The rehearsal of the praises and martial achievements of the reigning sovereign occupied another half hour, during which the dancing was even more energetic, and the music more boisterous than ever. Taking their seats before the throne, the priests of Saint George, fairly worn out by their exertions, at length made way for those of “our Lady,” who, after the enaction of similar absurdities, were followed in succession by those of Medhanálem, Aferbeine, and Saint Michael, the latter distinguished by the massive embossed silver umbrella. As the united body rent the air with renewed encomiums on the royal prowess in arms, dictated to them line by line by one of the Alakas, His Majesty enquired of me whether similar ceremonies were performed before the sovereigns of Egypt during the holy institution of Lent?—whether the Coptic priesthood there were not less elegantly habited than the Abyssinian dignitaries present?—and whether the Ethiopic fasts were observed in Saint Thomas’s town, as India is invariably styled by the Abyssinians, or in any other part of the Christian world?
The edifying conversation was, however, suddenly interrupted by the cessation of the priestly voices. Rising and standing on the throne, the monarch now received in succession, at the hands of the dwarf father confessor, the carved croziers of brass or silver, belonging to the numerous functionaries of the five churches, many hundreds in number; and with exemplary devoutness, he raised all in turn to his lips. With each sacred symbol of the season, was handed a rod of green rushes, and every person present followed the royal example, by wreathing a fillet about his brows, to be worn during the residue of the day. Largesses, with new silver crosses, were then presented to the several Alakas, who were invested with striped cotton robes, and charged with alms for distribution to the poor.
During this tedious process, whereof the king seemed no less heartily weary than ourselves, Tekla Mariam, the state scrivener, had been carefully extracting, from an endless succession of envelopes and dirty cotton bags and wrappers, something which he appeared equally desirous to conceal and to disclose. Drawing me mysteriously into a dark corner, he partially revealed a rudely carved block of wood, presenting nothing very remarkable in its appearance, but evidently much-prized by the possessor. “You will have perceived,” whispered the learned man, in a scarcely audible voice—“you will doubtless have perceived that this is a fac-simile of the table of the law delivered to Moses on the Mount. It requires nothing but the Ten Commandments; and of these I have no question that you will be able to furnish me with a copy in the unknown tongue.”
Oxen, assembled for consumption in the city on the termination of the great fast, completely choked the road down from the palace. Of five hundred head brought together with this munificent design, there was not one that appeared to possess another hour of natural existence, all being diseased, and so horribly emaciated as to recall vividly to mind the aged pensioners of a Hindoo cattle asylum in the East. Many had actually died since their arrival within the enclosure, and it appeared wonderful whence so many sickening objects had been collected. Yet the liberality of the monarch was vaunted and extolled by all who were to share it; and it was unanimously declared that the fault rested solely with the public officers who had been entrusted with the royal commands.
His Majesty, who, during Passion Week, had been very regular in his vigils and attendance at divine service, passed the greater part of the night in Saint Michael’s church, and on the first crowing of the cock on Easter morning, broke his long fast. The feasting now became general. The five hundred oxen having been slaughtered, were devoured raw in the various quarters of the city; and whether in eating or in drinking, every inhabitant appeared exerting himself to the utmost to make up as expeditiously as possible for the weary restraint that had been imposed on his appetite. Numbers were soon to be seen ranging the streets in brutal intoxication; whilst the court buffoon, at the head of a party of drunken fiddlers, made his way to the dwelling of every person of note, and recited his praises in a series of extemporaneous couplets.
According to immemorial custom, two state-prisoners were liberated from Góncho, on the occasion of these festivities; the royal clemency not however extending to any of the hapless and unoffending members of the blood-royal, who have shared the dungeon from infancy. During one week a public table is kept by the viceroy, to which the town’s people of every grade resorting, drunken brawls and broken heads are diurnal occurrences. Oxen, bread, and beer, were liberally supplied, by the royal command, to the long train of worthless menials at the Residency; and in such high good humour were the priesthood, that, forgetting all their former maledictions and denunciations, they were pleased to ascribe a recent heavy fall of rain, which had proved highly beneficial to the husbandman, solely to the agency of “the king’s strong strangers.”