Volume Three—Chapter Twenty Two.

Christmas Festivities.

Abyssinia had for fifteen years been left without an archbishop, when Abba Salama, a Coptic youth, nominated by the hundred and ninth occupant of the chair of Saint Mark, arrived at Gondar to enter upon the functions of his sacred office. Oubié, the tyrannical ruler of Tigré, had, with diplomatic sagacity, despatched an expensive mission to the Alexandrian Patriarch, to solicit a successor to the post so long vacant by the death of Abba Kérlos—a wily measure, involving the sacrifice, indeed, of lands and ecclesiastical revenues, but securing to himself a sure political preponderance among the manifold rulers in the North, who know no law but that of the strongest. Heretofore the dignity had invariably been conferred on some bigoted old monk, extracted from one of the convents of Saint Anthony—the only monastic order recognised by the Coptic church. Much against his will, the patriarch elect was often dragged by force from his cloister, where he had passed years of abstinence and mortification, and being duly exalted to the episcopal throne, on which the residue of his days were to be passed, he never failed to impart a full share of ignorance and superstition. But the new primate, raised at the early age of twenty-two years to the pontificate of Ethiopia, and invested with despotic powers, proved, fortunately for the country, to be possessed of abilities of a very superior order, whilst his mind had been expanded by a liberal education at Cairo under the Reverend Dr Lieder, a pious and learned missionary of the Church of England.

One of the first steps of the new Abuna was to depute a confidential servitor to Shoa, as the bearer of a letter of compliments to myself, expressive of his desire to cultivate a friendly understanding, and urging on me a speedy visit to his court. War had for some months past been raging on the western frontier betwixt Góshoo, the ruler of Gojam, and his son Birroo, who had risen in open rebellion, and the messenger brought a confirmation of the long-rumoured defeat of the former, and of the forces of Ras Ali, which had been sent to his assistance. The return of killed and wounded is in this country never suffered to fall short of the reality, and on the present occasion it had certainly not lost by the distance it had travelled.

“It was a little before nightfall,” said the turbaned priest, “that the rival armies, countless as blades of grass, came in sight of each other at Ungátta, on the banks of the Suggara. Before the morning dawned, Birroo, who occupied the upper ground, moving down to the attack, secured the fords of the river. The action presently opened with a heavy fire of musketry and matchlocks, which did great execution. Five thousand warriors were slain—two thousand five hundred stand of arms were captured—Libán, who commanded, was, with several of his principal chiefs, taken prisoner—and Góshoo was compelled to seek the inviolable sanctuary afforded by the monastery of Dima Georgis. Five governors were hewn alive down the middle; and the conqueror, after standing up to his neck in water for three days, as an atonement for the slaughter he had committed among a Christian people, sent to Ras Ali a horse with its mane, tail, and ears cut off, and a pair of new trousers greatly soiled, with a haughty message to the effect, that these were but types of the fate that yet awaited his liege lord!”

The month of January had now come round; and the arrival of queen Besábesh, who invariably precedes the movements of the court by one day, proclaimed the advent of the Negoos to celebrate at the capital the festivities of the Abyssinian Christmas. Her Majesty had become extremely indisposed from the long journey, and was desirous of receiving medical aid; but it being contrary to the court etiquette that the royal consort should be seen by any male, an interview could not be accorded. Seated in a small closed tent, the hand of the illustrious patient was passed outside through a tiny aperture; and, although eunuchs further embarrassed conversation, a condescending voice inquired, in reply to some common-place civilities, on the part of Dr Kirk, “If I did not befriend the foreigners, pray who is there else to do so?”

Entertaining such a bigoted aversion to every Mohammadan custom, it cannot fail to appear singular that the licentious court of Shoa should have preserved one of the most objectionable—the seclusion of females. Yet such is the extreme jealousy on this point, that although from our first arrival the queen had expressed herself in the most friendly terms, and almost daily sent me through her maids of honour trifling presents of mead or bread, coupled with complimentary inquiries, an introduction, under any circumstances, was quite impracticable.

From day to day, however, the most curious applications were still preferred for beads, trinkets, cloth, and perfumery, and the utmost disappointment was evinced at my making no demand in return. “I possess honey and I possess butter, and have fowls and eggs in abundance,” was the undeviating message. “Why do not my children ask for what they want? All I have is theirs, for all that they have is mine!”

Even when residing at a distance, I continually received laconic notes on scrolls of parchment varying in breadth from one inch to three, bearing neither signature nor superscription, and tightly rolled up in wax. Their contents revealed some newly conceived fancy, such as might have been expected from a queen that eats raw beef. “The brass in your country is like gold,” formed the sum and substance of one epistle, “and you might therefore order the bracelets to be made of the pattern sent by the hands of Dinkenich;” (i.e. “She is beautiful.”—One of Her Majesty’s Abigails.) and again, “May this letter come to the hands of the English commander. Are you well? are you well? are you quite well? That the soap may not end quick, you will send it in large quantities, saith Besábesh.”

Not long after Her Majesty’s arrival, she sent me an unfortunate child, recently purchased from a Guráguê slave caravan, with a request that Hubsheeri might be exchanged for some clear salad oil which had met with special approval “for medicine for the face;” and great surprise was elicited by my reply, “that such a course of proceeding would involve disgrace and criminality, inasmuch as the unchristian-like traffic in human beings was held in abhorrence beyond the great water.” But in this matter the Emábiet was not singular. Certain of the courtiers, who considered themselves under obligations, had previously tendered us “strong Shankela slaves” as a Christmas gift, and all had been equally at a loss to comprehend our motives in refusing.

Amongst the followers that I had brought from India was a native of Cabool, who acted in capacity of tailor, and his proficiency in the needle involved a most unreasonable tax upon his services. Day after day for weeks and months had he been in attendance at the palace; and when at length, under the royal eye, he had completed a sumptuous burnoos (cloak), on the elaborate embroidery of which half the treasures in the gemdjia house were lavished, the king, in the plenitude of his munificence, sent by the hands of Ayto Melkoo a shabby cotton cloth, value three shillings and sixpence, with a half-starved goat, and a message that “it was Christmas, and the tailor might eat.”

Hajji Mirza was furious. “Take back these gifts to your Shah,” he growled indignantly; “I want none of them. By the beard of the prophet, I’m the son of a Pathan; and praise be to Allah, the meanest overseer of a village in Afghanistán is possessed of greater liberality than Sáhela Selássie.”

This tirade had fortunately been delivered in a tongue not familiar to the ears of the king’s Master of the Horse, who was meanwhile diligently occupied with the Pathan’s needle and scissors. Having taken the bag out of his hands, and extracted a scrap of red cloth, he had carefully fashioned a minute cross, which, with elbows squared, he was now proceeding to stitch over a hole in the lower part of his striped cotton robe.

“Why do you do that?” inquired the tailor, peevishly, in broken Amháric, not relishing the interference in his department, and anxious also to exhibit his own talents. “Let me darn it for you, and then there will be no blemish.”

“No,” replied the party addressed, with great gravity declining the proffered assistance. “Don’t you know that the hole has been burnt, and therefore that it must be repaired with another colour?”

In Abyssinia, as in other parts of Christendom, the festival of the nativity is a season of frolic and rejoicing, during which people display the strength of their piety by the quantity of beef that they can consume; the principal difference being, that it is here eaten raw instead of roasted. Our cook, a Portuguese from Goa, had been frequently summoned to the palace for the royal edification in culinary matters, but although he was a bona fide Christian, and wore a “máteb” too, the king could never persuade himself to partake of any of the viands prepared by his hands. Loaf sugar being now employed in the manufacture of a Christmas cake, His Majesty, after attentively watching operations, enquired, as a matter of course, “How they made it white? Was the ox whose blood was employed killed in the name of the holy Trinity?”

“Certainly not.”

“Then it might remain,” was the abrupt rejoinder. “Ye noor—I don’t want it; it doth not please me.”

The Abyssinians, assigning to the world an existence of 7334 years, refer the birth of Christ to the five thousand five hundredth after the creation. Thus eight years have been lost in the computation of time, and their Anno Domini 1834 corresponded with the Christian era 1842.

On the 4th of January, which was Christmas eve, the usual contest took place on the king’s meadow between the royal household and the dependents of the Purveyor-General and the Dedj Agafári. A cloth ball having been struck with a mall, a struggle for its possession follows, and the party by which it is thrice caught in succession being declared victorious, enjoys the privilege of abusing the vanquished during the ensuing two days of festivity, the first of which is celebrated by the male, the second by the female portion of the population. Every tongue is unloosed; and the foulest slander may be heaped upon the most illustrious, as well as upon the holiest personages in the land, the monarch alone excepted.

His Majesty’s partisans gained the day, and we were summoned to the palace to witness their Christmas exhibition. Filling the courtyard, they danced and recited before the throne couplets defamatory of all the principal functionaries present, not omitting the Lord Bishop, who appeared to consider himself infinitely complimented by the vices whereof he stood accused. Bodily imperfections were not overlooked; asses and dromedaries afforded frequent comparisons; and the fat of the corpulent State-Gaoler, who sat a witness to the festivities, was declared sufficient to light the entire capital during the approaching public entertainment, which, given at the expense of the defeated chiefs, closed the disgraceful Saturnalia in riot and debauchery.