Volume Three—Chapter Thirty One.
The Kingdom of Shoa.
“Natura beatis
Omnibus esse dedit, si quis cognoverit uti.”
Although the majestic fabrics, the pillars of porphyry, and the Corinthian domes of early writers, now exist only in the tradition, Ethiopia yet retains the fresh vegetation of a northern soil, the vivifying ardour of a tropical sun, and the cloudless azure of a southern sky. Palaces and fanes, gardens and gushing fountains, have long since departed; but there still remains a fertile country possessing vast capabilities, a salubrious and delightful climate, and a race of beings whose existence under absolute and complete despotism, presents a striking contrast to that of the idle and improvident Adaïel, whose pride and whose boast is a banner of independence.
Whatever Abyssinia may once have been, it is not to be expected that she should, under a great lapse of time, again take place among those countries which are peculiarly happy, opulent, or abundant. All her prevailing customs and practices are utterly at variance with existing laws for the creation, consumption, and distribution of wealth. A heavy taxation is levied on the produce of the field. Monastic and clerical establishments are fostered to the ruin of the people. The venal judges are paid by fees on the suits which they decide; and popular superstition and imposture possess the royal sanction for abuse. Nothing useful is ever taken into consideration; here are no roads or bridges to facilitate traffic, no schools for the instruction of the rising generation. The improvements of life have stopped at the satisfying point “of barren, bare necessity;” and fear and prejudice unite to deter the inhabitants from visiting foreign climes, so as to improve their benighted country, by introducing the discoveries in modern science.
But although thus ignorant of comfort even in their highest enjoyments, the people are yet considerably emerged from that state of society which is denominated barbarian, and practise a species of agriculture which the fertility of the soil has heretofore blessed with an abundant return. Throughout the kingdom the eye is greeted by extensive cultivation; and the art of husbandry in Shoa has far eclipsed the advances made by any nation hitherto visited on the western coast. Under certain despotic conditions, private property in the land is every where established. There are few forests or wastes, excepting those impracticable for pasture or cultivation. The village and the farm-steading are uniformly secure from predatory bands or hostile neighbours, and although thickly inhabited, the country is unburdened by any over-population.
The processes of preparing the ground are somewhat complex; a primitive plough is in use to the exclusion of the African hoe, and considerable industry is evinced in collecting and distributing the waters for artificial irrigation. The science of husbandry is nevertheless little understood; the implements of culture are few, and of the rudest construction; the various modes of assisting nature are unknown; and unless some civilised power interferes for good, a great length of time must necessarily elapse before the habits and prejudices of the uncultivated nation can be overcome for its own advantage.
Situated in the middle of the torrid zone, and composed of groups and ranges of lofty mountains overlooking wide plains and deep valleys, equally under the influence of the tropical rains, the climate at different elevations is of the most varied description. The high table-land, which is clothed with moderate vegetation, and destitute of wood, is at all times cool and healthy, and often extremely cold. Here there is no winter,
“Such as when birds die
In the deep forest, and the fishes lie
Stiffened in the translucent ice.”
The coolness of the mountain breeze is pleasant and refreshing, and the timely cessation of the rain allows a healthful rest to vegetation.
The low wooded valleys, on the other hand, are close, unwholesome, and insufferably hot. During the cold season the thermometer on the summit of the range stands at about 30 degrees, a thin coating of ice covers the pools, and the country is white under a mantle of hoar frost. Below, the quicksilver mounts to 90 degrees, and the total absence of ventilation renders the heat still more oppressive. At the termination of the rains, Fever, with all her attendant horrors, spreads her pestilential wings over the most beautiful locations; and during the month of September even the wild birds for a time forsake the poisoned atmosphere, to seek the more congenial breezes of the upper regions.
The amazing fertility of the vales is beyond all conception. Every species of crop attains the most gigantic proportions. The rich soil and the nurturing shelter, the abundant supply of water, and the ardent rays of the sun, all combine to crown the hopes of the husbandman; and these situations would have stood prominent as perfect in the creation, had nature blessed them with a climate corresponding in character to their lovely appearance. On the mountain-side, the vegetation is somewhat inferior in luxuriance—a fact that may be accounted for by the angle at which the sun’s rays meet the ground, their power of imparting heat varying in proportion. As the eastern face of the range rises almost perpendicularly, it can only during half the day receive them at all, and for many hours in the warmest part of the afternoon, it is thus entirely in the shade.
On the elevated plateau, a succession of well-watered undulations of pasture and arable land, extend in endless continuation to the view, undisturbed by a solitary tree, their scattered villages and farm houses proclaiming a country which has long enjoyed the blessings of peace. From the centre of this table-land, the craggy mountains rise in magnificent ranges, clothed in part with majestic forests, and graced by the wild rose, the myrtle, the eglantine, and the jessamine; whilst at its foot repose the rich and smiling valleys, hid in all the luxuriance of tropical foliage, from the gigantic sycamore, beloved of the heathen Galla, and measuring upwards of forty feet in circumference, to the light and elegant acacia, which distils the much-prized gum.
On the table-land the best soil is found on the sheltered hill-side, of a rich brown colour, and along the river bank where there is a loamy alluvial deposit. Black earth is occasionally met with on the mountains, where it may probably have originated in the decomposition of those forests to which tradition gives existence in ancient days, but of which no other vestige now remains. In the valleys, those which form the governments of Giddem and Geshé especially, the richest black soil prevails throughout; and blessed with an abundant supply of rain, and with a mild genial climate, they produce all the crops known in Abyssinia, whilst the soil on the surrounding mountain-side, light, loose, and gravelly, would be found well adapted for the growth of coffee and tea.
Abyssinia is happy in a most copious supply of water, the gates of heaven being opened twice during the year to the flooding of every river and streamlet, and to the complete soaking of the earth. The “rain of bounty” commences in February, and lasts for thirty days, and the “rain of covenant” setting in before the termination of June, pours down with extreme violence throughout July, August, and September—at which period is produced that never-failing increase of the Nile to which Egypt is also indebted for her fertility. Immediately after these down-pourings, nature, who had remained bound up in the preceding drought, bursts forth into a thousand interesting forms. Pastures and meadows are clothed in cheering green; the hills and dales are adorned with myriads of beautiful and sweet-scented flowers, and the sides of the mountain ranges become one sheet of the most luxuriant cultivation.
Long after the rains are over, a heavy dew falls during the night; and under its vivifying influence the plants continue to shoot forth, refreshed by the coolness of the morning breeze, and strengthened by the strong heat of the mid-day sun. By the provident husbandman two crops are every year garnered in, without the land being impoverished; and whilst the corn is being reaped in one field, the seed is but just sown in another. The cattle are employed in ploughing up the fertile soil of one estate, whilst in the next the muzzled ox is trampling out its recently yielded treasures; and all the various operations of husbandry, from the breaking up of the ground to the final winnowing of the corn, may be simultaneously witnessed on one and the same farm.
“Hic ver assiduum, atque alienis mensibus aestas,
Bis gravidae pecudes, bis pomis utilis arbor.”
Forty-three species of grain and other useful products are already cultivated in Abyssinia. After supplying the immediate wants of the working classes, and those of a herd of clerical drones who devour the fruits of their honest labour, there remains a considerable surplus, which is bartered to the lazy Adaïel for the produce of his salt lake—a field that without ploughing or sowing yields an inestimable crop. But if only a small portion of European knowledge were to be instilled into the mind of the Christian cultivator, the kingdom of Shoa, possessed of such unbounded natural advantages, might be rapidly raised from its present condition, and made one inexhaustible granary for all the best fruits of the earth.
Volume Three—Chapter Thirty Two.
Termination of the Fast of Lent.
Immediately upon our return from the eastern frontier, the king sent his confidential page with a message of congratulation on my recent success against the much-dreaded buffalo, and requested that we would visit him early the ensuing morning. In accordance with the etiquette invariably observed after a long absence, I laid “pleasing things” on the royal footstool, together with the trophies of the chase, and His Majesty listened with great interest to a detail of our adventures among his Adel subjects. On my returning thanks for the injunctions issued to the governor of Berhut and his subordinates, as well as for the royal permission to visit a portion of the realm hitherto unviewed by Europeans, the most friendly assurances were repeated, that “he could not suffer his children to depart until they should have viewed the entire of his dominions.”
During this interview. His Majesty remained seated on a hassock before the fire, and had laid aside every portion of his usual reserve. Akodámas, or silver coronets, with chain pendants, of the model worn by himself on occasions of triumph, and conferred as the last honour upon those who distinguish themselves in war or in the chase, were now presented to us, together with massive silver bracelets, accompanied by many complimentary speeches upon the issue of the expedition:—“You have slain elephants and buffaloes, and are powerful in arms against the wild beasts of which my people are afraid,” concluded the despot. “You have overwhelmed me with rifles and other delightful inventions from the countries beyond the great sea, and must receive at my hands those things which my kingdom produces, in order that they may be worn on all proper occasions. You are my brothers.”
Striped cotton robes of Abyssinian manufacture followed; and three horses with plated silver bridles were subsequently presented, which, although like other royal gifts in Shoa, of ridiculously inferior quality, were valuable as tokens of favour that are lavished upon those alone who enjoy the most exalted place in His Majesty’s estimation. They did not fail to produce the desired effect upon popular opinion; and sycophants who had before taxed us with an intention to seize the throne—to extinguish the race of Solomon, and to bring a curse upon the land by the atrocious process of burning the royal bread—now found it convenient to alter their sentiments, and to confer upon the foreign guests the ennobling, but not very enviable, appellation of “the king’s brothers.”
The tedious fast of Hodádi, which for forty days had been observed in commemoration of Lent by every individual of the population whose age exceeded thirteen years, was now about to terminate. During the three days which are termed kenóna, the priests had neither eaten bread nor drunk water, but had remained in the churches singing and praying incessantly both day and night. In accordance with the practice of the primitive Church, the monarch observed total abstinence throughout this period, and on Good Friday sent me a message, “that his people would eat nothing for forty hours, but that as he knew the Gypts did not keep strong fasts, he had commanded the purveyor-general to send to the residency the usual daily supplies of bread, beer, and hydromel.”
On Easter even we were invited to the palace to witness their celebration of the royal victories, held according to immemorial custom during Passion Week. Sáhela Selássie was clad in the plainest of garments, and appeared much enfeebled and emaciated by rigorous mortification, but was in high spirits at the prospect of speedy release from the irksome penance. On this joyful occasion offerings are invariably made to the throne; and every individual of the crowd present, whether great or small, advancing in turn, contributed a mite according to his means—the wealthier bringing cotton cloths, and the more indigent, logs of wood, earthen jars, or stones of a description fitted for building.
Bands of warriors next entered the carpeted courtyard, howling the war-chorus; and after the lapse of a few seconds, the gigantic Tunkaiye, who had earned new laurels, and been severely wounded during a recent foray against the Gentiles, dashed into the arena on horseback. Richly attired, bedizened with feathers, sarétis, and silver decorations, and escorted by a troop of fifty mounted retainers, he galloped up and down, recounting his valorous exploits, and pointing to the scars earned in the service of his royal master, shouted defiance to the enemies of the state.
Eighty turbaned priests, in solemn procession, next entered the court, clad in their sacerdotal vestments. Preceded by the great embroidered umbrellas of the church dedicated to Saint George, they filed slowly into the space vacated by the warriors, the holy ark being supported by antique Egyptian figures, robed in long musty-looking habiliments of chequered hues, crowned with heavy mitres, and bearing in their hands rods of green rushes, bronze bells, crosses, and censers of burning incense, with an image of the Madonna, and a crucifix; for whilst hating the Papists with all their hearts, the Abyssinians nevertheless cherish many of the superstitions and buffooneries of the church of Rome.
Having formed a semicircle before the throne, the priests, although much exhausted by their long abstinence, continued, during half an hour, to dance and chant the words of the Apostle Paul in his Epistle to the Romans, “Christ was delivered for our offences, and raised again for our justification.” A portion of the Dominical orison followed. Their united harsh voices were accompanied by the music of tambourines and kettle-drums, thumped with excessive violence, and by the jingle of the tsnasin, the Abyssinian timbrel. This is the sistrum, an instrument supposed to be included under the Hebrew term tzitzelem, and being composed of a frame and moveable bars of sonorous metal, it produces sounds which can best be compared to the rattle of the poker upon the tongs.
Seven long years are passed in learning to play these instruments, which are ascribed to Saint Yareed, an Abuna under the Emperor Guebra Máskal, (i.e. “Servant of the Cross”) and the reputed inventor of church music in all its various branches. The constant practice of many hours during each day might not unreasonably be expected to lead to greater perfection than is displayed. From four in the morning until nine, in every church in the kingdom, a similar clatter and noise is maintained, for the honour of the Christian religion, not only on the Sabbath, but on all the numerous holydays and festivals throughout the twelve months. Howling and screaming are the most appropriate terms by which to express the hoarse muster of cracked and ill-modulated voices; and the band of stout priests who, by their song, nightly preserve the royal person from the influence of evil demons, must be acknowledged to have selected a right cunning stratagem by which to deter the approach of those spirits, at least, that are gifted with any musical taste.
The rehearsal of the praises and martial achievements of the reigning sovereign occupied another half hour, during which the dancing was even more energetic, and the music more boisterous than ever. Taking their seats before the throne, the priests of Saint George, fairly worn out by their exertions, at length made way for those of “our Lady,” who, after the enaction of similar absurdities, were followed in succession by those of Medhanálem, Aferbeine, and Saint Michael, the latter distinguished by the massive embossed silver umbrella. As the united body rent the air with renewed encomiums on the royal prowess in arms, dictated to them line by line by one of the Alakas, His Majesty enquired of me whether similar ceremonies were performed before the sovereigns of Egypt during the holy institution of Lent?—whether the Coptic priesthood there were not less elegantly habited than the Abyssinian dignitaries present?—and whether the Ethiopic fasts were observed in Saint Thomas’s town, as India is invariably styled by the Abyssinians, or in any other part of the Christian world?
The edifying conversation was, however, suddenly interrupted by the cessation of the priestly voices. Rising and standing on the throne, the monarch now received in succession, at the hands of the dwarf father confessor, the carved croziers of brass or silver, belonging to the numerous functionaries of the five churches, many hundreds in number; and with exemplary devoutness, he raised all in turn to his lips. With each sacred symbol of the season, was handed a rod of green rushes, and every person present followed the royal example, by wreathing a fillet about his brows, to be worn during the residue of the day. Largesses, with new silver crosses, were then presented to the several Alakas, who were invested with striped cotton robes, and charged with alms for distribution to the poor.
During this tedious process, whereof the king seemed no less heartily weary than ourselves, Tekla Mariam, the state scrivener, had been carefully extracting, from an endless succession of envelopes and dirty cotton bags and wrappers, something which he appeared equally desirous to conceal and to disclose. Drawing me mysteriously into a dark corner, he partially revealed a rudely carved block of wood, presenting nothing very remarkable in its appearance, but evidently much-prized by the possessor. “You will have perceived,” whispered the learned man, in a scarcely audible voice—“you will doubtless have perceived that this is a fac-simile of the table of the law delivered to Moses on the Mount. It requires nothing but the Ten Commandments; and of these I have no question that you will be able to furnish me with a copy in the unknown tongue.”
Oxen, assembled for consumption in the city on the termination of the great fast, completely choked the road down from the palace. Of five hundred head brought together with this munificent design, there was not one that appeared to possess another hour of natural existence, all being diseased, and so horribly emaciated as to recall vividly to mind the aged pensioners of a Hindoo cattle asylum in the East. Many had actually died since their arrival within the enclosure, and it appeared wonderful whence so many sickening objects had been collected. Yet the liberality of the monarch was vaunted and extolled by all who were to share it; and it was unanimously declared that the fault rested solely with the public officers who had been entrusted with the royal commands.
His Majesty, who, during Passion Week, had been very regular in his vigils and attendance at divine service, passed the greater part of the night in Saint Michael’s church, and on the first crowing of the cock on Easter morning, broke his long fast. The feasting now became general. The five hundred oxen having been slaughtered, were devoured raw in the various quarters of the city; and whether in eating or in drinking, every inhabitant appeared exerting himself to the utmost to make up as expeditiously as possible for the weary restraint that had been imposed on his appetite. Numbers were soon to be seen ranging the streets in brutal intoxication; whilst the court buffoon, at the head of a party of drunken fiddlers, made his way to the dwelling of every person of note, and recited his praises in a series of extemporaneous couplets.
According to immemorial custom, two state-prisoners were liberated from Góncho, on the occasion of these festivities; the royal clemency not however extending to any of the hapless and unoffending members of the blood-royal, who have shared the dungeon from infancy. During one week a public table is kept by the viceroy, to which the town’s people of every grade resorting, drunken brawls and broken heads are diurnal occurrences. Oxen, bread, and beer, were liberally supplied, by the royal command, to the long train of worthless menials at the Residency; and in such high good humour were the priesthood, that, forgetting all their former maledictions and denunciations, they were pleased to ascribe a recent heavy fall of rain, which had proved highly beneficial to the husbandman, solely to the agency of “the king’s strong strangers.”
Volume Three—Chapter Thirty Three.
Festivities of Easter.
Easter day, instead of being celebrated on the Sunday following the first full moon after the vernal equinox, is in Abyssinia kept one lunation later. On its recurrence, we received a special invitation to the annual public banquet held in the palace; and, whilst ascending the hill in full uniform, were preceded by the capering leader of the royal band. “Let me sing—I will sing,” he exclaimed, as the attendants would have restrained his antics—“why should not the father of song dance before the fathers of gold?” Tents had been erected in the courtyard, and a separate repast provided for the members of the British Embassy. Countless crowds, decked out in their gayest apparel, filled every avenue and enclosure; and long files of slaves, with jars, baskets, and trenchers, hurrying to and fro from the kitchens and magazines, proclaimed the extensive nature of the preparations making for the regal entertainment.
In the morning at eight o’clock, the doors of the great hall were thrown open, and a burst of wild music from the royal band ushered in the company to a spacious barn-like apartment, the dingy aspect of which formed a strong contrast to the galaxy of light that illumines regal hospitality in Europe. Holding high festival to the entire adult population of the metropolis, who for six weeks past had subsisted on cow-kail and stinging-nettles, the king reclined in state within a raised alcove, furnished with the wonted velvet cushions and tapestries, and loaded with silver ornaments—the abridgement of ancient Ethiopic magnificence. Priests, nobles, warriors, baalomaals, and pages, stood around the throne, which was flanked by a long line of attendants, bearing straight silver falchions of antique Roman model, belonging to the different churches. Bull-hides carpeted the floor; and the lofty walls of the chamber, although destitute of architectural decoration, were hung throughout with a profusion of richly-emblazoned shields, from each of which depended a velvet scarf or cloak of every colour in the rainbow.
A low horse-shoe table of wicker-work, supported upon basket pedestals, extended the entire length of the hall. Thin unleavened cakes of sour teff heaped one upon the other served as platters. Mountains of wheaten bread piled in close contiguity, and crowned with fragments of stewed fowls, covered the groaning board. Bowls containing a decoction of red pepper, onions, and grease, were flanked by long-necked decanters of old mead; and at short intervals stood groups of slaves carrying baskets crammed with reeking collops of raw flesh just severed from the newly-slain carcass.
Taking their seats in treble rows upon the ground, the crowded guests were each provided with his own knife, fashioned like a reaping-hook, and serving him equally in the battlefield and at the banquet. Four hundred voracious appetites, whetted by forty days of irksome abstinence, were constantly ministered to by fresh arrivals of quivering flesh from the courtyard, where oxen in quick succession were being thrown down and slaughtered in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Barilles and capacious horns filled with hydromel of intoxicating age were rapidly drained and replenished under the eye of the monarch; and strings of eunuchs with the females pertaining to the royal kitchen, clad in gala dresses and striped cotton robes, passed and repassed continually with interminable supplies of bread to rebuild the demolished fabric on the uprising of each satiated group.
Again the great doors were thrown open, and another famished set entered, amid the increasing din. Harpers and fiddlers played, danced, and sang with untiring perseverance; and ever and anon one of the king’s female choristers lifted up her shrill voice with the most extravagant panegyric on the hospitality and munificence of her royal master, or burst forth into unqualified eulogy on the liberality of his British guests.
“In stature like the lance he bears,
His godlike mien the prince declares;
And fam’d for virtue through the land,
All bow to Sáloo’s just command.
“The sabre feels the royal grasp.
And Pagans writhe in death’s cold clasp;
The Galla taste the captive fare.
And dread the vengeance which they dare.”
“Our warriors tremble at the sight of the mighty elephant, but he sinks prostrate beneath the guns of the white men—Weiho, weiho,
“They are a brave nation.
“We have been loaded with strange gifts, for the white men hold in their hands the keys of health and wealth—Weiho,
“They are a great nation.
“Then hail to the friends who came o’er the wide water,
Strangers and guests from a far distant land;
And welcome to Shoa, the fortune which brought her
The lords of the daring and generous hand.”
The royal band, which occupied the vacant space between the tables, is composed of many wind instruments of various lengths and sizes—the embilta having a perforation to which the lips are applied as in the flute, whilst the malakat is fashioned after the form of a trombone. No performer possesses above one pipe, nor, like the Russian, is he master of more than one note. Tune there is none—each playing according to the dictates of his own taste, unguided by any musical scale. After the hoarse and terrible blast of the trumps, the symphony falls soft upon the ear; and it was on this occasion curiously contrasted with the deep thunder of the kubbero, which pealed without intermission from the secret apartments of the queen.
The harp, styled bugana, is a truly strange fabrication of wood, leather, and sheep’s entrails. It presents the appearance of an old portmanteau which has been built upon by children with the rudest materials, in imitation of the lyre of the days of Jubal. Possessing five strings, and used only as an accompaniment to the voice, the monotonous notes produced are in strict unison with the appearance of the instrument; and even in the halls of Menilek, where the chords are struck by a master finger, they shed “no soul of music,” and might be mute with advantage.
What then is to be said of the Abyssinian fiddle, whose squeaking voice presided at this festive board? Alas! the inharmonious sounds elicited by the grating contact of the bow might lead to the conclusion that the unhappy spirit of music was confined in the interior, and uttered harsh screams and moans as fresh tortures were inflicted upon her agonised sinews! A gourd, or a hollow square of wood, is covered with a skin of parchment as a sounding-board, and furnished with a rude neck and a single string. Years of practice have imparted to Dághie, the court buffoon, an extraordinary degree of excellence; but even he is not Paganini; and every amateur performer in the realm considering himself at perfect liberty to scrape throughout the day with soul-harrowing perseverance, unlucky, indeed, must be pronounced the site of that residence which is adjacent to the proprietor of a masanko.
As Easter day drew on to its close, the riotous mirth of uncontrolled festivity waxed louder and louder within the palace walls, whilst quarrels and drunken brawls prevailed throughout the city. The carousal continued until dark, by which time the bones of three hundred and fifty steers had been picked—countless measures of wheat had been consumed—and so many hogsheads of potent old hydromel had been drained to the dregs, that, saving the royal and munificent host, scarcely one sober individual, whether noble or plebeian, was any where to be seen.
Volume Three—Chapter Thirty Four.
Saint George’s Day.
At Kondie, in the church dedicated to the patron saint of England, lie interred the remains of Woosen Suggud, and thither, according to wont, the despot proceeded on Saint George’s day. The sepulchre of the departed monarch is screened from gaze amid a sombre grove of evergreen juniper, assuming the shapes, some of the cedar, others of the cypress and the yew:—
“Dark trees still sad when others’ grief is fled,
The only constant mourners o’er the dead.”
Kings alone are honoured with a coffin. Manufactured of sweet wood, and perforated with many apertures, it is placed on stone trestles amid clouds of frankincense, and after a season removed into the mausoleum; the walls of which are usually bedaubed with clumsy designs, intended to commemorate the exploits in the hunting field, the military actions, and the heroic achievements of the royal occupant. His Majesty’s orisons at the shrine of his father being concluded, he turned his steps to the palace, now fast falling to decay, which formed the scene of the assassination of the despotic tyrant. Surrounded by the former capital of Shoa, it occupies the bleak summit of one of the loftiest mountains in the range, and commands a magnificent prospect over the greater portion of Efát. Mamrat, now diminished from thirteen to one thousand feet, no longer loomed a giant. Through the clouds which flitted across its stern bosom lay revealed the only path by which the royal treasures are accessible; and the white peak of Wóti, rising from dense masses of timber, and terminating in a basaltic column, now formed the most conspicuous feature in the rugged landscape.
“You observe those woods,” inquired His Majesty, pointing after a long silence to the gloomy forests which stretched away towards the long white storehouses of Arámba: “they conceal a cavern into which no creature can enter and five. The man who should venture one step beyond the entrance would be seen no more. If a dog goes in, or a bird, or even a serpent, it will surely die. There is no bottom to that cave, and none can say whither it leads. Formerly people went to cut wood in the neighbourhood. A man lost his way, and was unheard of for months. His friends believed him dead. They mourned for him, and scratched their temples, and he was forgotten. Suddenly he re-appeared, reduced to a skeleton, and looking like a ghost. They brought him to me to know what should be done with him. He had lived like the guréza upon wild berries, and when I asked him what he had seen, he replied that he had seen the devil. Wóti is a bad place, and the forests take fire, and all my subjects fear to go thither.”
A catastrophe of this nature had recently taken place; and a quantity of fuel stored for the royal kitchen having been destroyed, it was the king’s present object to ascertain the extent of damage sustained. Ayto Wolda Hana exerted his cracked voice in loud complaints of others, and so that himself escaped the much-dreaded censure, the old man evidently cared not much who suffered. Herein he was so far successful, that the sub-governor of the district was fined in the amount of one hundred dollars, about ten times the value of property destroyed, and every male inhabitant of the neighbourhood received sentence of imprisonment.
The cold summit of Kondie is clothed with heather and with the jibera, a lofty species of lobelia, which attains the height of fifteen or twenty feet. As it is believed to exert a prejudicial effect upon the passer by, and often to cause death, the royal cortege waged active war against every plant by the way-side—His Majesty in person sustaining a part in hostilities designed to counteract the evil influence. Bands of warriors charging on horseback, delivered their spears simultaneously, and the doomed tree, if not cut over, was at least transfixed by a score of shafts. Excelling in skill, the monarch betted heavily upon every throw, and rarely did he lose. At forty yards the lance left his hand with unerring precision, and perforating the soft pulpy stem immediately below the bushy head, often passed quite through, to fall on the other side.
“Where did the commander learn to throw a spear?” he suddenly exclaimed in merry mood, elevating his voice, and looking round towards the spot on which I was taking share in the proceedings. “Now, Gaita,” he continued, as I approached, “I will give you a mule if you hit that tree, and if you do not, by the death of Woosen Suggud you shall forfeit your best rifle.” Frequent practice having rendered me tolerably expert, my first lance fortunately passed through the stem, and the second threw its crown upon the ground. His Majesty was obviously satisfied; but whilst the mule completely escaped his treacherous recollection, my “best rifle,” alas! had been already doomed to change hands. It remained but a brief period in those of the lawful proprietor, and Ayto Habti, the master armourer, was to be seen the very next morning engraving on the barrel with punch and hammer certain ominous Amháric characters, signifying, “Sáhela Selássie, who is the Negoos of Shoa, Efát, and the Galla.”
Hunting down the partridge with dogs occupied the residue of the day. Parties stationed themselves at intervals along the heather-grown slopes of the hills, where the bird abounds, and by dint of unceasing persecution kept the victim selected so perpetually on the wing, that after three or four long flights it was unable to rise again. Many were thus killed with sticks, or taken alive; but wherever His Majesty was forthcoming, he rested a long double-barrelled fowling piece over the shoulder of an attendant to insure steady aim—and the wearied quarry, believing itself safe in a bush, was suddenly blown to atoms.
Northern Abyssinia was now in a more disturbed state than ever; and numerous youths who had attempted to proceed to Gondar for the purpose of being ordained, had been compelled to abandon the journey, and return to Ankóber. They brought tidings of an engagement between Ras Ali and Dedjasmach Oubié (see Note 1), which had been fought at Salem Okko, in the vicinity of Debra Tabor. The Ras being personally opposed to his rebel vassal, was believed to have fallen early in the day. His rumoured death proving the signal for disorder and retreat, the camp was left in possession of the enemy, who consigned it to the flames, under the conviction that victory was theirs. But the leader had merely fled; and as the evening closed, his partisans, recovering from their panic, rallied, and fell with irresistible fury on the victors, who were little prepared for further hostilities, and the execrated tyrant Oubié, who carries with him the curses of his oppressed subjects, was, with his two sons, made prisoner.
Abba Salama, the Abuna, who is equally respected by all parties, was in the camp of the vanquished, but the holy man found an honourable asylum. The spiritual despotism exercised by the primate from the first moment of his arrival in Abyssinia calls vividly to mind the period when the mandates of the pope were as implicitly obeyed, and his ghostly influence similarly dreaded, by the potentates of Europe; and independently of his spiritual power, which exalts him greatly above the most potent of the rulers of the land, his holiness is far from being contemptible as a temporal prince. The hundred and eighth successor to Saint Mark the Evangelist, reclining in his humble divan within the Coptic quarters at Grand-Cairo, surrounded by the dignity of coffee and pipes, would ill recognise his juvenile delegate at Gondar, where both these luxuries are held in abomination, could he behold him in the enjoyment of revenues many times in excess of his own—ordaining a thousand priests in a single day—and receiving the homage of all the proud actors engaged in the troubled drama of Abyssinian politics.
War had not visited Shoa; but the peace of many a family was yet destined to be disturbed by an arbitrary proceeding on the part of the crown. As the period of the king’s departure from the capital drew nigh, many of the royal slaves who had voluntarily sold their liberty during the great famine of Saint Luke, (each year is in Abyssinia dedicated to one of the four Evangelists, according to the order of the Gospels,) casting themselves at the footstool of the throne, implored the restoration of their freedom in consideration of many long years of servitude. Enraged at what he termed the ingratitude of those whom he had fed when they must otherwise have starved, His Majesty, labouring under a strange infatuation, bade them “begone,” and, in utter defiance of all the existing laws of the realm, that day promulgated an edict through the royal herald, that from thenceforth the progeny of all his numerous slaves, whether the offspring of free fathers or of free mothers, should be accounted his sole property, and forthwith render themselves to be enrolled by his drivers, in order to have their daily task allotted.
The capital was in a state of wild confusion and consternation. Weeping and wailing resounded in every hut, and no Abyssinian possessed sufficient courage to oppose the dictates of the angry despot. The presence of the British Embassy now proved of that salutary and commanding influence which humanity and civilisation must ever exert over barbarity and savage ignorance. Deeming the opportunity imperative, and considering the chance of success to be well worth the risk of a misunderstanding with the court, I earnestly entreated His Majesty to reflect, “that the name of Sáhela Selássie, hitherto so beloved of all, would lose a portion of its lustre and brightness. That all men are mortal. That kings do not reign for ever; and that the groans of his unhappy subjects, the props of his power and kingdom, who had heretofore lived in the enjoyment of the liberty to which they were born, but were now pining heart-broken in the thraldom of slavery, would add little to the comfort of the close of his illustrious life.”
My petition was accompanied by the enquiry, “how I should be able to represent his proceedings to the Government by which I had been sent?” and it was attended with the most satisfactory results. The king, who had still the fear of God before his eyes, avowed, “that the act had proceeded in a hurried moment of wrath, and that his European children had made him thoroughly sensible of its injustice and cruelty.” The offensive proclamation was on the instant annulled; and four thousand seven hundred unfortunate victims to its promulgation, released from the house of bondage, and from the degrading shackles of slavery, after they had renounced all hope of redemption, returned to their homes and to their families, blessing as they went the name of “the white men.”
Note 1. Dedjasmach, often contracted to Dedjach, signifies “the warrior of the door,” and is the title of governors under the puppet emperor of Ethiopia. As in the Ottoman empire the Pacha is distinguished by the number of his tails, so is the Dedjasmach by the number of his kettle-drums. He is entitled to one for each province under his control, and loses no opportunity of finding his account in the troubled waters by asserting independence.
Volume Three—Chapter Thirty Five.
Slavery and the Slave-Trade in Shoa.
The annals of slavery point clearly to war as the principal cause of the monstrous crime of selling our fellow-creatures like cattle in the market. One nation having taken from another a greater number of captives than could be exchanged on equal terms, it is easy to comprehend how the victors, finding the maintenance of their prisoners expensive and inconvenient, first compelled them to work for their daily bread. Emerged from the limited wants of savage life, man next saw productions of art, which he eagerly coveted; and lacking habits of industry by which to earn them for himself, he compelled all whom his superiority enabled him to bring under subjection to pass their lives in labouring for his advantage.
In Africa especially, where the human passions are unbridled, and man emulates the ferocity of the beast of prey, war proves a never-drying spring of misery and bondage, and slavery is the inevitable lot of all who are not slain on the battlefield, or massacred in the sacking of towns and villages. The weak and unsuccessful warrior, who sues for mercy beneath the uplifted spear of his opponent, purchases existence at the expense of liberty; and in time of famine the freeman often becomes a voluntary slave, in order to avoid the greater calamity of inevitable starvation. By the philosophic and reflecting mind death would doubtless be esteemed the lighter evil of the two, but the untutored savage, fainting with hunger, thinks with Esau of old, “Behold, I am at the point to die—what profit shall this birthright do to me?”
Crime, necessity, insolvency, the inhumanity of a harsh creditor, a spirit of retaliation in petty disputes, and the sordid love of gain, for which parents will even sell their own children, severally assist in feeding the demand for slaves—the law of every African state either tolerating or directly sanctioning the evil; and wherever the Mohammadan faith prevails, frequent predatory incursions, characterised by the most atrocious violence, are made into the territories of all neighbouring infidels, who are systematically hunted down and entrapped as a religious duty.
Slaves in Africa are thus in proportion to the freemen of about three to one; but although the number of individuals reduced to a state of bondage by the operation of the above causes, and the destruction created, both as regards life and property, is immense, the whole combined are but as a single grain of dust in the balance, when compared with the slavery, the destitution, and the desolation, that is daily entailed by the unceasing bloody struggles betwixt state and state. Towns and villages are then obliterated from the face of the earth, and thousands upon thousands of the population, of whatever age or sex, are hurried into hopeless captivity.
In a country reft into ten thousand petty governments, the majority of which are independent and jealous one of the other; where every freeman, inured to arms from the first hour that he is capable of bearing them, pants for an opportunity of displaying his valour in the field; where the cherished recollection of hereditary feuds; the love of plunder inherent in every savage breast, and the bigoted zeal of religious enthusiasts, all conspire to afford hourly pretexts for war—the sword of desolation is never suffered to rust within the scabbard. The fact of one nation being stronger than another is even sufficient; and whilst hostilities, originating frequently in the most frivolous provocations, are prosecuted with relentless fury, robbery on a great and national scale, forming one of the chief features of African character, is almost universally prevalent. Here it is perpetrated by no concealed or proscribed ruffian; neither is it limited to those poorer tribes who are exposed to the temptation of rich caravans skirting their borders in progress to distant lands. Each needy soldier seeks with his sword to redress the unequal distribution made by the hand of fortune. The most distinguished warrior chieftains consider it a glory to place themselves at the head of an expedition undertaken solely for purposes of plunder; and the crime of stealing human beings in order to sell them into foreign markets, which, with all its attendant cruelty, is so widely practised throughout the benighted continent, is one in which the greatest of her sovereigns do not hesitate to participate.
The following narrative by a native of the village of Súppa, in Enárea, detailing the history of his capture and subsequent vicissitudes, may be taken as a fair specimen of the usual circumstances attending the transfer of the kidnapped victim from one merciless dealer to another, in his progress to Abyssinia through the interior provinces which form the focus of slavery in the north-east.
“When twenty years of age, whilst tending my father’s flocks, an armed band of the Ooma Galla, with whom my tribe had long been in enmity, swept suddenly down, and took myself with six other youths prisoners, killing four more who resisted. Having been kept bound hand and foot during five days, I was sold to the Toomee Galla, one of the nearest tribes, for thirty ámoles (about six shillings and three-pence sterling). The bargain was concluded in the Toomee market-place, which is called Sundáffo, where, in consequence of the dearness of salt, two male slaves are commonly bought for one dollar; and after nightfall, the Mohammadan rover by whom I had been purchased, came and took me away.
“Having been kept bound in his house another week, I was taken two days’ journey with a large slave Caravan, and sold privately to the Nono Galla for a few ells of blue calico. My companions in captivity were assorted according to their age and size, and walked in double file, the stout and able-bodied only, whereof I was one, having their hands tied behind them. In Meegra, the market-place of the Nono, I was, after six weeks’ confinement, sold by public auction to the Gumbitchu Galla for forty pieces of salt (value eight shillings and fourpence). Thence I was taken to the market-place which is beyond Sequala, on the plain of the Háwash, and sold for seventy pieces of salt to the Soddo Galla, and immediately afterwards to Roqué, the great slave-mart in the Yerrur district, where I was sold for one hundred ámoles” being one pound sterling.
“From Roqué I was driven to Alio Amba, in Shoa, where a Mohammadan subject of Sáhela Selássie purchased me in the market of Abd el Russool for twelve dollars; but after three months, my master falling into disgrace, the whole of his property was confiscated, and I became the slave of the Negoos, which I still am, although permitted to reside with my family, and only called upon to plough, reap, and carry wood. Exclusive of halts, the journey from my native village occupied fifteen days. I was tolerably fed, and not maltreated. All the merchants through whose hands I passed were Mohammadans; and until within a few stages of Alio Amba, I was invariably bound at night, and thus found no opportunity to escape. Prior to my own enslavement, I had been extensively engaged as a kidnapper, and in this capacity had made party in three great slave hunts into the country of the Doko negroes beyond Cáffa; in the course of which, four thousand individuals of both sexes were secured.”
From Enárea and Guráguê, the two slave-marts principally frequented by the dealers in human flesh who trade through the Abyssinian states, the traffic is conducted to the sea-coast viâ Sennaar, Argóbba, Aussa, and Hurrur—importations into Shoa passing through the kingdom by two great highways from the interior. The first is by Ankóber to the market-place of Abd el Russool, where purchases are eagerly made by the caravan traders from Hurrur, Zeyla, and Tajúra; the other by Debra Libanos to the market of Antzóchia adjoining Asselléli, the frontier town on the north, whence they pass through Upper Abyssinia to Massowah and Raheïta, supplying also the Aussa caravans, which come to Dowwé, on the frontier of Worra Káloo.
In addition to a tax of one in every ten, Sáhela Selássie possesses the right of pre-emption of all slaves that pass through his dominions, his governors selecting and submitting for the royal approval those which appear best worthy of consideration, when a price placed by the holder on the head of each is modified by His Majesty at pleasure. A transit duty of four pieces of salt is further levied upon every individual, male or female, of whatever age, exposed for sale or barter; and the number annually exported by the roads above named being estimated at from fifteen to twenty thousand, the revenues derived from the traffic in his fellow-men by the Christian monarch may be averaged at eight hundred pounds.
His Majesty’s household slaves, male and female, exceed eight thousand. Of the latter, three hundred are concubines of the royal harem; and of the former, fifty are eunuchs. The residue of both sexes are employed in a variety of servile offices, and they each receive a portion of barley sufficient to compose two small loaves. Beyond this they must provide their own maintenance: many whose business it is to fetch fuel from the royal forests, being, however, suffered to dispose of whatever wood they can carry away in addition to the load imposed; whilst the whole, after the due performance of their allotted task, are permitted, according to their respective functions, to hire themselves to private individuals.
Slavery is hereditary, not only on the side of the mother, but also on that of the father; and if a free woman weds a slave, her progeny becomes the property of the owner of her husband. But the bondsmen of the king, it has been seen, form an exception to this rule, their offspring being free if born of a free woman—a privilege which may be traced to the circumstance of the royal slaves having a stated duty to perform, for which a certain daily allowance of food is granted; whereas the whole time and labour of the slave of the commoner are at the exclusive disposal of the master, who supports the wife also. Marriage between free persons and the slaves of His Majesty are thus by no means unfrequent; the bondsman, after the performance of his allotted task, enjoying liberty to return daily to his family, and to appropriate the residue of his time.
A child born in slavery receives subsistence, in a limited proportion, from the moment of coming into the world, the liabilities of bondage being incurred from the cradle. As a check on those who reside with a free parent in various parts of the kingdom, an annual census of the whole is taken by the royal scribes, when those who are ascertained to have acquired a competent age are summoned to their task at one of the royal establishments; and it too often happens that when incapacitated by infirmity from further labour, the daily dole is discontinued through the parsimony of the servants of the crown.
Caravans, consisting of from one hundred to three thousand individuals of all ages, pass through Shoa during the greater portion of the year. Three-fourths are young boys and girls, many of them quite children, whose tender age precludes a sense of their condition. Even adults are unfettered, and the majority are in good spirits, all being well fed and taken care of, although many of both sexes arrive in a state of perfect nudity. Surrounded by the rovers on horseback, they are driven promiscuously along the road, males and females being separated at the termination of each march, and made to sit in detached groups comprising from ten to fifteen souls, who are deterred from wandering by the exhibition of the whip; but this is rarely used, except for the chastisement of the unruly, who may seek to effect their escape.
In the eyes of every African, the value of a slave increases in the ratio of his distance from the land of his nativity, the chance of his absconding being reduced in the same proportion. The usual prices in the Shoan market are from ten to twenty German crowns; but females possessing superior personal attractions often fetch from fifty to eighty, which outlay is returned three-fold in Arabia. The profits accruing from the trade are thus obviously large; and notwithstanding the murders which are annually perpetrated by freebooters on the road to the sea-coast, the mortality can scarcely be said to exceed that under the ordinary circumstances of African life.
The hebdomadal sale of human flesh which takes place in the public market at Abd el Russool, the disgusting parade of victims, and the sensuality of the savage purchasers, are sufficient to draw forth every sentiment of indignation, and to elicit every feeling of sympathy; but it must be confessed that slavery in this portion of Africa, excepting as regards the powers pertaining to it, is in fact little more than servitude. The newly-captured become soon reconciled to their lot and condition, their previous domestic life having too often been one of actual bondage, although not nominally so. And even in the sultry plains of the Adaïel, few individuals of the long droves that are daily to be seen on their weary march to the coast with Danákil caravans, afford indications of being tortured with regret at the loss of their freedom, and of their native land, or with recollections of the verdant plains whence avarice and cruelty have torn them.
From the governor to the humblest peasant, every house in Shoa possesses slaves of both sexes, in proportion to the wealth of the proprietor; and in so far as an opinion may be formed upon appearances, their condition, with occasional, but rare exceptions, is one of comfort and ease. Mild in its character, their bondage is tinctured with none of the horrors of West Indian slavery. The servitude imposed is calculated to create neither suffering nor exhaustion. There is no merciless taskmaster to goad the victim to excessive exertion—no “white man’s scorn” to be endured; and, although severed from home, from country, and from all the scenes with which his childhood had been familiar, his lot is not unfrequently improved. Naturalised in the house of his master, he is invariably treated with lenity—usually with indulgence—often with favour; and under a despotic sovereign, to whom servile instruments are uniformly the most agreeable, the caprices of fortune may prefer the exile to posts of confidence and emolument, and may even exalt him to the highest dignities.