THEOPHILUS AND MARY.

About the year 530 there appeared in the streets of Amid a merry-andrew

(_mimus_) and his female companion, who seemed to be a prostitute.

People of the kind were no rarities even in the pious East, but this

couple attracted special attention by their youth and beauty. The public

witnessed their performances with pleasure, but treated them, as was

also the custom, with brutality; the poor creatures received many little

presents, doubtless, but not without kicks and cuffs. With nightfall

they regularly disappeared, and no one could find out where they had

gone. Some men of influence, whose carnal passions had been inflamed,

now procured from the governor an order that the woman should be given

over to prostitution; but a God-fearing lady named Cosmo rescued her,

took her to be with herself, and exhorted her to a better life. She

listened to the advice with penitential mien, but forthwith returned to

her companion. Now, however, a pious man named John, an acquaintance of

John of Ephesus, began to suspect something extraordinary about the

pair. With much trouble he discovered the retreat where their nights

were spent, and saw them engaged in long-continued prayer. He now came

up to them and asked an explanation. With great reluctance they

consented, but only after he had solemnly promised upon oath to tell no

one as long as they continued in Amid, and even to treat them with the

usual contumely wherever he should see them in public. Their story,

which they told the following night, was that their names were

Theophilus and Mary, and that each was an only child of noble and

prosperous Antiochenes. When Theophilus was fifteen years of age, he

went on to say, he one night discovered, in a stall of his father’s

stables, a poor man, who had hidden himself there in the litter against

the cold; his mouth and hands emitted a halo, which Theophilus alone

could see, and which disappeared whenever the servants entered. The holy

man, at his urgent entreaty, confessed to him (but only on condition of

secrecy) that his name was Procopius, a Roman, who had fled from home to

escape his approaching marriage. He predicted to Theophilus the

approaching death in that year of his parents, and of those of his

affianced bride, and exhorted him on this event to sell all that he had

and give it to the poor, and himself to live a consecrated life in

disguise; the lady also was to do the same. They actually did as they

had been bidden, and lived in virginity together, while in the eyes of

the world they appeared to be living in shameful immorality. For a whole

year John held regular communication with this saintly pair; at the end

of that time they disappeared, and for seven years he sought for them in

vain; but John of Ephesus once afterwards met them near Tella (south of

Amid, towards Edessa).

The author says that his informant had assured him upon his solemn oath

of the truth of this story; and though one might be tempted to suspect

that the pious man had simply been the victim of a couple of impostors,

I, for my part, believe the narrative to be accurate in its main

features. The light that proceeded from the holy beggar, and his

prophecy, need not mislead us. The story, which comes to us through two

intermediaries, may unintentionally have received various touches of the

marvellous, and, above all, some account must be taken of the

religiously excited fancy of the young man himself, which perhaps was

full of such figures as that of the Roman “man of God”[102] fleeing from

his nuptials, whose double the Procopius of our narrative is. It is

indeed the very height of unnatural self-abnegation when a virtuous

maiden of even excessive spirituality ventures to assume the disguise of

a common prostitute so as to bear the full shame of sin for the glory of

God.

“Opfer fallen hier

Weder Lamm noch Stier

Aber Menschenopfer unerhört.”[103]

These Syrians were too apt to hold everything natural for wickedness;

and yet unbridled sensuality was by no means unknown in their circle.

-----

[89] For the pagan world compare Jacob Burckhardt, _Constantin_ (2nd

ed.), p. 218.

[90] I am told by one who knows, that most Indian ascetics, who in

self-mortification in other respects, as a rule, go far beyond the

Christian, pay strict attention to cleanliness. There are, however (or

have been), ascetics in India, also, who have abjured washing.

[91] This was written in August 1891. As it turns out, the crop of

miracles at Treves has been very poor. This may be explained partly by

the strong light of publicity; partly by the fact that, after all, and

even in the lower classes, there has been a considerable weakening of

simple faith.

[92] Sís itself has not been identified. It is not to be confounded with

the Sís in the interior of Cilicia.

[93] “Where the skin has little feeling, so also has the mind and the

soul” (Hehn, _Culturpflanzen u. Hausthiere_, 3rd ed., p. 472, n. 6).

[94] Lucian, _De dea Syria_, c. 28 sq. The scoffer gravely calls the

pillar a phallus.

[95] See above, p. 213.

[96] Compare Leucothea, the Dioscuri, and the like.

[97] The horrible rule of the Trappists is of comparatively modern

origin.

[98] This is the date of its composition, not of its transcription, as

has been supposed.

[99] This applies even to the Roman and London MSS., which are both very

old. Of the latter I was able to use some years ago a transcript kindly

lent me by Prof. Kleyn, of Utrecht, but in the preparation of this essay

I have had only a few notes from it at my disposal.

[100] The Armenians for the most part were Monophysites, and still are

so except those who are “United” to the Church of Rome.

[101] An incident that more than once occurs in the lives of Syrian

saints, both legendary and historical. See below, p. 234.

[102] In later forms of the legend his name is St. Alexius.

[103]

“Sacrifices here are neither lamb nor steer,

But human sacrifice unspeakable.”—GOETHE.

VIII.

BARHEBRÆUS.

IN the first half of the thirteenth century a great part of the

population of Melatia, in the east of Asia Minor, close to the upper

Euphrates, consisted of Jacobites, that is to say, Syrians of

Monophysite creed.[104] These Syrians were numerous also in the adjacent

districts, where they had a number of bishoprics and monasteries.

Conspicuous amongst the latter was the great and wealthy monastery of

St. Barsaumá, where the Jacobite patriarch often took up his abode, and

where synods frequently met; its patron saint was held in high repute by

the Moslems of the district also, who presented many gifts in gratitude

for miraculous help. The Moslems of these parts seem to have been of

Turkish speech; probably there was also an Armenian population. The land

belonged to the kingdom of the Seljuks of Asia Minor (Rúm), but, lying

on the marches, was much exposed to assaults, on the one hand, from the

principalities of Syria and Mesopotamia; and, on the other, from the

Christian Armenian State of Cilicia. It had also to suffer from the

internal struggles that accompanied the decline of the Seljuk power. The

Syrians in this quarter seem, however, to have enjoyed a fair degree of

prosperity down to the time of the Mongols; several eminent Syrian

prelates and authors came from Melatia, amongst them the subject of the

following sketch. His father, a respected physician of the name of Ahrún

(Aaron), seems to have been a baptized Jew. This is not inferred from

his name, which was common enough among Syrian Christians, and besides

would certainly have been changed at baptism, but from the fact that his

celebrated son bore the surname of “Son of the Hebrew” (Bar Evráyá, or,

according to another pronunciation, Bar Evróyó). From an epigram of his

we see that the epithet was by no means agreeable to him, which confirms

what has just been said. His Jewish origin is perhaps confirmed by the

keen and sober intelligence which appears both in his actions and in his

writings. His Christian name was John, but in ordinary life he was known

as Abulfaraj, an Arabic name such as Christians living amongst

Mohammedans were wont to bear. But in the following pages we shall

throughout call him Barhebræus, the Latinised form of his surname, which

has long been familiar to European scholars.

He was born in 1225-26. His mother-tongue was, it may be presumed, a

vulgar dialect of Syriac; but it is certain that from an early age he

was able to speak with fluency the literary Syriac, which had already

disappeared from common use, but played a great part in the language of

the Church and of learning. Of the youth of Barhebræus we have no

details. He must certainly have received in Melatia such a training in

learning as was then given to young Syrians destined for the higher

service of the Church. But the statement sometimes made, that he also

became acquainted with Greek and the ecclesiastical literature of that

language, is certainly incorrect; his writings nowhere show any real

acquaintance with either. By that time the Arabic language and

literature had long superseded its rival with all Syrians who aimed at

the higher education.

When the Mongols (Tartars) invaded the country in the summer of 1243,

his father Aaron, in common with many others, wished to take refuge with

his family in Syria, but was hindered by an accident, and thus he and

his escaped the fate of the fugitives, who fell into the hands of the

Mongols. The Christians and Moslems of Melatia on that occasion, under

the leadership of the Syrian metropolitan Dionysius, came under a solemn

mutual obligation to stand by one another. This incident is in the

highest degree surprising to one who knows something of the social

conditions of the East. The professors of the two religions habitually

regard one another as born foes; but here the terrible danger effected a

union, and even a subordination of the proud Moslems under the

downtrodden Christians, who were manifestly in the majority, and had for

their leader a man of energy, though not over scrupulous. The Mongol

chief allowed himself to be bought off, and no battle took place.

Falling ill, he asked for a physician; Barhebræus’s father was sent to

him, and did not leave him until he had reached Kharput, after being

cured of his malady.

Aaron and his family after this removed to Antioch, which was still in

the hands of the Franks. Here his son became a monk, doubtless with a

view to the episcopal dignity, the higher ecclesiastical charges being

in the Oriental Churches accessible only to monks. Soon afterwards we

find Barhebræus in Tripoli, also still in the hands of the Crusaders.

Along with a companion[105] he here studied dialectic and medicine under

a Nestorian. This may have had something to do with the tolerance which

he afterwards showed towards Christians of different creed, though

indeed it was not unusual for a Syrian to frequent the lectures of a man

whose doctrine he regarded as heretical. Barhebræus probably had Moslem

teachers also, for he could hardly otherwise have acquired his good

knowledge of the Arabic language and literature. He wrote Arabic almost

as fluently as Syriac, and not much more incorrectly than most

Mohammedan writers of his time. He could also make use of Persian books

without difficulty, at least in his later years. He spoke Arabic well,

of course; and presumably he had acquired a colloquial knowledge of

Turkish also. But he seems never to have been brought into close

relations with the Franks.

Talented and industrious, he must very soon have attracted the notice of

the ecclesiastical authorities, and while still a youth of only twenty

he was ordained by the Jacobite patriarch (12th September 1246) to be

Bishop of Gubos, near Melatia, on which occasion he assumed the

ecclesiastical name of Gregory. Not long afterwards he exchanged this

bishopric for that of Lakabín, in the same region.[106]

As bishop he took part in the synod held at the monastery of Barsaumá,

after the death of Ignatius (14th June 1252), for the election of a new

patriarch. At this juncture there arrived in the neighbourhood of

Melatia a body of Mongols, a detachment of the great hordes which in

those years made an end of the caliphate, and devastated on all hands

with fire and sword. Barhebræus’s aged father, who had again returned to

his home, fled with his little son Barsaumá from the village of Margá to

a rocky region beside the Euphrates, and remained there in hiding for

six weeks, until the barbarians had gone. The world was trembling in its

courses, but this made little impression on the Jacobite dignitaries;

they went on intriguing and quarrelling just as usual. Dionysius of

Melatia, who has been already mentioned, and John, surnamed Barmadeni,

the maphrián or primate of the eastward dioceses,[107] a man of high

repute as a scholar, were competitors for the patriarchate. By the laws

of that Church no valid election could take place without the presence

of the maphrián; but Dionysius procured his own election in September

1252 in defiance of this rule, and in a very thinly attended synod. The

youthful Barhebræus was sent into Mesopotamia to convey to John the

apologies of the synod, and to beg his concurrence. But John had

meantime gone to Aleppo, where, on 4th December of the same year, he got

himself chosen to the patriarchate,—an election which certainly has a

greater apparent claim to validity than the other. But the all-important

question was as to which patriarch the Moslem rulers would recognise.

There began accordingly a scandalous competition between the rivals (not

a rare occurrence in the Eastern Churches). On both sides the effort was

made to gain over princes and potentates, as well as individual bishops

and other ecclesiastics of influence, by money or fair words. Along with

his nephew, a monk, Barhebræus was sent into the mountains of Túr Abdín,

in northern Mesopotamia, which were mostly inhabited by Jacobites, to

collect funds in the monasteries and villages for gaining over to

Dionysius the local prince, to whom John had promised a sum of money for

recognition, but had as yet failed to pay it. The mission was

successful. It is well worth noticing, though not very edifying, to see

how coolly Barhebræus, certainly one of the most respectable persons of

his class, relates these transactions. It must be remembered that the

laity, from whom the money was drawn, were for the most part exceedingly

poor; bright prospects of a reward in heaven[108] were, to be sure, held

out to them by way of compensation, and all the proceedings were carried

on in the most approved Christian phraseology. The Eastern Churches

were, of course, unable to secure immunity from the caprice and violence

of the Moslem authorities without a skilful use of the mammon of

unrighteousness, but it is a very different matter when the faithful are

taxed that one of their own spiritual heads may be able to secure an

effectual triumph over another. Occurrences of the kind have not been

wholly unknown in the West, but the abuse attained far larger

proportions in the East.

Dionysius now proceeded to Damascus, where he was honourably received by

the governor, Barhebræus acting as interpreter. In these negotiations,

however, Dionysius fell into a stupid blunder, exhibiting the letter of

a Mongol magnate which had been intended for his supporters in Melatia.

This caused great offence, for the Tartars were regarded as mortal

enemies by the Moslems. It was only with great trouble, and through the

intervention of Ibn Amíd (Elmacinus), the well-known Coptic author, that

Dionysius at last succeeded in obtaining his diploma of confirmation on

payment of a large bribe.

Barhebræus was soon afterwards named by Dionysius to be bishop of

Aleppo; but on the installation there of a partisan of John’s, he

withdrew, along with his father, to the Barsaumá monastery, where his

patriarch was. John betook himself to the Armenian king of Sís, while

Dionysius received recognition almost everywhere. Barhebræus soon again

took up his abode in Aleppo. When the Mongols, who in the meantime had

taken Bagdad (January 1258), entered Syria he wished to go to meet them,

plainly with the object of securing mild treatment for the Christians.

The idea was not unreasonable, for their common antipathy to Islam

readily predisposed the Mongol chiefs in favour of the Christians, who,

moreover, sought only toleration, and did not fight for sovereignty like

the Moslems. Some of those wild Tartars had, moreover, been baptized,

for the Nestorians had successful missions among the Turkish tribes.

Dokuz Khatun herself, a wife of the sovereign Hulagu, who formerly had

been one of the wives of his father Tuli, and who in accordance with

Mongol custom had passed with the rest of the inheritance to the son,

was a Christian, and did much for the protection and advantage of her

co-religionists. But the attempt in this instance was unsuccessful.

Barhebræus was detained at Kalat-Nejm, one of the Euphrates ferries; and

Hulagu meanwhile coming to Aleppo, occupied the town, and inflicted on

Moslems and Christians alike all the horrors of a sack (January 1260).

Dionysius compromised himself seriously. That he obtained letters of

confirmation from the Mongol sovereign (1259) was not amiss, especially

as the Seljuks and the Armenian Christian king had equally acknowledged

the Tartar as their overlord. But it was a scandal that he connived at

the robberies of the Christian subjects of the St. Barsaumá monastery,

who had broken loose from all restraint in this period of general

corruption and dissoluteness. And he finally lost the last shred of

reputation by procuring the assassination of a cousin who had been a

great trouble to him, and of his cousin’s brother, only a few days after

a reconciliation had taken place; even the _chronique scandaleuse_ of

the history of the Jacobites supplied no parallel to such conduct. To

escape the consequences of his deed the patriarch again went to Hulagu,

and after overcoming many obstacles was lucky enough to secure his

special protection, so that he was able to lord it more tyrannically

than ever. And now the monastery of St. Barsaumá witnessed an unheard-of

scene; the murderous patriarch was assassinated before the altar as he

was holding a night service (17th-18th February) by a monk, a deacon,

and a layman, nephew of one of the abbats. The assassins threw the

“disciple” of the patriarch, who had been his instrument in the murder

of his cousin, down the rock.

Whether Barhebræus had before these occurrences openly broken with

Dionysius is not known; but one of his poems shows that latterly he was

no longer at one with him, and some verses upon his death indicate that

he regarded his assassination as a righteous judgment.

A Mongolian commissioner, himself a Christian, made his appearance for

the punishment of the perpetrators of the deed. One of the abbats, who

tacitly, at least, had approved it, was cruelly chastised and driven

half-dead from the monastery. He was replaced by a brother of the priest

and physician Simeon, who had risen to great favour with Hulagu, had

grown very wealthy, and stood out as the main support of the Jacobites,

in return for which he exercised influence in extraordinary ways in

Church affairs. Some of the murderers and their accomplices were

executed, and others committed suicide in prison.

By this shocking occurrence John became sole patriarch, and met with

universal recognition; but he remained in Cilicia. Barhebræus now stood

on good terms with him; and when he died in the spring of 1263, the

bishop of Aleppo wrote in his honour a long poem commemorating his many

excellences.

Abbat Theodore now hastened to the court, or rather to the camp, of the

Mongolian sovereign to seek the patriarchate for himself. But Simeon the

physician declined to undertake his cause, and also persuaded

Barhebræus, who was also at that time at court, certainly not by mere

chance, to oppose his claims. Barhebræus then proceeded to Cilicia and

took part at Sís in the election of abbat Joshua, who, as patriarch,

assumed the name of Ignatius (6th January 1264). Forthwith they

proceeded to fill up also the office of maphrián, or primate of the

Jacobites of the East, which had been vacant since June 1258. The origin

of this dignity may be here explained. The Persian sovereigns had

gradually suffered the Christians of various denominations in their

empire to constitute themselves into distinct bodies, insisting,

however, that while the head of each was to be independent of every

external authority, he was to be in entire subjection to the

throne.[109] These heads bore the title of “Catholicus.” The Syrian

Monophysites did not receive a fixed constitution under a catholicus

until a comparatively late date (in the sixth century); they stood in

much closer connection with the Christians of the hostile empire of Rome

than the Nestorians did, and, on the other hand, were much less able to

compel recognition than the sometimes very warlike Monophysites of

insubordinate Armenia. The main seat of the Jacobites of the Persian

empire was the considerable town of Tagrít, on the middle course of the

Tigris; but nowhere in Persia were they nearly so numerous as the

Nestorians. The Jacobite catholicus bore also the title of maphrián

(mafriyáná), _i.e._ “the fructifier,” who spreads the Church by

instituting priests and bishops. After the Arabs had become masters of

all the countries in which Monophysite Syrians were found, the

separation of the provinces of the Jacobite “patriarch of Antioch” and

that of the maphrián was, strictly speaking, no longer necessary; but

the force of custom, and still more the interest which many of the

clergy had in not allowing so influential and remunerative a post as

that of maphrián to go down, were enough to maintain the old

arrangement. But many disputes arose as to the boundaries of the two

provinces, and the whole relation of maphrián to patriarch; on the

whole, however, it was agreed that the patriarch’s indeed was the higher

rank, but that the maphrián in his sphere was quite independent of

him; and further, that for the election of a patriarch the co-operation

of the maphrián was indispensable (unless that post also was vacant),

and that a maphrián could only be nominated with the sanction of the

patriarch. In the choice of a maphrián the wishes of the Eastern

dioceses (_i.e._ of the bishops and heads of monasteries there) had to

be respected; yet, as a rule, he was taken from the West. Now Barhebræus

had already been designated as maphrián by the late patriarch, and,

moreover, he seems to have been the ruling spirit in the electoral

synod; accordingly he was chosen “maphrián of Tagrít and the East” on

Sunday, 20th January 1264. The Armenian king with his suite and

officials, spiritual and secular, were present at his consecration on

the same day in the church of the Theotokos at Sís. Barhebræus preached

the sermon, which an interpreter translated into Armenian. The

Armenians, be it noted in passing, were of the same creed as the

Jacobites, but differed from them on many points of ritual, and perhaps

also in some subordinate matters of dogma. Armenians and Jacobites were

thus very ready to suspect one another of heresy, and at best there was

little love lost between the two parties.[110] After patriarch and

maphrián had received their diplomas of confirmation from the Mongol

sovereign (whose assent had doubtless been secured before the election)

they withdrew, the one to Asia Minor and the other to Mosul.

The Jacobites of the East had long been without any proper government;

for the predecessor of Barhebræus, his old fellow-student at Tripoli,

had failed to establish his authority in the East, and soon withdrew

into Syria, and after his death the vacancy had continued for nearly six

years. The lands of the Tigris were terribly wasted. Although the

Mongols still were more favourable to the Christians than to the

Moslems, they were neither willing nor able to spare them in those

wholesale massacres which constantly occurred. Moreover, the position of

the Christians, which was one of greater friendliness with the Mongols,

and thus gave them a somewhat more self-reliant bearing, repeatedly

excited the jealousy and fanaticism of the Mohammedan population, which

was greatly superior in numbers and in strength; in the district of

Mosul, in particular, many bloody encounters took place. Matters were

better in Aderbiján (north-western Media), the favourite seat of the

Mongolian rulers. There, until the reaction set in, the Christians

suffered little molestation, and monasteries and churches arose in the

capital cities of Merághá and Tabríz. The Jacobites were here less

numerous than either Armenians or Nestorians. Barhebræus now laboured

indefatigably as maphrián for the strengthening of his Church. He made

many extensive journeys within his territory, took measures for the

erection of ecclesiastical edifices, and consecrated numerous priests

and bishops. He succeeded in maintaining good relations with the

Mongolian court without coming into too close contact with it. And with

all this he studied, wrote, and taught without intermission.

At Mosul the maphrián was met in solemn procession by the officials of

the Mohammedan prince as well as by the Christians: the vassal of the

Mongols had good reason for treating in a friendly way a man of mark who

had just been the recipient of their favour. Still more solemn was the

reception of Barhebræus when, at Easter 1265, he came to Bagdad—still

an important place, notwithstanding its recent terrible sack. Such was

the consideration enjoyed by Barhebræus, that even the catholicus of the

Nestorians sent a deputation, including two of his own nephews, to

escort him into his presence. A harmony like this, between the

representatives of two creeds which had been separated by the hostility

of eight centuries, is well worth remarking. Many Nestorians took part

also in the service held by Barhebræus, at which was wrought the

customary miracle of a spontaneous overflow of the chrism at the moment

of consecration.[111] The catholicus, indeed, presently became jealous

of his colleague’s popularity, but no mischief followed, for he died a

fortnight after the festival (Saturday, 18th April 1265). After spending

the entire summer in Bagdad, and consecrating numerous clergy of various

grades, Barhebræus returned again to the district of Mosul, where his

proper see was. He usually lived in the great fortified monastery of St.

Matthew, which was for the maphrián something like what that of Barsaumá

was for the patriarch.

The patriarch Ignatius, in the years immediately following, fell into a

violent dispute with the physician Simeon, already mentioned, who had

taken possession of the government of the monastery of Barsaumá. As he

had done this on the strength of orders issued by the Mongols, Ignatius

sought to obtain from these a decision in an opposite sense; and

although Barhebræus earnestly urged him to come to some amicable

settlement of the difficulty, and not to expose himself before “the

barbarian Huns,” he persevered in the line he had chosen. The maphrián

naturally took this very ill. When, accordingly, in 1268, in the course

of a journey westward to visit his relatives near Lake Van, he

encountered the patriarch on his way to the Mongol court to complain of

Simeon, he sought to avoid a meeting, and the patriarch obtained one at

last only with difficulty. Abaga, who had succeeded his father Hulagu in

the sovereignty of the Mongols in February 1265, actually promulgated a

decree in accordance with the wishes of Ignatius; but the influential

Simeon contrived that it should straightway be cancelled by another, and

Barhebræus, detained in Cilicia by a serious illness, saw Simeon return

in triumph with the decree in his hand. But the dispute was further

prolonged. The Government pronounced alternately for this party and for

that; neither reconciliation nor compromise proved permanent. At last,

in 1273, Barhebræus, who had been called in as arbiter, was successful

in composing the difference. On this occasion he found his native land

in poor case. Moslem troops from Syria had invaded the Mongol territory,

wasting it far and wide, and dragging many Christian women and children

into slavery. The lords of Egypt and the petty princes of Syria were at

that time at continual war with the Tartars, whom in the end they

succeeded in shaking off; but the struggles in the meantime had

completed the ruin of many districts. Additional insecurity was caused

by the presence of robber tribes, which now could do pretty much as they

pleased. Barhebræus, who had taken up temporary quarters in the

monastery of St. Sergius, was escorted thence to that of St. Barsaumá by

a body of fifty armed dependants.

In Easter of 1277, Barhebræus was again in Bagdad, where some years

before a large new Jacobite church had been built in the neighbourhood

of the former palaces of the Caliphs, mainly at the expense of a rich

Christian official named Safíaddaula. At this period, when the

Christians for a short time were able to raise their heads under the

rule of the religiously indifferent, not to say stolid barbarians,

frequent instances are met with in which wealthy private individuals

devoted money to building churches. The smaller contributions of the

poorer members of the community—doubtless the main source of income for

the higher clergy—were forthcoming, we may be sure, in unusual

abundance during the term of a maphrián so respected as Barhebræus. He

was again received with great pomp by the Christians of Bagdad. The

catholicus of that time also, Denhá by name, sent a deputation to meet

him, and received him immediately afterwards with honour. Jacobites and

Nestorians, at such a juncture at least, felt themselves to be branches

of a common stem.

In autumn of the same year Barhebræus came to Tagrít, which, although

nominally the see of the maphrián, had beheld no incumbent of that

office for sixty years. The Christian population of the place, to be

sure, had been sadly diminished; for immediately after the fall of

Bagdad the Mongols had put to death the Christians of Tagrít (whom they

had at first spared) in their usual wholesale manner, for having

concealed much property of the Moslems instead of giving it up to the

conquerors (Palm Sunday, 1258). Barhebræus remained here in his nominal

residence for two months. The following years he spent partly in the

neighbourhood of Mosul and partly in Aderbiján.

It is characteristic of the time that, in 1281, the Nestorians, on the

death of their patriarch Denhá, chose as his successor a clergyman

deficient in ecclesiastical learning, whose recommendation was that he

belonged to a nationality of Central Asia which was also largely

represented at the Mongol court. This was Marcus, an Uigur, or Turk of

the farthest East, who had come from China on pilgrimage to Jerusalem,

but on account of the insecurity of the roads from war and robbers had

been unable to complete the last comparatively short portion of the

journey. As patriarch he bore the name Yavalláhá, and he distinguished

himself alike by his honesty and by his knowledge of the world. He

showed great friendliness to the Jacobites; but as he knew little of the

old dogmatic controversies, and even in the simplicity of his heart

sought relations with the pope, he is hardly entitled to so much credit

for liberality of spirit as Barhebræus is, who was well versed in the

dogmatic questions which divided the Christians of those countries, but,

in marked contrast to the old champions of his Church, sought to

minimise their importance. He expressly declared that the one thing

needful was not love to Nestorius or to Jacobus (Baradæus), but to

Christ, appealing to the words of the apostle: “Who is Paul? and who is

Apollos?” (1 Cor. iii. 5). Isolated instances of similar irenical

tendencies are met with elsewhere in the East during the crusading

period.

Barhebræus, in the spring of 1282, wished to go to Tabríz, and,

accordingly, owing to the insecurity of the roads through the Kurdish

country, attached himself to the caravan of a Mongol princess. News now

coming of the death of Abaga, he proceeded to Alatag (also in

Aderbiján), where, according to the provisions of Jenghiz Khan’s

fundamental law, the new sovereign was to be chosen by the Mongolian

assembly. Here he paid homage to Abaga’s brother Ahmed, who ascended the

throne on 21st June. He obtained also a diploma of confirmation. Ahmed,

as his Arabic name testifies, had accepted Islam, and is reported to

have ruled his conduct expressly with a view to the caliphate; but he

was by no means fanatical, and he even renewed to the Christian

monasteries, churches, and priesthood their privilege of exemption from

taxation. And the pagan Argun, Abaga’s son, who overthrew Ahmed in July

1284 and caused him to be put to death, was again exceptionally gracious

to the Christians. The Mongols had already, indeed, begun by this time

to go over in troops to Islam, which was better suited to their

character than even the crudest type of Christianity; but Barhebræus did

not live long enough to see all the hopes which the Christians of the

East[112] had built upon these brutal barbarians completely falsified,

and Islam once more restored to undivided ascendancy in the wasted

lands.

In the autumn of 1282, Barhebræus received in Tabríz a letter, in which

the patriarch told him of his serious illness, and besought him to come

and relieve him of the cares of his office; this was clearly intended to

convey the wish that Barhebræus should be his successor. Winter being at

hand, and the roads dangerous, the maphrián, however, did not comply

with this invitation. Ignatius died of dropsy on Tuesday, 17th November,

and the party of Simeon hastened to elect bishop Philoxenus to the

patriarchate (2nd February 1283). The election was held in the Barsaumá

monastery, and only three bishops, all belonging to depopulated dioceses

in the neighbourhood, took part in it. But confirmation was obtained

without delay from Alatag. Humble apologies were now tendered to the

maphrián for the uncanonical procedure, and he was entreated to give it

his after-concurrence, without which the election could not hope for the

approval of a majority of the bishops; but he turned the messengers

away. Even when Simeon the physician came in person, he continued

steadfast. It was not until the son of Simeon, a pupil of his own, with

whom he was on personally friendly terms, had a meeting with him (August

1284) that he condescended to accept the offered presents and to

sanction the appointment. We can well believe the assurance he then gave

that he was far from wishing to be himself made patriarch, the secure

and influential post he actually held being worth more to him than the

headship of the Jacobite Church in the West, which had been entirely

desolated by war; hard as the times were, he was better off than his

predecessors. But he had to maintain the maphrián’s dignity, and his

self-esteem also had been undoubtedly hurt, for he was well entitled to

consider himself the foremost of the Jacobite clergy. The meeting

referred to took place as Barhebræus was once again travelling in the

caravan of a princess from Tabríz to the district of Mosul.

Near the village of Bartellé, not far from the monastery of St. Matthew,

he had built to the martyr “John the carpenter’s son” a new church,

which he caused to be decorated by an artist from Constantinople, one of

two painters whom the widow of Abaga, a natural daughter of the Greek

emperor Michael, had fetched from the imperial city to adorn the church

of her own denomination (the Greek “Orthodox”) in Tabríz. But the old

church had been searched in vain for the relics of the martyr. After

every one else had failed it was given to the maphrián, as he himself

tells us, to discover the marble sarcophagus, in consequence of a vision

for which he had prepared himself by prayer and fasting (23rd November

1284). How far self-deception entered into this, we can hardly say.

Barhebræus was a cool-headed person, but like all his contemporaries he

had sucked in belief in miracles and wonders with his mother’s milk; on

the other hand, we shall hardly be doing an injustice even to the best

representative of the Oriental clergy of that day if we deem him not

incapable of a little pious fraud.

In 1285-86,[113] Barhebræus, as we learn from one of his verses, was led

by astrological calculations to expect his end; a presentiment which

proved true. His brother Barsaumá, who was constantly beside him, and

took charge of his building undertakings, sought to withdraw him as far

as possible from danger by inducing him to quit the neighbourhood of

Mosul, which was now yearly harassed by marauding bands from Syria, and

to return to Merághá. Here he continued to labour for a while; but on

the night of 29th-30th July 1286 he died after a short illness of three

days. He had previously expressed his regret for having left his proper

place from fear of the death that was inevitable. It may be supposed

that he had felt some warnings of weakness, although his brother

declares him to have been at the time in exceptionally good health.

There were then in Merághá only four Jacobite priests to conduct the

funeral obsequies. But the Nestorian patriarch Yavalláhá, who happened

to be also in the place, enjoined a day of strict mourning on all those

in his obedience, and sent the bishops who were with him to the funeral.

The Armenian and even the Greek clergy also took part in it; there were

altogether about two hundred mourners, and for once the Christians

showed a united front in face of the Moslems to do honour to a person so

distinguished. With solemnities which lasted over nine hours, Barhebræus

was buried at the spot where he had been wont to pray and administer the

sacrament; but at a later date his body was removed to the monastery of

St. Matthew, where his grave is still shown.

We do not need to make very great deductions from the high praise

lavished on the character of Barhebræus by Barsaumá, his brother and

successor. Had he not been amiable and humane, he would hardly have

stood in such pleasant relations with those of other Christian

communions. And yet he was no weakling, but a thoroughly forceful man,

not without ambition; and in point of character, with all his

imperfections, he certainly stood far above the large majority of the

higher clergy of the East.

His great activity is attested by his ecclesiastical buildings, already

begun when he was bishop of Aleppo, and by his literary works. From his

twentieth year down to his last hour, his brother tells us, he studied

and wrote without intermission. Barsaumá’s list, which is not quite

exhaustive, enumerates thirty-one writings of Barhebræus, among which

are several works of some compass. They are mostly in Syriac, but some

in Arabic. Manuscripts of most of them can be found in European

libraries, and sometimes there are more copies than one—a sign that

they were much read. His books embrace almost all branches of the

knowledge of his day. It would indeed be idle to expect much original

thought or independent research in such a mediæval and Eastern scholar.

His principal object was to make accessible to the Syrians the

productions of Arabian and older science. Most of his encyclopædic and

separate scientific works are for the most part, accordingly, merely

intelligent compilations or excerpts from earlier treatises in Syriac or

Arabic. Some are simply translations; thus he rendered some works of the

famous Aristotelian Avicenna from Arabic into Syriac. Barhebræus wrote

on philosophy, medicine, astronomy and astrology, geography, history,

jurisprudence, grammar, and so on; among the subjects treated, the

secular sciences are on the whole more prominent than theology proper.

He even compiled two little books of anecdotes. He earned the respect of

learned Moslems by his writings, and no doubt also by his skill in oral

teaching and disputation. An odd proof of this is the foolish rumour

that Barhebræus on his deathbed had turned Moslem; the thought was the

expression of the wish to gain for Islam and eternal blessedness so

distinguished a scholar.

Some works of Barhebræus are still of great value, particularly his

Sacred and Profane History, drawn from older Arabic, Syriac, and Persian

works, and especially from the Syriac Church History of Michael, his

fellow-townsman of Melatia, who was Jacobite patriarch from 1166 to

1199.[114] It is distinguished by an apt selection of materials,

contains much that is not to be found elsewhere, and is an important

authority for the author’s own period. In his very last days Barhebræus

wrote at Merághá, at the request of some Moslems, an Arabic edition of

the Profane History, which is shorter than the Syriac work, but contains

some new matter. Next in importance to the History is his larger Syriac

Grammar, in which he tries to combine the method not very happily

borrowed by the older Syrians from the Greek grammarians with the

Arabian system. Viewed in the light of modern philology the book shows

great defects, but it is far ahead of the works that preceded it, and

still very instructive. Further, his Scholia to the Bible, which are

more philological than theological, are of value (especially for the

history of the Syriac text); and so is his collection of Jacobite Canon

Law.

Barhebræus wrote metrical pieces also. He has certainly none of the

gifts of the heaven-born poet. These compositions have neither fancy nor

passion. He writes them with his understanding, partly after the pattern

of older Syrians, partly on Arabian and Persian models. The didactic

wordiness of the Syrian poetry is often also apparent. But the skill and

elegance with which he handles the unpromising materials of the

ecclesiastical language is worthy of recognition, and he shows spirit

and taste, especially in the short epigrammatic poems. He is further

entitled to the credit of being almost entirely free from the verbal

conceits which were so greatly affected in the poetry of that time.

Generally speaking, he can fairly be put on a level with the average

Arabic poets of his age, and certainly above most of the Syriac.

Altogether he was one of the most eminent men of his Church and nation.

-----

[104] They derived the name from Jacobus Baradæus, who gave permanent

form to the Monophysite Church of Syria in the sixth century.

[105] See below, p. 246.

[106] I am not sure of the exact pronunciation either of Gubos or of

Lakabín.

[107] See below, p. 244.

[108] In a little Syriac treatise, which, gross forgery though it is,

seems to have been popular, God says: “To every believer who gives of

the earnings of his hand to the holy Church, I make it good in this

world, and repay him thirty, sixty, and a hundredfold in the world to

come, and write his name in the book of life;” and again: “Honour God’s

priests, who sacrifice the living lamb, so that ye may find mercy in the

world to come. He who despises them shall fall under my wrath, for my

priests are the salt of the earth.” The Jews, who contribute handsomely

to their synagogues, are cited as patterns for Christians.

[109] The Christians of the Sásánian empire originally had bishops only,

without any single head. Even after they had placed themselves under the

catholicus of Seleucia and Ctesiphon, the Church of Persia proper, for

some time, continued to maintain its independence. The statement that

the patriarchal authority of Antioch had been delegated from the

earliest times to the bishop of Seleucia and Ctesiphon is, of course, a

mere fiction, resting upon the later conception of the unity of the

Church in its outward organisation.

[110] The relations of the Jacobites with the Monophysite Copts were

better.

[111] This miracle recalls that of the liquefaction of the blood of St.

Januarius at Naples, and no doubt admits of a similar natural

explanation.

[112] Similar expectations were sometimes cherished in the West also.

[113] The Syrian Julian year begins with 1st October.

[114] A work hitherto known only by an abridged and interpolated

Armenian translation. The original has been recently discovered, but is

not yet accessible.

IX.

KING THEODORE OF ABYSSINIA.[115]

ABYSSINIA, that marvellous mountain land in which the advantages of the

tropical and temperate zones are united, was for centuries a single

monarchy. The only African country which retained its Christianity, it

had not escaped without grievous injury the many external assaults and

inward struggles through which it had passed; and the bond which held

together its different provinces, ruled by local princes, and in part

separated by well-marked physical features, was by no means strong. But,

with all this, it still was a powerful kingdom, governed by a race which

an alleged descent from Solomon, and still more a rule that had

continued without interruption from the thirteenth century, had invested

with a nimbus of sanctity. But shortly after the middle of the

eighteenth century the power of its sovereigns broke down. Petty princes

asserted independence, and sought to extend their own dominions; rude

soldiers grasped a royal authority, and there was a constant succession

of civil wars. The unspeakable atrocities connected with these contests

completed the ruin of the Abyssinian civilisation, which, it must not be

forgotten, had never stood very high. The prestige of the Solomonic

dynasty was so great that the actual rulers, some of them Mohammedans

and Gallas, maintained it in name; but its sovereigns, set up or

dethroned at the pleasure of the conqueror for the time being, had not

the faintest shadow of power. When Rüppell visited the capital Gondar in

1833, the reigning “king of the kings of Ethiopia” hardly had the

revenue of a tolerably well-to-do private citizen. The clergy, who were

extraordinarily numerous, were the only class who continued to flourish;

in the never-ending warfare a church might be destroyed or a sanctuary

desecrated here and there, but the old endowments were so rich, and the

holders so skilful in working upon the superstitions of the people, that

their interests never seriously suffered. They themselves were grossly

superstitious, and for the most part little superior to the laity in

culture. With some worthy exceptions the degenerate clergy have been,

and still are, along with a brutal soldiery, the worst curses of this

unhappy country, so richly gifted by nature.

Towards the middle of the present century, Abyssinia was partitioned

into three main principalities. The north was firmly and strongly held

by the cunning Ubié, hereditary chief of the Alpine district of Semyén,

who had taken possession of Tigré, the seat of the oldest kingdom of

Abyssinia and of the most ancient Abyssinian civilisation. The largest

portion of the country was under Ras Ali, a Galla by race. Though a

Mohammedan by origin, he had received baptism; but he was regarded as a

lukewarm Christian,—not because his life was irregular, for the same

could be said of many good Christians, but because he tolerated Moslems:

there were even whispers that, dreadful to relate, he had more than once

eaten of the flesh of animals that Mohammedans had killed. He was

good-humoured and indolent, permitted the local chiefs to do what they

pleased, and was never able to bring some of the more powerful princes

to obedience. The chiefs of the unruly Wollo-Gallas, some of them

related to him, acknowledged his suzerainty on the tacit condition that

he should never trouble himself about anything they did. In the extreme

south was Shoa, completely independent, under a dynasty which had been

in power from the beginning of the eighteenth century, and had at last

assumed the royal title. Shoa, governed with considerable firmness, had

no share in the confusions of the rest of Abyssinia, from which it is

separated both by natural barriers and by wild Galla tribes. If, now,

these chief rulers had remained contented with the territory that each

had acquired, the division would have been to the positive advantage of

the country; for Abyssinia, with its Alpine ranges and deep erosion

valleys, which put a stop to all intercourse during the rainy season

(our summer), is not fitted by nature to be a single State with

effective administration from a single centre. But each ruler strove to

extend his own authority by violence, or fraud and perjury, at the

expense of his neighbour. It was only with difficulty that Ras Ali, the

lord of the central portion, resisted the encroachments of Ubié, and the

everlasting turbulence of great vassals and petty insurgents.

In this condition of affairs a powerful upstart suddenly arose and

overthrew all the princes of Abyssinia. Few Europeans had so much as

heard Kasa’s name as long as he continued to be a mere governor or rebel

against his lord; and even to them it was a surprise when Kasa suddenly

restored the old monarchy as “Theodore, king of the kings of Ethiopia,”

and united the entire country under his sway. The kingdom seemed once

more to have a future before it; for the new ruler was a man of

exceptional endowments, a mighty warrior, and a friend of progress. This

anticipation was unfortunately not realised. Theodore had to carry on a

constant struggle for his authority, and his power had already been

restricted almost to his own camp when the conflict with the English

began. This conflict, through which his name first came to be really

known in Europe, reduced him to the alternatives of surrender or death;

nor did he hesitate in his choice, dying as a king and a hero by his own

hand,—a death which in the remembrance of posterity will ever place him

in a different category from that of the many other rulers of savage

peoples whom the British arms have subdued.

Theodore was a barbarian, a frightful despot, and yet a great man. If

ever there was a tragedy, it is to be seen in the story of this child of

the wilderness, who was called to, and achieved, the highest position;

but after unceasing struggle was overthrown by error, passion, and

crime, more than by a foreign power. It will not be unprofitable to look

for a little at his life. For his earlier history we are so fortunate as

to possess, not merely the notices of various European travellers, but

also a consecutive narrative down to the year 1860, written in Amharic

(the chief dialect of modern Abyssinia) by Debtera Zenab, a cleric with

whom he had personal relations.[116]

Kasa was born about the year 1820 in the land of Quara, in the extreme

west of Abyssinia; his mother-tongue was doubtless the non-Semitic Agau

there prevalent, and it is probable that his blood was mainly Agau. His

origin was not low, as has sometimes been asserted; his father, Hailu

(or Haila Maryam), was a great noble, and for some time ruled Quara, in

the capacity of governor, for his powerful brother Kenfu. Kasa’s mother,

however, seems to have been of humble condition. As the loosest kind of

polygamy prevails among the nobles of Abyssinia, it is impossible for

them to take very great care of all their offspring. But it is not

uncommon for the obscurer children of princely fathers by mothers of

lower rank to rise to distinction. Ubié also was the son of a peasant

girl. The youthful Kasa had been designed for a modest career; it was

intended that he should be trained for the Church in a monastery not far

from Gondar, the capital. But he had early experience of war and its

desolations. The governor for the time being had rebelled against his

master, Ras Imám (uncle and predecessor of Ras Ali), who invaded the

province in 1827. In the invasion Kasa’s monastery was destroyed, and

Imam’s Galla soldiers made eunuchs of its forty-eight pupils, Kasa alone

escaping. In this he must afterwards have recognised the hand of God,

who had designed him for another career than the clerical, and delivered

him from danger; for his faith in his “star” scarcely ever failed him to

the last. I very much doubt the assertion of many Europeans, that his

monkish education deeply influenced him. At an age of less than eight

years, the boy cannot have become a theological scholar. His literary

acquirements, measured even by Abyssinian standards, were never high.

The use of Biblical expressions which he affected is not necessarily to

be regarded in a man of his temperament as a result of direct teaching;

in words all Abyssinians are excellent Christians.

Kasa now entered the household of his uncle Kenfu, who ruled an

extensive territory, and after his death, that of one of his sons. But

Kasa’s cousins soon came to open war with each other, and in this he

also took part. The cousin on whose side he was had the worst of it;

Kasa was made a prisoner, but released by the victor in consideration of

their youthful companionship. Misfortune upon misfortune now befell

Kasa. On one occasion, when he again was unlucky enough to be on the

losing side, he had to remain in hiding for a month, and this within the

territory that belonged to his own family; as a scion of a princely

house he bore the pretentious title of Ledj (“Youth,” _i.e._ “Junker” or

“Prince”), and if discovered he would hardly have been spared by the

enemy. In later prosperous days he conferred high honour and princely

rewards on the countrymen who had sheltered him in this strait. Kasa

served under a variety of captains great and small, and distinguished

himself by his boldness and skill in battle and in the chase. For

example, he once on horseback killed two elephants; but in doing so he

so roused the jealousy of his less fortunate chief that he found it

necessary to quit his service without delay. On such lines zeal and

patience might easily have raised him to high position; but he had a

mind to be a master, not a servant, and became the leader of a robber

band. In these parts, to be sure, it is difficult to draw the line

between a robber chief and a petty prince. For years Kasa conducted

plundering raids, great and small, in Western Abyssinia. His Abyssinian

biographer, a peaceable man, with great seriousness and visible

satisfaction, describes his “first triumph” as follows. Kasa had come to

a sworn agreement with seventy robbers that all booty was to be common

property. But on learning that they had secretly slaughtered for their

own use a cow which they had stolen, he with twelve others fell upon his

perjured “brethren,” put them to flight, and cruelly mutilated seven of

their number who fell into his hands. In this he was no doubt already

acting in his character as a God-appointed judge; breach of oath

demanded severe punishment. But it is too obvious how hardening must

have been the tendency of such a life upon the future sovereign. It may

be conjectured that he justified his robber life by the consideration

that his energies were mainly directed against Mohammedans and heathen.

The great trading caravans are chiefly in the service of Mohammedan

merchants; and the neighbours of Abyssinia are almost all Moslem tribes,

partly Arab, partly pure Africans. In these parts the two religions have

been at enmity for many centuries. No one dreams of establishing peace

between them; and Kasa could not doubt that he served God better the

more energetically he fought against the infidel. And he hated Islam all

his life with his whole soul. Enlightened as he was in many respects,

and profound as was the contempt he ultimately came to feel for the

Christian priests of his nation, he was constant in regarding himself as

an instrument of God for the humiliation or extirpation of Islam, and in

ever looking for the forgiveness of all his sins as the reward of his

merit as champion against the enemies of Christ. Yet in the course of

his freebooting life he was occasionally led to make alliance with

Moslems, especially in undertakings against heathen negroes, who from

time immemorial had been the objects of plundering expeditions and slave

hunts on the part of Christians and Mohammedans, great sovereigns and

petty princelings alike.[117] Of course, in dealing with heathen, no

more pity was shown than if they had been wild beasts, or rather less,

for the hunted blacks often had the audacity to defend themselves with

bravery. Active participation in operations of this kind was no school

of clemency or amiable qualities, but it served to train Kasa as a

general in prudence, promptitude, and solicitous care for his warriors.

He and his companions were often in great straits, especially for want

of food; but he gradually acquired the position of a considerable prince

in his native land of Quara. Though the terror of his enemies and of

trading caravans, he even thus early gave attention to the cultivation

of the soil, and protected the husbandmen. He further extended his

influence by matrimonial alliances. His reputation steadily increased,

and the mother of Ras Ali, Menen, began to see that her best policy

would be to put a good face on a bad business and formally bestow upon

Kasa the governorship of Quara, which he already exercised in fact. This

energetic and immoral woman ruled Gondar and its neighbouring lands for

her son; in her old age (1844) she married a member of the old royal

family, whom she caused Ras Ali to proclaim as sovereign, herself

assuming the title of Itégé (“great queen” or “empress”). Soon

afterwards Menen even offered her granddaughter Tewabetch, daughter of

Ras Ali, to Kasa in marriage. Such unions in the case of Abyssinian

princes are of even less political consequence than they are in Europe;

nevertheless it was a great elevation for Kasa to be brought in this way

into such close connection with the most powerful family in the kingdom.

He accordingly dismissed all the wives he had already married—an

ordinary proceeding in Abyssinia, requiring no special formalities—and

espoused Tewabetch, who was still very young. The union was solemnised

in the face of the church,—which is seldom done in these parts,—and

Kasa remained faithful to his admirable consort as long as she lived,—a

thing unheard of in the case of an Abyssinian grandee. Even after her

death he kept her in tender remembrance; she was his good genius. But

the marriage had not the effect of making Kasa an obedient subject; in

the autumn of 1846 he became a declared rebel, and defeated army after

army. In one instance he even made a naval expedition, attacking an

island on Lake Tana, where a general opposed to him had taken refuge,

with five hundred light reed-rafts, the only craft known in Abyssinia;

each raft carried a musketeer, a spearman, and a slinger. One of Menen’s

generals had grossly insulted Kasa. All over the country the story went

that Kasa’s mother had in early life followed the humble calling of a

dealer in kousso, the well-known remedy for tape-worm, a very common

trouble in Abyssinia. The general in question had boastfully said before

Menen and her people: “Never fear; I shall bring you this son of the

kousso-seller with a string round his neck like an ichneumon.” But it

was his evil fortune to be defeated and taken; whereupon his conqueror

caused a large quantity of pounded kousso to be brought, and thus

addressed him: “My mother has unfortunately not sold any kousso to-day,

and so has no money to buy corn; please therefore accept by way of

refreshment the kousso that is left.” He then compelled the unfortunate

man to swallow a large quantity of the nasty stuff.[118]

In June #847, Menen took the field in person, but was wounded and made

prisoner. As a ransom for his mother, Ras Ali handed over to Kasa her

whole territory, reserving his own suzerainty. Kasa, who now assumed the

title of Dejaz-match or Dejaz, borne by rulers of large provinces, and

by those in higher military commands (thus corresponding partly to our

“duke” and partly to our “general”), in this way became one of the most

powerful princes in the country. As such he followed alike his

inclination and his conscience in leading an expedition against the

“Turks”—that is, the Egyptians. He penetrated far into Senaar, but

learned, in the neighbourhood of Deberki, how powerless the bravest

Abyssinian warriors were against soldiers who had European weapons and

some elements of discipline. He was beaten, and compelled to retreat—a

humiliation he never forgot. His hatred against all Moslems, and

especially all Turks, became blind. As our ancestors once used to regard

the possession of the Holy Land by the infidel as a personal reproach to

themselves, so also did Kasa, along with many of his countrymen; but

what vexed him still more was the thought that the coasts bordering upon

Abyssinia, as well as so many other lands of Africa which he (in some

cases rightly and in others wrongly) regarded as the ancient property of

his own country, were in the hands of Turks or other Moslems. He laid

deeply to heart the lesson that European arms and European discipline

give an army overpowering superiority, and it was always to him a matter

of bitter regret that he could do so little to introduce real discipline

among his troops.

A new rebellion of Kasa’s ended less fortunately than his previous ones.

He hoped to be a match for the numerous cavalry of his suzerain by the

use of a kind of mines, and of wooden cannons bound with iron rings—his

first attempt at gun-making, a pursuit that latterly became a passion

with him. But the enemy found out his secret, and he had to submit

himself without striking a blow. For two years he kept quiet; but in

1852 a quarrel again arose. Ras Ali stirred up against his son-in-law

the powerful Goshu of Gojam, who had often been a thorn in his own side.

Doubtless he hoped that the two troublesome vassals would wear out their

strength against one another. But on 27th November 1852, Kasa surprised

and defeated Goshu by one of those bold and rapid marches over difficult

country which were the special terror of his foes. Goshu himself, one of

the most distinguished warriors of Abyssinia, perished. The fame of the

victor rose to a high pitch. He made as if he desired peace with Ras

Ali, but the Austrian vice-consul Reiz, who was with him in January

1853, saw even then that the ambitious prince would soon be at blows,

not only with him, but also with Ubié. And so it fell out. In two bloody

battles the power of Ras Ali was utterly broken. From the battle of

Aishal (28th June 1853), Kasa’s biographer reckons the fall in Central

Abyssinia of the Galla power, that is to say, of the dynasty of the

Gallas, with their hordes of Mohammedan Galla cavalry. Ras Ali retired

to a remote corner of the territory of his tribesmen, the Yeju-Gallas,

where, it would seem, by the sufferance of his son-in-law, he continued

to live for some ten years, and at last died in utter obscurity.

After this (26th May 1854) a stratagem placed Beru, the son of Goshu,

the bravest hero in all Abyssinia, in the hands of Kasa, who thus became

master of the whole south-west. Beru, deserted by his army, prostrated

himself before Kasa, with a stone on his neck, after the custom of the

country; but his conqueror seated him beside him, and asked, “What would

you have done to me, had I been your prisoner?” “I would not have

allowed you to come into my presence, but would have taken good care to

have you put to death without an audience,” was the answer; upon which

Kasa thanked God aloud for his victory. Beru remained in custody until

the death of his conqueror.

Of the same expedition the following anecdote is told. One of his

servants boasted, after the fashion of Abyssinian warriors, “No one, O

Kasa, can look even thy servants in the face, not to speak of thyself.”

The prince happened to have in his hand at the moment one of the very

brittle glass vessels in use among the Abyssinians. This, by way of

confirmation of what the man had said, he dashed upon a wooden dish; the

glass remained unbroken, but the wood Fell into pieces. He now drew his

sword, and proudly said, “I, Christ’s servant, hold by Christ; who can

stand before my face?” He then offered prayer, and drank mead from the

glass. The story is no doubt an adorned version of something that really

happened; it is of interest to us as showing that people had already

begun to regard Kasa as invincible.

In the same summer (1854) Kasa attacked Ubié, the most powerful of his

rivals, resorting not only to arms, but to cunning and diplomacy. By the

favour which he ostentatiously showed to the Roman Catholic bishop, an

Italian named De Jacobis, he contrived to rouse the fears of Abba

Selama, the spiritual head (Abuna) of the Abyssinian Church, that in the

end Kasa’s territory was to be withdrawn from him, and brought into

connection with the Roman Church; to prevent this the Abuna made a rapid

change of front, and went over from Ubié, his benefactor, to Kasa,

promising to crown him as sovereign. On this Kasa now expelled De

Jacobis[119] and all the other Catholic priests, as Ubié had previously

banished the Protestant missionaries.

On 9th February 1855 a decisive battle was fought, in which Ubié was

made prisoner, and his whole dominions fell under the power of Kasa.

Almost immediately (11th February) Kasa had himself anointed and crowned

in the church of Deresgé Maryam, by Abuna Selama, under the name of

Theodore, as “king of the kings of Ethiopia.” The choice of the name,

which, confident of victory, he had announced to his soldiers before the

battle, was well considered. Throughout the country hopes had long been

cherished of the appearance of a Messianic ruler, Theodore, who should

restore the glories of the kingdom and subdue unbelievers, and this was

the character which Kasa now took on himself to represent; but,

curiously enough, he did not assume the proper imperial title of Hatsé

(or Haté, Até), leaving it to the old and feeble John, husband of Menen,

who survived Theodore, and was always treated by him with the greatest

respect, doubtless from some superstitious idea. The defect of Kasa’s

ancestry was made good by courtly genealogists, who soon supplied a

pedigree establishing the descent of his mother from Solomon (that of

his father was perhaps too well known), and thus making him to some

extent a legitimate sovereign in the eyes of the people.

But he attached no value to the outward display of royalty. He dressed

like an ordinary officer, slept almost invariably in a military tent,

and went barefoot like all his subjects. At the same time, like some

other great warrior kings, he had a touch of the theatrical in his

character, which doubtless helped to enhance his reputation with the

Abyssinians. Thus, for example, he had a fancy for keeping tame lions.

There must have been something kinglike in the whole aspect of the man;

he was of the middle height, very dark even for an Abyssinian, with

aristocratic features, aquiline nose, and fiery black eyes; almost all

Europeans who came before him were much impressed by him at first sight.

Some of them also detected a trace of cunning in his face, and this was

no doubt correct. Of insinuating address in his friendly moods, he could

be terrible in the outbursts of his wrath. Possibly this wrath may

sometimes have been merely assumed, as in the case of Napoleon I.

One of his first acts as king was to renew the old laws against the

slave trade and polygamy. But unfortunately his constant wars made it

impossible to give full effect to the former prohibition; and a real

reformation of the frightfully loose marriage relations which prevail in

this very “Christian” State could not be effected by edicts apart from a

movement of moral reformation. The law remained a dead letter, all the

more that he himself personally in after years violated it grossly.

Theodore threw himself with all his might into the maintenance of

justice. All the oppressed, so far as was at all possible, betook

themselves directly to him. In Abyssinia the head of the State still

personally discharges the functions of judge. He sought to protect the

country folk against the excesses of the soldiers. His punishments were

frightfully severe, but at the same time often milder than the laws

prescribed. We would not excuse the excessive and shocking severity of

Theodore’s punishments, such as the chopping off of hands and feet, and

so on; but it is fair to remember that it is only modern humanitarianism

that has finally put a stop to similar atrocities among ourselves, and

that in Europe revolting corporal punishments were still sanctioned by

law in an age where they were much less in harmony with the prevailing

civilisation than in modern Abyssinia. It ought to be added, that he not

unfrequently pardoned vanquished foes. In his legal judgments he showed

good sense. Decisions of his are quoted which are much better entitled

to the epithet “Solomonic” than his genealogy is.

Immediately after the subjugation of Ubié, Theodore marched against the

Wollo-Gallas, reduced them to apparent subjection at the very first

onset, and pushed farther to the south into the kingdom of Shoa, which,

as we learn from the missionary Krapf, feared no assailant from the

north, being covered (as it deemed) by the Wollos. Such an opinion would

have been justified in the case of any ordinary Abyssinian prince, but

not in that of Theodore. He was soon master of all Shoa, and, the native

king dying at the time, nominated a member of the same family, not as

king, but as governor. Thus within less than a year Theodore had added

to his old provinces all that remained of Abyssinia.

But to conquer and to hold are not quite the same. Had Theodore been a

cool-headed and highly-educated European, he would from the first have

called a halt at the natural northern frontier of the Wollo country, the

valley of the Beshelo. Really to subjugate this people was a much

heavier task than he could have supposed. The Wollos have long been

Mohammedans, and are proud of their faith, although they know but little

of the doctrines of Islam, and have retained much that is of pagan

origin. They are divided against themselves in genuine African fashion;

tribe is at war with tribe, clan with clan, but they were all at one in

their love of independence and in hatred of the Christian conqueror.

All the Gallas (all, at least, who live in or near Abyssinia) are savage

and bloodthirsty, with all the instincts of the robber, not very

courageous in open fight, but dangerous in guerilla warfare. The Wollos

have the reputation also of being exceptionally treacherous. Their

country, somewhat less, perhaps, than the kingdom of Saxony, is broken

up by great mountain ranges rising close to the snow line, and by

numerous deep valleys, so as to make the reduction of a recalcitrant

population under a united rule an excessively difficult task. On the

other hand, it offers abundant cover for rebels and robbers; and any one

acquainted with the byways can easily incommode even considerable bodies

of troops. The Wollos are born horsemen, and gallop along the steepest

hillsides on their hardy ponies. Theodore carried on his war with them

year after year. He was never defeated by them, and, in fact, they were

afraid so much as to look him in the face.[120] His generals also were

for the most part successful against them. Great parts of the country,

and even prominent chiefs, were often subdued by him, but he never

became master of the whole. Sometimes with kindness, often with severity

rising to atrocious cruelty, he sought to bring them under his sway; but

the result was always the same, that in the end in Walloland he could

call nothing his own except garrisoned fortresses like Makdala.[121]

Meanwhile arose, now in one province, now in another, various rebels,

some of them members of old princely families, sometimes bold soldiers

of fortune. None of them was at all a match for him. Wherever he made

his appearance the armies of the insurgents were scattered like dust. By

force or by artifice he succeeded in getting several of them into his

power, and among them one who, as it seemed, was the most formidable of

all—Negusié of Tigré (beginning of 1861), with whom France had already

entered into relations as “King of Abyssinia.” Others took refuge in

inaccessible deserts, or in steep rocky fastnesses, of which so many are

found in Abyssinia. Had he not been hampered by the Wollos, he would

doubtless have got the better of them all; but his war of extermination

against these savages crippled him completely. He found no exceptional

difficulty indeed in recruiting his armies, decimated though they were

by the sword, and still more by periodical pestilence; for Abyssinia has

no lack of men with a taste for war and plunder, and Theodore’s name

acted like a charm. The very size of his armies was his misfortune. He

could not feed them in any regular way. Though at the outset he strictly

repressed all plundering in friendly districts, he soon had to concede

everything to his hungry soldiers, and even to order the systematic

robbery of prosperous regions. In this way the veneration of his people

was turned into hatred; the poverty-stricken peasants went to swell the

ranks of the rebels, or, at least, robbed and murdered in secret.

Theodore’s embarrassments were further increased by his relations with

the ecclesiastical authorities. At the head of the Abyssinian Church, a

branch of the Coptic (the whole civilisation of Abyssinia, so far as it

is Christian, is derived from the impure Coptic source), stands a

bishop, who must be, not a native, but a Copt, sent by the (Monophysite)

patriarch of Alexandria. This “Abuna,” in power and consideration,

stands almost on a level with the king, has much larger revenues, and is

reverenced by the masses as a god. Since November 1841 this position had

been occupied by Abba Selama, mentioned above, a man of about the same

age as Kasa-Theodore. Having as a child attended an English mission

school, many English and German Protestants cherished great hopes

regarding him; but other Europeans who happened to be in Abyssinia at

the time of his arrival there,—Ferret and Galinier (French), and

Mansfield Parkins (English),—who had no ecclesiastical preoccupations,

at once perceived him to be an insignificant, narrow-minded individual.

Nowhere, moreover, could a prelate, with any serious inclination to

reformation, have a more difficult position than in the wretched Church

of Abyssinia: to make any progress with the laity would be difficult;

with the priesthood, impossible. As Abba Selama at the outset had the

immeasurable advantage over the natives of a somewhat higher education

and a much greater knowledge of the world, he ought certainly to have

been able, in conjunction with such a man as Theodore, to improve many

things, had he shown intelligence and adaptability. But he cared for

nothing except his own spiritual independence. The king was very

amenable to good advice, and had also laid him under special obligations

by forcibly repressing a large party of the priests that for dogmatic

reasons was hostile to him; but instead of exercising a moderating

influence upon him, the prelate soon brought matters to a complete

breach. When the German missionary Krapf met the king in the heyday of

his victorious career, in the spring of 1855, he still appeared to be in

heart and soul at one with the Abuna; but any one who is acquainted with

the quarrels that subsequently arose can mark the root of them in the

jealous temper which the language of the bishop, reported by Krapf, even

then revealed. Soon afterwards a mutiny broke out in the army in Shoa,

which to all appearance had been stirred up by the Abuna and the second

spiritual authority in the kingdom, the supreme head of the monks. This

was repressed without leading to an open conflict with the clerics. But

soon a worse controversy arose. The king began to lay hands on the vast

revenues of the Church to meet the demands of his army,—a measure

certainly contrary to every usage of the country, and dictated only by

sheerest necessity. Further, he required the priests to uncover in his

presence (he being filled with the Spirit of God), just as they

uncovered in presence of the ark (or altar), which was the Seat of God.

In these controversies the king had to give way at first, but soon it

went hard with the clergy. The biographer, though as respectful in his

feeling towards the bishop as towards the king, accumulates all sorts of

details fitted to make plain the contempt and hatred which Theodore

gradually and increasingly came to feel towards the haughty head of the

Church and the entire clergy. Even the supreme head of that Church, the

patriarch of Alexandria, on one occasion when he visited Abyssinia, had

seriously compromised himself in the king’s eyes. Moreover, the Abuna

appears to have been far from exemplary in his private life. Theodore,

accordingly, in the course of time, broke loose from all clerical

restraints. In his later years he deliberately set fire to sacred

buildings, burned down the town of Gondar precisely because it was “the

city of the priests,” threw the Abuna into prison, and finally even, on

his own authority, issued to himself and his soldiers a dispensation

from fasting, perhaps the most important duty of Abyssinian

Christianity; and all this the priesthood had silently to endure. On the

other hand, of course, their hatred helped to alienate the people from

the king, and the Abuna in his prison maintained close relations with

the more important rebels.

In the first years of his reign Theodore had two faithful counsellors in

Plowden, the British consul, and John Bell, who had come into the

country along with Plowden, had almost become an Abyssinian, and adhered

with touching fidelity to the master whose service he had joined. These

two had a great influence in stimulating his desire for the introduction

of European manners, or rather of the arts of Europe; when he compared

them and what he learned from them about Europe with his own

Abyssinians, the latter could not but fall greatly in his estimation,

and perhaps in the end he even came to value his own people too lightly,

and to judge them too severely. Plowden, unfortunately, was recalled by

his Government to the port of Massowa, and on his journey (March 1860)

fell into the hands of a rebel, a cousin of the king, receiving wounds

of which he soon afterwards died. Theodore at once set out against the

miscreant, who fell in the battle that followed, slain, it is said, by

the hand of Bell, who in his turn was killed while shielding the king

with his own person. Theodore terribly avenged his two friends, whose

loss was never repaired to him. Queen Tewabetch, to whom, as we have

seen, he clung with all his soul, had died previously on 18th August

1858; Flad tells us that he regarded her death as a divine judgment on

him for having shortly before caused the wife of an arch-rebel who had

fallen into his hands to be cruelly butchered.

Continual conflicts left the king no leisure to carry out reforms,

however much his heart may have been set on them. Before everything else

the construction of roads, bridges, and viaducts was a necessity for the

country, and with road-making he did actually make a beginning. The

first section was completed in 1858, under the direction of Zander, a

German painter. When he complained that the necessary assistance was not

being given to him, the king caused the governor of the district to be

whipped and laid in irons, rewarding Zander richly. Theodore desired

nothing more ardently than the immigration of European artisans and

mechanics. With more of these and fewer missionaries, much disaster

would have been averted and much good done.

To outward seeming Theodore was at the height of his power between 1861

and 1863. It was only in these years that he actually wielded authority,

through his governor, over the whole of Tigré, the one province which

has tolerably easy communications with the coast. But his struggles with

the Wollos wasted his strength, and continually gave rebels renewed

opportunities to rise. From 1863 onwards, his difficulties increased day

by day. At the same time the king’s disposition steadily became

gloomier. From the first he had been capricious, subject to violent

outbursts of wrath, and in his passion capable of the most dreadful

actions. But now he experienced disappointment after disappointment.

Prince Menilek of Shoa escaped from Makdala in 1865, and again set up

the kingdom of his fathers; Theodore attempted to dethrone him once

more, but was compelled to retire from Shoa without accomplishing his

object. One province after another was lost, temporarily or permanently.

Even in the earlier years of his sovereignty many of his grandees in

whom he had reposed perfect confidence had left him and become rebels.

This made him ever more mistrustful, and increased his contempt for his

fellow-countrymen. Ultimately, on the slightest suspicion, or even out

of mere caprice, he would put in irons, for a longer or shorter time,

his most faithful servants, some of whom in the long-run proved their

fidelity by dying with him. In his youthful days as robber chief and

adventurer he had resembled David, who, secure of his future, had led a

freebooter life among the mountains of southern Judah (of course one

must remember that the African character is much ruder still than that

of ancient Israel); now, in one aspect at least, he often resembled Saul

when the evil spirit had come upon him. When Theodore sat gloomily

brooding, every one who knew him took care to avoid him; kindly

attendants sought to keep off visitors with the transparent pretence

that the king was asleep.

It is no more true of Theodore than of any other extraordinary man, that

his whole character was suddenly transformed. All his faults showed

themselves at an early period, some of them in a very marked way; but in

late years his bad qualities became more and more prominent, and

overgrew his better nature. Terunesh, the proud daughter of the aged

Ubié, whom he married some five years after the death of the beloved

Tewabetch, was unable to hold his affections; and with the full

consciousness that he was doing wrong he abandoned himself to the usual

polygamy of the native princes. Like most of the Abyssinian grandees, he

had always been a heavy drinker; but in his last years, contrary to his

earlier practice, he often got drunk, and when in this condition gave

orders of the most bloody description, which he afterwards bitterly

repented. But this man, who sometimes in anger or drunkenness, sometimes

with the clear conscience of a ruler or judge sacrificing to the public

weal or to the cause of righteousness, butchered thousands of people,

and burned churches and cities to the ground—this very man played in

the most genial way with little children, in his expeditions was

scrupulously careful that the women and children, numbers of whom always

accompany an Abyssinian army, should come to no harm, and was ready to

assist personally the exhausted soldier who had fallen out of the ranks.

It would serve no purpose to go into details of the embroilment with

England in which Theodore ultimately met his death. It was a singular

combination of unfortunate circumstances, misunderstandings, blunders,

and crimes. Consul Cameron, a man worthy of all respect, was not

acquainted with Abyssinia and Theodore as Plowden, his predecessor, had

been, neither does he seem to have been a _persona grata_ to the king.

In the letter of which he was the bearer (October 1862), Earl Russell

thanked Theodore courteously and coldly for his treatment of Plowden,

when the king felt entitled to expect a direct communication from the

sovereign as between equals. Theodore lost no time in expressing to

Cameron the hatred he felt against his hereditary enemies, the Turks.

But Cameron had instructions to enter into communication with the

Egyptian authorities, and this presently made him hateful to Theodore.

The king himself, the servant of Christ, had refused all friendly

agreement with the unbelieving Egyptians, although the Viceroy Saíd

Pasha had taken much pains in this direction, and it was

incomprehensible to him how Christian Europe could hold alliance with

Turks, or leave them in possession of lands formerly Christian. We smile

at his narrowness; but how long is it since similar views prevailed all

over Europe? And did not Russia in her last Eastern war succeed in

reviving in Europe, and especially in England, the antipathy of

Christians against the unchristian Turks, and in making it serve her own

policy of conquest? It was inexcusable that Theodore’s letter to the

Queen, delivered to the consul, received no answer; the neglect was felt

profoundly. Incautious oral, written, or printed utterances of

Europeans, communicated idly or in malice, further embittered him. He

was well aware that Europeans were his superiors in civilisation; but he

had a just sense of his personal dignity, and it stung him to the quick

to hear that he was spoken of as a savage. What irritated him above all

was to learn that his mother, on whom he rested his claim as a

legitimate sovereign, had been spoken of as a kousso-seller.[122] The

Jewish missionary Stern made himself particularly obnoxious by

utterances of this kind. Theodore had never conceded to the foreign

consuls the privilege of inviolability, which is quite unknown to the

Abyssinians. He claimed for himself a perfect right to treat

discourteous guests exactly as he would treat his own subjects. Thus in

1863 he put in irons the French consul Lejean who had offended him, and

afterwards expelled him. In like manner, in January 1864, he put consul

Cameron in irons. The other Europeans also, who were under his control,

were either imprisoned or kept under prison surveillance. These were for

the most part Germans, some of them missionaries, others of them

artisans, who had been sent into Abyssinia in the missionary interest,

but had been employed by Theodore in cannon-founding and other works not

of a particularly evangelistic character; there were, besides, a few

travellers and adventurers of various descriptions. Most of them seem to

have been worthy persons.

Britain, of course, could not submit quietly to the imprisonment of her

consul. But the Government sought, in the first instance, very properly,

to win the king to a better temper, and sent Rassam, a born Oriental (of

Mosul), and a man of intelligence and address, with a letter from the

Queen to Theodore. The latter gave Rassam a very friendly reception

(March 1866), and promised to release the captives. But he could never

make up his mind to fulfil this promise. Recollections of real or

supposed insults continually came in the way. He had, moreover, the idea

that in Cameron and the missionaries he possessed valuable hostages

whose delivery might be made to depend on the arrival from England of

the artisans and implements he so earnestly desired. Personal

misunderstandings, and perhaps misrepresentations, did the rest; until,

finally, the gloomy despot, hemmed in on every side by manifold straits,

caused Rassam also and his suite to be sent to the rocky fastness of

Makdala, and there confined. The captivity, judged according to

Abyssinian ideas, was certainly of a mild description, and Theodore

always maintained friendly feelings towards Rassam, while regarding

Cameron, Stern, and some others as his enemies. He tacitly showed his

high respect for the Europeans by the immunity for life and limb which

he allowed them to enjoy, while he would mutilate or put to death his

own subjects on the slightest provocation.

Rassam’s imprisonment compelled Britain to declare war. When the troops

landed on the Red Sea coast, not far from Massowa, in the end of 1867,

Theodore was already in the direst straits. But wherever he showed

himself with his army, he still continued to be undisputed lord; for no

one dared to meet him in the field. Had he in these circumstances simply

retired before the British troops, and withdrawn with his captives into

the hot fever-haunted wilderness of his native Quara, he would have

involved his assailants in endless difficulties. Fortunately, however,

he determined to choose Makdala—to Abyssinians impregnable—as the

place where to concentrate all his fighting power. The same stronghold,

more than 9000 feet above sea level, and nearly 4000 feet above the

river Beshelo, less than five miles off, in a direct line, was also, as

being the place where the prisoners were kept, the objective of the

British. Theodore’s last march was really a magnificent performance. For

the transit of the heavy ordnance, cast by his European workmen, with

which he proposed to defend Makdala, roads had first to be made, often

along dizzy precipices. Theodore personally superintended all the works,

and often personally took a share in them. In his heart what he hoped

for was a peaceful arrangement with the British, though in moments of

excitement he may sometimes have actually thought of their defeat and

annihilation as possible. He reached Makdala, which, including its

outworks, has accommodation for many thousands, only shortly before the

arrival of the British. He had gone into the net almost with his eyes

open.

The arrangements for the English expedition, which was commanded by Sir

Robert Napier, were not at first particularly skilful; and the final

success was mainly due to Colonel Merewether, to the

never-to-be-forgotten Werner Munzinger, who had been appointed British

vice-consul, and, as intimately acquainted with the land and its people,

had charge of the negotiations with the native rulers, and, lastly, to

Colonel Phayre. To within a short distance of Makdala the route lay

through the territory of princes who were in rebellion against Theodore,

and indeed, to some extent, also at feud with each other. To secure free

passage everywhere, accordingly, it was never necessary to resort to

open force; diplomatic negotiation was enough. To conquer the physical

obstacles, once Abyssinia proper had been reached, was no very difficult

task for British troops with British resources.

At Arogé, near Makdala, a portion of Theodore’s army fell upon the

British, and was, of course, scattered (10th April 1868); no Abyssinian

bravery could withstand Snider rifles, rockets, and artillery. The king

recognised that he could never again bring his troops to face such a

foe. Hope alternated with paroxysms of rage. He began to treat with

Napier, and at last released all the Europeans unconditionally. It is

possible that he may have done this because he had been informed that

Napier was prepared to accept a present from him, and so had virtually

conceded peace; but it is at least equally probable that he did not wish

the Europeans to be involved in his ruin. Shortly before this, at any

rate, he had made an attempt (prevented by his grandees) at suicide,

without previously giving orders that he should be avenged on his

prisoners. The intelligence he had received soon proved to have been

false; the British pressed forward, and his army deserted him. The proud

king could not yield to Napier’s demand that he should surrender; with a

few of his faithful followers he went to meet the foe, and after some of

those beside him had fallen, he shot himself with his own pistol (Easter

Monday, 14th April).

The British soldiers showed little respect for the body, but their

commander afterwards caused it to be buried after the rites of the

Abyssinian Church. The conquerors liberated all the captives in

Makdala,—scions of ancient families, rebels, robbers, officials, and

officers in disgrace,—people for the most part of very questionable

antecedents. The young queen Terunesh, along with the boy Alem-ayehu,

Theodore’s only legitimate son, accompanied the British on their return.

She died of consumption before she could leave Abyssinia, the boy not

long afterwards in England. The army quitted the country as promptly as

might be, in view of the approach of the rainy season, which makes all

communication impossible. It is to be regretted that so little care was

taken to utilise the opportunity offered by the expedition for a more

exact scientific survey of the country.[123]

Thus lies Theodore in the mountain fastness of the Wollo-Gallas. I do

not know whether these savages have desecrated the grave of their mortal

enemy, or whether, perhaps, their awe of him still keeps them at a

distance. Legend is certain ultimately to glorify the memory of Theodore

among the Christians of Abyssinia; songs will long be sung and stories

told of the mighty king who restored the kingdom, triumphed over the

infidel, and at last, worsted by the magical arts of strangers,

preferred death to surrender.

The task of permanently uniting Abyssinia, in which Theodore failed,

proved equally impracticable to John, who came to the front, in the

first instance, as an ally of the British, and afterwards succeeded to

the sovereignty. By his fall (10th March 1889) in the unhappy war

against the “dervishes” or Moslem zealots of the Soudan, the path was

cleared for Menilek of Shoa, who enjoyed the support of Italy. The

establishment of the Italians on the Red Sea littoral, and their policy

there, which, though not free from many mistakes, has been on the whole

very intelligent and effective, according to all appearance, promises a

new era for Abyssinia. If Italy perseveres with firmness, prudence, and

moderation on the laborious path on which she has entered, and if the

policy represented by Count Antonelli and others is not frustrated by

party exigencies or excessive parsimony, she may derive great advantages

from her African enterprise. But Abyssinia will profit still more,

though there be an end to the proud dream of an independent kingdom of

all Abyssinia.

-----

[115] Originally published in _Deutsche Rundschau_, x. (1884) p. 406

sqq.

[116] The MS. was presented to the Royal Library in Berlin by the worthy

missionary Flad, along with a German abridgment. A portion of the

abridgment appears in his instructive work, entitled _Twelve Years in

Abyssinia_ (_Zwölf Jahre in Abessinien_).

[117] The good-natured Menilek of Shoa (now king of all Abyssinia) has

undertaken many similar expeditions against neighbouring peoples on a

larger scale than the nefarious slave hunts of the Arabs, and not less

inhuman.

[118] I repeat the story exactly as given in the Amharic biography.

D’Abbadie at the time heard a somewhat different version in Gondar

(_L’Abyssinie et le roi Théodore_, Paris 1868). D’Abbadie partly differs

also in his order of events from the Abyssinian writer whom I follow;

perhaps he may in some instances be right, but in others he has

indubitably been misled by inaccurate recollection or by false

information.

[119] De Jacobis is highly spoken of by all unprejudiced witnesses. With

regard to all persons and things involving ecclesiastical interests, the

judgments of Protestant and Catholic missionaries alike, and their

partisans (D’Abbadie, for example), must be received with caution. It is

undeniable that Abyssinia offers a much less favourable field to

Protestant than to Catholic missions. Even the narrowest type of

Protestantism is something much too high for the Abyssinians, not to

speak of negroes. The desires that occasionally find expression on the

part of Russia for a union of the Abyssinian with the “Orthodox” Church

have small prospect of ever being fulfilled.

[120] When the English, immediately after the death of Theodore, showed

his picture to the Wollo princess Mastiat, his bitter enemy, and asked

her whether it was like him, she replied, “How can I tell? Who has ever

seen him and lived?”

[121] Not Magdala, as it is usually written in England and Germany.

[122] See above, p. 265.

[123] Of works upon the campaign that are not purely military, by far

the best, so far as I know, is that of Markham (_A History of the

Abyssinian Expedition_, London 1869). The writer is a keen observer, and

an impartial judge.