Meanwhile, as Bruce's health had been daily declining, he had spent a considerable part of his time with the iteghe and Ozoro Esther at Koscam. Here he had received intelligence from Sennaar that the whole of that country was in arms; that for a white man to come hither from Ras el Feel would be almost impossible, since, besides the natural difficulties of the country, and the excessive heat of the climate, he would be in the utmost danger from the soldiery and slaves, who were in a complete state of insubordination. He was therefore conjured to abandon his intention, and either remain in Abyssinia, or return, as he came, through Tigré: "But," says Bruce, "besides that I was determined to attempt completing my journey through Sennaar and the desert, I by no means liked the risk of passing again through Masuah, to experience a second time the brutal manners of the naybe and garrison of that place. I therefore resolved to complete my journey to Syene, the frontier of Egypt, by Sennaar and Nubia, or perish in the attempt.
"It is here," says Bruce, "a proper period to finish the History of Abyssinia, as I was no farther present at, or informed of, the public transactions which followed. My whole attention was now taken up in preparations for my return through the kingdom of Sennaar and the desert. Neither shall I take up the reader's time with a long narrative of leave-taking, or what passed between me and those illustrious personages with whom I had lived so long in the most perfect and cordial friendship. Men of little and envious minds would perhaps think I was composing a panegyric upon myself, from which, therefore, I most willingly refrain. But the several marks of goodness, friendship, and esteem which I received at parting, are confined within my own breast, where they never shall be effaced, but continue to furnish me with the most agreeable reflections, since they were the fruit alone of personal merit, and of honest, steady, and upright behaviour. All who had attempted the same journey hitherto had met with disappointment, disgrace, or death: for my part, although I underwent every sort of toil, danger, and all manner of hardship, yet these were not confined to myself. I suffered always honourably, and in common with the rest of the state; and when sunshiny days happened (for sunshiny days there were, and many brilliant ones too), of these I was permitted freely to partake; and the most distinguished characters, both at court and in the army, were always ready to contribute, as far as possible, to promote what they thought or saw was the object of my pursuits or entertainment."
As Bruce's residence in Abyssinia is now rapidly drawing to a close, one may pause to observe of what honest materials his character seems to have been composed. Personal courage, that gem of the human breast, which, however roughly set, is brilliant even in the rude conduct of the savage, shines with unusual lustre in Bruce's life; while his gratitude to Captain Price, his friendship for those with whom he lived, his loyalty to his king, his attachment to Scotland, his native country, his respect for his ancestors, and other similar sentiments which we have seen constantly escape from him, prove him to have been eminently a sound-hearted man.
Two days previous to his departure, our traveller called to take leave of the iteghe, and found there Tensa Christos, one of the chief priests of Gondar. Bruce replied with great dignity and firmness to several impertinent questions put to him concerning his religion by this man. "And now, holy father," he said, "I have one last favour to ask of you, which is your forgiveness, if I have at any time offended you; your blessing, now that I am immediately to depart, if I have it not; and your prayers while on my long and dangerous journey through countries of infidels and pagans."
A hum of applause sounded throughout the room. Tensa Christos was apparently surprised at Bruce's humility, and cried out, with tears in his eyes, "Is it possible, Yagoube, that you believe my prayers can do you any good?" "I should not be a Christian, as I profess to be, father," replied Bruce, "if I had any doubt of the effect of good men's prayers." So saying, Bruce stooped to kiss the hand of Christos, who laid a small iron cross upon his head, and, to his great surprise, instead of a benediction, repeated the Lord's prayer. After which Bruce made his obeisance to the iteghe, and immediately withdrew, it not being the custom at a public audience to salute any one in the presence of the sovereign.
"Twenty greasy monks," says Bruce, "however, had placed themselves in my way as I went out, that they might have the credit of giving me their blessing likewise after Tensa Christos. As I had very little faith in the prayers of these drones, so I had some reluctance to kiss their greasy hands and sleeves; however, in running this disagreeable gauntlet, I thus gave them my blessing in English: Lord send you all a halter, as he did to Abba Salama (meaning the Acab Saat). But they, thinking I was recommending them to the patriarch Abba Salama, pronounced at random, with great seeming devotion, 'Amen! so be it.'"
This serio-comical valedictory malediction, which Bruce bequeaths to "twenty greasy monks of Koscam," abruptly closes his history of Abyssinia, and upon the distant sources of the Nile the curtain now drops! More than half a century has elapsed, and no one has raised the veil which Bruce lifted up; no one has penetrated the mist through which he found his way, or encountered the dangers which he overcame.
Yet by far the most arduous and dangerous undertaking in the history of Bruce's life remains to be related; for, whatever may have been his difficulties in Abyssinia, however roughly he may have been treated there, he had warm and powerful friends, and was in a country professedly Christian; but his homeward journey is now to be undertaken, through the centre of some of the most savage, burning, steril regions in the world; and if the reader but reflects on the many distinguished individuals who, full of health and enthusiasm, have left Cairo to ascend the Nile, and have yet very early found it impossible to proceed, he will feel for poor Bruce, while with a broken and exhausted constitution he is about to enter on this painful and perilous journey.
When Mr. Salt visited Abyssinia, nearly forty years after Bruce had left it, he was informed that Ras Michael, who was even then talked of as "the old lion," died in 1780, in the eighty-eighth year of his age. The beautiful Ozoro Esther, too, was dead; and, indeed, nearly all Bruce's friends had gone to their long home.