Chapter IX: Book V (7)

The young man it seems was a good soldier; and, having been in several actions under Ras Michael, as a fusileer, he brought his gun, and insisted on shooting at marks. I humoured him in this; but as I used a rifle, which he did not understand, he found himself overmatched, especially by the greatness of the range, for he shot straight enough. I then shewed him the manner we shot flying, there being quails in abundance, and wild pigeons, of which I killed several, on wing, which left him in the utmost astonishment. Having got on horseback, I next went through the exercise of the Arabs, with a long spear and a short javelin. This was more within his comprehension, as he had seen something like it; but he was wonderfully taken with the fierce and fiery appearance of my horse, and, at the same time, with his docility, the form of his saddle, bridle, and accoutrements. He threw at last the sandals off his feet, twisted his upper garment into his girdle, and set off at so furious a rate, that I could not help doubting whether he was in his sober understanding.

It was not long till he came back, and with him a man-servant carrying a sheep and a goat, and a woman carrying a jar of honey-wine. I had not yet quitted the horse; and when I saw what his intention was, I put Mirza to a gallop, and, with one of the barrels of the gun, shot a pigeon, and immediately fired the other into the ground. There was nothing after this that could have surprized him, and it was repeated several times at his desire; after which he went into the tent, where he invited himself to my house at Gondar. There I was to teach him every thing he had seen. We now swore perpetual friendship; and a horn or two of hydromel being emptied, I introduced the case of our fellow-travellers, and obtained a promise that we should have leave to set out together. He would, moreover, take no awide, and said he would be favourable in his report to Gondar.

Matters were so far advanced, when a servant of Michael’s arrived, sent by Petros, (Janni’s brother) who had obtained him from Ozoro Esther. This put an end to all our difficulties. Our young soldier also kept his word, and a mere trifle of awide was given, rather by the Moor’s own desire than from demand, and the report of our baggage, and dues thereon, were as low as could be wished. Our friend likewise sent his own servant to Gondar with the billet to accompany the caravan. But the news brought by his servant were still better than all this. Ras Michael had actually beaten Fasil, and forced him to retire to the other side of the Nile, and was then in Maitsha, where it was thought he would remain with the army all the rainy season. This was just what I could have wished, as it brought me at once to the neighbourhood of the sources of the Nile, without the smallest shadow of fear or danger.

On the 9th of February, at seven o’clock, we took leave of the friends whom we had so newly acquired at Lamalmon, all of us equally joyful and happy at the news. We began to ascend what still remained of the mountain, which, though steep and full of bushes, was much less difficult than that which we had passed. At a quarter past seven we arrived at the top of Lamalmon, which has, from below, the appearance of being sharp-pointed. On the contrary, we were much surprised to find there a large plain, part in pasture, but more bearing grain. It is full of springs, and seems to be the great reservoir from whence arise most of the rivers that water this part of Abyssinia. A multitude of streams issue from the very summit in all directions; the springs boil out from the earth in large quantities, capable of turning a mill. They plow, sow, and reap here at all seasons; and the husbandman must blame his own indolence, and not the soil, if he has not three harvests. We saw, in one place, people busy cutting down wheat; immediately next to it, others at the plough; and the adjoining field had green corn in the ear; a little further, it was not an inch above the ground.

Lamalmon is on the N. W. part of the mountains of Samen. That of Gingerohha, with two pointed tops, joins it on the north, and ends these mountains here, and is separated from the plain of St Michael by a very deep gully. Neither Lamalmon nor Gingerohha, though higher than the mountains of Tigré, are equal in height to some of those of Samen. I take those to the S. E. to be much higher, and, above all, that sharp-pointed hill Amba Gideon, the present residence of the governor of Samen, Ayto Tesfos. This is otherwise called the _Jews-Rock_, famous in the history of this country for the many revolts of the Jews against the Abyssinian kings.

The mountain is everywhere so steep and high, that it is not enough to say against the will, but without the assistance of those above, no one from below can venture to ascend. On the top is a large plain, affording plenty of pasture, as well as room for plowing and sowing for the maintenance of the army; and there is water, at all seasons, in great plenty, and even fish in the streams upon it; so that, although the inhabitants of the mountain had been often besieged for a considerable time together, they suffered little inconvenience from it, nor ever were taken unless by treason; except by Christopher de Gama and his Portuguese, who are said, by their own historians, to have stormed this rock, and put the Mahometan garrison to the sword. No mention of this honourable conquest is made in the annals of Abyssinia, though they give the history of this campaign of Don Christopher in the life of Claudius, or Atzenaf Segued.

On the top of the cliff where we now were, on the left hand of the road to Gondar, we filled a tube with quick-silver, and purged it perfectly of outward air; it stood this day at 20⅞ English inches. Dagashaha bears N. E. by E. from our present station upon Lamalmon. The language of Lamalmon is Amharic; but there are many villages where the language of the Falasha is spoken. These are the ancient inhabitants of the mountains, who still preserve the religion, language, and manners of their ancestors, and live in villages by themselves. Their number is now considerably diminished, and this has proportionally lowered their power and spirit. They are now wholly addicted to agriculture, hewers of wood and carriers of water, and the only potters and masons in Abyssinia. In the former profession they excel greatly, and, in general, live better than the other Abyssinians; which these, in revenge, attribute to a skill in magic, not to superior industry. Their villages are generally strongly situated out of the reach of marching armies, otherwise they would be constantly rifled, partly from hatred, and partly from hopes of finding money.

On the 10th, at half past seven in the morning, we continued along the plain on the top of Lamalmon; it is called Lama; and a village of the same name bore about two miles east from us. At eight o’clock we passed two villages called Mocken, one W. by N. at one mile and a half, the other S. E. two miles distant. At half past eight we crossed the river Macara, a considerable stream running with a very great current, which is the boundary between Woggora and Lamalmon. At nine o’clock we encamped at some small villages called Macara, under a church named Yasous. On the 11th of February, by the meridian altitude of the sun at noon, and that of several fixed stars proper for observation, I found the latitude of Macara to be 13° 6´ 8´´. The ground was everywhere burnt up; and, though the nights were very cold, we had not observed the smallest dew since our first ascending the mountain. The province of Woggora begins at Macara; it is all plain, and reckoned the granary of Gondar on this side, although the name would denote no such thing, for Woggora signifies the _stony_, or _rocky province_.

The mountains of Lasta and Belessen bound our view to the south; the hills of Gondar on the S. W.; and all Woggora lies open before us to the south, covered, as I have said before, with grain. But the wheat of Woggora is not good, owing probably to the height of that province. It makes an indifferent bread, and is much less esteemed than that of Foggora and Dembea, low, flat provinces, sheltered with hills, that lie upon the side of the lake Tzana.

On the 12th we left Macara at seven in the morning, still travelling through the plain of Woggora. At half past seven saw two villages called Erba Tensa, one of them a mile distant, the other half a mile on the N. W. At eight o’clock we came to Woken, five villages not two hundred yards distant from one another. At a quarter past eight we saw five other villages to the S. W. called Warrar, from one to four miles distant, all between the points of east and south. The country now grows inconceivably populous; vast flocks of cattle of all kinds feed on every side, having large and beautiful horns, exceedingly wide, and bosses upon their backs like camels; their colour is mostly black.

At a quarter past eight we passed Arena, a village on our left. At nine we passed the river Girama, which runs N. N. W. and terminates the district of Lamalmon, beginning that of Giram. At ten the church of St George remained on our right, one mile from us; we crossed a river called Shimbra Zuggan, and encamped about two hundred yards from it. The valley of that name is more broken and uneven than any part we had met with since we ascended Lamalmon. The valley called also Shimbra Zuggan, is two miles and a half N. by E. on the top of a hill surrounded with trees. Two small brooks, the one from S. S. E. the other from S. E. join here, then fall into the rivulet.

The 13th, at seven in the morning, we proceeded still along the plain; at half past seven came to Arradara; and afterwards saw above twenty other villages on our right and left, ruined and destroyed from the lowest foundation by Ras Michael in his late march to Gondar. At half past eight the church of Mariam was about a hundred yards on our left. At ten we encamped under Tamamo. The country here is full of people; the villages are mostly ruined, which, in some places, they are rebuilding. It is wholly sown with grain of different kinds, but more especially with wheat. For the production of this, they have everywhere extirpated the wood, and now labour under a great scarcity of fuel. Since we passed Lamalmon, the only substitute for this was cows and mules dung, which they gather, make into cakes, and dry in the sun. From Addergey hither, salt is the current money, in large purchases, such as sheep or other cattle; cohol, and pepper, for smaller articles, such as flour, butter, fowls, &c. At Shimbra Zuggan they first began to inquire after red Surat cotton cloth for which they offered us thirteen bricks of salt; four peeks of this red cloth are esteemed the price of a goat. We began to find the price of provisions augment in a great proportion as we approached the capital.

This day we met several caravans going to Tigré, a certain sign of Michael’s victory; also vast flocks of cattle driven from the rebellious provinces, which were to pasture on Lamalmon, and had been purchased from the army. Not only the country was now more cultivated, but the people were cleanlier, better dressed, and apparently better fed, than those in the other parts we had left behind us. Indeed, from Shimbra Zuggan hither, there was not a foot, excepting the path on which we trode, that was not sown with some grain or other.

On the 14th, at seven o’clock in the morning, we continued our journey. At ten minutes past seven, we had five villages of Tamamo three miles on our left; our road was through gentle rising hills, all pasture ground. At half past seven, the village of Woggora was three miles on our right; and at eight, the church of St George a mile on our left, with a village of the same name near it; and, ten minutes after, Angaba Mariam, a church dedicated to the virgin, so called from the small territory Angaba, which we are now entering. At fifty minutes past eight, we came to five villages called Angaba, at small distances from each other. At nine o’clock we came to Kossogué, and entered a small district of that name. The church is on a hill surrounded with trees. On our left are five villages all called Kossoguè, and as it were on a line, the farthest at 3 miles distance; near ten we came to the church of Argiff, in the midst of many ruined villages. Three miles on our left hand are several others, called Appano.

After having suffered, with infinite patience and perseverance, the hardships and danger of this long and painful journey, at forty minutes past ten we were gratified, at last, with the sight of Gondar, according to my computation about ten miles distant. The king’s palace (at least the tower of it) is distinctly seen, but none of the other houses, which are covered by the multitude of wanzey-trees growing in the town, so that it appears one thick, black wood. Behind it is Azazo, likewise covered with trees. On a hill is the large church of Tecla Haimanout, and the river below it makes it distinguishable; still further on is the great lake Tzana, which terminates our horizon.

At forty-five minutes past ten we began to ascend about two miles through a broken road, having on our right, in the valley below, the river Tchagassa; and here begins the territory of that name. At fifty-five minutes past ten, descending still the hill, we passed a large spring of water, called Bambola, together with several plantations of sugar-canes which grow here _from the seed_. At eleven o’clock the village Tchagassa was about half a mile distant from us on our right, on the other side of the river. It is inhabited by Mahometans, as is Waalia, another small one near it. At twelve o’clock we passed the river Tchagassa over a bridge of three arches, the middle of which is Gothic, the two lesser Roman. This bridge, though small, is solid and well cemented, built with stone by order of Facilidas, who probably employed those of his subjects who had retained the arts of the Portuguese, but not their religion.

The Tchagassa has very steep, rocky banks: It is so deep, though narrow, that, without this bridge, it scarce would be passable. We encamped at a small distance from it, but nearer Gondar. Here again we met with trees, (small ones indeed) but the first we had seen since leaving Lamalmon, excepting the usual groves of cedars. It is the Virginia cedar, or oxy-cedros, in this country called _Arz_, with which their churches are constantly surrounded.

On the 15th, at ten minutes past seven, we began to ascend the mountain; and, at twenty minutes after seven, passed a village on our left. At seven and three quarters we passed Tiba and Mariam, two churches, the one on our right, the other on our left, about half a mile distant; and near them several small villages, inhabited by Falasha, masons and thatchers of houses, employed at Gondar. At half past eight we came to the village Tocutcho, and, in a quarter of an hour, passed the river of that name, and in a few minutes rested on the river Angrab, about half a mile from Gondar.

Tchacassa is the last of the many little districts which, together, compose Woggora, generally understood to be dependent on Samen, though often, from the turbulent spirit of its chiefs, struggling for independency, as at the present time, but sure to pay for it immediately after. In fact, though large, it is too near Gondar to be suffered to continue in rebellion; and, being rich and well cultivated, it derives its support from the capital, as being the mart of its produce. It is certainly one of the fruitfulest provinces in Abyssinia, but the inhabitants are miserably poor, notwithstanding their threefold harvests. Whereas, in Egypt, beholden to this country alone for its fertility, one moderate harvest gives plenty everywhere.

Woggora is full of large ants, and prodigious swarms of rats and mice, which consume immense quantities of grain; to these plagues may be added still one, the greatest of them all, bad government, which speedily destroys all the advantages they reap from nature, climate, and situation.

CHAP. VIII.

_Reception at Gondar--Triumphal Entry of the King--The Author’s first Audience._

We were much surprised at arriving on the Angrab, that no person had come to us from Petros, Janni’s brother. We found afterwards, indeed, that he had taken fright upon some menacing words from the priests, at hearing a Frank was on his way to Gondar, and that he had, soon after, set out for Ibaba, where the Ras was, to receive his directions concerning us. This was the most disagreeable accident could have happened to me. I had not a single person to whom I could address myself for any thing. My letters were for the king and Ras Michael, and could be of no use, as both were absent; and though I had others for Petros and the Greeks, they, too, were out of town.

Many Mahometans came to the Angrab to meet the caravan. They all knew of my coming perfectly, and I soon explained my situation. I had Janni’s letters to Negadé Ras Mahomet, the chief of the Moors at Gondar, and principal merchant in Abyssinia, who was absent likewise with the army. But one of his brethren, a sagacious, open-hearted man, desired me not to be discouraged; that, as I had not put off my Moorish dress, I should continue it; that a house was provided for Mahomet Gibberti, and those that were with him, and that he would put me immediately into possession of it, where I might stay, free from any intercourse with the priests, till Petros or the Ras should return to Gondar. This advice I embraced with great readiness, as there was nothing I was so much afraid of as an encounter with fanatical priests before I had obtained some protection from government, or the great people in the country. After having concerted these measures, I resigned myself to the direction of my Moorish friend Hagi Saleh.

We moved along the Angrab, having Gondar on our right situated upon a hill, and the river on our left, proceeding down till its junction with a smaller stream, called the Kahha, that joins it at the Moorish town. This situation, near running water, is always chosen by the Mahometans on account of their frequent ablutions. The Moorish town at Gondar may consist of about 3000 houses, some of them spacious and good. I was put in possession of a very neat one, destined for Mahomet Gibberti. Flour, honey, and such-like food, Mahometans and Christians eat promiscuously, and so far I was well situated. As for flesh, although there was abundance of it, I could not touch a bit of it, being killed by Mahometans, as that communion would have been looked upon as equal to a renunciation of Christianity.

By Janni’s servant, who had accompanied us from Adowa, his kind and friendly master had wrote to Ayto Aylo, of whom I have already spoken. He was the constant patron of the Greeks, and had been so also of all the Catholics who had ventured into this country, and been forced after to leave it. Though no man professed greater veneration for the priesthood, no one privately detested more those of his own country than he did; and he always pretended that, if a proper way of going to Jerusalem could be found, he would leave his large estates, and the rank he had in Abyssinia, and, with the little money he could muster, live the remaining part of his days among the monks, of whom he had now accounted himself one, in the convent of the holy sepulchre. This perhaps was, great part of it, imagination; but, as he had talked himself into a belief that he was to end his days either at Jerusalem, which was a pretence, or at Rome, which was his inclination, he willingly took the charge of white people of all communions who had hitherto been unhappy enough to stray into Abyssinia.

It was about seven o’clock at night, of the 15th, when Hagi Saleh was much alarmed by a number of armed men at his door; and his surprise was still greater upon seeing Ayto Aylo, who, as far as I know, was never in the Moorish town before, descend from his mule, and uncover his head and shoulders, as if he had been approaching a person of the first distinction. I had been reading the prophet Enoch, which Janni had procured me at Adowa; and Wemmer’s and Ludolf’s dictionaries were lying upon it. Yasine was sitting by me, and was telling me what news he had picked up, and he was well acquainted with Ayto Aylo, from several commissions he had received for his merchants in Arabia. A contention of civilities immediately followed. I offered to stand till Aylo was covered, and he would not sit till I was seated. This being got over, the first curiosity was, What my books were? and he was very much astonished at seeing one of them was Abyssinian, and the European helps that I had towards understanding it. He understood Tigrè and Amharic perfectly, and had a little knowledge of Arabic, that is, he understood it when spoken, for he could neither read nor write it, and spoke it very ill, being at a loss for words.

The beginning of our discourse was in Arabic, and embarrassed enough, but we had plenty of interpreters in all languages. The first bashfulness being removed on both sides, our conversation began in Tigré, now, lately since Michael had become Ras, the language most used in Gondar. Aylo was exceedingly astonished at hearing me speak the language as I did, and said after, “The Greeks are poor creatures; Peter does not speak Tigré so well as this man.” Then, very frequently, to Saleh and the by-standers, “Come, come, he’ll do, if he can speak; there is no fear of him, he’ll make his way.”

He told us that Welled Hawaryat had come from the camp ill of a fever, and that they were afraid it was the small pox: that Janni had informed them I had saved many young people’s lives at Adowa, by a new manner of treating them; and that the Iteghé desired I would come the next morning, and that he should carry me to Koscam and introduce me to her. I told him that I was ready to be directed by his good advice; that the absence of the Greeks, and Mahomet Gibberti at the same time, had very much distressed me, and especially the apprehensions of Petros. He said, smiling, That neither Petros nor himself were bad men, but that unfortunately they were great cowards, and things were not always so bad as they apprehended. What had frightened Petros, was a conversation of Abba Salama, whom they met at Koscam, expressing his displeasure with some warmth, that a Frank, meaning me, was permitted to come to Gondar. “But,” says Ayto Aylo, “we shall hear to-morrow, or next day. Ras Michael and Abba Salama are not friends; and if you could do any good to Welled Hawaryat his son, I shall answer for it, one word of his will stop the mouths of a hundred Abba Salamas.” I will not trouble the reader with much indifferent conversation that passed. He drank capillaire and water, and sat till past midnight.

Abba Salama, of whom we shall often speak, at that time filled the post of Acab Saat, or guardian of the fire. It is the third dignity of the church, and he is the first religious officer in the palace. He had a very large revenue, and still a greater influence. He was a man exceedingly rich, and of the very worst life possible; though he had taken the vows of poverty and chastity, it was said he had at that time, above seventy mistresses in Gondar. His way of seducing women was as extraordinary as the number seduced. It was not by gifts, attendance, or flattery, the usual means employed on such occasions; when he had fixed his desires upon a woman, he forced her to comply, under pain of _excommunication_. He was exceedingly eloquent and bold, a great favourite of the Iteghè’s, till taken in to be a counsellor with Lubo and Brulhè. He had been very instrumental in the murder of Kasmati Eshté, of which he vaunted, even in the palace of the queen his sister. He was a man of a pleasing countenance, short, and of a very fair complexion; indifferent, or rather averse to wine, but a monstrous glutton, nice in what he had to eat, to a degree scarcely before known in Abyssinia; a mortal enemy to all white people, whom he classed under the name of Franks, for which the Greeks, uniting their interests at favourable times, had often very nearly overset him.

The next morning, about ten o’clock, taking Hagi Saleh and Yasine with me, and dressed in my Moorish dress, I went to Ayto Aylo, and found him with several great plates of bread, melted butter, and honey, before him, of one of which he and I ate; the rest were given to the Moors, and other people present. There was with him a priest of Koscam, and we all set out for that palace as soon as we had ate breakfast. The rest of the company were on mules. I had mounted my own favourite horse. Aylo, before his fright at Sennaar, was one of the first horsemen in Abyssinia; he was short, of a good figure, and knew the advantage of such make for a horseman; he had therefore a curiosity to see a tall man ride; but he was an absolute stranger to the great advantage of Moorish furniture, bridles, spurs, and stirrups, in the management of a violent, strong, high-mettled horse. It was with the utmost satisfaction, when we arrived in the plain called Aylo Meydan, that I shewed him the different paces of the horse. He cried out with fear when he saw him stand upright upon his legs, and jump forward, or aside, with all four feet off the ground.

We passed the brook of St Raphael, a suburb of Gondar, where is the house of the Abuna; and upon coming in sight of the palace of Koscam, we all uncovered our heads, and rode slowly. As Aylo was all-powerful with the Iteghé, indeed her first counsellor and friend, our admittance was easy and immediate. We alighted, and were shewn into a low room in the palace. Ayto Aylo went immediately to the queen to inquire about Welled Hawaryat, and his audience lasted two long hours. He returned to us with these news, that Welled Hawaryat was much better, by a medicine a saint from Waldubba had given him, which consisted in some characters written with common ink upon a tin plate, which characters were washed off by a medicinal liquor, and then given him to drink. It was agreed, however, that the complaint was the small-pox, and the good it had done him was, he had ate heartily of _brind_, or raw beef after it, tho’ he had not ate before since his arrival, but called perpetually for drink. Aylo said he was to remain at Koscam till towards evening, and desired me to meet him at his own house when it turned dark, and to bring Petros with me, if he was returned.

Petros was returned when I arrived, and waited for me at Hagi Saleh’s house. Although he shewed all the signs of my being welcome, yet it was easy to read in his countenance he had not succeeded according to his wish, in his interview with Michael, or that he had met something that had ruffled and frightened him anew. And, indeed, this last was the case, for going to the Ras’s tent, he had seen the stuffed skin of the unfortunate Woosheka, with whom he was well acquainted, swinging upon a tree, and drying in the wind. He was so terrified, and struck with such horror, at the sight, that he was in a kind of hysteric fit, cried, started, laughed hideously, and seemed as if he had in part lost his senses.

I was satisfied by the state I saw him in, though he had left Ibaba three days, that, as the first sight of Woosheka’s stuffed skin must have been immediately before he went to the Ras, he could not have had any distinct or particular conversation with him on my account; and it turned out after, that he had not spoken one word upon the subject from fear, but had gone to the tent of Negadè Ras Mahomet, who carried him to Kefla Yasous; that they, too, seeing the fright he was in, and knowing the cause, had gone without him to the Ras, and told him of my arrival, and of the behaviour of Abba Salama, and my fear thereupon, and that I was then in the house of Hagi Saleh, in the Moorish town. The Ras’s answer was, “Abba Salama is an ass, and they that fear him are worse. Do I command in Gondar only when I stay there? My dog is of more consequence in Gondar than Abba Salama.” And then, after pausing a little, he said, “Let Yagoube stay where he is in the Moors town; Saleh will let no priests trouble him there.” Negadé Ras Mahomet laughed, and said, “We will answer for that;” and Petros set out immediately upon his return, haunted night and day with the ghost of his friend Woosheka, but without having seen Ras Michael.

I thought, when we went at night to Ayto Aylo, and he had told the story distinctly, that Aylo and he were equally afraid, for he had not, or pretended he had not, till then heard that Woosheka had been flayed alive. Aylo, too, was well acquainted with the unfortunate person, and only said, “This is Esther, this is Esther; nobody knew her but I.” Then they went on to inquire particulars, and after, they would stop one another, and desire each other to speak no more; then they cried again, and fell into the same conversation. It was impossible not to laugh at the ridiculous dialogue. “Sirs,” said I, “you have told me all I want; I shall not stir from the Moors town till Ras Michael arrives; if there was any need of advice, you are neither of you capable of giving it; now I would wish you would shew me you are capable of taking mine. You are both extremely agitated, and Peter is very tired; and will besides see the ghost of Woosheka shaking to and fro all night with the wind; neither of you ate supper, as I intend to do; and I think Peter should stay here all night, but you should not lie both of you in the same room, where Woosheka’s black skin, so strongly impressed on your mind, will not fail to keep you talking all night in place of sleeping. Boil about a quart of gruel, I will put a few drops into it; go then to bed, and this unusual operation of Michael will not have power to keep you awake.”

The gruel was made, and a good large doze of laudanum put into it. I took my leave, and returned with Saleh; but before I went to the door Aylo told me he had forgot Welled Hawaryat was very bad, and the Iteghè, Ozoro Altash, his wife, and Ozoro Esther, desired I would come and see him to-morrow. One of his daughters, by Ozoro Altash, had been ill some time before his arrival, and she too was thought in great danger. “Look,” said I, “Ayto Aylo, the small-pox is a disease that will have its course; and, during the long time the patient is under it, if people feed them and treat them according to their own ignorant prejudices, my seeing him, or advising him, is in vain. This morning you said a man had cured him by writing upon a tin plate; and to try if he was well, they crammed him with raw beef. I do not think the letters that he swallowed will do him any harm, neither will they do him any good; but I shall not be surprised if the raw beef kills him, and his daughter Welleta Selassé, too, before I see him to-morrow.”

On the morrow Petros was really taken ill, and feverish, from a cold and fatigue, and fright. Aylo and I went to Koscam, and, for a fresh amusement to him, I shewed him the manner in which the Arabs use their firelocks on horseback; but with this advantage of a double-barrelled gun, which he had never before seen. I shot also several birds from the horse; all which things he would have pronounced impossible if they had been only told him. He arrived at Koscam full of wonder, and ready to believe I was capable of doing every thing I undertook.

We were just entering into the palace-door, when we saw a large procession of monks, with the priests of Koscam at their head, a large cross and a picture carried with them, the last in a very dirty, gilt frame. Aylo turned aside when he saw these; and, going into the chamberlain’s apartment, called Ayto Heikel, afterwards a great friend and companion of mine. He informed us, that three great saints from Waldubba, one of whom had neither ate nor drank for twenty years of his life, had promised to come and cure Welled Hawaryat, by laying a picture of the Virgin Mary and the cross upon him, and therefore they would not wish me to be seen, or meddle in the affair. “I assure you, Ayto Aylo,” said I, “I shall strictly obey you. There is no sort of reason for my meddling in this affair with such associates. If they can cure him by a miracle, I am sure it is the easiest kind of cure of any, and will not do his constitution the least harm afterwards, which is more than I will promise for medicines in general; but, remember what I say to you, it will, indeed, be a miracle, if both the father and the daughter are not dead before to-morrow night.” We seemed all of us satisfied in one point, that it was better he should die, than I come to trouble by interfering.

After the procession was gone, Aylo went to the Iteghè, and, I suppose, told her all that happened since he had seen her last. I was called in, and, as usual, prostrated myself upon the ground. She received that token of respect without offering to excuse or to decline it. Aylo then said, “This is our gracious mistress, who always gives us her assistance and protection. You may safely say before her whatever is in your heart.”

Our first discourse was about Jerusalem, the Holy Sepulchre, Calvary, the City of David, and the Mountain of Olives, with the situations of which she was perfectly well acquainted. She then asked me to tell her truly if I was not a Frank? “Madam,” said I, “if I was a Catholic, which you mean by Frank, there could be no greater folly than my concealing this from you in the beginning, after the assurance Ayto Aylo has just now given; and, in confirmation of the truth I am now telling, (she had a large bible lying on the table before her, upon which I laid my hand), I declare to you, by all those truths contained in this book, that my religion is more different from the Catholic religion than your’s is: that there has been more blood shed between the Catholics and us, on account of the difference of religion, than ever was between you and the Catholics in this country; even at this day, when men are become wiser and cooler in many parts of the world, it would be full as safe for a Jesuit to preach in the market-place of Gondar, as for any priest of my religion to present himself as a teacher in the most civilized of Frank or Catholic countries.”--“How is it then,” says she, “that you don’t believe in miracles?”

“I see, Madam,” said I, “Ayto Aylo has informed you of a few words that some time ago dropt from me. I do certainly believe the miracles of Christ and his apostles, otherwise I am no Christian; but I do not believe these miracles of latter times, wrought upon trifling occasions, like sports, and jugglers tricks.”--“And yet,” says she, “our books are full of them.”--“I know they are,” said I, “and so are those of the Catholics: but I never can believe that a saint converted the devil, who lived, forty years after, a holy life as a monk; nor the story of another saint, who, being sick and hungry, caused a brace of partridges, ready-roasted, to fly upon his plate that he might eat them.”--“He has been reading the Synaxar,” says Ayto Aylo. “I believe so,” says she, smiling; “but is there any harm in believing too much, and is not there great danger in believing too little?”--“Certainly,” continued I; “but what I meant to say to Ayto Aylo was, that I did not believe laying a picture upon Welled Hawaryat would recover him when delirious in a fever.” She answered, “There was nothing impossible with God.” I made a bow of assent, wishing heartily the conversation might end there.

I returned to the Moors town, leaving Aylo with the queen. In the afternoon I heard Welleta Selassé was dead; and at night died her father, Welled Hawaryat. The contagion from Masuah and Adowa had spread itself all over Gondar. Ozoro Ayabdar, daughter of Ozoro Altash, was now sick, and a violent fever had fallen upon Koscam. The next morning Aylo came to me and told me, the faith in the saint who did not eat or drink for twenty years was perfectly abandoned since Welled Hawaryat’s death: That it was the desire of the queen, and Ozoro Esther, that I should transport myself to Koscam to the Iteghé’s palace, where all their children and grandchildren, by the different men the queen’s daughters had married, were under her care. I told him, “I had some difficulty to obey them, from the positive orders I had received from Petros to stay in the Moors town with Hagi Saleh till the Ras should arrive; that Koscam was full of priests, and Abba Salama there every day; notwithstanding which, if Petros and he so advised me, I would certainly go to do any possible service to the Iteghé, or Ozoro Esther.”

He desired half an hour’s absence before he gave me an answer, but did not return till about three hours afterwards, and, without alighting, cried out at some distance, “Aya, come, you must go immediately.” “I told him, that new and clean clothes in the Gondar fashion had been procured for me by Petros, and that I wished they might be sent to his house, where I would put them on, and then go to Koscam, with a certainty that I carried no infection with me, for I had attended a number of Moorish children, while at Hagi Saleh’s house, most of whom happily went on doing well, but that there was no doubt there would be infection in my clothes.” He praised me up to the skies for this precaution, and the whole was executed in the manner proposed. My hair was cut round, curled, and perfumed, in the Amharic fashion, and I was thenceforward, in all outward appearance, a perfect Abyssinian.

My first advice, when arrived at Koscam, was, that Ozoro Esther, and her son by Mariam Barea, and a son by Ras Michael, should remove from the palace, and take up their lodging in a house formerly belonging to her uncle Basha Eusebius, and give the part of the family that were yet well a chance of escaping the disease. Her young son by Mariam Barea, however, complaining, the Iteghè would not suffer him to remove, and the resolution was taken to abide the issue all in the palace together.

Before I entered upon my charge, I desired Petros (now recovered) Aylo, Abba Christophorus, a Greek priest who acted as physician before I came to Gondar, and Armaxikos priest of Koscam, and favourite of the Iteghè, to be all present. I stated to them the disagreeable task now imposed upon me, a stranger without acquaintance or protection, having the language but imperfectly, and without power or controul among them. I professed my intention of doing my utmost, although the disease was much more serious and fatal in this country than in mine, but I insisted one condition should be granted me, which was, that no directions as to regimen or management, even of the most trifling kind, as they might think, should be suffered, without my permission and superintendence, otherwise I washed my hands of the consequence, which I told before them would be fatal. They all assented to this, and Armaxikos declared those excommunicated that broke this promise; and I saw that, the more scrupulous and particular I was, the more the confidence of the ladies increased. Armaxikos promised me the assistance of his prayers, and those of the whole monks, morning and evening; and Aylo said lowly to me, “You’ll have no objection to this saint, I assure you he eats and drinks heartily, as I shall shew you when once these troubles are over.”

I set the servants all to work. There were apartments enough. I opened all the doors and windows, fumigating them with incense and myrrh, in abundance, washed them with warm water and vinegar, and adhered strictly to the rules which my worthy and skilful friend Doctor Russel had given me at Aleppo.

The common and fatal regimen in this country, and in most parts in the east, has been to keep their patient from feeling the smallest breath of air; hot drink, a fire, and a quantity of covering are added in Abyssinia, and the doors shut so close as even to keep the room in darkness, whilst this heat is further augmented by the constant burning of candles.

Ayabdar, Ozoro Altash’s remaining daughter, and the son of Mariam Barea, were both taken ill at the same time, and happily recovered. A daughter of Kasmati Boro, by a daughter of Kasmati Eshtès, died, and her mother, though she survived, was a long time ill afterwards. Ayabdar was very much marked, so was Mariam Barea’s son.

At this time, Ayto Confu, son of Kasmati Netcho by Ozoro Esther, had arrived from Tcherkin, a lad of very great hopes, though not then fourteen. He came to see his mother without my knowledge or her’s, and was infected likewise. Last of all the infant child of Michael, the child of his old age, took the disease, and though the weakest, of all the children, recovered best. I tell these actions for brevity’s sake altogether, not directly in the order they happened, to satisfy the reader about the reason of the remarkable attention and favour shewed to me afterwards upon so short an acquaintance.

The fear and anxiety of Ozoro Esther, upon smaller occasions, was excessive, and fully in proportion in the greater that now existed; many promises of Michael’s favour, of riches, greatness, and protection, followed every instance of my care and attention towards my patients. She did not eat or sleep herself; and the ends of her fingers were all broke out into pustules, from touching the several sick persons. Confu, the favourite of all the queen’s relations, and the hopes of their family, had symptoms which all feared would be fatal, as he had violent convulsions, which were looked upon as forerunners of immediate death; they ceased, however, immediately on the eruption. The attention I shewed to this young man, which was more than overpaid by the return he himself made on many occasions afterwards, was greatly owing to a prepossession in his favour, which I took upon his first appearance. Policy, as may be imagined, as well as charity, alike influenced me in the care of my other patients; but an attachment, which providence seemed to have inspired me with for my own preservation, had the greatest share in my care for Ayto Confu.

Though it is not the place, I must not forget to tell the reader, that, the third day after I had come to Koscam, a horseman and a letter had arrived from Michael to Hagi Saleh, ordering him to carry me to Koscam, and likewise a short letter written to me by Negadè Ras Mahomet, in Arabic, as from Ras Michael, very civil, but containing positive orders and _command_, as if to a servant, that I should repair to the Iteghè’s palace, and not stir from thence till future orders, upon any pretence whatever.

I cannot say but this positive, peremptory dealing, did very much shock and displease me. I shewed the letter to Petros, who approved of it much; said he was glad to see it in that stile, as it was a sign the Ras was in earnest. I shewed it to Ayto Aylo, who said not much to it either the one way or the other, only he was glad that I had gone to Koscam before it came; but he taxed Ozoro Esther with being the cause of a proceeding which might have been proper to a Greek or slave, but was not so to a free man like me, who came recommended to their protection, and had, as yet, received no favour, or even civility. Ozoro Esther laughed heartily at all this, for the first time she had shewn any inclination to mirth; she confessed she had sent a messenger every day, sometimes two, and sometimes three, ever since Welled Hawaryat had died, and by every one of them she had pressed the Ras to enjoin me not to leave Koscam, the consequence of which was the order above mentioned; and, in the evening, there was a letter to Petros from Anthulé, Janni’s son-in-law, a Greek, and treasurer to the king, pretty much to the same purpose as the first, and in no softer terms, with direction, however, to furnish me with every thing I should want, on the king’s account.

One morning Aylo, in presence of the queen, speaking to Ozoro Esther of the stile of the Ras’s letter to me, she confessed her own anxiety was the cause, but added, “You have often upbraided me with being, what you call, an unchristian enemy, in the advices you suppose I frequently give Michael; but now, if I am not as good a friend to Yagoube, who has saved my children, as I am a steady enemy to the Galla, who murdered my husband, say then Esther is not a Christian, and I forgive you.” Many conversations of this kind passed between her and me, during the illness of Ayto Confu. I removed my bed to the outer door of Confu’s chamber, to be ready whenever he should call, but his mother’s anxiety kept her awake in his room all night, and propriety did not permit me to go to bed. From this frequent communication began a friendship between Ozoro Esther and me, which ever after subsisted without any interruption.

Our patients, being all likely to do well, were removed to a large house of Kasmati Eshté, which stood still within the boundaries of Koscam, while the rooms underwent another lustration and fumigation, after which they all returned; and I got, as my fee, a present of the neat and convenient house formerly belonging to Basha Eusebius, which had a separate entry, without going through the palace. Still I thought it better to obey Ras Michael’s orders to the letter, and not stir out of Koscam, not even to Hagi Saleh’s or Ayto Aylo’s, though both of them frequently endeavoured to persuade me that the order had no such strict meaning. But my solitude was in no way disagreeable to me. I had a great deal to do. I mounted my instruments, my thermometer and barometer, telescopes and quadrant. Again all was wonder. It occasioned me many idle hours before the curiosity of the palace was satisfied. I saw the queen once every day at her levee, sometimes in the evening, where many priests were always present. I was, for the most part, twice a-day, morning and evening, with Ozoro Esther, where I seldom met with any.

One day, when I went early to the queen, that I might get away in time, having some other engagements about noon, just as I was taking my leave, in came Abba Salama. At first he did not know me from the change of dress; but, soon after recollecting me, he said, as it were, passing, “Are you here? I thought you was with Ras Michael.” I made him no answer, but bowed, and took my leave, when he called out, with an air of authority, Come back, and beckoned me with his hand.

Several people entered the room at that instant, and I stood still in the same place where I was, ready to receive the Iteghé’s orders: she said, “Come back, and speak to Abba Salama.” I then advanced a few paces forward, and said, looking to the Iteghé, “What has Abba Salama to say to me?” He began directing his discourse to the queen, “Is he a priest? Is he a priest?” The Iteghè answered very gravely, “Every good man is a priest to himself; in that sense, and no other, Yagoube is a priest.”--“Will you answer a question that I will ask you?” says he to me, with a very pert tone of voice. “I do not know but I may, if it is a discreet one,” said I, in Tigrè. “Why don’t you speak Amharic?” says he to me in great haste, or seeming impatience. “Because I cannot speak it well,” said I. “Why don’t you, on the other hand, speak Tigré to me? it is the language the holy scriptures are written in, and you, a priest, should understand it.”--“That is Geez,” says he; “I understand it, though I don’t speak it.”--“Then,” replied I, “Ayto Heikel,” the queen’s chamberlain, who stood behind me, “shall interpret for us; he understands all languages.”

“Ask him, Heikel,” says he, “how many Natures there are in Christ.” Which being repeated to me, I said, “I thought the question to be put was something relating to my country, travels, or profession, in which I possibly could instruct him; and not belonging to his, in which he should instruct me. I am a physician in the town, a horseman and soldier in the field. Physic is my study in the one, and managing my horse and arms in the other. This I was bred to; as for disputes and matters of religion, they are the province of priests and schoolmen. I profess myself much more ignorant in these than I ought to be. Therefore, when I have doubts I propose them to some holy man like you, Abba Salama, (he bowed for the first time) whose profession these things are. He gives me a rule and I implicitly follow it.” “Truth! truth!” says he; “by St Michael, prince of angels, that is right; it is answered well; by St George! he is a clever fellow. They told me he was a Jesuit. Will you come to see me? Will you come to see me? You need not be afraid when you come to _me_.” “I trust,” said I, bowing, “I shall do no ill, in that case shall have no reason to fear.” Upon this I withdrew from among the crowd, and went away, as an express then arrived from Ras Michael.