Volume Two—Chapter Thirty Five.

The Reign of Superstition.

Not a monk is there in any of the lone monasteries of Shoa, not a hermit of the many in her cold mountains, not a dwarf nor a decrepit priest who has renounced the society of his fellow-men, but enjoys the reputation of being fully competent to blast the harvest at pleasure, to poison the fountain, and to render the able-bodied incapable. The thoughts of all classes move in a dense atmosphere of superstition. Talismans, written in mystic characters, if mixed with the seeds and leaves of potent witch plants, gathered by the hand of the forest recluse, afford a feeling of security which is not to be extracted from the pages of the Gospel; nor does any one ever venture to mount his mule without a preservative against the spear of the bandit, or the sharp knife of the heathen.

Savage man, obtaining only through the medium of his own wishes and imagination a glimmering idea of the invisible and supreme Power, seeks some tangible object of veneration, and some ostensible source of protection. Thus the Abyssinian, whose vague religious ideas afford him but small consolation in the hour of tribulation, and but little reliance of security or deliverance in the day of danger and distress, reposes implicit faith in the doctrine of amulets, which present a substance stamped with a mystic and supernatural character, and one capable of being attached individually to himself. The arms and neck are therefore clothed in a perfect panoply of charms against the influence of every misfortune and disease, whether experienced or anticipated; and the tulsim, which is a worked zone studded with minute leathern pockets, containing sacred spells enveloped in double and treble wrappers, encircles the waist of every man, woman, and child, throughout the Christian dominions of Sáhela Selássie, who himself reposes firm faith in their efficacy.

The influence of the evil eye exercises a strong control over the minds of all. Bad spirits are believed to roam about the earth and the waters, and to occupy houses after dark, whence the Amhára never ventures to throw fluid on the ground, lest the dignity of some unseen elf should be violated. The Beza, or sacrifice for the sick, is considered lawful and efficacious, and is frequently resorted to. The bullock, as the type of the invalid, after being driven round his couch amid singing and clamour, is slaughtered outside the threshold; or an egg is turned thrice towards the head of the patient, and then broken beside him. Saint Michael is, by many of the more ignorant, supposed to be the Almighty. The Virgin Mary is considered the creatress of the world; and Sunday is understood to have been a saint of surpassing sanctity, greatly superior both to Saint George and to Saint Michael, on which account he claims one day out of the seven, whereas other saints enjoy their festival only once during the month.

No Amhára will venture to destroy a serpent save on Saturday or Sunday, when the sight of one of these reptiles is deemed a favourable omen. In common with the heathen Galla, the Christians of Shoa make annual votive sacrifices in June to Sár, the evil spirit—notwithstanding its strict prohibition by royal proclamation. Three men and a woman, who understand how to deal with the Evil One, having assembled at the place appointed, proceed to perform the ceremony in a house newly swept. A ginger-coloured hen, a red she-goat, or a male Adel goat with a white collar, is sacrificed; and the blood of the victim, having been mixed with grease and butter, is secretly placed during the night in a narrow alley, when all who step therein are supposed to receive the malady of the invalid, who is thus restored to perfect health. During a visit some years ago to Motátit, the king perceived evidences of this pagan ceremony in the streets; and tracing the rite to a wealthy individual, who had caused it to be performed in order to free himself of disease, the honour of true religion was speedily vindicated by the transfer to the royal coffers of all the worldly substance of the delinquent.

Under cover of the night, a thread of cotton yarn is often stretched by the hired sorcerer completely round some devoted tenement; and the extremities having been connected by means of an iron link, well imbued in blood, the walls and doorposts are freely sprinkled and bedaubed with gore. Day dawns upon the incantation, which is believed to be the work of the Devil himself; and among all the assembled multitude, who consider that some heavy calamity, if not instant death, would follow the act, there is not to be found one individual sufficiently bold to remove the spell, and thus deliver the inmates from its withering influence. Since the king’s arrival in the capital, the appearance of the bloody finger on the wall had thrown the inhabitants into the deepest consternation; and to the astonishment of every by-stander, a missionary of the Church of England tore away the charm without any evil consequences following his rashness. That very night, however, the defeated necromancer planned an attack to rob the clergyman’s premises, and it was only defeated by the extra vigilance preserved in consequence of the exposure of the impostor.

The drum of the water kelpie is heard by the credulous native in the echo of every roaring cataract, and the wretch drowning in the swollen torrent is believed to be dragged under the overwhelming wave as the favourite food of the malicious spirit of the deep. Divers plants and herbs possess properties and qualities the most baneful; and a bunch of the Fegain grass, if skilfully cast upon the person of an obnoxious enemy, produces dire disease and speedy death. Sorcerers and necromancers attaining the respectable age of four and five hundred years exist in numbers in many parts of the land, flitting through the air, and riding upon the wings of the wind; and unbidden and invisible guests, such as Thavánan the Tormentor, enter the banqueting hall, to rob the festive board of its choicest viands.

Hid from mortal gaze, and realising upon earth all the delights of paradise, the magic village of Dooka Stephános forms the never-failing topic of all wonder-loving souls, and the poetic fancy of Abyssinia has been fairly exhausted in descriptions of this rare scene of blissful enjoyment. “Its sleep-inviting groves and grassy lawns are situated on the overflowing Nile; and there, released from the shackles of wedlock, beautiful females abound. Potent liquors pour on in never-drying streams, and the earth yields her spontaneous fruits without care or labour. But shrouded in magic mist, these Elysian fields open their portals only to those mortals of commanding form and handsome features, on whom the glance of favour has been cast by the bewitching inmates of the enchanted garden. Human endeavour is ineffectual to unriddle the mystery in which it is enveloped; and the dread art of the sorcerer and his most potent talismans, prove alike unavailing to loosen the spell for the advantage of those on whom Dame Nature has bestowed a crooked figure, or even an ill-starred visage.”

As in the dark ages, dwarfs are nevertheless treated with considerable respect, and regarded with the utmost fear. Many of the most learned and praiseworthy in the land are to be found among those who have been created during nature’s freaks. The monarch’s father confessor, a perfect Asmodeus in appearance, is of extremely diminutive stature, but he is possessed of singular good feeling, and forms a gratifying contrast to the majority of his countrymen. The chiefs and nobles often select their secretaries and household priests with reference to their bodily imperfections; and the most erudite sage in the capital, whose charms and talismans are esteemed all-powerful, and who knoweth every plant from the “cedar of Lebanon to the hyssop that springeth out of the wall,” sustains his character for wisdom and for lore, as much by the deformity of his appearance as by the brilliancy of his understanding.

Sickness and misfortune are usually ascribed to the influence of the evil eye of the Booda, or sorcerer. Long consultations are held to discover from whose sinister glace the calamity has emanated; and when suspicion has gradually settled into conviction, the most implacable hatred is conceived towards the delinquent; and although concealed under that garb of indifference which the savage can so successfully assume, yet the opportunity of revenge is never suffered to pass unheeded in after-life. Hailoo, the father of Oubié, the Nero-like Dedjasmach of Tigré, added much to his previous notoriety by the extermination of all the Boodas who fell within his murderous reach. Superstition exulted in reeking hecatombs of human victims; and the love and veneration of his subjects knew no bounds on his last summary act of collecting together and roasting to death thirteen hundred miserable wretches, who were suspected to possess, and to have exerted with success, the influence of “the evil eye.”

By the credulous Abyssinian, every blacksmith and worker in iron is held to be endowed with supernatural powers, and to be able to transform himself at pleasure into the likeness of a wolf or a hyena. It is a common practice amongst this class of handicrafts to fasten a metal collar about the neck of the whelps of those animals, and turn them loose; when the badge being retained through life, and occasionally seen, the fabulous stories in circulation are strengthened in the eyes of the uninitiated.

The presence of any Christian emblem, or portion of Holy Writ, is supposed sufficient to neutralise the labours of the Vulcan. No metal can be welded within sight of the cross; and should any scrap of the Bible be worn on the person of the by-standers, the desired figure can never be imparted. Of this belief an instance was afforded shortly after our return from Angollála, when a bar of iron was to be transformed into a tire for the wheel of a gun-carriage. The small draft of air created by a pair of primitive native bellows proving of none avail, the smiths declared aloud that the phenomenon arose from some holy charm. Badges and emblems, spells and amulets, were cast aside by all; but the labour was renewed without any better effect, and the artisans stood aghast. A pair of British forge bellows were now produced, and the assembly were requested to don their paper armour, and to stand round the anvil. The potent blast poured from the nozzle, and under the brawny arm of one of the European soldiers, the sparks flew far and wide. In five minutes the work was completed, to the dismay of the Abyssinian magicians, who came privately to request of me that no further public exhibition of the sort might thenceforth be made, lest their name and their glory should be extinguished throughout the land.