natural to expect that
she would make some efforts at least to seize upon a fortress that
lay within her dominions. Not many days after the departure of
Gobazé for Yedjow, she issued orders to the people of the
neighbourhood to cease supplying the Amba, and forbade any of her
subjects from attending the weekly market; she even fixed a day for
the troops she had detached to Dalanta and Dahonte to rendezvous
at a short distance from Magdala, as she intended to destroy the
whole of the country for miles around, and reduce the garrison by
famine.
The Wallo Gallas are a fine race, far superior to the Abyssinian
in elegance, manliness, and courage. Originally from the interior
of Africa, they made their first appearance in Abyssinia towards
the middle of the sixteenth century. These hordes invaded the fairest
provinces in such numbers, they excelled so greatly the Amharas in
horsemanship and in courage, that not only did they overrun the
land, but lived for years on the resources of the country in imprudent
security. After a while they settled down on the beautiful plateau
extending from the river Bechelo to the highlands of Shoa, and from
the Nile to the lowland inhabited by the Adails. Though retaining
most of the characteristics of their race, they adopted many of the
customs of the people they conquered. They lost in great measure
their predatory and pastoral habits, tilled the soil, built permanent
dwellings, and to a certain, extent adopted in their dress, food,
and mode of life the usages of the former inhabitants.
In appearance the Galla is tall, well made, rather
slender, but wiry; the hair of both men and women is long, thick,
waving, rather than curly, and is altogether more like coarse
European hair than the semi-woolly texture that covers Abyssinian
skulls. Their dress is in many respects identical; both wear
trousers, only those of the Gallas are shorter and tighter, somewhat
resembling those worn by the people of Tigré. They both wear
a large cotton cloth, a robe by day and a covering by night; the
only difference being that the Galla seldom weaves in the side the
broad red stripe, the pride of the Amhara. The food of both races
is nearly the same; both enjoy the raw meat of the cow, the shiro
or hot spiced dish of peas, the wât, and the teps (toasted meat);
they only differ in the grain they use for bread, the Amhara
delighting in pancakes made of the small seed of the tef, whilst
the Galla's bread is more loaf-like, and is prepared with the flour
of wheat or barley, the only grain that prospers on their elevated
land. The Galla women are generally fair; and when not exposed to
the sun, their large, black, brilliant, shining eyes, their rosy
lips, their long, black, and neatly-braided hair, their little feet
and hands, their graceful and well-rounded forms, make them comparable
to the fairest daughters of Spain or Italy. The long shirt falling
from the neck to the ankle, and fastened round the waist by the
ample folds of a white cotton belt; the silver anklets, from which
hang tiny bells, the long necklace of beads and silver, the white
and black rings covering the taper fingers, are all very much the
same articles as those that are thought necessary for the toilette
of the Galla amazon and the more sedentary Amhara lady.
The most apparent difference is in their religion. At the time of
their first appearance, the Wallo Gallas, like many of the divisions
of the same family who, having settled further inland and having
less intercourse with foreigners, are still plunged in the grossest
idolatry, worshipped trees and stones; or rather under these natural
objects rendered adoration to a being called the Unknown, who was
to be propitiated by human sacrifices. It is impossible to obtain
any correct information as to the exact date of their conversion
to Islamism; but it has been accepted by the Wallo tribe almost
universally. None at the present day are given to heathen practices,
and only a few families belong to the Christian faith.
If we compare the races still further, and examine the morality and
social habits of the two, at a first glance it would seem that both
are licentious, both dissolute. But, on closer inspection, the
degradation of the one is seen to be so thorough, that the other
may claim, by contrast, something like primitive simplicity. The
Amhara's life is one round of sensual debauchery; his conversation
seldom deviates to pure or innocent subjects: no title is so envied
by the men as that of libertine, and the women, also, are all
ambitious of a like distinction: an "unfortunate" is not regarded
as unfortunate there. The richest, the noblest, the highest in the
land are profligates in love, or mercenary: more frequently both.
Nothing is so disagreeable to an Abyssinian lady's ear as an
insinuation that she is virtuous; for that would be taken to mean
that she is either ill-looking or for some other reason is not
favoured with many lovers.
In some parts of the Galla country the family exists in the old
patriarchal form. The father is in his humble hut as absolute as
the chief is over the tribe. If a man marries and is afterwards
obliged to leave his village on a distant foray, his wife is
immediately taken under the close protection of his brother, who
is her husband until the elder's return. This custom was for many
years very prevalent; now it is more limited: it is most common in
the plateau arising from the Bechelo to Dalanta or Dahonte, where
Galla families, almost isolated from the general tribe, have preserved
many of the institutions of their forefathers. The stranger invited
under the roof of a Galla chief will find in the same large smoky
hut individuals of several generations. The heavy straw roof rests
on some ten or twelve wooden pillars, having in the centre an open
space, where the matrons, sitting near the fire, prepare the evening
meal, while a swarm of children play around them. Opposite the rude
door of small twigs, held together by nothing but a few branches
cut from the nearest tree, stands the simple alga of the "lord of
the manor." Near his bed neighs his favourite horse, the pet of
young and old. In other partitioned places are his stores of barley
or wheat. When the evening meal is over, and the children sleep
where they last fell in their romping games, the chief first sees
that the companion of his forays is well littered; he then conducts
his guest to the spot where some sweet-smelling straw has been
spread under a dried cow-hide. Nor is that the end of his hospitality,
which at this point becomes rather embarrassing to the married
traveller. But the strange way in which the guest is honoured must
not be set down to licentiousness; it really is simplicity.
Every Galla is a horseman, every horseman a soldier; and thus is
formed a perfect militia, an always ready army, where no discipline
is required, no drill but to follow the chief. As soon as the war-cry
is heard, or the signal fire is seen on the summit of the distant
peak, the ever-ready steed is saddled, the young son jumps up behind
his father to hold his second lance, and from every hamlet, from
every apparently peaceful homestead, brave soldiers rush to the
rendezvous. When Theodore himself, at the head of his thousands,
invaded their land, then farewell to their homes. His revengeful
hand burnt forms and villages far and wide wherever he was opposed,
and the defenceless peasants fled in order to save their lives,
knowing well how futile were their hopes of safety, should they
fall into his power.
The Wallos are divided into seven tribes. Presenting no differences
amongst themselves, they were simply separated by civil wars. Could
these brave horsemen only understand the motto "Union is strength,"
they could make as easy a conquest of the whole of Abyssinia as
their fathers did of the plains they now dwell upon. When united,
they have always carried their arms successfully into an enemy's
country. Children of their race, the Gooksas, the Mariés, the
Alis, have held the Emperor in their sway, and governed the land
for years. Unfortunately during the days of our captivity, as had
been but too frequently the case before, petty jealousies, unworthy
rivalries, weakened to such an extent their power that, far from
being able to impose their laws on others, they in turn became but
tools in the hands of the Christian kings and rulers. With Abusheer
died the last vestige of union. If not at actual war, one party was
always working against another; and no distant campaign could be
thought of when their enemies in their own country dwelt.
Abusheer, the last Imam of the Wallo Gallas, left two sons by
different wives, Workite [Footnote: Fine gold.] and Mastiate.
[Footnote: Looking-glass.] The son of the former, as we mentioned
in a previous chapter, was killed by Theodore on the escape of
Menilek to Shoa, and Workite had no option left but to seek the
hospitality of the young king for whom she had sacrificed so much.
Thus for more than two years Mastiate was left in undisturbed
possession of the supremacy vested in her by the unanimous consent
of the chiefs, a regent for her son until he attained his majority.
Menilek, after his escape, had no easy task before him: the chief
who had headed the rebellion in the name of his king, after the
gallant repulse and the check he inflicted upon Theodore, declared
himself independent--became the Cromwell instead of the Monk of
Abyssinia. Menilek was, however, well received by a small party of
faithful adherents; Workite had also been accompanied by a small
force of trusty followers; and on a large number of the chiefs
abandoning the usurper and joining the standard of Menilek, he
marched against the powerful rebel, who still held the capital and
many strong places, utterly defeated his army and made him a prisoner.
This victory was shortly afterwards followed by the complete
submission of Shoa to his rule; chief after chief made their
obedience, and all acknowledged as their king the grandson of Sahela
Selassi. Once his rights admitted by his people, he led his army
against the numerous Galla tribes who inhabit the beautiful country
extending from the south-eastern frontier of Shoa to the picturesque
lake of Guaragu. But, instead of plundering these agricultural
races, as his father had done, he promised them honourable treatment,
a kind of mild vassalage, on the payment of a small annual tribute.
The Gallas, surprised at his unexpected generosity and clemency,
willingly accepted his terms, and, from former foes, enrolled
themselves as his followers, and accompanied him on his expeditions.
Theodore had left a strong garrison on an almost impregnable amba,
situated at the northern frontier of Shoa, commanding the entrance
into the pass leading from the Galla country to the highlands of
Shoa. Menilek, before his campaign in the Galla country, had invested
that last stronghold of Theodore in his own dominions, and, after
a six months' siege, the garrison, who had repeatedly applied to
their master for relief, at last gave in and opened their gates to
the young king. Menilek treated them exceedingly well, many were
honoured with appointments in his household, others received titles
and commands, or were placed in positions of trust and confidence.
Menilek owed much to Workite; without her timely protection he would
have been pursued, and as Shoa had shut its gates upon him, his
position would have become one of great difficulty and danger. He
could not forget, either, that to save his life she had sacrificed
her only son and lost her kingdom: his debt of gratitude towards
her was immense, and nothing he could do could adequately repay her
for her devotion. But if he could not give her back her murdered
son, he would, at all events, march against her rival, and restore
by force of arms the disgraced queen to the throne she had lost on
his account. At the end of October, 1867, Menilek, at the head of
a considerable army, computed at 40,000 to 50,000 men, composed of
30,000 cavalry, some 2,000 or 3,000 musketeers, and the rest spearmen,
entered the Wallo Galla plain: he proclaimed that he came not as
an enemy, but as a friend; not to destroy nor to plunder, but to
re-establish in her rule the deposed and lawful queen Workite. She
was accompanied by a young lad who, she asserted, was her grandson,
the child of the prince who had been killed more than two years
before at Magdala. She stated that he had been born in the Wallo
country, before her departure for Shoa, the result of one of those
frequent casual unions so common in the country, and that she had
taken him away when she sought refuge in the land of the man whom
she had saved. To avoid any attempt being made by her rival to
secure the person of her grandchild, she had until then kept the
matter secret. However, her story was but little credited: I know
on the Amba the soldiers laughed at it; still it offered an excuse
to many of her former adherents for again joining her cause, and
if they did not credit her tale they pretended at least to do go.
The Galla chiefs for some time remained undecided. Menilek kept
to his word; he neither plundered nor molested any one, and, before
long, he reaped the reward of his wise policy. Five of the tribes
sent in their adhesion, and recognized Workite as regent for her
grandson. Mastiate, in presence of such defection, adopted the most
prudent course of retiring with her reduced army before the
overwhelming forces of her adversaries; they followed her for some
days, but without overtaking her. Menilek, believing that they had
nothing more to fear on that side, settled as he best could the
claims of Workite, and, accompanied by a large force of his new
allies, marched against Magdala.
Menilek had evidently placed much confidence in the well-known
disaffection of the garrison, and he expected that, through the
influence of the Bishop (of whose death he was not aware), of his
uncle Aito Dargie, and of Mr. Kassam, he would find on his arrival
a party in his favour, who would materially assist him, if not make
over the Amba to him at once. No doubt, had the Bishop been still
alive he would either have succeeded by promises, threats, or force
in opening the gates to his beloved friend. Aito Dargie, I believe,
contrived to secure a promise of assistance from a few chiefs; but
they were not powerful enough, and at the last moment lacked courage.
As for Mr. Rassam, he adopted the most prudent course of suiting
his policy to the movements of Menilek; too much caution could not
be used, as there was much reason to fear that the great deeds about
to be achieved would end in empty boasting. To Menilek he gave
great encouragement, offered him the friendship of England, and
even went so far as assuring him that he would be acknowledged by
our Government as king, should we be indebted to him for our
deliverance; he requested him to encamp at Selassié, fire his
two guns against the gate, and should the garrison not give in, to
encamp between Arogié and the Bechelo, and keep Theodore from
reaching the Amba until the arrival of our troops.
We had been greatly disappointed by Wakshum Gobazé: for six
weeks he was always coming, but never came. Next we had Mastiate
as our great excitement: she, we thought, would strive to gain
possession of her amba; but she also never made her appearance; and
now for nearly a month we were in daily expectation of the arrival
of Menilek. We had already given him up when, to our great surprise,
on the morning of the 30th of November, we perceived a large camp
pitched on the northern slope of Tanta; and on the top of a small
eminence commanding the plateau, and opposite to Magdala, stood the
red, white, and black tents of the King of Shoa, the ambitious young
prince who styled himself already "King of kings." Our astonishment
was complete when, towards noon, we heard the report of a steady
musketry-fire mingled with the occasional discharge of small cannon.
We at once gave credit to Menilek for greater pluck than we ever
believed him capable of; expecting that under cover of his fire the
elite of his troops would assault the place; and aware of the little
resistance he would meet with, we already rejoiced at the prospect
of liberty, or at least of an advantageous change of masters. We
had not finished our mutual congratulations when the firing ceased:
as everything was calm and quiet on the Amba, we could not make out
what was going on, until some of our guards came into our huts and
asked us if we had heard Menilek's "faker." Alas, it was indeed
nothing but a mere boast: he had fired from the verge of the Galla
plateau, far out of range, to terrify into submission the wavering
garrison; then, satisfied with his day's work, he and his men had
retired to their tents, awaiting the result of their warlike
demonstration.
The fact of Menilek being encamped on the Galla plain was full of
peril for ourselves without being of any avail to him. The next
morning he sent a message to us through Aito Dargie, asking what
he should do. We again strongly urged upon him the necessity of his
attacking the Amba by the Islamgee side; and in case he deemed it
impossible to assault the place, to stop all communication between
the fortress and the Imperial camp. Our great fear was that Theodore,
on hearing that Menilek was besieging his amba, would send orders
for the immediate execution of all prisoners of note, ourselves
included. No doubt great disaffection existed on the Amba, and if
Menilek had gone the proper way to work, before many days the place
would have been his. But he never did anything; he remained encamped
on the spot he had first chosen, and made no other attempt to rescue
us.
Waizero Terunish, Theodore's queen, acted well on that occasion:
she gave an adderash (public breakfast), presided over by her son
Alamayou, to all the chiefs of the mountain. It being a fast-day,
the feast was limited to tef bread, and a peppery sauce; and as the
supply of tej in the royal cellars was scanty, the enthusiasm was
not very considerable. Still it had the desired effect--chiefs and
soldiers had publicly to proclaim their loyalty to Theodore; as
with the party, still strong, that would give ear to no treachery,
she was prepared to seize the malcontents individually, before they
had time to declare themselves in open rebellion as the adherents
of Menilek. Every one who thought that he was in any way suspected,
and many who had no doubt made promises to Menilek and accepted his
bribes, felt very nervous. Samuel was sent for; he did not like
the prospect at all, and we were very much afraid for him ourselves,
and glad when we saw him come back. On its being perceived that
some of the chiefs had not made their appearance, inquiries were
made as to the cause of their absence; they, seeing that there was
very little hope of securing a strong party in favour of Menilek,
gave explanations that were accepted, conditionally that on the
following day they would repair to the King's inclosure, and there,
in presence of the assembled garrison, proclaim their loyalty. They
went as they had been ordered, and were the loudest in their praise
of Theodore, in their expressions of devotion to his cause, and in
their abuse of the "fat boy" who had ventured near a fortress
entrusted to their care.
The Queen had done her duty well and honourably. The Ras and chiefs
consulted together, and considered it advisable, in order to show
their affection and devotion for their master, to do something
themselves also. But what should be done? They had already placed
extra guards at night on the gates, and protected every weak point
on the Amba; nothing remained but to bully the prisoners. The second
evening after the arrival of Menilek before the mountain, Samuel
received orders from the chiefs to make us all sleep at night in
one hut; the only exception being made in favour of the king's
friend, Mr. Rassam. But poor Samuel, though sick, went to the Ras
and insisted on having the order cancelled: I believe his influence
was backed on that occasion by a douceur he quietly slipped into
the Ras's hand. The chiefs in their wisdom had also decreed, and
the next morning enforced the order that all the servants, Mr.
Rassam's excepted; should be sent down from the mountain. The
messengers and other public servants employed by Mr. Rassam were
also obliged to leave. To Prideaux and myself they allowed, apart
from our Portuguese, a water-girl and a small boy each. I had no
house down at Islamgee; Samuel could not think of allowing me to
pitch a tent, so the poor fellows would have been very badly off
if Captain Cameron had not very kindly allowed them to share his
servants' quarters. We were put to great inconvenience by this
absurd and vexatious order, and I had some trouble, when everything
was again quiet, in getting the servants up again; it required all
the influence of Samuel and a douceur to the Ras, out of my pocket,
to gain my object.
As may well be expected, the Abyssinian prisoners were not spared;
all their servants were counted, and sent down the mountain, one
only being allowed to three or four during the daytime to carry
wood, water, and prepare their food. They were not suffered to leave
the night-houses, but had to remain day and night in those filthy
places. Every one on the mountain was exceedingly anxious that
Menilek should decide on something, and put an end to that painful
state of anxiety.
Early on the morning of the 3rd of December we were apprised by our
servants that Menilek had struck his camp and was on the move. Where
he was going to no one knew; but, as we were to some extent in his
confidence, we flattered ourselves that he had accepted our advice,
and would before long be seen on Selassié, or on the plateau of
Islamgee. We spent a very anxious morning; the chiefs seemed
perplexed, evidently expecting an assault from that direction, and
we were confidentially informed that we should be called upon to
man the guns should the Amba be attacked. However, our suspense was
shortly at an end. The smoke rising in the distance, and in the
direction of the road to Shoa, showed us but too clearly that the
would-be conqueror had, without striking a blow, returned to his
own country, and, with great gallantry, was burning a few miserable
villages, whose chiefs were adherents of Mastiate.
The excuse Menilek gave for his hasty retreat was, that his supplies
had run short, and that, having no camp-followers with him he could
not have flour prepared; that his troops being hungry and dissatisfied,
he had decided on returning at once to Shoa, collect his camp-followers,
and advance again better provisioned, and remain in the neighbourhood
of Magdala until it fell. The truth was, that to his great
disappointment he had heard from his camp the muskets fired during
the "fakering;" he knew that, as far as treachery was concerned,
his chance was gone for a while, and that he must await the effects
of want and privation induced by a long siege. Supplies he might
have obtained in abundance, as he was the ally of Workite and in a
friendly country. Should he even have required more, the undefended
districts of Worahaimanoo, Dalanta, etc., would have been quite
willing to send abundant provisions into his camp on the assurance
that they would not be molested. But if this "fakering" somewhat
deranged his plans, something he saw on the evening of the second
day, a mere speck of smoke, made him fairly run away. That smoke
was kindled by the terrible Theodore. He was, it is true, still far
away; but who could say? His father-in-law, Menilek knew well, was
a man of long marches and sudden attacks. How his large army would
be scattered like chaff before the wind at the cry, "Theodore is
coming," he was well aware, and he came to the conclusion that the
sooner he was off the better.
Our disappointment was something beyond description. Our rage, our
indignation and scorn for such cowardice, I cannot express. The
"fat boy," as we also now called him, we hated and despised. Had
we been imprudent enough openly to take his part, what would have
become of us? Menilek, doubtless, meant well, and probably would
have succeeded had the Bishop lived a few weeks longer. As it is,
he did us a great deal of harm. Had he and Workite never left Shoa,
Mastiate would have laid siege to the mountain. Sooner or later it
must have surrendered, and neither Theodore nor his messengers would
ever have ventured south of the Bechelo if Mastiate had been there
with her 20,000 horsemen.
With Menilek's departure, I, for one, made up my mind never again
to credit any of the promises of the native chiefs, which always
ended in mere moon-shine. Since then, I heard with the utmost
indifference that so-and-so was marching in such a direction, that
he or she would attack Theodore, or invest the Amba and stop all
communication between the rascals on the top and "our friend"
Theodore. We had been a long time without messengers, and the last
had not brought us the intelligence so anxiously looked for. Our
impatience was greater since we knew that we could expect nothing
from the natives, and believed the expedition from England to be
on its way: we felt that something was going on and we longed for
the certainty.
How well I remember the 13th of December, a glorious day for us!
No lover ever read, with more joy and happiness the long-expected
note from the beloved one, than I did that day the kind and cheering
letter of our gallant friend, General Merewether. Troops had landed!
Since the 6th of October, our countrymen were in the same land that
saw us captives. Roads, piers, were being made; regiment after
regiment were leaving the shores of India, some already marching
across the Abyssinian Alps to rescue or avenge. It seemed too
delightful to be true: we could hardly credit it. Ere long all must
be over! Liberty or death! Anything was better than continued
slavery. Theodore was coming--_qu'importe_? Was not Merewether
there? the brave leader of many a hard fight; the gallant officer
and accomplished politician. With such men as a Napier, a Staveley
at the head of British troops, who could feel but contempt for petty
vexations? We were prepared even for a worse fate, if it was to be
our lot. At least, England's prestige would be restored, her
children's blood not left unrevenged. It was one of those exciting
moments in a man's life that few can realize who have not passed
through months of mental agony, and then been suddenly overcome
with joy. We laughed more than ever at the idea of giving even a
thought to such poltroons as Gobaz and Menilek. The hope of meeting
our brave countrymen cheered us. In the mind's eye we beheld them,
and in our hearts we thanked them for the toils and privations they
would have to undergo before they could set _the captives free_.
For the second time, Christmas and New Year's Day found us in fetters
at Magdala; but we were happy: they would be the last, at all events,
and, full of trust in our deliverance, we now looked forward to
spending the next _at home_.