A Narrative of Captivity in Abyssinia by Henry Blanc

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Theodore then ordered every one to retire, and having told Flad to
sit down, asked him, "Have you seen the Queen?" Flad replied in the
affirmative, adding that he had been very graciously received, and
that he had a verbal message to deliver to him from her Majesty.
"What is it?" Theodore immediately asked. Had replied, "The Queen
of England has told me to inform your Majesty, that if you do not
at once send out of your country all those you have detained so
long against their will, you have no right to expect any further
friendship from her." Theodore listened attentively, and even had
the message repeated to him several times. After a pause, he said
to Flad, "I have asked from them a sign of friendship, but it is
refused to me. If they wish to come and fight, let them come, and
call me a woman if I do not beat them."

The following day Mr. Flad presented him with the several gifts he
had brought with him from Government, Dr. Beke, and others; the
supplies he had brought for as he put aside, but everything was
sent to the royal tent, and 1,000 dollars he had also conveyed for
us, Theodore took, saying the roads were dangerous, and that he
would send an order for it to Mr. Rassam at Magdala. On the 29th
Theodore sent again for the telescope: one of his officers had
examined it, and found it excellent, but Theodore pretended not to
be able to see anything with it.

"It is not sent for good," he said; "it is the same story as some
years ago when Basha Falaka (Captain Speedy) sent me a carpet by
Kerans; but by the power of God I chained the bearer of that carpet.
The man who sends me the telescope only wants to annoy me; he wishes
to tell me, 'Though you are a king and I send you an excellent
telescope, you will not be able to see through it.'" Flad did his
best to disabuse his Majesty of this impression, and convince him
of the fact that the telescope was sent to him as a token of
friendship; but as Theodore only got more violent, Flad thought it
prudent to be silent.

On Monday, the 30th, Theodore sent for Flad again and told him that
he was going to send him to rejoin his family at Debra Tabor. Flad
took advantage of this occasion to give a full account of the
dealings of the rebels with France, and their desire to be acknowledged
by us; he assured Theodore that if he did not comply with our Queen's
request he would certainly involve himself in a disastrous war,
etc. Theodore listened with great coolness and indifference, and
when Flad ceased talking, quietly said: "Do not be afraid: the
victory comes from God. I trust in the Lord and he will help me;
I do not trust in my power. I trust in God who says, If you have
faith like a mustard seed, you can remove mountains." He said that
even if he had not chained Mr. Rassam it would have been all the
same; they would not have sent him the workmen. He knew already,
at the time of Bell and Plowden, that the English were not his
friends, and he only treated these two well out of personal regard
for them. He concluded by saying, "I leave it to the Lord: he will
decide it when we fight on the battle-field."

Theodore had vented his rage about the telescope to hide his
disappointment; he had said to one of his workmen at the time he
wrote to Flad to come up with the artisans, "You do not know me
yet; but call me a fool, if by my cunning I do not get them." Instead
of artisans, white men to be held as hostages, he received a firm
message, holding out no hope of friendship unless he set at liberty
all those he had so long unlawfully detained. His answers, so full
of meekness, he knew would please his followers; they were superstitious
and ignorant, and placed a certain credence in his hopeful words.

Desertions had considerably reduced his army. He well knew the
influence of numbers in a country like Abyssinia, and to increase
his scanty host, after plundering for the fourth or fifth time
Dembea and Taccosa, he issued a proclamation to the peasants in the
following terms:--"You have no more homes, grain, or cattle. I have
not done it: God did it. Come with me, and I will take you where
you will find plenty to eat, cattle in abundance, and punish those
who are the cause of God's anger upon you." He did the name for the
districts of Begemder he had lately destroyed; and many of these
poor starving, homeless creatures, not knowing where to go or how
to live, were only too glad to accept his offer.

Theodore's position was not an enviable one. In May, Ras Adilou,
together with all the Yedjow men, the only cavalry left to him,
departed from the camp in open daylight, taking with them their
wives, children, and followers. Theodore was afraid of pursuing the
deserters, lest the greater part of his remaining force should seize
the opportunity thus offered to them and join the discontented,
instead of fighting to capture them. Not long before, a young chief
of Gahinte, named Zallallou, at the head of two hundred horse, had
fled to his native province, and through his influence all the
peasants of that warlike district had aimed and prepared themselves
to defend their country against Theodore and his famished host.
Zallallou, the very day he left the Imperial camp, fell upon some
of our servants _en route_ to Debra Tabor, where they were
going to purchase supplies; all were plundered of everything they
had, stripped, and several detained as prisoners for a few days.

Dahonte and Dalanta not long afterwards, declared themselves for
the Gallas, turned out of their provinces the governors Theodore
had appointed over them, and seized upon the cattle, mules, and
horses belonging to the Magdala garrison, which had been sent there,
as was the custom before the rainy season, on account of the scarcity
of water on the Amba itself. If Theodore, only a few months before,
had but a very insecure portion of his former vast empire that he
could call his own, at that date, June, 1867, he was a king without
a kingdom, and a general without an army. Magdala and Zer Amba were
still garrisoned by his troops; but apart from these forts, he had
nothing left: even his camp was only full of mutinous men, and
desertions went on at such a rate that he could then only muster
from 6,000 to 7,000 men, the majority of whom were peasants, who
had followed him to avoid starvation. For miles around Debra Tabor
the country was a perfect desert, and Theodore saw with dread the
rainy season coming on, for he had no supplies in camp, and a large
number of followers, the people of Gondar, and an endless host of
useless individuals to support.

[Illustration: SUMMIT OF ZER AMBA FORTRESS NEAR TECHELGA.]

In Begemder plundering was out of the: question; the peasants were
always on the watch, and on the slightest sign of a move were
everywhere on the alert, killing the stragglers and plunderers, and
keeping out of the way of the gunmen who stood around the Emperor.
Theodore remembered a rich district not as yet plundered, Belessa,
at the north-east of Begemder. In order to surprise the inhabitants
completely, he proclaimed some days before that he was going on an
expedition in quite a different direction, and to make his army
appear as formidable as possible, he had given orders that every
one who possessed a horse or a mule, or a servant, must send them,
under penalty of death, to accompany the expedition. The Belessa
people, far from being surprised, had been informed of his intention
by their spies, and Theodore, to his disappointment, saw from a
distance their villages on fire; the peasants themselves having
preferred destroying their homes to leaving them a prey to the
invader. Under the conduct of a gallant chief, Lij Abitou, a young
man of good family, and a runaway officer, from the Imperial
household, the peasants, well armed, took up a position on a small
plateau, separated by a narrow ravine from the route Theodore would
take. To his surprise, instead of running away at the mere sight
of his charger, they not only stood their ground, but several
well-mounted chiefs rode out in front and bid defiance to Theodore
himself. Astrologers must have told him that the day was not
favourable, as after several of his chiefs who had answered the
cartel had been laid dead on the field, he still refused to lead
his men in person, and before this unexpected resistance gave way
and ordered a retreat. Belessa was saved: the hungry, famished
robbers that Theodore called soldiers passed a dreadful night;
tired, hungry, and cold, they could not sleep, for the peasants
might surprise and attack them, in their turn. The cruelties Theodore
perpetrated after his return to Debra Tabor were fearful; too
horrible to be related. At last, tired of taking his revenge on the
innocent, he turned his thoughts to the place he might most easily
plunder, and fixed upon the island of Metraha.

That island, situate in the Tana Sea, about twenty miles north of
Kourata, is only a few hundred yards from the mainland. It was
considered in the light of an asylum, and protected by its sacred
character, priests and monks resided there in peace; while merchants
and rich landowners sent their goods and stores there for safe
custody. Theodore had no scruples about violating the sanctity of
the island: the asylum afforded by the churches to all before his
time he had long ago violated, and, certain of a large booty, did
not hesitate to add another sacrilege to his numerous crimes. On
his arrival before Metraha, he at once ordered his people to make
rafts. Whilst Theodore was occupied in their construction, a priest
came in a boat, and approaching within speaking distance, inquired
of the Emperor what it was that he desired. Theodore told him the
grain that they had in store. The priest replied that they would
send it to him; but Theodore, not satisfied with the grain alone,
told the priest not to be afraid, but to send their boats. He took
a solemn oath that he would not injure them, nor remove anything
but the grain he required. The priest, on his return to the island,
informed the people of his conversation with the Emperor, and the
majority being in favour of complying with his requests, it was
agreed that all the available boats should be taken to the mainland.
A few who had no trust in Theodore's word entered their canoes, and
paddled away in an opposite direction. Theodore ordered the Europeans
to fire upon them with the small cannons they had brought. They
complied; but, to Theodore's great disappointment, failed to hit
any of the fugitives. No sooner had Theodore and a select party
been admitted on the island than he caused all the remaining
inhabitants to be shut up in a few of the larger houses; and after
all the grain, silver, gold, and merchandise had been removed, he
set the place on fire, and burnt to death priests, merchants, women
and children!

For a while, abundance reigned in Theodore's camp. The work of
casting the big cannon had been going on for some time: the day of
its completion at last arrived, and Emperor and workmen anxiously
awaited the result of their labours. The Europeans, to their great
dismay, saw that they had failed; but Theodore, not in the least
put out, told them not to be afraid, but to try again: perhaps they
would succeed another time. Theodore examined carefully everything,
connected with the smelting, in order to find out the cause of the
failure, and he soon perceived that it was due to the presence of
some water around the mould. He at once set to work, and had a
large, deep, broad trench constructed from beneath the mould to
some distance outside. This drain dried up the place, and on a
second attempt being made the success was complete. Theodore was
delighted; he made handsome presents to the workmen, and prepared
everything requisite to carry away with him his immense piece of
ordnance.

During that rainy season (1867) Theodore's difficulties were very
great: indeed, the punishment of his evil deeds was falling heavily
upon him, and to his proud nature it must have been a daily and
constant agony. The rebels were now so little afraid of Theodore
that every night they made attacks on his camp, and were always on
the watch to seize stragglers, or camp-followers. They had at last
become such a terror to the soldiers that, to protect them, and at
the same time check, to a certain extent, desertion, Theodore had
a large stockade built around the foot of the hill on which his
camp was pitched. A war of extermination on both sides now took
place; Theodore showing no pity to the peasants whom he succeeded
in capturing, and they, on their side, torturing and murdering any
one who belonged to the Emperor's camp. A detailed account of the
atrocities committed by Theodore during the last month of his stay
in Begemder would be too horrible to narrate: suffice it to say
that he burnt alive, or sentenced to some cruel death, in that short
space of time, more than 3,000 persons! His rage at times was so
blind that, unable to satisfy his revenge by punishing those who
daily insulted and scorned him, he vented his anger on the few
remaining faithful companions who shared his fate: chiefs who had
fought by his side for years, friends whom he knew from his childhood,
old respectable men who had protected him in former days, all had
to suffer more or less for their faithfulness, and fell innocent
victims to his mad fits of violence. Many succumbed to a lingering
death, or chains and torture, for no reason whatever except that
they loved him!

Desertions were still frequent, but the difficulty of escape was
greater than before; the peasants often put to death the fugitives;
and always stripped and plundered them of everything they had. The
gates of the fence were guarded night and day by faithful men, and
it required often a good deal of ability and cunning to be able to
pass through them. I was told an anecdote which exemplifies the
expedients the soldiers resorted to in order to get out of the
dreaded camp. One evening, about half an hour before sunset, a woman
presented herself at the gate, carrying on her head one of the large
flat baskets used for keeping bread; she said, with tears in her
eyes; that her brother was lying down some short distance from the
fence so dangerously wounded that he could not walk; she had brought
him a little bread and water, etc. The guards allowed her to pass.
A few minutes afterwards a soldier presented himself at the gate,
and asked if they had seen a woman go through, giving the description
of the one that had just gone out. The guards said that they had;
the soldier appeared to be in a fearful passion, and said that she
was his wife, who had made an assignation to run away with her
lover; and he threatened to report them to the Emperor. The guards
told him that she could not be far off, and that he had better go
quickly and overtake her; off he went: as might be expected, neither
appeared again.

To the annoyances and difficulties caused by the presence of large
bodies of armed peasants, day and night hanging about the outskirts
of the camp, were soon added the evils of famine: a small Abyssinian
loaf cost a dollar; a salt and a half, a dollar; butter could not
by any means be obtained; and hundreds died daily of want and
starvation. When the grain plundered at Metraha was consumed, no
more could be found; plundering was now quite impossible, and as
long as Theodore did not move his camp there was no hope of supplies
of any kind being obtained. Almost all the mules, horses, and the
few remaining sheep had died from want of food; they could not graze
any more in close vicinity to the camp, that pasture being completely
eaten up; and as to driving them to some green fields at a distance,
that was impossible. The poor animals dropped one after the other,
and infected the place by the stench that arose from their dead
bodies. The cows had all been killed long before by order of
Theodore. One day, when, after one of his first razzias, he had
brought back with him to Debra Tabor more than 80,000 cows; at night
the peasants came, and from a distance implored him to have pity
upon them, and restore them their cattle, without which they were
unable to cultivate the soil. Theodore was on the point of acceding
to their request, when some of the rascals around him said, "Does
not your Majesty know that there is a prophecy in the country, that
a king will seize a large amount of cattle, and that the peasants
will come and beg him to return them; the king will comply, but
soon afterwards die." Theodore replied, "Well, the prophecy will
not apply to me." He immediately gave orders for all the cows in
camp, those he had lately brought, and all others, to be killed at
once; the order was obeyed, and nearly, it is said, 100,000 were
killed and left to rot in the plain at a short distance from the
camp.

The next day, Theodore, seated outside his hut, perceived a man
driving a cow into the fields; he sent for him, and asked him if
he had not heard the order. The man replied in the affirmative, but
said that he had not killed his cow because his wife having died
the day before on giving birth to a child, he had kept that one for
the sake of her milk. Theodore told him, "Why did not you know that
I would be a father to your child? Kill the man," he said to those
around him, "and take care of his child for me."

The waggons being at last ready, Theodore decided upon marching
towards Magdala. Pestilence, engendered by famine and the noxious
effluvia arising from the heap of unburied dead bodies, now increased
the already dismal condition of the Emperor's army; and in a few
weeks more he and his whole host must have perished from sickness
and want. On the 10th of October, his Majesty set fire to his houses
at Debra Tabor, and destroyed the whole place; leaving only, as a
record of his stay, a church he had built as an expiation for his
sacrilege at Gondar. His march was, indeed, the most wonderful feat
he ever accomplished; none but he would have ventured on such an
undertaking; and no other man could have succeeded in accomplishing
the arduous journey that lay before him: it required all his energy,
perseverance, and iron will to carry out his purpose under such
immense difficulties.

He had not more than 5,000 men with him, all more or less in bad
condition, weakened by famine, discontented, and only awaiting a
favourable opportunity to run away. The camp-followers, on the
contrary; numbered between forty and fifty thousand helpless and
useless beings whom he had to protect and feed. He had, moreover,
several hundred prisoners to guard, an immense amount of baggage
to carry, fourteen gun-carriages, with cannon or mortars--one of
them the famous "Sebastopol," weighing between fifteen and sixteen
thousand pounds--and ten waggons, the whole to be dragged by men
across a country without roads. Theodore did not let himself be
influenced by all these unfavourable circumstances; he seemed, for
a time, to have regained much of his former self, and behaved with
more consideration towards his followers. His daily marches were
very short, not more than a mile and a half to two miles a day. A
portion of his camp marched early every morning, carrying the heavy
luggage, dragging the waggons, and protecting the followers from
the attacks of the rebels, who were always hovering in the distance,
watching a favourable opportunity to avenge themselves on the
Emperor's people for all the miseries they had suffered at his hand;
another portion remained behind to guard what could not be carried;
off, and, on the return of the first batch, all started for the
spot fixed upon for that day's halt, conveying what had been left
behind in the morning. Even then the day's work wast not over; the
corn was as yet not quite ripe, and stood in the fields by the side
of the road; Theodore would set the example, pluck a few unripe
ears of barley, rub them between his hands, and, satisfied with
this frugal meal, repair to the nearest brook to quench thirst.
From Debra Tabor to Checheo, such was the daily routine of the
reduced host of Theodore,--harnessed to waggons, in place of the
horses and mules now so scarce in the camp; constantly on the alert,
as the country was all up in arms against them; with no supplies
available, only the unripe barley plucked by the wayside; no peace
by day nor rest at night: in a word, a march unequalled in the
annals of history.

The prisoners were very badly off: many--even the Europeans--were
in hand and foot chains; to walk a few steps in such a condition
is fatiguing in the extreme, but to have to go over a mile or two
of broken ground with such fetters equals the cruellest torture.
Mrs. Flad and Mrs. Rosenthal every day, as soon as they arrived at
the stage, sent back their mules for the Europeans to ride; and
some time afterwards, on Mr. Staiger making a gala dress for his
Majesty, the hand-chains of all five were taken away. On the native
prisoners requesting to be allowed to ride, his Majesty sent them
word that, as he knew they had money, he would grant permission to
those who would send him a _dollar_. Theodore must have been
hard up, indeed, to be satisfied with such a trifle. Several complied
with his demand, and, by giving small presents to those chiefs who
had mules, they got an occasional lift.

At Aibankab Theodore halted a few days to rest his men; near it two
heaps of stones arise, giving to the place the name of Kimr Dengea.
[Footnote: "Kimr Dengea," heap of stones.] The story the people of
the country narrate with reference to these heaps of stones is that
on one occasion a Queen, at the head of her army, went on an
expedition against the Gallas; before starting she ordered every
one of her soldiers as he passed along to put a stone on a certain
spot, and on her return again ordered them to place a stone at a
short distance from the former heap. The first is a large mass, the
second very much smaller; the Queen knew by that how great her loss
had been, and never since then ventured against the Gallas.

At Kimr Dengea Theodore fell in with a caravan of salt-merchants
on their route to Godjam. He asked them why they went to the rebels
instead of coming to him. The chief of the caravan honestly replied
that they had heard from merchants that his Majesty was in the habit
of burning people alive, and consequently they were afraid to come
near him. Theodore said, "It is true I am a bad man, but if you had
trusted and come to me, I would have treated you well; but as you
prefer the rebels, I will take care that in future you do not go
to them." He then seized the salt and mules, sent all the merchants
into an empty house, had it surrounded with dry wood, put guards
at the door, and set fire to it.

The peasants of Gahinte, to whom Theodore offered an amnesty,
declined to accept it; on three occasions he issued a proclamation
offering them a free pardon should they return to him. At last,
however, they sent him some priests to see what terms he would make;
he received the priests well, and told them that he would not enter
Gahinte: he only required a few supplies; but to prove to him their
sincerity they must send from each village a person of influence
to reside in his camp until he left Begemder. Luckily for them, the
peasants declined to comply with his demands; Theodore was too
prudent to venture into their valleys, and contented himself by
plundering at a short distance from his camp; burning alive, before
he left, a few poor wretches who had been simple enough to rely on
the faith of his proclamation.

Theodore arrived at the foot of the steep ascent that leads from
Begemder to Checheo on the 22nd of November. Up to that spot the
road was not bad; but now an almost perpendicular height stood
before him, and he was obliged to blast enormous rocks, cut a road
through basalt, to enable him to bring his waggons, guns, and mortars
on the Zébite plains above.

About that time he must have received the first intelligence of the
landing of British troops at Zulla; for one afternoon he said to
the Europeans, "Do not be afraid if I send for you at night. You
must be on the watch, as I hear some donkeys intend stealing my
slaves." The Europeans could not make out his meaning, and retired
as usual to their tents. In the middle of the night, all of them,
with the exception of an old man called Zander, and McKelvie, who
had for a long time been suffering from dysentery, were awoke by
soldiers coming into their quarters and ordering them to go at once
to the Emperor. They were all ushered into a small tent, and many
frivolous charges made against them. They were not allowed to leave
that night; even a large bundle of chains was brought in; but on
some of the chiefs representing to his Majesty that without their
labour it would be exceedingly difficult to make roads and guide
the waggons, and that he could always put them in chains when he
reached Magdala, Theodore relented. He allowed them to go to their
own tents in the daytime, when not on duty; but at night for their
own safety, and, as he said, on account of the badness of his people,
he made them all sleep in one tent, a few yards from his own: with
the exception of a few days, they remained prisoners at night and
slaves during the day, until the beginning of April.

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