Volume Three—Chapter Four.

The Reigning Despot.

A more singular contrast of good and evil was perhaps never presented than in the person and administration of the Christian despot. Avarice, suspicion, caprice, duplicity, and superstition, appear to form the basis of his chequered character, and his every act exhibits a proportion of meanness and selfishness, linked with a desire to appear munificent. Yet are these radically bad ingredients tempered and concealed by some amiable and excellent qualities. His virtues are many as they are conspicuous: his faults entail harm chiefly upon himself; and the appropriation of the greater portion of his hours might be held up as a worthy pattern for imitation.

During the entire forenoon of every day in the week, the Sabbath and Saturday excepted, which latter, as a remnant of Jewish religion, is universally reverenced, is he engaged in public affairs—in trying appeals, and in deciding suits which are brought from all quarters of his dominions. Notwithstanding the impediments offered by a weak constitution, and by many bodily infirmities prematurely brought on by excess, he leads a life of constant activity, and, both as respects his public and his private avocations, stands greatly distinguished above other Abyssinian rulers, who too justly incur the reproach of idleness and perpetual debauchery.

After the religious performance of his matin devotions, the king inspects his stables and workshops, bestows charity upon the assembled poor, despatches couriers, and accords private audiences of importance. Then reclining in state upon the throne, he listens for hours to all appeals brought against the decisions of his judges, and adjusts in public the tangled disputes and controversies of his subjects. Here access is easy. Sáhela Selássie listens to all, foreigners or natives, men and women, rich and poor. Every one possesses the right to appear before him, and boldly to explain the nature of his case; and although the established usage of the land compels the subject to prostrate himself, and to pay rather adoration than respect, yet may he urge his complaint without the least hesitation or timidity. Judgment is always prompt, and generally correct; nor will the observer be less struck with the calmness and placidity that mark the royal demeanour in the midst of the most boisterous discussions, than at the method and perspicuity with which such manifold affairs are disposed of; and whilst thus receiving the most favourable impression of His Majesty’s capacity for the transaction of business, a parallel might be drawn between his demeanour and that of many more civilised monarchs, which would be flattering to the semi-barbarous ruler of Shoa.

At three o’clock the king proceeds to dine alone; and no sooner is the royal appetite appeased, than the doors are thrown open, and the long table in the great banqueting-hall is crowded with distinguished warriors and guests. Harpers and fiddlers perform during the entire entertainment, and singers lift up their voices in praise of the munificence and liberality of their sovereign, who, during all this scene of confusion and turmoil, still continues to peruse letters or to issue instructions, until the board has been thrice replenished and as often cleared, and until all of a certain rank have freely partaken of his hospitality. At five he retires with a few of those who enjoy the largest share of intimacy, to the private apartments. Prayers and potent liquors fill up the evening hours, and the company depart, leaving the favourite page who is made the bearer of the royal commands.

Midnight calls His Majesty from his couch to the perusal of psalms and sacred writings. A band of sturdy priests in the antechamber continue during the livelong night to chant a noisy chorus of hymns to preserve his slumbers from the influence of evil spirits or apparitions, and daylight brings a repetition of the busy scene, which is diversified by exercise on horseback, whenever leisure and the fickle sky will permit. Making excursions with from four to five hundred mounted followers, it is then his wont to sit for hours on the splashy banks of some sequestered brook, conversing familiarly with those about him, witnessing the exercise of his stud, and devoting every spare moment to the numerous petitioners who crowd with complaints around the royal person.

Dreading the fate of his father, the monarch never stirs from his threshold without a pistol concealed under his girdle along with his favourite amulet, in which he reposes implicit faith and reliance. His couch is nightly surrounded by tried and trusty warriors, endeared to his person by munificence displayed to no other class of his subjects, whilst the gates of the palace are barred after the going down of the sun, and stoutly guarded.

The principal officers of the royal household, and those most confided in by the suspicious monarch, are the eunuchs. Ayto Baimoot, their late chief, was specially charged with the royal harem, in all its branches, as well as with the establishment of slaves. Long faithfully attached to his indulgent master, he was, whilst he lived, the king’s only intimate counsellor, and was never separated from his person.

Next in order is the herald, or Dech Agafári, who, in addition to the important duties already detailed, is the channel through whom all new appointments by the crown and all royal edicts and proclamations are published to the nation. Armed with a rod of green rushes, he ushers into the presence-chamber all officials, strangers, and visitors, introducing at the appointed time those who have complaints or representations to lay at the footstool of the throne. He is the Alaka of all who have any boon to crave, and is in charge of the host of pages and younger sons of the nobility who attend upon the king—is in general master of the ceremonies on occasions of state or pageant, and introduces guests who may be invited to the banquet.

The keys of the royal library are in the custody of the chief of the Church, the Alaka Wolda Georgis, a layman and a soldier, who was elevated to the exalted post he occupies in direct violation of the established usage of the country. The office of chief smith and Alaka of all the tabiban, “wise people,” or handicraftsmen, throughout the realm, and of Body Physician, are concentrated in the person of Ayto Habti, who must freely partake of all drugs that are to be administered to the king, and, with the Commander-in-Chief of the Body-Guard, the Master of the Horse, and the dwarf Father Confessor, be in constant attendance upon His Majesty.

As well from religious as from worldly motives, Sáhela Selássie entertains a vast number of pensioners, who receive dirgo, or daily rations, in various proportions—some being limited to dry bread, whilst others extend to mead, the greatest luxury which the country can afford. The distribution of this maintenance comes exclusively within the province of the Purveyor-General, the food being prepared in the royal kitchen by the numerous slaves, who, shame to the Christian monarch, compose the entire household establishment. All foreigners and visitors receive it; and, in addition to about one thousand of this class, there are many besides who possess the privilege of always dining at the royal table.

Making munificent donations to churches and monasteries, the king stands in high odour with the fanatic clergy, and thus enjoys the advantage of their influence over the priest-ridden population, whom he rules principally through the church; and, never undertaking any project without consulting some of its members, is in turn much swayed by their exhortations, prophecies, dreams, and visions. Strongly attached to the Christianity of Ethiopia, which abounds in Jewish prejudices, he is still far from being intolerant. According to the best of his uncultivated ideas he encourages letters, and spends considerable sums of money in collecting ancient manuscripts. Possessing natural talents and shrewdness, which have been improved by the rudiments of education, he rules his hereditary dominions with tact and advantage; and might, had his energies been properly directed, have shone one of the greatest potentates that ever wielded the sceptre in the now disorganised empire.

Were the active life of Sáhela Selássie guided by superior principles—could he be brought to despise petty things, and to sink the details of unimportant affairs in matters of greater moment—how wealthy and powerful a monarch might he not still become! He would have time at command to plan truly royal projects; and, possessed as he is of means the most ample, would find leisure to carry through his designs. Although, like other rulers of Abyssinia, he is ever entertaining some project of aggrandisement, his mind is yet filled with trifles, and not sufficiently expanded to mature a plan of operations upon an extended scale. Precluded by want of liberal education or of intercourse with civilised nations, from calculating events, or looking deep into the page of futurity, he lives in fact for little beyond the present day. Old in constitution, though not in years—enfeebled by excess, as well in mind as in body—uncivilised—called early to the throne, and ruling during a long succession of years according to one unvarying system—the dictates of his own caprice—he requires some violent impulse, some imminent and apparent peril, to arouse him from the torpor of security, to stimulate his latent energies to greater exertion, and to induce him temporarily to sacrifice a portion of his idolised gold, in order to reap a harvest five hundred fold.

From the merciful hand of this unique specimen of absolute authority, the sceptre falls lightly upon the head of the offender. “I have before mine eyes the fear of God,” is his frequent exclamation when passing the extreme sentence of the law. Guilty of none of the cruelties or enormities which stain most of the other rulers of Abyssinia—accessible, not easily offended, even-tempered, patient in his investigations, mild and usually just in his despotism—he is universally adored in his own dominions, rather through love than through fear. The oath by the life of the king is the only binding obligation in the land; and from the general success of his military expeditions, he is feared and respected by all the adjacent tribes. Conducting himself with that easy freedom which generally distinguishes conscious superiority, his demeanour is dignified and commanding; and the appearance of the half-civilised Christian savage, who sways the destinies of millions in the heart of heathen Africa, would proclaim his high descent even in the courts of Europe.