- 更新于：2020-03-25 20:05:29
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ion, which had been purposely erected, below the royal inspection tower. A small, roofed building, resembling the judge’s stand on a country race-course, occupies a raised platform immediately within the palace enclosure. Gaudy cloth hangings enveloped this cage, and carpets and rugs of all colours covered the top of the rude wall for some distance on either side. The Negoos was already seated when we cantered past, and taking off our hats, received his condescending salutation. The usual paraphernalia of silver-embossed velvet floated at his feet. The chiefs of the churches, and the civil officers of state—a gorgeous band—were arranged along the platform, whilst a motley crowd of many thousand spectators stood closely packed over the plain below.
Dense masses of cavalry were in readiness at the further extremity of the parade, to perform the pageant of the day. At the distance of one hundred yards from the imperial stand, a stack of tall leafless willow staves had been erected on the bright green turf which extended far and wide in front. Around it were squatted files of warriors, ensconced under their round shields like the tortoise beneath his shell—the management of sundry huge culverins, of inordinate dimensions, being divided betwixt every three. The muzzle rested over the shoulder of one, a second worked the butt, and a third was prepared, with blazing brand, to fire on the signal given.
The review commenced by the advance of Ayto Kátama’s body-guard, consisting entirely of fusiliers, three-fourths of whom were on this occasion equipped with the muskets that I had recently presented. Divided into four bodies, consisting each of about one hundred men, they moved slowly forward, shouting the usual war-chorus, in imitation of the voice of the lion, and were kept in line by the vigorous application of the rattan. Numerous bracelets, the reward of distinguished gallantry, glittered throughout the band, and the fixed bayonets, heretofore unknown in Southern Abyssinia, gleamed brightly in the sunshine. Gaining the prescribed distance, the warriors crouched on the ground as if to receive cavalry. A grey-headed but energetic veteran sprang to the front—danced during some time in a variety of uncouth capers—and uttering a howl such as might be conjectured to issue from the demon in the wolfs glen, discharged his piece. The signal was followed by a running fire along the entire line, when the remaining companies, advancing in succession in the same order, went through similar evolutions, and all marched off dancing and singing to the outer ring.
The commander-in-chief of this doughty band had meanwhile formed a conspicuous, although rather a ludicrous figure in the performance. Adorned with a flowing garment of his favourite chintz, the flaring pattern of which the kaleidoscope itself must have found difficulty in devising, Ayto Kátama, a bondsman from his youth, exhibited himself in front of the phalanx of slaves, his head enveloped in a crimson harlequin cap. Tripping and mincing with the most unseemly capers and gestures, he brandished his crooked blade in a fashion which could alone have proved dangerous to himself. An inveterate chronic sore throat had rendered his voice husky; and his vapouring unmilitary motions, which reminded us of the strut of a crippled peacock, shed a broad light of caricature over this opening scene of the pantomime.
But the king’s Master of the Horse next advanced with his glittering squadron of picked household cavalry—the flower of the Christian lances. Ayto Melkoo was arrayed in a parti-coloured vest, surmounted by a crimson Arab fleece, handsomely studded with silver jets. A gilt embossed gauntlet encircled his right arm from the wrist to the elbow. His targe and horse-trapping displayed a profusion of silver crosses and devices, and he looked a stately and martial warrior, curvetting at the head of his troop of well-appointed lancers.
Forming line at the distance of half a mile, and approaching the willow pile with a musical accompaniment from a mounted band of kettle-drums, the squadron halted, and the leader, couching his lance, advanced in front. Whilst putting his charger through all the evolutions of Abyssinian manège, he vaunted his prowess in arms, recited the prodigies of valour performed in the service of his royal master, and proclaimed his continued good faith, and future bold intentions—his followers, at intervals, like the Romans of old, responding their assent by the loud clatter of lance against shield. The harangue concluded, his spears were dashed upon the ground, and the chieftain, drawing his broad two-edged falchion, brandished it in the air: “Tockatoo, Loolá, Loolá, Gummoo, Sik, Oooooh,” he vociferated, as he dashed his heels into the flanks of his prancing steed. An instantaneous howl, and independent discharge of culverins, answered the signal, and the wild troop swept past at a gallop to the further extremity of the parade.
At the royal request, I caused a salute of twenty-one guns to be fired by the artillery escort, from the brass three-pounder, which had been dragged by oxen below the willow-stack. Great was the admiration of the wild Galla multitude as they gazed on the appointments and embroidered housings of the British officers now assembled on horseback in front of the watch-tower; and sufficiently diverting were the remarks they passed on our fluttering plumes of white and red feathers—their own emblems of bloody though not chivalrous deeds. When the cannonade opened upon ears that had never before listened to the thunder of ordnance, and a cloud of white smoke curled high above the heads of those who had hitherto beheld such volumes arise only from their own burning hamlets, a buzz of applause pealed from end to end of the extended fine. Each echoing report carried to the hearts of the disaffected a powerful argument for future loyalty, and it needed little discrimination to unravel the royal policy which had dictated the display.