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Title: Twelve months in Madagascar
Author: Mullens, Joseph
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Twelve months in Madagascar" ***
MADAGASCAR ***
TWELVE MONTHS IN MADAGASCAR.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
ANTANANARIVO.—MEMORIAL CHURCH AND ROCKS AT ÁMPAMARÍNANA.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_TWELVE MONTHS_
IN
_MADAGASCAR_.
BY
JOSEPH MULLENS, D.D.,
FOREIGN SECRETARY OF THE LONDON MISSIONARY SOCIETY.
_NEW YORK_:
_ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS_,
_535 BROADWAY_.
1875.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PREFACE.
IN adding another to the list of works written about Madagascar I have
been anxious to confine its contents to what was special to our visit.
During that visit my colleague and I enjoyed unusual opportunities of
observing various matters relating to the country and the people in the
principal portions of the island. Being deputed to visit the Government
and the Churches, by those who had befriended them for more than fifty
years, we were cordially welcomed everywhere, and were permitted to see
and examine all we wished. The portion of the country which we visited
was very extensive. We saw in all their length and breadth the two
Central Provinces of the island, Imérina and the Betsileo: we visited
the Sihánaka Province, and left the island by the north-west route and
the Port of Mojangá. Everywhere we came into closest contact with the
native Churches: to an extent that no Englishman, missionary or
traveller, had ever done before.
We saw the religious life of the people on the large scale; not merely
in its details in a single locality: but as it shows itself in all
parts, the most advanced and the most ignorant. We can say much on the
things we saw in various localities. We can also testify that the great
religious revolution, which is said to have taken place in Madagascar,
is a REAL THING: that it has affected and improved the nation most
powerfully at its heart, in the Capital and Imerina: and that its
effects are also real and truly beneficial far away in the interior, and
even at extreme points on the coast.
We shared in most important consultations of the missionaries,
respecting the actual position of things, and the form and extent to
which Christian work should be carried on in the future. We were in
constant communication with the members of the Norwegian, the Friends’,
and the Medical Missions. We held most pleasant intercourse with the
Authorities, and were present at several important public gatherings. We
were honoured with a formal reception by the Queen and a formal
farewell.
Being aware of great defects in our geographical knowledge of the
interior of Madagascar, we prepared ourselves before leaving England to
gather new information. In all our journeys we took observations: and we
have prepared a new Map of the Country which we traversed. Among the
special results of this geographical exploration, we may note, the
discovery of a wide-spread volcanic region, including a hundred extinct
craters; the delineation of Lake Itasy; the survey of the Sihánaka
Province, with its fine Lake Aláotra; the survey of the Betsileo
Province and of the District of Betáfo; and that of the route to
Mojangá.
We have also gathered important information relative to the extent of
the population. These questions were in many respects new to ourselves;
we learned much respecting them: and that information we now lay before
the many friends of the Mission.
Though deriving great help from the observations and views of my
colleague, I alone am responsible for the statements contained in this
little volume.
I will only add that in the pronunciation of the many Malagasy names
which it contains, if the reader will kindly have regard to the accented
syllables and pronounce the first three vowels _a_, _e_ and _i_ as the
Italians do, and the vowel _o_ as they pronounce their _u_, he will not
go far wrong.
J. M.
CANONBURY, _March 29, 1875_.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
WHY AND HOW WE WENT TO MADAGASCAR.
Religious Revolution in Madagascar—The Idols PAGES 1-24
burned—Increased Help sent from England to
the Mission—A Deputation appointed to visit
the Island—Our Journey
thither—Marseilles—Naples—Fellow-passengers—The
Suez Canal—Aden—The Indian
Ocean—Mauritius—The Bullockers—Passage
across—Tamatave; the Town, Port, and
Market—English and Native
Friends—Sunday—The Native Churches and
their Worship—Help they need—Importation of
Rum into Madagascar and its evils—The Trade
of Madagascar
CHAPTER II.
FIRST EXPERIENCES OF MADAGASCAR AND ITS PEOPLE.
East Coast of Madagascar, its Character and PAGES
Population—Supplies needed by a Traveller 25-49
to the Capital—Our Journey—Inland
Lagoons—Park-like
Scenery—Andevoranto—Ascend the Iharoka—“See
the conquering Hero comes”—The Pass of
Tániakóva—The Sorrows of the old
Slave-system—System of our Journey—The
great Ridge west of Befórona—Scenery of the
Forest—The Plain of Ankay—The great Ridge
of Angavo and its Forest—The Eastern
Valleys of Imerina—Our Arrival and
Reception—Population of the East Coast
scanty—First Visits—The City
empty—Why—Description of
Antananarivo—Origin, Name, and Growth of
the City—Interest of the Native Churches in
our Visit
CHAPTER III.
VISIT TO THE BETSILEO PROVINCE.
The Betsileo Province, its importance and PAGES
position—The Mission recent—Journey 51-98
thither—The Ankárat Mountains, their
breadth and height—Encamp at the foot—The
Vava Vato—Betáfo and Sírabé—The River
Mania—Ambositra—Nándíhizana—Ambohinamboárina—Ikála—The
Matsiatra River—Fianarantsoa—Visit of the
Queen to the Province—Worship in the
Camp—Examination of the Schools—The
Tanála—Our Visit to Ambohimandroso and
Imahazony—The Southern Terrace and
hills—The Ibára Tribes—Ambóndrombé—The
Iárindrano—Fianarantsoa
again—Ifanjakana—Latitudes and
Heights—General Conclusions concerning the
Betsileo Province: its Population and
Resources—Religious condition—New
arrangements of the Mission for its
Instruction—Return to the Capital
CHAPTER IV.
RETURN TO THE CAPITAL.
Return of the Queen and Military PAGES
Expeditions—Thunderstorm—Public entry into 99-128
the City and reception by the
People—Uniforms and ceremonies on the
occasion—Reason and Course of the War—Our
Interview with the Queen—Address from the
Directors—Rest in the City—Home at
Análakély—Visits to the Institutions in the
City—Worship with the Native
Churches—Festival of the Fandróana—Visit to
Country Missions in Imerina—Importance of
these Stations—Vonizongo—The District: its
spirited people: their high principle: many
of them Martyrs—Position of an English
Missionary in these
Districts—Ambohimanga—Journey thither
across country—A Royal City: its sturdy
people: places around it—Ambátovóry: its
beauty—Ambatomena and its People—Our return
to Antanánarívo
CHAPTER V.
HOW IT STRIKES A STRANGER.
Settling in the Capital—My Madagascar PAGES
Home—Prospect over Imerina—Family Life and 129-155
Housekeeping—Our Servants—The
Garden—Weather, Thunderstorms—Beauty of
Imerina—The great City Market: Food, Dress
and Manufactures Sold—Low
Prices—Money—Settlements of the European
Families—Roads—Our Dress—The Sun—The
Palace—Social Life in the Capital—Lack of
External Stimulus—Sources from which it may
be supplied—Memorial Church at
Faravohitra—The Martyrs who suffered
there—Conference of Missionaries held in
January—Topics discussed—Resolutions and
Arrangements—Concluding Meeting—Important
Re-arrangements resulting from it—Love of
the Bible among the People—The Churches in
the City—Opening of the Memorial Church at
Ampamarinana
CHAPTER VI.
THE LAND AND THE PEOPLE OF MADAGASCAR.
The East Coast of the Island—The West PAGES
Coast—Travels of M. Grandidier—Maps of 158-188
Madagascar—Mr. Cameron’s Survey—Additions
made by us—Size of Madagascar—The Mountain
mass along its centre—Terraces on all
sides—The Malagasy people a single
race—Their Three Tribes and their
Sub-divisions—The Malagasy not an African
race—Their Malay origin—Evidence supplied
by their Language—New Words from Arabic,
French and English—Reference to Madagascar
by Marco Paolo—Early Navigation of the
Eastern Seas very extensive—Phœnician,
Hindu, Chinese and Malay—Madagascar
colonised by Malays—Three independent
Movements—Traditions of the Hovas—Their
Arrival in Imerina—Conquest of the
Vazimba—Increase in Imerina—Their recent
History—Ralambo and his Descendants—Impóin
and his consolidation of the
Kingdom—Radáma—State of the Country, of
Social Life and of the Sakalava Tribes in
his day—The people still a federation of
tribes—Their Institutions—Their steady
growth in Civilisation, as well as in
Religious Character
CHAPTER VII.
LAKE ITASY AND THE VOLCANIC REGION.
South Border of Imerina—Hill of PAGES
Antongona—Arivonimamo, the old 189-226
Capital—Great number of beautiful
hills—Miádana Manjáka—Lake Itasy—The
Mándridráno—Religious knowledge of the
people—The grass of Madagascar—Numerous
craters and crater-lakes—Mahatsinjo and its
people—Vinány hill—Kitsamby
river—Antoby—The Vava Vato—Norwegian
Missions—Menabe—Betafo and
Sirabe—Volcanoes—Hot springs and
Limepits—Votovorona—The East of
Ankárat—Andraráty—Our return—Western
Imerina—Ambohiveloma—The Fárahántsana:
falls of the Ikopa
CHAPTER VIII.
THE SIHANAKA PROVINCE AND PEOPLE.
Special reason for a visit to this PAGES
Province—Crossing the Granite Moors—Basin 227-267
of the Mananára—Anjozorobe and its
People—Spend Sunday with them—“The Gate of
Rock”—The Wilderness of Ankay—Capital of
the Sihanaka, its Governor and
People—Christian work and the Native
Pastor—Tour round the
District—Ambohidehilahy—Ambodinónoka—Petulance
of our Bearers—The great Swamp and its
Reeds—Ambohitromby—Reception at
Ambohipeno—Amparafaravola and its kind
Governor—A Volcanic
Hill—Ambohijanahary—Ambohitsara—Enquiries
about the Gun—The Alaotra Lake and the
Scenery around it—Marosalázana and its
bright Scholars—Memorials of the
Dead—Whence came the Sihanaka People—How
they became Christians—What the Gospel is
doing for them—Form, Extent and Population
of the District
CHAPTER IX.
OUR JOURNEY TO MOJANGÁ.
Last Meetings in the Capital—Farewell PAGES
interview with the Queen—Departure to 269-320
Vonizongo—North Vonizongo—Angavo—The five
Garrison Towns—Religious condition of their
People—Crossing the Wilderness—No man’s
Land—The Cataracts of the Ikopa—Vast
deposits of Drift—Town of Mevatanána—Voyage
in Canoes—Junction of the Ikopa and
Betsiboka Rivers—Amparihibe—Crocodiles in
the River—The Level Plains—Town of
Trabonjy, its Governor and
People—Marovoay—Arrival at Mojangá: Its
Churches and People—Religious condition of
the District—Trade and History of Mojangá
CHAPTER X.
OUR RETURN HOME.
Domestic Slavery in Madagascar—Ancient Trade PAGES
in Slaves—Radáma’s Treaty with Governor 321-334
Farquhar well observed—Similar clause in
the Treaty of 1865—Slaves imported
nevertheless—Capture of Slaver by the
_Vulture_—Successful efforts against the
Slave Trade—Recent Proclamation of the
Queen of Madagascar—Our return Home—The new
Bishopric in Madagascar—Its aggressive
attitude and spirit—God’s care of His
people
------------------------------------------------------------------------
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
ANTANANARIVO: CHURCH AT Frontispiece
AMPAMARINANA
FORD OF THE MANDRAKA 40
TURTLE-HEAD 54
ROCK—AMBATOMALAZA
TSI-AFAK-AFO FROM THE 58
WEST
TOWN OF FIANARANTSOA 67
MR. PEARSE’S HOUSE 111
MARTYR’S CAVE 119
THE QUEEN’S RESIDENCE 143
STONE GATE AT ARIVONIMAMO 193
FALLS OF THE IKOPA 225
GATEWAY OF 300
POLES—MEVATANANA
MAP OF CENTRAL PROVINCES 335
OF MADAGASCAR
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER I.
WHY AND HOW WE WENT TO MADAGASCAR.
Religious Revolution in Madagascar—The Idols burned—Increased Help sent
from England to the Mission—A Deputation appointed to visit the
Island—Our Journey thither—Marseilles—Naples—Fellow-passengers—The
Suez Canal—Aden—The Indian Ocean—Mauritius—The Bullockers—Passage
across—Tamatave; the Town, Port, and Market—English and Native
Friends—Sunday—The Native Churches and their Worship—Help they
need—Importation of Rum into Madagascar and its evils—The Trade of
Madagascar.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TWELVE MONTHS IN MADAGASCAR.
CHAPTER I.
WHY AND HOW WE WENT TO MADAGASCAR.
ON the 8th of September 1869, a religious revolution took place in
Madagascar. The priests and diviners of the idol Kelimaláza came to the
Queen, and urged that, like her predecessors, she should again take the
idol into her palace, and place her whole kingdom under its protection.
The Queen had, from the commencement of her reign, eighteen months
before, taken her stand as a Christian; and in the previous February, in
the presence of her people, had been baptized as a Christian. Her
husband, the Prime Minister, and an influential body of nobles and
officers, had adopted the same faith: and Christianity was making great
strides among her subjects generally. The keepers of the three national
idols had in consequence been deposed from their position as keepers of
the ruler’s conscience, as directors of lucky and unlucky days, and as
instigators of the persecutions, from which the land had suffered great
harm. They had also been deprived of their special privileges. They were
no longer Andríans, entitled to the scarlet umbrella, exempt from the
jurisdiction of the ordinary Courts, and having the power of life and
death over their own clan; they were simply Hovas, and were bound to
render to their sovereign that feudal service, to which all other
members of the tribe were subject. All this was trying enough. Men, who
have long enjoyed exclusive privileges at others’ expense, are usually
dissatisfied when their vested interests are set aside without
compensation. And when, in the month of June, the Queen laid the
foundation of her Chapel Royal, and summoned these priestly families to
do their share in building it, they made a last desperate attempt to
recover their former position. They came to the Queen and urged her to
place the land under the idols once more.
The occasion was felt to be an important one. There was a hurried
consultation. A large number of officers was summoned; and a discussion
commenced among them as to how the difficulty should be met. A happy
suggestion offered by one of them, that the idols should be burned, was
heartily approved by all. Due authority was given by the Queen, and
several officers were at once dispatched on horseback to the village
where the chief idol was kept. Arrived at the idol-house, the leader
went in and brought the idol out, “Whose idol is this?” he asked of the
bystanders. “It belongs to the Queen,” was their reply. “If this idol be
mine,” saith Ránaválo-manjáka, “I need it not: let it be burned.” And
burned it was, with all its trappings, to their consternation and grief.
The other royal idols shared the same fate.
The event produced a profound sensation throughout the country. By the
theory and the practice of Malagasy public life, the Queen had a perfect
right to decide as she had done. But her subjects were not behind their
sovereign. Public opinion had been rapidly ripening on the subject, and
there was no hesitation as to the course that should be followed. The
next day, all over Imérina, the private idols of villages and families
were also brought forth: bundles of clothes and charms, round which the
superstitious fears of many generations had clustered, were committed to
the flames; and soon a little heap of ashes was all that remained of the
outward symbols of a faith that had been held by the Malagasy races
since their first fathers landed on the island. The revolt from the
system was complete. From all quarters came the inquiry, “Whom does the
Queen worship? How is that worship conducted? What are we to do?” From
all quarters was heard the request, “Send us teachers: send us books.”
Chapels were hastily erected all over the province, even in remote
villages. And the resources of the native Churches, of the English
Mission, and of the Mission Press, were taxed to the utmost to supply
the nation’s wants.
Profound as was the sensation produced by the burning of the idols
abroad, it was not less deeply felt at home. The greatness of the event
was discerned: its spiritual significance was instantly appreciated. No
such event had occurred in the history of Christendom before: no such
multitude of willing men and women had ever knocked for admission at the
Church’s door in a single year. It was the fruit of the long and painful
persecution of twenty-eight years. It was the fruit of the faithfulness
of the martyrs, dead and living, upon whose sufferings and fidelity all
Christendom had looked with sympathy. It was the answer to the thousands
of prayers which those sufferings had called forth.
The case was thoroughly appreciated. A few enthusiasts might talk of
Madagascar as christianized, and think it needed Christian help no
longer. But the Committees of Missionary Societies, the men who have
been dealing with the practical life of heathen nations for many years,
and have been studying the many problems involved in their redemption,
were not likely to make that mistake. A new born child is not the
educated, thoughtful, self-denying man, he some day may be. With his
birth and growth the trials and responsibilities of parents begin. Many
a missionary has found that his work in instructing the heathen was as
nothing, compared with the labour, anxiety and trial, which fell to his
lot, when he began to gather converts around him, and by God’s help
endeavoured to train them to holiness and trust, while “the world, the
flesh, and the devil” were drawing them back again to evil. With the
thankfulness and congratulations which this great change inspired in the
friends of the Imerina Mission, it was felt that new duties of a most
serious kind devolved upon them; and the Directors of the London
Missionary Society, who had maintained that mission and had aided the
Malagasy Churches for more than fifty years, determined without delay to
enlarge the mission by all the agencies which the crisis called for.
Large sums of money were contributed almost unasked; and within the five
years that have since elapsed twenty English missionaries have been
added to the staff previously labouring in the island. It was resolved
to commence new stations, and to enlarge and strengthen the Theological
and Normal Schools; to increase and stimulate general education; and to
make the Press more efficient. Other Christian missions, working in
cordial co-operation with the London Missionary Society, were enlarged
at the same time.
Nothing could be more desirable than that these increased agencies
should be carefully applied so as to produce the largest amount of good.
Especially was it felt to be important that every English missionary,
expected to be a fountain of wisdom and of spiritual power to the simple
people around him, should be located in a position that would call forth
all his strength, and give to his abilities and influence the widest
scope. As time went on it seemed increasingly difficult to secure these
important ends. Much as we heard from abroad, and much as we wrote to
Madagascar from London, it grew more plain that no amount of
correspondence would suffice to convey to us and to them all the
information as to details which it was desirable for each side to know;
especially when that correspondence was frequently interrupted and
delayed by its transit through one of the most inefficient mail-services
known to the civilised world, the service between Bourbon and
Madagascar. The conviction grew that nothing would suffice for the
accomplishment of our purpose, nothing would supply all missing links
and make co-operation complete, but that two or three Directors of the
Society should proceed to the island, and that the missionaries and
these Directors, as “friends in council,” should together shape the new
scheme, which the enlarged mission imperatively required. It was felt to
be an additional advantage that, by visiting the island, the members of
such a deputation would have an opportunity of meeting the native
pastors and native churches, and of assuring them both of the warm
affection in which they were still held by their old friends, and of the
gladness with which they would still be aided in their new and pressing
wants. The Rev. JOHN PILLANS of Camberwell, a Director of the Society,
and myself were honoured with the appointment; and after several
impressive services, in which we were affectionately commended to the
divine protection, and the divine blessing was sought on our expedition,
we set out on our journey. Mrs. Pillans also accompanied us.
A pleasant day between Paris and Lyons, followed by a hot and weary
night, brought us to Marseilles, our port of embarkation. Marseilles is
now a great city, with six hundred thousand inhabitants; and its new
streets, in solidity, breadth, and grandeur, compare favourably with
those of Paris. The trade passing through the city is enormous. Its new
quay and harbour are crowded with steamers, which connect it by
commercial ties with all the ports of the Mediterranean and the Black
Sea, and which in recent years have extended their lines to India,
China, and Japan; while, conspicuous to all eyes, on its rocky hill,
stands the church of Notre Dame de la Garde, the shrine at which the
sailors of Marseilles have registered their vows and paid their thanks,
from the day when, two thousand five hundred years ago, the Greek
colonists of Phocæa founded the city of Massilia, and erected their
first temple. Perhaps no shrine in Europe can boast of such a long and
unbroken line of worshippers.
Our steamer was the _Amazone_, of the fleet of the Messageries
Maritimes, a noble vessel of 2000 tons, bound for Shanghai and carrying
the Eastern mails. We found her accommodations excellent; large cabins,
a good table, attentive servants, an obliging captain, efficient
officers, and a most muscular crew. What a mixture of nations we found
among our fellow-passengers! There were Spaniards, French, Portuguese,
English, Italians, and Japanese. Our Japanese companions were members of
the Commission which had been visiting the Vienna Exhibition.
We started from the jetty punctually at ten, on the morning of the 6th
of July. With a smooth sea and clear sky we passed rapidly through the
Straits of Bonifacio, and were unexpectedly gratified by a brief visit
to the city and bay of Naples. What painter can do full justice to the
delicate hues of sea and sky at that fair spot? The harbour of Hong Kong
and the bay of New York are, in their finest aspects and under the
purest skies, truly beautiful; but there is a perfection of loveliness
in the sheen of the air, the play of the colours, and the transparent
clearness of the Bay of Naples that nothing can surpass. Leaving Naples
at nine in the morning, at sunset we were close to Stromboli, with its
cindery cone; and at midnight, with six men at the wheel, the _Amazone_
passed steadily through the swirling currents of the Straits of Messina,
under a magnificent moon. The long line of lights in the town of
Messina, the dark rocks of the Italian coast, with Reggio at their feet;
the firing of the gun, the burning of the blue lights, and the brilliant
night made up a charming scene. We saw Candia in its entire length, with
Mount Ida and its line of rugged hills; passed close to Gozo, the little
island of Clauda, where the apostle Paul and his companions fell into
the hurricane; and at sunrise on Saturday, six days from Marseilles,
anchored at Port Said, the entrance to the Suez Canal.
There came on board at Naples a number of gentlemen in whom we felt
considerable interest, and who proved agreeable companions. They were
silk merchants from various cities of Italy, engaged in the endeavour to
restore the Italian silk-trade, which has in recent years been almost
ruined by disease among the worms. They make an annual voyage to Japan,
and bring back with them enormous quantities of the best silkworms’
eggs. These are stowed in a special compartment of the vessel, iced to
keep them cool, and a heavy freight is paid for the accommodation. Our
new passengers were a tall, manly body of men; many of them had the
unmistakeable Roman face and features; and when one saw them at dinner,
enlivening the tedium of the seven courses with the hearty laugh and
witty repartee, one felt that classical life was coming home very
freshly, and could realise it more distinctly than before.
We were charmed with the Suez Canal. It is a great work, simply but
effectually done. We saw the powerful dredgers busily engaged in
maintaining its depth; we passed steadily through it without a hitch; we
saw with interest the little stations; the white town of Ismailia, with
its water-works and railway station; the two bitter lakes, no longer
dry; the cuttings through low hills of limestone and gypsum; and at
length entered the green Bay of Suez at its southern end. Anchored
between the “Fountains of Moses” on the eastern shore, and the “Rock of
Deliverance” on the west, we witnessed one of the most golden sunsets I
have seen in the Eastern world. This easy passage from the Red Sea to
the Mediterranean has revolutionised the carrying trade of the East. The
great fleets of sailing ships which in former years rounded the Cape
with the silk and tea of China, with the indigo and jute, the sugar and
tea, the silk and cotton of India, the _Ariel_ and _Taeping_, the
_Hotspur_, and _Renown_, and _City of Calcutta_, and their companions,
of which the mercantile world was justly proud, have passed away, and
have given place to lines of steamers which swarm in every port of the
Indian seas, and which at small expense bring home their precious
cargoes without hindrance through the simple green lane of the Suez
Canal. There is, however, one drawback to the satisfaction with which
the new arrangement is carried out,—the fee paid for the passage. The
“little bill” presented to the _Amazone_ for its seventeen hours’ work
amounted to £1400!
The Red Sea is proverbially hot in June, July, and August, and we found
it hot indeed. For five days the thermometer ranged between eighty-seven
degrees at night and ninety-eight degrees by day; but the heat was
tempered by pleasant winds; and no one seemed distressed by it, except
those who drank large quantities of claret and water to keep them cool.
Under circumstances peculiarly favourable, our noble steamer pressed
forward with perfect steadiness, and after a run of four days and a half
from Suez, anchored on Friday morning in Aden harbour.
The general verdict of Indian visitors respecting Aden, is that it is a
“horrid hole.” Certainly the scenery is not brilliant, it is deficient
in verdure; and in the middle of the year, with wild west winds, the
thermometer stands nearer one hundred degrees than ninety degrees.
Nevertheless Aden has an interest of its own; and associations of deep
interest cluster around it. The peninsula of Aden, which cuts off from
the sea a wide landlocked harbour is formed by an immense volcano, a
mile wide in the interior and having huge walls and buttresses of
cindery lava all around it. It is a weird-looking place; but it has for
many ages been a helper to the commerce of the world. An outpost of
India, well governed, it has long been the protector of the overland
trade and a good coaling station. Its importance has increased with the
opening of the Canal; and at times several steamers call every day for
water, ice, and coal. Beyond this Aden was, next to Zanzibar, the
principal station of the most ancient commerce of the world. The
Phenicians knew and used it before the days of Hiram. The fleets of
Solomon called there on their way to Cochin and Malabar, whence, after
their three years’ voyage, they bore to Judea “the ivory, ebony, apes,
and peacocks” described by their Indian names in the sacred records. To
Solomon are attributed the cutting and completion of the great water
tanks, which were rediscovered, cleansed, and enlarged by the government
of India only eight years ago. From Aden went forth whole fleets of
Phenician vessels, to the coasts of India and Africa; and in the middle
ages it was one great stay of the eastern trade from which Europe had
been entirely cut off.
After a three days’ delay in Aden, on board the _Dupleix_, the
corresponding steamer to which we had been transferred, we again started
for a fortnight’s voyage down the Indian Ocean to Mauritius. The Gulf of
Aden we found hot but quiet; but the moment we passed the great
limestone promontory of Cape Gardafui, though the thermometer fell
fifteen degrees, we ran into a rough sea, which completely upset us all.
For three days Mr. Pillans and I scarcely appeared on deck. To lie still
and listless was most pleasant; we ate nothing, drank nothing, except
water, and did nothing. But at the end of three days we grew accustomed
to the motion, and life went on quietly as before. Mrs. Pillans suffered
far more than we. The season of the south-west monsoon is well known in
all the eastern seas, for its strong winds and wild waters. It is
singular that the wind blows hardest near the African coast; no vessels
going down that coast can face it with advantage; the steamers therefore
shape their course far out in the direction of Ceylon, and bend round
toward the south, when the wind and sea fall lighter. In this way we
crossed the line, skirted the Calvados reef, made acquaintance with the
south-east trade wind, and in due time anchored at Port St. Denis, in
the Island of Bourbon. Here we received a hundred and forty-five
passengers, who were going over to Mauritius to see the races. We had a
very rough night, and they were all violently ill; the appearance of
many next morning was pitiable, and looking at the results, I doubt not
many would ask whether the “game” was worth the “candle” paid for it.
The next morning we reached Port Louis.
I cannot dwell on our little visit to the Mauritius; the island is well
known and has only recently been well described. We found many friends
and received the kindest hospitality and help at their hands. We
travelled along the railways; saw the charming bits of scenery with
which this volcanic island abounds; and visited the Pamplemousse
Gardens, in which I found many old Indian friends. The fan palm and the
betel-nut, the talipot of Ceylon, the poinsettia, the Ponciana regia,
and the Bouganvillier creeper were represented by fine specimens. More
pleasant still was it to visit the market, full of the Indian grains and
vegetables; to handle once more dàl and rice; to see the huge melons,
the cucumbers and tomatoes, of which the people of India are so fond;
and to talk Hindustani to the coolies and traders, while asking of their
welfare and the whereabouts of their Indian homes. Most pleasant of all
was it, to meet on the Sunday a little congregation of Indians at the
station of the Church Missionary Society, and preach to them in Bengali,
the tongue with which I had been most familiar during the years of my
Indian life. The week passed rapidly away; and as one of the regular
“liners” was about to cross to Madagascar, we prepared to take our
passage in her.
The vessels which regularly run between Port Louis and Tamatave are
termed “bullockers.” They bring from Madagascar the rice, hides, and
india-rubber, which are usual articles of trade: but their principal
freight is live bullocks, intended to supply the meat market of
Mauritius, and the quarter of a million coolies who purchase their
supplies therein. I had often heard of these bullockers, and read about
them. I remembered the story of the amiable captain, who having
quarrelled with Mr. Ellis’s orchids, directed his boy to pour over them
a kettle of boiling water. My colleague and myself visited two of these
vessels, in the harbour of Port Louis, and found them an interesting
study. The absence of all paint, the rusty iron work, the damaged
rigging, the rotten steering-gear, and the filthy cabins, fully
justified the warnings of our friends against accepting a passage in
them, even if accompanied by a handsome remuneration. One of them had
its living freight on board, and we were witnesses to the astonishment
and indignation with which the dumb creatures, after their long
confinement, found themselves suddenly dropped into the water and
compelled to swim ashore for their lives. To style a ship like this “a
horrid hole,” is not really disrespectful. To say that as an abode for
human beings, it is a disgrace to civilisation, is mild and moderate
language compared with the facts. The bullock trade must be the Botany
Bay or the Cayenne of the shipping world; and on the vessels employed in
it no Committee of inquiry need sit long.
In a bullocker we must go: but happily the vessel about to sail was one
of the safest of her class; and the owners and officers endeavoured to
make us comfortable. Had they had time to paint the saloon and cabin,
they would probably have been of some definite colour: at all events the
boy assured us that he had washed them out; but over their condition in
general, and that of the cabin-table in particular, let us draw the veil
of silence. We managed well, as Englishmen can do anywhere. Captain
Gilman was kindness itself; a smart sailor, a genial companion, and a
most attentive nurse to the sick, he did his best to render our passage
safe and pleasant. With a fair wind and moderate sea, the little barque
sped on her way over the six hundred miles of water; and sixty-nine
hours after leaving Port Louis, on Thursday, August 14th, we anchored
behind the reef at Tamatave.
We received a hearty welcome from both English and native friends, who
had heard of our coming, and were soon provided with a comfortable home.
The native officers in charge of the Custom-House were most courteous
and attentive on the subject of our baggage; and early on the following
day it was cleared and under our command. Within twenty-four hours, more
than half of it, not required for our own journey, was on its way to the
capital; and we had leisure to attend to a few matters of importance,
which it was well for us to examine. For this promptitude we were
largely indebted to the agents of the Society, Messrs. Procter & Co.,
who assisted us in every way.
Much has been written about Tamatave, almost the only safe and sheltered
port on the east coast of Madagascar. Every traveller describes it: it
is the place at which he receives his first impressions, and makes his
first acquaintance with the Malagasy people. I will therefore pass over
it briefly, as we saw in it nothing new.
TAMATAVE is built on a long spit of sand, four hundred yards wide, which
joins the main land to a fine coral reef off the coast. The reef is long
and massive; and the wild sea, driven onward by the strong trade winds,
was bursting over it in great creamy waves and clouds of spray. In the
centre of the reef is a somewhat narrow opening, which would render
entrance and exit difficult, were it not that shifts of wind and breezes
from the land, as well as from the sea, give friendly assistance to
those who bring their vessels to the port. Once in, a ship finds a
complete shelter in the curved bay which the reef and the sand combine
to form. The town presents to the eye nothing striking or beautiful.
Approaching it from the sea, a long line of misty hills is seen in the
background, throwing forward many spurs and lower ridges into the narrow
plain. The shore is fringed with wood and brush, conspicuous in which
are seen a few mangoe trees and some fine specimens of the pandanus;
while along the line the feathery fronds of the cocoanut tree stand
clear against the sky.
The town contains six hundred houses, and about three thousand people.
It is nearly square in shape, with its south end rounded by the beach:
the streets run parallel to the sea. The common houses of the people are
mean and frail, formed from light wood or bamboo; and thatched and
panelled with the stalks, bark, and leaves of the traveller’s tree,
which is abundant in the neighbouring hills. The principal street is
near the shore, and has on both sides, but especially on the east, the
houses of English and French residents, including the handsome new house
of Mr. Pakenham, the English Consul. The gardens (or “compounds,” as
they are termed in India) of these houses are large; and several of them
extend to the sea. At the north end of the town, beyond a sandy plain
covered with pandanus trees, is the Battery or native fort. It consists
of a double wall and stockade, with low arched gateways, and encloses
the house of the Governor and dwellings of some kind for the officers
and garrison around him. The place is in a most dilapidated condition;
and should the garrison ever be besieged, it is to be hoped they will
fire no guns in their defence, since the firing will bring down the
entire place about their ears. The native town has no shops. Indeed,
shops are an institution unknown in Madagascar. In Tamatave as
elsewhere, an open market is held, which contains a number of stalls or
benches made of clay. On these are laid the various articles exposed for
sale. The food sold in the market includes rice of several kinds, manioc
root (a coarse tapioca, very nourishing, and a favourite food with every
one); potatoes; and pieces of beef. The fruits were coarse but
plentiful, including cocoa-nuts, pine-apples, plantains and bananas,
melons and oranges. The cattle are a frisky race, and as a rule, appear
to enjoy the excitement of a market-day as much as the population.
Sanitation is unknown in Madagascar; and mud-pools, heaps of decaying
leaves, and refuse generally, rotting in the heated air, have much to do
with the fevers and other diseases which are so abundant among the
people of the coast districts.
We spent four pleasant days in Tamatave. We paid our respects to the
Governor, Rainifiringa, and received a hearty welcome from him and his
officers. He speaks English tolerably well, and talked to us much about
his visit to England in 1864, when he was sent as envoy to explain the
views of his Government respecting the English and French treaties. He
invited us to dine with him on the following day, when we met several
members of his family, and spent a most agreeable afternoon. We visited
also the English Consul, Mr. Pakenham, and had much interesting
conversation with him on matters connected with the progress of the
island. On every hand, we met with courtesy and kindness. The French
Vice-Consul kindly provided us with a house for ourselves and our
numerous packages. And the twenty Hindu and Parsi traders, who have
found their way from India, were glad to welcome one who could talk to
them in their own tongue about the home and land which they long to see
again. Special presents were sent to us both from the Churches of
Tamatave, and from the Governor, of geese and turkeys, fowls and eggs,
as provisions for our stay.
Our most pleasant day in Tamatave was the Sunday, when, for the first
time, we worshipped with the native Churches, of which we had heard so
much, and to which Christian people in England are bound by so many
ties. At eight o’clock we all went to the large church inside the
battery, called Ambátomásina. It was a simple building of posts,
panelled and roofed with leaves and stalks of the traveller’s tree; the
roof was open, and the walls were lined with fine mats. We joined the
Governor and the pastor, Andriantian, outside the church, and were
invited to sit at the upper end. We found some five hundred people
assembled. The women were seated on the floor to the right, and in the
immediate centre; the men were on the left, and in the centre far away.
A raised platform was provided for the preachers, on which stood a
table, covered with a white cloth, and holding the Bible and hymn-book.
There was also a white canopy above.
The form of worship followed by the Malagasy Churches connected with the
London Missionary Society, resembles that which prevails among the
Congregationalists, Presbyterians, and Wesleyans in England and America.
It is based upon free preaching and free prayer. But the form is not
identical with that of any one of these denominations; the singing,
reading, prayer, and preaching are so varied in their order and extent,
as to make it differ from all three. The form is Malagasy; it has become
national and universal, and the people are much attached to it.
The first hour of the service, from eight to nine, was spent chiefly in
singing hymns. In their tunes we recognised many old English friends,
lengthened, shortened, twisted, and interpolated with grace notes, which
rendered their identity somewhat doubtful. “Vesper” was one of these.
And now we heard, for the first time, a hymn which is more popular than
any other among the Christians of Madagascar. It stands No. 46 in the
usual hymn-book. It was the composition of the late Rev. R. G. Hartley,
and dwells in happy terms and in most musical rhythm upon the great
theme of Jesus, the good Shepherd. The measure is anapestic; and when
Mr. Richardson happily married it to a lively English tune, “Hail to the
brightness,” &c., it so perfectly hit the Malagasy ear and Malagasy
taste, that it went through the entire range of the Malagasy Churches in
a few weeks. The people sing with great taste and feeling; their voices
are sweet and clear, and the whole tone of their music is so plaintive
and full of tenderness, that on this, as on many other occasions, it
brought tears into my eyes. Even an English reader can discern the music
of the following lines. The words are pronounced like Italian,—
“Jéso mpamónjy, mpiándry tokóa,
Ampiveréno hanárak ’Anáo.
Ondry mania, manáry ny sóa,
’Aza avéla hiál ’amináo.
“Varivaríana, sálasaláina,
Be ahiáhy, jeréo izaháy;
Ampianáro ny tsy-ari-sáina,
Ampitsaháro ny fánianáy.”
These hymns concluded, one of the officers read the Scriptures, and
offered prayer. After another hymn, I gave them an address, which was
interpreted by the Governor. Mr. Pillans followed in the same way. After
another hymn and prayer, the pastor, Andriantian, delivered an earnest
address, and concluded the service in the usual way. In the afternoon,
we attended the service in the other chapel of Tamatave, and were kindly
assisted by Mr. Samuel Procter.
The two congregations in Tamatave number eight hundred persons, and are
composed, to a large extent, of the Hova families, which have come from
the interior of the island on public duty. They have able pastors and
preachers among them, and they are bound by many ties to the Christian
Churches of Imerina. There are eighteen other congregations (of smaller
size) in the low country, or at the road stations in the forest, and the
whole include more than two thousand persons, young and old. During our
stay in Tamatave, the two Churches, through their pastors, pressed
earnestly upon us and on the Directors of the society, a request that
they might have an English missionary. They need help: the smaller
congregations need it even more than the larger; the station is an
important one. The local population of Betsimasáraka have scarcely been
touched by the gospel, have scarcely sent a child to school.
Nevertheless, mere outposts cannot be conveniently supplied with English
missionaries until the main positions have been occupied. The Madagascar
Mission must be studied and planted as a whole. If ultimately it be
decided that no English missionary can be spared, the Churches in the
capital ought to give to Tamatave one of the best pastors at their
command.
There is a special reason calling for the exercise of the best moral and
religious influences upon the population of these sea-board towns, the
fearful prevalence of drink. When the trade was made free by the
half-mad king who ruled in Madagascar twelve years ago, and all
custom-house duties were abolished, Mauritius rum was poured into the
low country in large quantities, and the natives acquired a liking for
it. Mr. Ellis describes some terrible scenes which he saw or heard of.
Under Queen Rásohérina, the usual duty of ten per cent. was re-imposed,
and it is continued under the present queen; but, under such a light
duty, the trade flourishes. One English firm in the Mauritius imports
into Madagascar thousands of barrels of the hateful stuff every year,
and their stores are full of them. We saw the rum-barrels lying in
dozens on the beach, and saw them rolled along the chief street of
Tamatave at all hours of the day. In the stores of the petty Creole
traders, and even in the Hindu houses, the barrel stood on tap. As a
consequence, scenes of rioting, degradation, and drunkenness are common;
and all the towns along the coast are infected by the same temptations,
and the same evil example. When will the strong races of England and
America learn that to debauch and ruin these young nations is a crime
against humanity: that to place these strong temptations before
ignorant, uncivilised tribes, with whom it is impossible to comprehend
and forecast their dire consequences, is to ensure for them an immediate
degradation, and to close the door against the future entrance of truth,
and light, and virtue?
The Hova government of Madagascar disapprove the importation, and would
gladly place it under heavy restrictions, if not stop it altogether; but
their hold over the coast tribes is limited, and they fear a collision
with the French on the subject. But one thing they did for several
years, and, I believe, they do it still. As with cloth and Manchester
goods, so with these rum barrels,—the duty is paid in kind. Every tenth
barrel landed is handed over to the Custom-house, but the authorities
will not handle the evil thing; they will not commute it for a money
payment, and so the rum is poured upon the sands. I call that noble.
While the civilised Englishman pours his flood of drink into the
country, the simple, inexperienced native prince stands silently by,
unable to resist, but resolutely refusing to soil his hands with the
unhallowed gain. Ought not Christian Churches and Christian governments
to help them in their difficulties? At the least, they should be
empowered to impose repressive duties. Better would it be if spirits of
all kinds were prohibited altogether. There are classes in the world for
whom a Maine Law is just the right thing. Parents impose a Maine Law
upon their children while under tutelage; why should not the simple
tribes of the earth,—the Indian, the Tahitian, the Malagasy, while they
remain simple,—be protected by the great nations from the dangers into
which the love of drink must surely lead them?
Tamatave is the principal seat of the export trade of Madagascar. That
trade is by no means great, though it is steadily on the increase. The
trade in bullocks has always been considerable, since it was re-opened
in 1854. In recent years it is in hides, bees’-wax, india-rubber, gum,
tallow, and oil seeds that the increase has taken place. Many of these
articles are brought from the interior; and the wages paid to bearers
have, in consequence, greatly risen during the last four years. Large
numbers of natives are employed in the forests collecting these articles
for the English and American traders. A portion of the trade goes to
England and America direct, but the greater part passes through the
Mauritius. And it is because the bullocks form so large an item in the
traffic, and large vessels are available a short distance off, to which
other articles may be transferred, that the export trade clings so
firmly to Tamatave on the east coast, and so many difficulties are found
in re-opening the old line of export on the north-west of Madagascar at
Mojangá. The native produce is paid for in Manchester goods,—“lambas”
made in Lancashire looms, in crockery, pottery, iron vessels, knives,
and tools. A part is paid for in rum. For another portion there is a
large annual import of the French and Belgian five-franc pieces, which
form the current “dollar” of the country. In 1863-4, the entire export
and import trade amounted together to L. 100,000. In 1873 it stood thus—
1. Exports from Mauritius to £145,000
Madagascar
2. Imports into Mauritius from 155,000
do.
3. Both trades, to Bourbon, 100,000
America, and England direct
────
Total in 1873 £400,000
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER II.
FIRST EXPERIENCES OF MADAGASCAR AND ITS PEOPLE.
East Coast of Madagascar, its Character and Population—Supplies needed
by a Traveller to the Capital—Our Journey—Inland Lagoons—Park-like
Scenery—Andevoranto—Ascend the Iharoka—“See the conquering Hero
comes”—The Pass of Tániakóva—The Sorrows of the old
Slave-system—System of our Journey—The great Ridge west of
Befórona—Scenery of the Forest—The Plain of Ankay—The great Ridge of
Angavo and its Forest—The Eastern Valleys of Imerina—Our Arrival and
Reception—Population of the East Coast scanty—First Visits—The City
empty—Why—Description of Antananarivo—Origin, Name, and Growth of
the City—Interest of the Native Churches in our Visit.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER II.
FIRST EXPERIENCES OF MADAGASCAR AND ITS PEOPLE.
THE east coast of Madagascar, the first portion of the island usually
seen by English and French travellers, possesses few attractions. It
consists of an undulating plain, which is, in general, twenty miles
broad. Along its western side the hills rise as a fine background to a
very simple picture; first in long, low banks of clay, rounded and worn
by streams; then in a mighty wall, covered with forest, which stretches
away north and south as far as the eye can reach. Behind these noble
hills, with their precipitous passes, lie the central provinces of the
island, held by the ruling races, and by the largest portion of the
population. These hills, and the ring of empty land which they bear upon
their shoulders, are the defence of the interior tribes against foreign
aggression. French colonists and adventurers of former generations tried
in vain to hold forts upon the coast, and to establish a title to a
permanent possession of some of its districts; but the lack of
population, the constant fevers, and the consequent drain upon their own
resources, rendered that hold feeble: and when at length the interior
tribes had grown strong, and, under Radáma and his father, had become
united under one authority, it was an easy task for them to march down
to the east coast, and sweep away all opposition to the establishment of
a single government, by which all the population should be headed and
controlled.
The northern districts of the east coast beyond Tamatave are thinly
peopled. Within twenty miles are the towns of Tintingy, Foule Point, and
Fenoarivo, all of moderate size. In the fertile bottoms, abundance of
rice is grown, and the cattle are numerous around the lower hills. Coal
is said to exist near the head of Antongil Bay, though its extent and
its quality are not known. Beyond this point the forest comes down to
the coast; and north of 17° lat. S. there exist only forests, and a few
good harbours. In the forest and beyond it, even on the east coast, all
through Vohimáry, the population is Sakaláva, and has been derived from
the west side of the island. The line of the east coast, from St. Mary’s
southward, is very straight. As a rule, for three miles and more inland,
it consists of a bed of sand, thrown up from the sea by the rough surf,
and by the strong south-east winds; hence the absence of harbours, the
open roadsteads, and the danger and delay which occur in communicating
with the shore. On the other hand, the sandy deposit has closed the
mouths of the numerous streams running from the hills, has caused the
accumulation of water in pleasant lakes and lagoons, and has provided
means for a system of inland navigation four hundred miles long, greatly
surpassing in convenience and safety the coast transit on the open sea.
Some day, the existing barriers to this navigation will be removed, the
schemes of Radáma will be revived, and this fine line of inland canals
will be rendered complete. The outlay required cannot be very great.
The traveller who would pass from the coast of Madagascar into the
interior, in order to visit the capital, should be prepared for one
thing,—that the conveniences and comforts of his journey must be
provided by himself. He will find on the way no hotels, no furnished
rooms for resting, eating, or sleeping; he will find no beds and no
chairs, no crockery, no teapot, no knives and forks, no linen, and no
spoons; he can buy neither tea, nor coffee, nor milk, neither salt nor
sugar, neither butter nor bread; all these things he must provide for
himself, and he had better purchase them in London before he starts. My
colleague and I knew these facts beforehand; my correspondence with the
missionaries had long rendered me familiar with the details and
experiences of their many journeys; and to be forewarned was to be
forearmed. We took with us, therefore, to Madagascar strong portable
beds, with their bedding complete, portable chairs, a canteen, with
plates and cups of enamelled iron, and spoons and knives that would not
spoil by rough usage. We carried our tea and coffee, cocoa and sugar,
our milk (in tins), and butter and bread (from Tamatave). We also had
with us two small tents. We lightened our camp by sending forward our
heavy baggage, and the stores not needed on the journey, under the
charge of separate men. So provided, we enjoyed a very interesting and
pleasant journey.
We left Tamatave on Tuesday, August 19, and for two days kept southward
along the coast, with the purpose of reaching Andevoranto, where the
road to the capital turns off into the interior. Our three palankeens
required twenty-two men, and our baggage had twenty-six. I need not
dwell at any length on our journey, for it has often been described by
Mr. Ellis, by Mr. Sibree, and several of the missionaries; by Captain
Oliver, and other military men. Its features have been carefully
detailed, its stopping-stations are well known; and the experiences of
one traveller, rough, serious, or amusing, have generally proved to be
those of every other.
There is no road, properly so called, along the coast; we just followed
a path, more or less broad, over the grassy glades, through patches of
wood, or across the bare sand. Cocoanuts, plantains, a few palms, the
fir, and the pandanus, were the usual trees,—familiar friends to me of
years gone by,—but many trees were quite new. Passing through the
village of Hivondro, we crossed the river, which here cuts through the
sand-belt, and flows into the sea. Traversing fine, open glades, the
bordering banks of which were beautifully curved, we came out upon the
beach, and, for a long way, toiled over the dunes, or trode the firm,
wet sand, upon which, with ceaseless roar, the long waves poured out
their hissing foam. The coast was lined with the filao, a fir-tree
closely resembling the casuarina, which grows well in Bengal, where it
is known as the Sumatra fir. The filao is, however, native to
Madagascar; its feathery hair hangs gracefully over its gnarled and
knotted branches, and, with the strong winds, makes pleasant music. Fine
clumps of these graceful trees continued all the way. Here and there the
ferns appeared with strong fronds, and the leaves and branches of the
pandanus were of great length.
A little north of Vavony, rocky hills, covered with wood, come down to
the coast, and the inner lagoons are driven into the sea. We traversed
one of these lagoons in a canoe for about three miles, and met with a
strange experience. The lagoon was bounded by high hills, and at the
bottom the mangrove was very thick. The water was not very deep, but it
was full of small water-lilies, the leaves of which, on their under
side, were a crimson pink in colour. The flower also was crimson. The
water at first had a brilliant red tint, but, ere long, it became
deeper, and it seemed to us all as if we were sailing on a river of
blood. As the lagoon ended, the colour changed to a rich red gold.
Landing once more, we travelled to the clean village of Vavony, over a
piece of country, which had all the appearance of a beautiful park. It
contained sloping banks crowned with fir trees. Here stood the tree
fern, and there the bamboo palm: here were fine specimens of the
india-rubber tree with its glossy leaves; there tall, thick badamiers
with their leaves of crimson; and there the path was arched by the
pandanus. From some lofty trees hung huge, black, bees’ nests: the
trunks of others were adorned with the Angræcum orchids, with their long
spray of twelve white flowers; and from the strongest hung enormous
creepers. Everywhere, winding in and out among the trees was the open
grassy glade, on which a fine herd of red cattle was grazing.
From Vavony we had a canoe, and while the baggage kept the road, for ten
miles we traversed a broad, still lagoon. It was bordered with high
banks, covered with trees: and with two paddles, worked by strong arms,
we had a delightful row to the village of Menarána, where we slept at
the end of our second day. Early the following morning, we reached the
Church Mission Station at Andevoranto, and put up in the empty
mission-house. What a treat it was to spend a quiet day! We occupied the
hours profitably, in readjusting baggage and stores, on the basis of the
experience we had gained during our first two days’ travel. We also had
pleasant interviews with members of the two congregations in this place
and neighbourhood, and heard much from them respecting their religious
wants. They are at present without a missionary. In the evening we had a
heavy downpour of rain.
Continuing our journey on Friday morning, we turned our face at once
towards the mountains: and for four hours we travelled in canoes up the
river Ihároka and one of its tributaries. The river was two hundred
yards broad, and the current, in its lower portion, ran about three
miles an hour. Near Andevoranto, both sides of the river have great
swamps, in which we saw growing many hundreds of the noble arum lily,
the _Astrapcæa Wallichii_, with its thick trunk and broad scolloped
leaves. Farther inland we came upon a row of the plants bearing the
first flowers of the season: and they were in size and beauty so
splendid, that a botanist like Mr. Ellis might well speak of them with
enthusiasm. Our men paddled the canoe with spirit, and like boatmen in
India, enlivened and regulated their stroke with measured cries and
songs. Our water trip was exceedingly pleasant; light showers fell at
intervals, producing numerous rainbows; beautiful flowers were growing
on the banks, and birds of coloured plumage flew around us.
After a two hours run on a straight course, we came to the roots of the
first hills; the river narrowed to a width of a hundred yards, the
stream grew stronger, and became very winding. We passed several small
villages, and soon left the main stream to turn into a little river,
with a current of four miles an hour against us. There we cut the
flowers of the _Astrapæa_. After a four hours’ pull in the canoe, we
landed, and began our climb over the hills. The first hills were low;
were beautifully rounded by water; and every hollow and valley was
filled with fine specimens of the rofia palm and of the traveller’s
tree. We made our first pause at Mánambonináhitra. This little town is
the residence of the Lieutenant-Governor of the district, and as his
brass band must live, they take the opportunity afforded by an English
visitor’s arrival to do a stroke of business. The whole village turned
out to welcome us, and the band played effectively and with energy, “See
the conquering hero comes: sound the trumpet, beat the drums.” The
incident would be remembered with feelings of satisfaction, both by my
colleague and myself, if we had not learned that several other
“conquering heroes” have passed through the village since our visit.
Still surrounded with the rofia palm, having fronds thirty feet long and
beautifully tinted with red, we continued our journey to Ránomafána,
with its well-known hot springs, which we reached at sunset. Here the
church table being in a dilapidated condition, I amused myself by
mending it, and was caught in the act by a deputation, which arrived to
offer us a welcome, and which watched with grave interest the progress
of the repairs.
Around Ránomafána the country has many beauties. There is a fine
amphitheatre of hills, from which here and there rise one or two lofty
cones. The streams run deep and strong, over beds of quartz pebbles; the
traveller’s tree grows in enormous numbers, and large patches of rich
black soil appear amid the general masses of red clay.
West of Ambátoerána, and about ten miles from Ránomafána, we ascended a
fine hill of bright red clay, which projects like a vast buttress into
this amphitheatre of hills, and furnishes the road by which the next
ridge is crossed. On reaching the summit of the pass and looking back
over the undulating plain, I asked the bearers what the name of the hill
was. With deep interest I heard their reply: “It is Tániakova, the
weeping place of the Hovas.” I at once asked, “And where is the sea?”
Without hesitation they pointed it out on the horizon, and showed us the
houses of Andevoranto.
We were standing on the spot, sacred for ever to the sorrows of the Hova
captives of former times, who here first caught sight of the sea, over
which they were to voyage as slaves. In the wars of last century, and in
the petty local contests which took place in various parts of the
country, it was a constant practice to sell the prisoners taken in
battle or captured in villages to the Arab merchants, who exported them
as slaves. In these calamities, members of the highest families were
involved as well as of the lowest. Children and young women were stolen
from villages in the darkness of evening, and were never seen by their
relatives again. The slaves were sold to the Mauritius, to Calcutta and
Bombay, and even to the West Indies. The Arab merchants were the chief
delinquents, but there were French and English also in the hateful
trade. The suffering caused by it must have been overwhelming. The
captives were marched from the interior in gangs, fastened to one
another. Hova, or Betsileo, Tánála or Tankay, it mattered nothing to the
cruel men whose property they had become. Their hearts must have broken
long before the forest was passed. But tradition tells how the deepest
sorrow broke forth afresh, as the gangs stood on this red pass, the
outer boundary of the land of their people, and for the first time they
beheld the “black waters,” over which they were to be carried never to
return. It was Radáma who brought the wicked system to an end, when, at
the suggestion of Sir Robert Farquhar, the Governor of Mauritius, he
made a treaty with the English Government, by which the export trade in
slaves was wholly done away. On the top of the pass there stands a
pillar inscribed with the king’s name. The efforts of Sir Robert
Farquhar, ably seconded by Mr. Hastie, drew from all classes of the
people a warm regard towards the English nation, and gave to them an
influence which others had never acquired, and which has been increasing
to the present day.
Descending the ridge on its western side, we came into the valley of the
Mahela River, rich with tropical vegetation. The ferns covered the slope
of the hill in thousands, and were plants of the finest kind. The fronds
of the harts’ tongues were a yard and a half long. The wild raspberry
was common, and the men gathered capfuls of the fruit. The Mahela was
thirty yards wide and four feet deep. Crossing it we climbed a lofty
ridge of red clay, with a Hova guard at the top; and going down and up
once and again at length reached the stopping station of Ampasimbé,
where we spent a quiet Sunday.
By this time we had grown accustomed to our work, and had adopted a
regular plan for our movements. Our rule was to rise at five o’clock,
get an early cup of tea, start off at half-past six, and make one good
journey before eleven or twelve in the day. Resting for a couple of
hours, our bearers and ourselves secured a good meal; then made another
journey between one and five o’clock, and rested for the night. The
villages in which we stopped were very dirty, with middens of rotting
leaves, with their smoky houses, in which soot is regarded with
veneration as a mark of ancestral respectability, with their countless
inhabitants, and their general disorder and filth. Twice a-day we had a
house assigned for our use; sometimes with the hens and geese sitting,
sometimes with the dogs and chickens turned into the street, but anxious
constantly to gratify their domestic feelings and return home. The
sleeping accommodation was varied. Sometimes the house was clean (for
Madagascar); usually it was the opposite; the first and the last of the
series were the dirtiest and smokiest of all. Our portable beds were a
great comfort, they were so complete and convenient; our enamelled cups
and plates proved most useful. But to get up at five A.M. daily, and
double up all your property, in order to go on pilgrimage to some new
place as dirty as the last, is trying to the feelings, even when it is a
serious duty.
Though wearisome, the journey proved at this time a continual treat. The
ascent of these hills is over three broad terraces. After leaving
Ampasimbé, all Monday and Tuesday we were crossing the numerous ridges
of the first terrace, which slopes outward from a mighty wall of rock,
conspicuous to the west. These ridges were often high; they followed
fast upon one another, and in the ravines between them were lovely bits
of scenery clustering round the running streams. At last, beyond
Beforona, we reached the foot of the great wall, covered with forest,
the top of which towered above our heads. Turning a little north, the
road made over the clay hills for a gap in the ridge, and with many a
climb and many a deep descent, we found ourselves at length on the high
terrace above it, the second of the series, distinguished by its forest.
The scenery in this part of the journey was wonderfully beautiful. Now
we passed under the long, arched alley, then came into the open glade;
now we were hidden in the dense wood, then found ourselves on the edge
of deep ravines. Now we crossed a river full of boulders, stepping from
stone to stone, or standing in the roaring water; then took a woodland
path, buried in ferns, or descended into rich and shady valleys; or,
again mounting some rocky summit, enjoyed a noble prospect over hundreds
of square miles. Our last day in the ’Alamazáotra forest was very
trying, from its numerous and deep mud holes. We had also to cross a
frail structure, meant for a bridge, over a broad and deep stream with a
fine cascade. But the forest was very fine: we soon reached a clean and
pleasant resting-place, Ampásimfótsy, and crossing a high broad ridge,
scored by local rice valleys, early in the afternoon, we descended into
the broad plain of Ankay, and reached the town of Moramanga. Here we
were welcomed by Mr. Wills, one of the English Missionaries, who had
been visiting his country churches. The weekly market was in the height
of business; meat and clothing were the chief articles we observed
exposed for sale. But the place was indescribably dirty. It had probably
never been swept from the day when the market was commenced, through
thirty intermediate generations, down to the present day.
The plain of Ankay is a place of peculiar interest; there is nothing
like it in the island. It is a vast plain of sedimentary clay, enclosed
by bordering chains of hills, which run in a direction from north to
south. Ankay proper is at least one hundred and eighty miles long and,
here, is about twenty miles broad. The chain along its eastern side is
not lofty, it has a height of only 365 feet. It is rather like a lip to
the plain below than an overhanging wall; it consists largely too of the
same material as the plain itself, with gneiss rocks underlying and
intermingled with it. The western chain, on the contrary, is a lofty
wall of granite and gneiss, 1620 feet high; it overhangs the plain in
its entire length, and passes far beyond it. It is the second of the
great ridge walls, by which so much of the contour of the island is
regulated. It runs the entire length of the island, as far as known, and
is covered all the way with wood, which forms the second and upper line
of the primeval forest. Vast buttresses of rock project into the plain
from its lofty front, and deep ravines and valleys run in behind them,
giving to the scenery a rich variety of outline, and of detail.
Ankay should be a level plain. It once was so. But its material is soft
and friable, and water speedily washes it away. For countless ages
storms, floods, waterspouts and steady rains have made havoc of its
surface. It is ploughed and scored into little valleys in all
directions; but the scorings all find an outlet, and pass from one to
another, till they reach the central drain of all, the valley of the
Mangoro River. The bottom of this valley is 325 feet below the level of
the plain; and the river flows (like the Jordan) in a little valley
within the valley. Naturally, this great draining valley with its river
runs, like its enclosing walls, a course from north to south. The
Mangoro eventually makes its way through the eastern chain, descends the
great hills by a series of rapids and cascades, and falls into the sea
near Manahoro. It is interesting to observe that under the western
hills, where floods and waters are most abundant, the plain is a hundred
feet lower than on its eastern side. We shall see more of this plain
hereafter, when we traverse its northern end on the way to the Sihánaka
province.
The people who have occupied this plain, apparently without
interruption, from the time of its first settlement, are called
Bezánozáno. Their name of Tankáys only denotes that they live in Ankay.
They are apparently a branch of the Betsimisáraka tribes, who have
peopled the coast. They probably came from the lower plains up the
valley of the Mangoro, and it is certain that they have spread along
Ankay from south to north; the upper portion of the plain being to this
day empty. They have been almost completely cut off from their
neighbours, and have led an isolated life; till, conquered by the Hovas,
and subjected to the demands of the Hova service, large numbers of the
men were made bearers of Government goods, and travelled to distant
parts of the Hova dominions. They have suffered much from their
isolation and are still very uncivilised and ignorant. Their women have
a brown complexion, with liquid eyes. They are a very simple and also a
hospitable people. They were afraid of the first English Missionary they
saw; but when they found he was a friend, they could not do too much for
him. At the present time there are several Churches in the valley.
On Thursday morning we left Moramanga and spent the day in reaching
Ambódinangávo, a village at the foot of the western chain. In three
hours we came to the Mangoro; noticed with interest the depression in
which it runs, and crossed it in canoes to the village of Andákana,
“canoe-town.” A little to the west of the ferry stands the lofty wooded
hill of Ifody. The hill belongs to the western chain, but projects some
miles into Ankay, and leaves a long broad valley between that chain and
itself. We crossed Ifody, ascending and descending 950 feet; and having
rested a while at the village beyond, we pursued our way up the inner
valley, along the river Mánambóla. The scene before us in the Angavo
valley was truly grand. The valley is almost entirely shut in; the hills
on the west and south are very lofty, their vast projecting buttresses
are rounded with the most graceful curves, and the brushwood and the
forest clothe them with indescribable loveliness. On the south-west
stands the massive peak of Angávo, “the lofty,” and the road ascends to
the high plains above, over the shoulder of this noble hill. We climbed
it early the following day, but we descended and ascended once and again
into deep ravines before the solid plain was reached; in one of these
ravines, at a most lovely spot, we forded the river Mandráka, with a
fine cascade just above the passage. Thence a long climb carried us to
the plateau above. The total ascent from the foot of the great chain to
this inner edge of the plateau was 1620 feet.
[Illustration:
THE FORD OF THE MANDRÁKA
]
We were now in the province of Imerina; and the dry, chill air of the
morning gave ample proof that we had ascended a considerable height
above the sea. We paused for a while at the usual stopping station of
Ankera-Madinika, where every traveller either sleeps or takes his midday
meal. Then passing on we crossed several valleys and stony ridges; till
we reached the broad open basin of Manjákandriana, and for the first
time beheld a large cluster of villages, with three or four churches.
Still west of them we reached the eastern foot of a noble hill,
Angávokély, which towers over Imerina and is a conspicuous landmark for
many miles; its height is 5925 feet. Here our barometers indicated the
highest point of our route; but it was only for a moment on the crest of
the ridge which runs northward from the Angávokély hill. We at once
descended on the west, and after winding along the edge of the great
moor, we reached the mission station of Ambátovóry, and spent some
delightful hours with Mr. and Mrs. Peake. This portion of the country
possesses great beauties; noble rocks, rich soft woods, green rice
fields, and running streams are so blended together, so contrasted with
each other as to delight the eye with richest varieties of form and
colour, light and shade. The fertile bottoms, watered from a thousand
fountains, yield golden harvests to the industry which tills them. But
wherever they bend and turn in graceful outline, they are enfolded by
long and lofty ridges, studded with enormous boulders; and they rest in
the might and the majesty of the everlasting hills.
Beyond Ambátovóry the valleys began to open more widely; the ridges were
lower; the population increased rapidly; and not only were villages seen
on all sides, but towns of considerable size. Two of these Ambóhimaláza
and Ambohitrómby, occupy a conspicuous position and have most important
churches. On Saturday morning, we commenced our last journey of twelve
miles. We were glad that the end was near. The bearers, as well as
ourselves, were exhausted with the hard life we had led; with the long
and frequent climb up hill, with the terrible mud-holes, and the bad
roads. But the capital was in sight, conspicuous on its lofty hill. Five
miles on this side of it two of our friends met us; then three others.
Two miles from the city, on the crest of a fine rocky hill, we found the
entire mission, ladies as well as gentlemen, with the members of the
Friends’ Mission, gathered to do us honour and give us a warm welcome. A
group of native ministers joined them; and the theological students met
us a little further on. It was a splendid reception; an earnest of the
hospitable treatment and the kind aid which we were to experience from
them throughout the period of our stay. We finished the journey in their
company. We soon climbed the lofty hill, so familiar in pictures of the
city; passed near the walls of the well-known palace; crossed the plain
of Andohalo; saw some of the churches, so often named in our public
letters; and found a cordial welcome in the homes of two of our
brethren.
The following list of the principal places we passed on the way up
country, with their barometrical height, will show the manner in which
the land gradually rises from the sea-coast to the central plateau.
Feet.
Mánambónináhitra 150
Ránomafána 145
Ambátoerána 595
Ampásimbé 1055
Crest of Ridge 2030
Mározévo 1385
Béfórona 1650
Anévo 2920
Top of this Terrace, 3470
Ambóasáry
’Alamazáotra 3130
Ampásimfótsy 2830
Lip of the Ridge, east of 3460
Ankáy
Móramánga, and Plain of 3100
Ankáy
Ambódinangávo 3000
Angávo Pass 4210
Do. Inner Cliff, and 4620
Ankéramadinika
Ambátovóry 4770
Antanánarivo.
Royal Palace 4790
Fáravóhitra 4540
Análakély 4280
Imáhamásina 4200
Plain of Imerina 4000
Looking back upon this first experience of the country and people of
Madagascar, I was profoundly impressed with the emptiness of the land.
And the more I have thought the matter over, and the more I have seen of
the island, the more thoroughly has that first impression been
confirmed. There were people, indeed, in the capital and around it;
there was nothing to gainsay here, or since we had passed into Imerina.
But Ankay, how thinly peopled! While from Moramanga eastward, there are
almost no villages at all, except the stopping-stations, till within
twenty miles of the sea. The Betsimisāraka province between the hills
and the sea we saw to be very narrow in itself, and the large villages
to be very few. The story of Radáma’s conquest implies the same thing;
the Hova contests have been few and easy; and no places were the scene
of conflict but those whose names are well known in our own day. All
travellers north and south of Tamatave and Andevoránto say the same.
Along the east coast as far south as Mánanzára, there are now fourteen
towns, each containing one hundred houses or more. The total number of
houses in these towns amount to 2,400; which should contain a population
of 12,000 people. The little villages dot the country; but they do not
go far inland, and their inhabitants are few. This is but natural in a
country where a cluster of a hundred houses is called a town. After
careful consideration I doubt whether the entire population of the east
coast from Diego Bay to Cape St. Mary’s, exceeds 150,000 people. And the
majority of these are scattered in handfuls over the country, so that we
can scarcely get at them. Our native friends in Tamatave, when pleading
with us for an English missionary, showed us by facts and figures, that
in the twenty congregations on the coast connecting themselves with the
Christians of Imerina, there were altogether only two thousand people,
and of these there are eight hundred in Tamatave.
We spent eleven days in the capital before travelling further, and found
a multitude of things to interest us. I may not stop to describe them. I
cannot dwell upon our first service in the Memorial Church at
Ambátonakánga; on the prayer meetings held in the houses of the
missionaries; on the numerous visitors, English and native, who called
to see us; on our visits to various parts of the city,—the churches, the
palace, the market, the places where the martyrs fell; the places where
the earliest labours of the mission were carried on; or on our first
sight of the schools maintained at the present time. We had often read
of these things; it was now most pleasant to see them. I had often
endeavoured to picture them to my mind, but I now found misapprehensions
to correct, and a multitude of details to fill in. In most things the
city came up to my expectations; in certain respects it fell short of
them.
One thing was quite unexpected by us both. We found that the city was
empty, and that the activity and stir we looked for in the capital of
the country had disappeared. Two military expeditions had left the
capital in June for the Sakaláva districts, below the hills on the
south-west, in order to punish a series of cattle robberies which had
been for some time perpetrated by the tribes in that quarter. They were
headed by two of the chief officers of the government, the chief
Secretary of State and his son; some four thousand five hundred soldiers
had accompanied them, drawn from all parts of the country, as also a
numerous body of aides-de-camp and personal followers usually resident
in the city. Besides sending these expeditions against her enemies, the
Queen had gone with a larger body of her people on a friendly visit to
the Betsileo Province. She was accompanied by several thousand soldiers,
and by a large number of the principal members of the Government, who
had taken with them their children and the family servants and slaves.
There were at least sixteen thousand people in the camp; some thought
that there were more. The result was that the city seemed empty; the
churches were empty; half the preachers were drawn off from the
congregations in the province; the schoolmasters had left their schools;
the best children were absent with their parents. Society was greatly
disorganised. Ordinary pursuits were interrupted; artisans, workmen,
labourers had disappeared; thousands of bearers were following the camp;
and Imérina generally was taking holiday.
In its usual condition ANTANANARIVO is a large place. There is no place
like it in the island. Dr. Davidson, who has carefully looked into the
matter, thinks that it contains a population of seventy or eighty
thousand persons. My experience of Indian cities long since led me to
reckon that a compact native town, a mile square, contains about eighty
thousand inhabitants. Now the dwellings of Antananarivo, carefully
examined, will be found to cover that amount of space, and I think with
Dr. Davidson that that is the number of the population. The city is
built upon a high and prominent hill, having three elevated points. The
hill is nearly two miles long, but it does not stand perfectly alone.
Its eastern side is a curved line, but on the west it has two projecting
hills, firmly attached by connecting ridges. Between these projections
is the plain of Imáhamásina, “the place of consecration,” where at times
the sovereigns of Imerina have been crowned. On the northern projection
is the great suburb of Isotry, and the Zoma market-place. The northern
continuation of the city-hill proper is the suburb of Faravohitra; and
between these two, in the valley below, are the plain and village of
Análakely. At the point where the two sides of the valley meet, and the
suburban hill joins the main hill, is Ambátonakánga. Sloping upwards to
the main hill is a rocky road, Ambátovináky, on the side of which is the
Norwegian Church, and at the top of which is Imarivolanitra, “the town
in the sky.” Passing this, the traveller comes to the open plain of
Andohalo, a piece of level ground on the crest of the hill, where the
laws are usually promulgated. Farther still, he reaches the highest
point of the city, on which, in a most commanding position, and visible
to the whole country, stands the rova or palace. At the southern end of
the hill is Ambohipotsy, “white town,” so named from the white cliffs
with which the suburb terminates. Viewed from the east, the whole side
of this lofty hill is seen to be studded with houses on a series of
platforms or terraces cut into the hill-side. In the centre and at the
south end, they are packed closely together; toward the north, on the
slope of Faravohitra they are less numerous and regular. On its west
side Ambohipotsy is very crowded, and the hill is not only very steep,
but is covered with enormous boulders. On the slope at Andohalo the
houses are also closely set; and between these two places are the steep
cliffs of Ampamarínana, a hundred and fifty feet high, over which the
martyrs were thrown. To me the most regular and picturesque portion of
the city is the west face of the Faravohitra hill, which overhangs the
valley and plain of Análakely. It is well planted with trees, amongst
which the Cape lilacs are numerous. Conspicuous on the crest of the hill
is the Memorial Church, while farther south is a line of neat
dwelling-houses, belonging to the Friends’ Mission.
The name of the city is said by Mr. Ellis to mean “the thousand towns,”
and to indicate the sense of importance attached by patriotic Malagasy
to the size and beauty of their capital. But this is a mistake. Native
gentlemen explain its meaning thus: When the founder of the city in its
present form took possession of the hill, with a view to erect upon it
the capital of his new and wider kingdom, he brought from Alasora, his
previous residence, a large body of selected soldiers and colonists,
whom he settled on the west side of the hill; and he called his capital
“the town of the thousand.” This practice of artificially building up
cities by a transferred population has been common in the East, and the
Malagasy word arívo, “thousand,” is connected with it. Thus the
principal town or capital of Imámo is called Arívonimámo. The capital of
tha district south of the Ankárat mountains is called Arívo, though
known generally by the name of Betafo. The chief town of one of the
Ibára tribes is Benarivo. At the outset the town of Antananarivo was of
moderate size. But as the kingdom grew, and under Impoinimerina and his
son Radáma attained strength and importance, the number of officers
increased, their immediate dependants multiplied, the army became more
numerous, and all the trades connected with an active population
naturally extended with them. Large portions of the hill, however,
remained unoccupied; and it is during the last twelve years, with the
new life which has been infused into the kingdom, that the open spaces
have rapidly been filled. Ten years ago, Faravohitra was a bare and
empty suburb; it is now being rapidly covered with houses; and large
villages a mile beyond it, like Ankádifótsy and Manjákaráy, have grown
populous likewise.
I need not pause here to describe the houses of the Malagasy or their
habits and condition generally. We saw little of these things during the
few days of our first visit; while they became familiar to us at a later
period when the city was once more full, and we spent several months
among its people. We now took a general view of things, and especially
visited those places and buildings which are peculiarly identified with
the religious history and progress of the people. Living in the midst of
the English community, it was a great pleasure to make close
acquaintance with our missionary brethren, in their homes as well as in
their work; to hear of their plans, to join in worship with their
congregations, and visit their schools.
Our intercourse with the native brethren also was very pleasant. Many of
the principal pastors were absent: but others who remained manifested a
sincere interest in our visit, and expressed in warm terms their
affection to the Society, from whose early labours in the island they
had obtained their first knowledge of Christian truth. Malagasy
affection always takes a practical and hospitable form. Both at Tamatave
and at the stopping-stations on our way up-country, the churches and the
authorities had offered us little presents of fowls, turkeys, eggs, and
rice, suitable for travellers on a journey. Here also they did the same,
and in token of their union the churches joined together and made their
gift substantial. The missionaries were of opinion, from the manner in
which our visit was being regarded by our converts, that it would be
productive of benefits of many kinds. Before we left the island, that
opinion was amply justified. It was plain that great good had been done
by it. In a quiet, unostentatious way it was seen that the affection of
the Malagasy churches for their English friends “over the sea,” and
their confidence in their help, had grown very strong; and that they
were resolved to maintain an unwavering attachment to those who, in the
dark days had faithfully stood by them.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER III.
VISIT TO THE BETSILEO PROVINCE.
The Betsileo Province, its importance and position—The Mission
recent—Journey thither—The Ankárat Mountains, their breadth and
height—Encamp at the foot—The Vava Vato—Betáfo and Sírabé—The River
Mania—Ambositra—Nándíhizana—Ambohinamboárina—Ikála—The Matsiatra
River—Fianarantsoa—Visit of the Queen to the Province—Worship in the
Camp—Examination of the Schools—The Tanála—Our Visit to
Ambohimandroso and Imahazony—The Southern Terrace and hills—The
Ibára Tribes—Ambóndrombé—The Iárindrano—Fianarantsoa
again—Ifanjakana—Latitudes and Heights—General Conclusions
concerning the Betsileo Province: its Population and
Resources—Religious condition—New arrangements of the Mission for
its Instruction—Return to the Capital.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER III.
VISIT TO THE BETSILEO PROVINCE.
SOUTH of Imerina lies the BETSILEO province, containing a most important
section of the Malagasy people. The province is long and narrow; and,
like Imerina, it occupies the entire breadth of the upper plateau of the
island. It has for fifty years been under the Hova Government; but to
English people it remained almost unknown till recent days. After the
reopening of the mission in Imerina, difficulties were experienced in
the endeavour to visit the Betsileo people. Even Mr. Ellis could not
make his way thither. We knew nothing of their towns and rivers, except
their names. At length, in 1868, Mr. Toy and Mr. Jukes travelled through
the churches. Members of other missions also paid them visits. Then Mr.
Richardson was sent from England to commence a separate mission in the
province, and settled in its chief town Fianárantsoa. Other missionaries
have since joined him; and now our Directors were anxious to learn to
what extent the people still required their aid.
As the dry season had yet six weeks to run after our arrival, my
colleague and I prepared to employ it in visiting the Betsileo province.
And we set out without delay. We carried with us our two tents, eleven
feet square, with a small one of nine feet; and found our camp equipage
and English stores of even greater service than during our journey from
the coast. Many of the bearers who had brought us from Tamatave, offered
their services for this longer journey. Mr. Cameron, who has been a
member of the mission nearly fifty years, and the Rev. W. E. Cousins,
kindly consented to accompany us; and throughout our rough but pleasant
tour they proved most kind and agreeable companions, and rendered us
great service.
[Illustration:
TURTLE-HEAD ROCK—AMBATOMALAZA.
]
We left the capital on Wednesday, September 10th. Our course was
directed in the first instance to the south and west, that we might pass
through the Ankárat mountains, and pay a visit to some of the Norwegian
Missions in Betáfo and Sírabé. Our road lay across the Ikopa river, and
past the “famous rock” of Ambátomaláza. This rock is conspicuous, not
only from the capital, but from distant parts of Imerina; it is a
portion of a gneiss ridge, and an enormous turtle-head stands out
grandly at the top. The river Sisáony flows at its foot on its way to
the Ikopa. The valley is full of villages; indeed all this southern
corner of Imerina is thickly peopled; and we have a large number of
churches and congregations crowded within a small space. Having crossed
the beautiful basin of the Andromba river, full of villages and
pine-apple fields, we commenced a steady ascent of the long lava fingers
of Ankárat and pitched our camp on the second day, under the sheltered
side of the lofty hill of AMBOHITSAMPAN, seven thousand feet above the
sea.
At this height the south-east winds blow hard and cold. But the three
tents, firmly pinned, afforded thorough shelter; and when our beds and
boxes had been duly arranged, we spent a cosy, comfortable evening. The
men all left us (except our servants) to find shelter in scattered
houses. The night proved cold, and before sunrise the thermometer had
fallen to forty degrees; a thick mist lay on the hills, and there was
slight rain.
When the mist had cleared on the following morning, we climbed to the
summit of our hill, and had a fine view on every side. The other great
peaks of Ankárat lay to the south, still somewhat veiled; on the west
was a sea of hills and long ridges; far in the north-east, among the
hundred hills of Imerina was the Capital. Careful observation showed
that the peak of Ambohitsámpan has a height of eight thousand feet above
the sea. The observations were made both by the boiling-water point and
by Aneroid barometer. Our camp was more than seven thousand feet above
the sea; and the ascent of the peak was eight hundred feet. On other
occasions we had good opportunities of examining the extent and
character of these noble mountains, and I now briefly state the
conclusions to which we came respecting them.
The Ankárat Mountains are the loftiest in Madagascar. They are of
volcanic origin; they have been protruded through the gneiss and granite
of the great central range of the island, and they lie some fifteen
miles west of the watershed of that range. This mountain mass rests on
an enormous base. Taking account of the long fingers or tongues of lava
which have flowed out from the centre in all directions, it will be seen
that it covers a space of six hundred square miles. It appears broad
rather than high. From the Imerina plain, four thousand feet above the
sea, the lava slopes upward from its junction with the clay, till the
ground attains the height of six and seven thousand feet, when we reach
the base of the great central peaks. These occupy a space of fifty-four
square miles. They are five in number, with minor elevations between. M.
Grandidier calls one of them, Ambóhitrakóholáhy, the highest; but here
he is mistaken. We ascended two of these peaks, measured the height of a
third by theodolite; and eventually Mr. Cameron’s native assistant
ascended and measured all five. The heights of the whole are as
follows:—
Tsi-áfa-závona, 8950 feet.
Tsi-áfak-áfo, 8820 feet.
Ambóhimirándrana, 8780 feet.
Ambóhitrakóholáhy, 8200 feet.
Ambóhitsámpan, 8000 feet.
Each of these grand hills presents a striking appearance, Ambóhitsámpan
is conical, and has a double head, whence its name; it is conspicuous
from the Capital, and seems to be the highest of the group.
Ambóhitrakóholáhy is also in two parts, and has a beautiful cone on its
east side. Ambóhimirándrana stands in the centre of the group; and Mr.
Pillans ascended it without difficulty. Tsi-áfak-áfo faces the west; it
is a noble mountain with a lofty peak; and as its precipices slope
rapidly on that side, it forms a grand and conspicuous object on a clear
day, over a vast reach of country. We fixed its position with great
care, and its name often appears in our survey-lists. Tsi-áfa-zavona is
the noblest of all the peaks; it slopes up grandly to a lofty point; and
looked at from the eastern foot of the range it is a striking object
indeed. Vast jagged precipices lie immediately beneath its crown. When
the east wind blows it is “rarely free from mists,” whence its name. It
is seldom ascended; and the villagers of the plain beneath it were
greatly opposed to any effort on our part to climb it. They have a
superstitious dread of the anger of some invisible, intangible power
ruling over these great hills; and to him they sacrifice fowls on the
top of the hills in times of pestilence and peril. We tried to ascend
the great peak on two successive days, but were baffled by the thick
mists. The whole of the peaks and of the mountain mass are covered with
broken lava; the streams of lava flow outward from the centre on every
side, and on the south they are twenty-five miles in length. On the
east, at the foot of Ankárat, are other centres of volcanic outflow, and
the lava hills are of great size. We found many pretty wild flowers at
the top of Ambóhitsámpan; and the small aloe, having dark green leaves
tipped with crimson, and a bright orange flower, grows in abundance all
over these lofty hills.
Striking our little camp, we started to the westward: and after crossing
several deep ravines, we reached a broad grassy ridge, one of the lava
tongues; along which the bearers carried us at a great pace, so that we
speedily reached the pretty valley and town of Menálalóndy.
[Illustration:
TSI-AFAK-AFO FROM THE WEST.
]
The population in these parts is very scanty, and is to a great extent
cut off from intercourse with more civilised districts. The villages are
few and scattered, and are planted along the bottoms of the valleys,
which allow a fair cultivation of rice. Yet they are far more numerous
than they were when Mr. Cameron first travelled this way, forty years
ago. The people are extremely ignorant, especially of Christian truth;
nevertheless every large village has its chapel: the Friends are
striving to meet the wants of this border of their district; volunteer
teachers render what service they can; and the longing of the people for
higher and fuller knowledge of the truth is unmistakeable. Here and
there also individuals of marked piety are like “the salt of the earth”
among their neighbours.
Journeying on to Manjákàndrían, and thence by the lake of Vinánynóny to
Betáfo, we found objects of deepest interest at every step. Shapely
valleys and lofty hills, covered with gneiss boulders, were before and
around us. Below Anzázamadínika a little river runs through a narrow
ravine, and the boulders have so rolled in and filled the ravine that
for a quarter of a mile the river disappears under ground. Mounting the
opposite bank we were confronted by a fine conical hill, Tsi-áfak-alíka,
“that which a dog cannot climb.” West of Manjákàndrían is a lofty hill,
Márovítsika, “many ants;” and beyond it another, in an exposed position,
Bémásoándro, “having plenty of sun.” To the south of the village is the
hill of Bé-vóha, “thoroughly open.” In this part of our journey we were
constantly crossing small streams that take their rise in the roots of
Ankárat; and it was a great pleasure, six months afterwards, when
travelling through Ménabé, to meet them again as large rivers, and to
see in the distance the great hills at whose foot we had encamped. The
lake of Vinánynóny is formed by one of these streams, flowing strong and
clear from under the lava; it is two miles square; and is drained to the
west by the Sahomby river, which becomes a large stream and finally
joins the Kitsamby.
Beyond Vinánynóny we came into the long, closed alleys of the Vava Vato,
a vast collection of serrated ridges of pure felspar granite. We struck
them on the north-east side and passed through their eastern valleys.
Six months later we mounted their central ridges and stood on the
loftiest peak of the whole, the great rock of Iávohaikia. I will speak
of them more particularly at that point. From these alleys we came again
on to the red clay; and descending rapidly, two thousand feet, into the
deep basin of Betáfo, encamped in the grounds of the Norwegian Mission.
I will not dilate here upon the beauties of this noble basin, cut out of
the clay deposits by the upheavings of earthquakes and the action of
powerful streams; or describe its thousands of rice terraces cut in the
hill-sides, from which twenty thousand people, year by year, gather
their golden harvest. I will pass over our visit to the hot springs; the
garden-walls of black lava in the lower villages; the fine cascade of
the Loalambo; the royal tombs of the ancient line of Betáfo kings, and
the hill-fortress on the south, from which they commanded the country.
Nor will I pause to describe the old craters which we found so abundant;
the great lava-field in their midst; and the lime-pits and deposits of
Sirabé. All these we saw to greater advantage at a later time and
learned to understand more fully. Many of the Norwegian brethren were
absent also from their spheres of labour, through sickness or on duty;
but we visited them again and heard more completely about their work.
Only one did we see on our present journey, Mr. Rosaas; and from him and
his good wife at Sirabé we received the heartiest welcome.
From Sirabé to Ambositra we kept the western road, down the valley of
the Mánandóna and found throughout it objects of interest, of which
(like most others above referred to) books contain no notice. West of
the Mánandóna is a noble granite mass, the hills of Ibéty. The Mánandóna
valley is a fine rice plain; and its river has but a narrow outlet
through the granite range. When a heavy flood comes suddenly down from
the long valleys of Ankárat, the valley is submerged; it “gets a bath,”
as the name implies, until the waters can pass off through the ravine to
the Mania. Beyond the point where the river goes west, the valley is
continued southward between high and precipitous hills. Beyond
Ambohimanjáka, again, where we stayed, the valley is covered with huge
boulders of graphite granite; and to the south of Iláka and its broad
rice basin, the ravines are numerous and deep. We never had in
Madagascar a journey so difficult or distressing, as the travel of that
long Saturday morning, when we were carried over the narrow paths, up
and down the steep ravines which immediately open upon the Mania. But we
forgot our troubles and our hunger, when we reached the open valley of
the Mania, and saw the waters tumbling in creamy foam over the huge
boulders with which for three hundred yards the stream is barred. These
boulders form a natural bridge; and we crossed the river, jumping short
distances from one to another, while the river ran boiling and foaming
between and underneath them. All around us were lofty cones, mountain
masses, rugged precipices. The sight was truly grand, and we lingered
over it long.
The men had eaten nothing all day; but we found some quiet villages
higher up the river and the rain compelled us to remain. We had narrow
quarters in a real Betsileo house, surrounded by the live stock of the
proprietor. The family goose was “sitting;” the fowls were active and
hungry; the mice ran busily about us; the ducks quacked at intervals all
night; and the cocks crowed early in the morning. I slept soundly
through it all, as did Mr. Cameron in his little tent outside. Mr.
Pillans however was not so happy. We left early the next day; and after
a rapid run of two hours down a long slope, we arrived in good time for
service at the town of Ambositra. Here we found our colleague Mr.
Cousins, who had come from the Capital by the direct road, and had
brought us English letters; and here we spent two delightful days.
We had now reached the Betsileo Province. AMBOSITRA is the chief town of
its northern division, and is 4320 feet above the sea. It stands on a
low hill, in the centre of a wide, well-watered basin: it contains over
two hundred houses; and numerous villages, and small clumps of houses
termed “válas,” are scattered over the basin, among the fertile fields.
The basin is bounded by lofty hills on the east and west; other valleys
are found behind these hills, though the population which they contain
is thinner. On the east, about fifteen miles away, is the town of Mády,
on the Mády river; it also has several villages in its neighbourhood. To
an English eye, and to the eye of a missionary who knows anything of
India or China, the country appears thinly peopled. Some of the first
missionaries who came and looked at this district, doubted whether it
was of sufficient importance to constitute it a principal station of the
mission. My colleague and I had little hesitation on the subject at our
first visit. Upon our return, after traversing the entire province, we
felt no doubt whatever. On the contrary, in relation to the country
generally we deem Ambositra a place of great importance. Within the
district are some five thousand “hetra” or holdings, representing as
many families, and about thirty thousand people. The town contains a
thousand people; and twenty thousand lie within a half-day’s journey
from it. Eight congregations are connected with the central church, and
five others with the church at Mády. Ambositra lies on the high road
from the Capital: its broad, rich valley, full of people, is a
refreshing resting-place for those who have traversed the granite moors
and valleys, north and west; the forest and its rough ridges are beyond
Mády to the east, with a road into the Tánála district; and on the
south, scarcely a village is seen for a whole day, among the rocky lines
of hill which cross the country.
We were glad to see congregations of more than three hundred people in
the chapel, during both services on the Sunday of our arrival; although
a large number of the residents were at Fianáran with the Queen. We were
heartily thanked for our visit. And a formal deputation of the chief
members and elders of the church, on the following day, warmly pressed a
request on us that we should secure for them the appointment of an
English missionary. Happily we were all of one mind on the subject. At a
later stage of our visit, Mr. Brockway volunteered to remove to the
station; and Mrs. Brockway and he have long since settled at Ambositra,
with excellent prospects of usefulness.
Having spent a quiet Monday in surveying the basin of Ambositra and
given our men a holiday, we proceeded south the following day to the
chief town of the second division of the province, the town of
Zoma-Nándihízana. We passed on the road several isolated valleys, empty
of inhabitants; and rested at midday under the noble rocks of a ridge
5680 feet high, which crossed the country, called Angávo or “the
heights.” We next entered a strip of the “primeval forest,” which here
projects into the open country; and then suddenly descended twelve
hundred feet, down the valley, to our resting-place. The whole Betsileo
country is celebrated for its rice terraces. They are cut on the
hill-side wherever a spring pours its water from the rock. But amongst
all the results of industry and ingenuity which we saw in the province,
we admired none so much as the hundreds of green terraces that were cut
on the face of this amphitheatre in the hills above Nandihizana. Several
streams rise in the neighbouring hills and forest; and they are made to
do ample service before they escape into the rocky ravine at the bottom
of the basin, and find their way into the Sákaláva plains.
The next part of our journey lay along the crest of one of the clay
ridges; having deep valleys on the east and west, with parallel ridges
and valleys, three or four in number, on each side. Far away on the east
were three towering hills in the forest, overhanging the great wall
above the valley of the Tanála. From, this lofty ridge, 4900 feet above
the sea, we had a fine view of the country to a great distance on each
side. It was very regular in its lines of hills; and the valleys between
were green and fair: but the wild south-easter blew hard and cold, and
we did not wonder that when the forest is once cut down, it is almost
impossible to replace it. At noon we rested at a small village a mile
from Ikiangára, near which are several remarkable tombs; and an ancient
fortress on an isolated hill. The fort was defended by six or seven
fosses, cut like rings deep into the slope of the hill; and must have
been very difficult of approach. These fosses abound in all parts of the
country. Their sides are perpendicular: they are from ten to twenty feet
broad, and about sixteen feet deep. They are to be crossed generally at
only one point, where the clay has been left solid; and here will be
found the city gate. Old Ambositra, now deserted, to the south of the
present town, is a good specimen of a fortified town. Except for the
guarding of the cattle, these deep ditches are in these peaceful days a
great inconvenience to every one. They are often planted with plantain
and other tropical trees, which benefit by their warm shelter. After a
short day’s run we reached the town of Ambóhinamboárina.
This town has a larger population than Nándihízana: but it is by no
means a pleasant place. Dirty and full of pigs it stands on the slope of
a hill, under a high ridge; it has deep fosses on the land side, and on
other three sides it is enclosed by the Fanindróna river, recently
strengthened by the waters of the Isáhatóny. The rice valleys are
numerous in the neighbourhood: and there are some thirty small villages
scattered about it. A cleaner and more open place of residence, with
useful labours, would be found in the neighbouring valley of Ikála. This
basin is two miles square, level and full of villages, of which the
largest, Maharivo, has a chapel. On the west side of the basin are two
enormous promontories of gneiss rock, jutting from a mountain mass much
higher than themselves, while great boulders lie at their feet.
In this part of the province the hills and valleys are truly beautiful.
As we passed on we had the rich valley of Ianjánana on our left with the
river Mango; and the town itself on a towering height above us. The
river Matsíatra, holding so important a place in the geography and
social rule of the province, was meeting us in front; then it turned
westward, where the long ridges of Ifánjakána make a lofty background to
the rural picture. We crossed a fine open plain in the centre, on the
east of the river, and passing the site of the Queen’s camp and the
Market of the locality, settled for the night in the damp chapel of
Ivohitromby.
On Friday the bearers were all excitement. We were to arrive at
Fianárantsoa, the capital of the province, where the Queen was now
encamped and where they would meet with hosts of friends. They therefore
donned their best and our servants had the breakfast cooked long before
we were ready to partake of it. Immediately on starting we crossed the
Matsíatra on a wooden bridge, resting on twenty-six stone piers, built
in the rocky, shallow bed. Noble hills were about us all the way. A
grand ridge, with the Matsíatra at its foot, went off to the south
south-east. Under the lofty mass of Avománitra two level valleys were
stretched out, containing no less than eighty hamlets, with several
chapels, chief of which was the village of Natáo. Beyond this point we
met the Mánuláfaka river, coming through from the west; and then
climbing a lofty ascent, along which a broad road had been newly cut, we
suddenly came in sight of the camp, with a long valley at our feet,
dotted with the green rings of the Betsileo válás; and beyond them all
the town of Fianárantsoa, crowning its solitary hill and standing forth
in calm dignity like a veritable Queen. That was no common sight in this
poorly peopled land.
[Illustration:
FIANÁRANTSOA.
]
We arrived at noon; met a warm welcome from all the members of the
mission; and were hospitably received into their homes. We were truly
fatigued with our long journey over rough roads and looked forward with
pleasure to a few days’ rest.
FIANARAN-TSOA occupies a commanding position. It is built upon a hill,
detached from the range to which it belongs; and the houses are erected
in lines upon the hill-side, but do not cover it completely; they form
three special groups upon the hill. The róva or Government stockade,
with the lofty Government house, is on the summit of the hill, 4200 feet
above the sea, while the market occupies a broad and open space at the
bottom. The town is in some respects an imitation of Antanánarivo; and
it has a lake and island, with a garden and summer house in the centre,
resembling (in a small degree) the lake on the west side of the Capital.
The town is larger than any other in the upper provinces of Madagascar,
except the Capital; it has over a thousand houses, and from five to six
thousand people. A large proportion of the inhabitants are Hovas from
Imerina, being the officers and soldiers of the garrison. But there are
many Betsileo; some of the chief civil officers are Betsileo, men of
wealth and standing in the community, with numerous dependents around
them. Below the houses are planted thick hedges of the prickly pear,
which are, next to the deep ditches, the great resource of Malagasy
engineers, in the fortifying of their towns. These hedges were probably
a terror to their bare-legged and bare-footed enemies in the days of the
shield and spear. At present the traditions and conservative habits of
the people maintain them, at great inconvenience even to their
well-booted friends. At the foot of the hill there are four valleys,
running off north, north-west, and south. They are bright and green in
the rice season with a multitude of fields; every little knoll and
peninsula is occupied with Betsileo hamlets and their green rings; and
amongst them all the Ranofotsy river winds like a silver thread.
The town and its people were not in their normal condition during our
visit; and whether in relation to their ordinary life or to the
religious state of the three churches, we were unable to see for
ourselves what they generally are and do. The visit of the Queen and her
court had disarranged all their ordinary concerns; and that with good
reason; for it was a great event in their history; and it was being
carried out in a spirit which would render the visit a blessing to the
Betsileo people for many days to come. Radáma the first had entered the
province with his armies fifty years ago to extend his conquests and
consolidate them. At an earlier date his English drill-sergeant had
covered himself with infamy by the severity of his treatment of the
Betsileo people, and of the Antanósis beyond them. But though the
Betsileos had remained subject, even Radáma could not master the
rock-fortress of Ikongo. For more than forty years the Betsileos had had
a hard time under Hova rule. They had been fleeced by excessive
exactions and they had been left in complete ignorance by their
task-masters. With Christianity came justice, light, and peace. The Hova
Christians, to their honour be it said, began to gather the Betsileo
around them for worship; they became ashamed of their hard dealings, and
their rule grew much more gentle. The presence and instruction of
English Missionaries had greatly strengthened these improvements; many
churches had been established; hundreds of children were being taught in
the schools; the Betsileo were as welcome to these services as the
Hovas. And now the Queen had come to see her people; to call them around
her; to make acquaintance with them personally, to meet them in their
tribes; and to speak to them with authority on questions in which their
welfare was deeply concerned. At the time of our visit this intercourse
of the Queen, the Prime Minister, and the chief officers, with the
people was already producing good fruit. The people were loud in praise
of the Queen’s friendliness, of her kind speeches, her royal gifts. She
had paid special attention to the governor of the Tanala, the princess
Hiovana, a great favourite with every one. And the camp and its kabárys
were the resort of thousands of visitors every day. Sublunary
considerations had entered no doubt into the question of the visit. The
herds of fat cattle offered as presents meant something; and the
officers and their dependents lived on Betsileo rice. Nevertheless such
things both the rich and the poor of the province could for once afford
to pay; and under the security of property prevailing as the result of
good government and of Christian feeling, material products like these
will speedily be multiplied to them a hundred-fold.
The Queen’s camp was pitched on a picturesque knoll, in the open valley
on the north side of Fianáran. Towards the east was the royal
court-yard, surrounded by a wooden palisade; in the centre of which was
pitched the scarlet tent, intended for the Sovereign’s personal use;
three other tents were behind it; in the corner was the cooking tent, a
black affair about which there was no sham; and on the west was a wooden
platform, on which the Queen sat with the officers of government around
her in the public assemblies that were held. The scarlet umbrella held
over her head, always denoted to the people, even at a distance, that
their Sovereign had appeared in public. The tents of the officers and
troops, and the clusters of tents belonging to the Betsileo tribes,
which had marched in from a distance, were arranged in excellent order.
Many of the officers had brought their families with them; and both the
camp and the houses in the town were crowded with people.
Our arrival was duly notified to the Prime Minister and the Queen; and
on Saturday, at a special private audience, we paid our respects, and
were graciously received. Numerous presents of turkeys, geese, fowls,
beef, and eggs, began to flow in in a stream; and many of the leading
Christian people, whose names are known in England, came to pay us a
visit. One lively friend of ours very kindly sent her turkeys cooked;
and as to the rest my kind hostess expressed it as her opinion that she
would require an extra man to guard and feed the extensive stock of
poultry of which Mr. Cameron and I had suddenly become possessors. The
Churches also failed not to notice our arrival and sent us presents of
the same kind.
On Sunday we had the pleasure of worshipping with the Queen in the camp.
From the royal platform the sight of the vast congregation was very
striking. There were eight thousand persons present, of whom the inner
and larger portion were seated on the ground. Beneath the platform, and
just in front of the Queen, were several rows of women who formed the
choir. Beyond them in the centre were the women and ladies of the
general congregation. The men were on the right. And a broad circle of
men behind both closed them all in. The dress of all was exceedingly
neat and clean. The men wore the large straw hat, usual to the Hovas,
with its black velvet band. The lambas both of men and women were to a
large extent white; but many were striped with black; many were blue,
others of a check pattern; and a great number were stamped with pink
flowers. Exposed to the sun, the men kept their hats on, and when he
shone forth brightly, an army of umbrellas was put up, dark and light
blue, brown and white, to temper the heated rays. Over all was a sky of
pale blue, flecked with clouds driven rapidly by the strong south-east
winds. The platform was crowded with the ladies and officers of the
Court, conspicuous amongst whom, and seated close to the Queen, was
Hióvana, the governor of the Tanála tribes. Most were on the ground; the
few chairs had been brought by their occupants and were of various
shapes and sizes. The Queen was simply dressed in a white lamba, and had
a large Bible on her knee; the scarlet umbrella was held above her head.
The service was after the Congregational and Presbyterian order, and was
conducted by the native ministers, with as much propriety as such
services are among the oldest Churches in England. The service was
opened by an Anthem, in which the ninety-first Psalm was sung through,
the band accompanying in a most appropriate manner. The Scriptures were
then read and prayer offered. Again chapter iii. of Lamentations was
sung very sweetly; and the first sermon followed from the text: “For our
light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more
exceeding and eternal weight of glory.” The favourite hymn of the
Malagasy, No. 46, was next given out, and was sung by the entire
congregation with great spirit: the Scriptures were again read and
prayer offered. There was another hymn from the Pilgrim’s Progress, a
favourite also; and then Andriambélo preached from the text: “How shall
we escape if we neglect so great salvation?” The usual dismissal hymn
was sung and the blessing pronounced; and the vast congregation
dispersed. The general comment on the sermons was, “Rainitávy’s sermon
was the more clever; but Andriambélo respect and love most; and we
listen to what he says.” I never attended a more interesting native
service at any mission I have visited.
During the week we had the opportunity of seeing one or more of the
public entertainments which occupied the intervals of serious business
with the Queen and her people. In these the separate tribes took part,
some on one day, some on another. Tribal dances, parades, the special
music of certain localities, were exhibited and played. To me one of the
most interesting was an exhibition of mimic war with the old simple
weapons of the spear and hide-shield. The way in which the scout used
his eyes, searching every thing for the expected enemy, and in which he
managed to cover every part of his body by his small round shield, was
very striking. In all these exhibitions, everything was graceful and
dignified; nothing was outré.
In these public gatherings we had a good opportunity of seeing how Hova
and Betsileo ladies dress their hair. The hair of all native women is
black; in those of pure Hova blood it is smooth, but in those who have
more or less African taint, the hair is crimped and curled naturally. In
both cases, individuals differ in the fulness and length of their hair.
In some it is very rich and glossy and black, an “ornament” indeed. The
hair of a Hova lady is divided into twenty or twenty-four sections; in
each of these the hair is again divided into a number of tails which are
plaited together, and the plait is tied up into a small bow; when the
dressing is complete, there are some twenty-four of these bows on the
head. The number varies with the taste of the wearer: most of the ladies
I saw had from sixteen to twenty-four. The Betsileo hair is done up in
several styles; in plaits: in round plaited curls; and the like. All
these methods take up much time; and are renewed at intervals too long
for cleanliness and comfort. Many Hova ladies therefore are adopting the
simpler system prevalent among English women, and dress their hair
daily.
On Wednesday, October 1st, there was a public Examination of the
Betsileo schools, in the presence of the Queen and Prime Minister. Two
thousand scholars assembled in the inside of the Palace Court. After
singing the national hymn, they went through a variety of exercises to
exhibit their attainments in reading, knowledge of Scripture, mental
arithmetic, and the like. The questions were put chiefly by Mr. G. Shaw,
the able Superintendent of the Normal School and of Education generally
in the central Betsileo; but the Prime Minister also joined in the
Examination, showed an intelligent appreciation of the progress made,
and gave new proof of the deep interest which the Queen and he have long
taken in the education of the people.
His Excellency himself delivered the prizes. In addition to the rewards
assigned by the mission, the Queen presented every holder of a prize
with a new hymn-book and Testament. The Prime Minister also (who had
loaded his pockets with money) gave them dollars, half-dollars, and
broken money, according to merit: and finally the Queen presented every
scholar before her with a new dress. Nearly two thousand were given
away, which it took his Excellency two hours to place in the scholars’
hands. But the gift produced a deep impression, and showed the people
that their Sovereign was really anxious that they should learn. Before
them all, the Queen heartily thanked Mr. Shaw and the members of the
mission, for what they had done for the instruction of her Betsileo
people.
The following day, a public kabáry was summoned, attended with the usual
ceremonies, that the Queen might specially address her people on this
subject of education. The soldiers of the line were brought up in force
to keep the ground. The three regiments of guards immediately surrounded
the platform. One of these regiments is dressed in red knickerbockers:
another has trousers, striped pink and white: the third, consisting of
young officers, has a uniform of rifle green and is armed with the
Snider rifle. The Queen wore a dress of light green watered silk: above
it was her scarlet velvet mantle; and she wore a large gold coronet. Her
chair was of scarlet and gold; and her footstool was one that had been
worked by one of Mrs. Shaw’s girls, and had been presented to her on the
previous day. The assembly was very large; there must have been fifteen
thousand people present.
As soon as the Queen appeared the assembly rose; and when she stood in
her place, a general salute was presented; the Prime Minister also was
saluted as Commander-in-Chief of the army; and the business of the day
was proceeded with. A royal speech in Madagascar takes a peculiar form,
derived doubtless from long tradition; it contains many antique phrases
and modes of address; and its general style of appeal to the people,
points to the days when the entire tribe was taken into consultation by
the chiefs and rulers, and a general vote settled the question in hand.
After expressing in a clear and distinct voice, her pleasure in meeting
her people once more, the Queen uttered several sentences, usual to
these assemblies, in which she dwelt upon the close and affectionate
relations subsisting between them and herself. “You are a father and
mother to me: having you, I have all.... And if you confide in me, you
have a father and a mother in me. Is it not so, O ye under heaven?” To
which with a deep voice, the people reply, “It is so.” Passing at length
to the subject specially before her, the Queen said: “My days in the
south are now few; for I am about to go up to Imerina; therefore I will
say a word about the schools. And I say to you all here in Betsileo,
whether north of the Matsiatra or south of the Matsiatra, cause your
children to attend the school. My desire is that, whether high or low,
whether sons of the nobles, or sons of the judges, or sons of the
officers, (here she used the Betsileo term, Andevohova) or sons of the
centurions, let all your sons and let your daughters attend the schools
and become lovers of wisdom.” The Prime Minister then in the Queen’s
name, addressed the assembly on the subject of usury, a great evil among
poor natives, and only too common in stages of society like that in
Madagascar; and said: “Thus saith the Queen; all that usury exacted by
the Hovas from the Betsileo is remitted; and only the original debt
shall remain.”
After a general salute, the tribes came forward in succession and
replied to the Queen, thanking her for her words and her affection: and
expressing their approval of her sentiments. The tribes addressed her
through their chief men, who on such occasions have a good opportunity
of displaying their oratorical power. The first who now came forward was
the Andrían or Prince of the Betsileo people, the head of the Isandra
family, which ruled the country before its surrender to Radáma. His
sister and he are Christians and most interesting people. The best
speech of the day was made by the judge of Fianárantsoa, speaking for
the people of that town and district. The old gentleman is very stout
and very witty. He stalked up and down in the open space before the
Queen, flourishing his long stick; and with all sorts of compliments to
her rule, expressed his agreement with her views: he added also; “Trust
your Betsileo people: have no fear of your Betsileo people: they have
begun to read the New Testament: and the people who read the New
Testament are an obedient, orderly people.” But the old gentleman had
worked himself into a great heat; and at each return up the line of his
companions he drank copiously from the water-gourd, which was held and
replenished by one of his faithful henchmen: while at each pause of his
earnest address the people responded; _Izány hoy izy_. “Hear, hear.” “He
says it.” Other matters then occupied attention. A new governor was
appointed to Fianáran; the governor of Ambohimandroso was confirmed in
his position; and questions of jurisdiction were arranged. After which
the Queen retired and the Assembly dispersed, the kabáry having lasted
three hours.
I need not dwell further on our proceedings in Fianáran, or our pleasant
interviews with officers of the government, and others prominent in the
Christian life of the Capital, as well as of the Betsileo province; or
our visits to the Churches; and our hospitable reception by the
governors old and new. I will only add a word respecting an important
interview we held with the governor of the Tanála people, the princess
Hióvana and her family. The TANALA district lies about twenty miles to
the east of the central line of the Betsileo provinces. As its name
indicates it is the “land of forests.” It is in fact a continuation of
the first terrace under the hills, viz. of the plain of Ankay, which we
had crossed at Moramánga and Ifódy. The plain is ploughed deep in all
directions and contains a multitude of low hills. On one of these is
built the town of AMBOHIMANGA, the capital of the district. It contains
two hundred houses and a population of 1200 persons. Some of the houses
are large and convenient: many are frail and poor. There are numerous
villages scattered up and down the district, which is well watered; and
the Tanála people may probably amount to twenty thousand in number. The
river Mangóro flows along the Ankay plain from the north almost into the
Tanála country; and then turns eastward, breaks through the hills in
rough rapids and falls into the sea. The west boundary of the Tanála is
a noble wall of rock running up and down the country from north to
south: and its buttresses are formed here and there of hills that are
truly massive and grand. The forest which covers them is the same that
we crossed at Angavo; the inner line, which separates the Central
provinces in their entire length from the districts nearer the coast. In
this its lower portion it is very wide, and still contains magnificent
trees.
The Tanála people are reckoned with the Betsileo: but I doubt whether
they are of Betsileo blood. They seem rather to be a portion of the
Bezánozáno, who people Ankay; and these again are part of the
Betsimisáraka tribes. Their country is extremely unhealthy. Placed
between the two lines of forest, and their decaying vegetation, it
suffers greatly, for eight months of the year, from fever. And none can
reside there permanently, who have not become _víta-tázo_,
“fever-proof.” This constitutes the religious difficulty. Gladly would
the Mission place one of its English families there to take charge of
the Tanála people, were it not for the unusual risks which they would be
called to run. We talked the matter over with Hióvana and her brother in
Fianáran. She impressed us as being a truly noble lady. She is an
eloquent speaker in public; and her addresses at the kabarys are
listened to with delight by the assembled multitudes. But she can speak
with peculiar beauty of voice and tone in private: and the shrewd and
touching pleas with which she and her brother urged that we should
appoint an English missionary to their people, were presented with
earnestness and power. They have always given a warm welcome to those
missionaries who have paid them a visit: and any one who would spend
some months of the year with them would do the Tanála people great
service. They ought at least to command the services of one of the
ablest native ministers, whom the Mission can supply.
For several years I had taken a deep interest in the southern part of
the Betsileo province and in the town of Ambóhimandróso; to whose people
the Society had long desired to send a missionary: we now prepared to
visit it. On Friday, October 3d, the whole party from the Capital,
accompanied by Mr. Brockway, left Fianáran. The greater part of our road
lay along a fine valley, narrow and bordered by peculiarly noble hills.
The parallel ridges of the Betsileo Country run generally from
north-north-west to south-south-east. This valley ran for twenty miles a
little west of south. The ridges therefore all crossed it; but some
mighty force had broken them through at this point, had swept away their
rocky remains: and left great precipices, buttresses and promontories
overhanging the narrow cleft along which we journeyed. Each headland has
its distinctive name. Nothing but photography can duly show the grandeur
of these rocks; and only a map on a large scale can rightly delineate
the country. The highest mountain in the Betsileo, a grand peak, named
Ambohitramanjáka, “king’s town,” we left up a narrow valley on the west
of our road. All the way we had on one side or the other, the drain of
the valley, the river Ranofotsy. We camped in the valley at night, and
had the hills on the east of us all on fire.
Next day we came early to the end of the valley, which is a cul de sac:
and saw in it and in the hills to the east the sources of the Ranofotsy.
To the west of the terminating hill is a most noble boulder standing
alone on the mountain side, called Vato-ávo, “high rock.” Mr. Cameron
and I climbed it and found that we had unwittingly secured a most
important station for the survey of the country. Both Fianáran and
Ambohimandroso were visible: it is the only point in the line of route
from which both can be seen at once. We saw at our feet on the south the
great rice basin of Ambohimandroso, studded with hamlets perched on the
red clay hills. East and west were enormous gneiss mountains: while far
to the south was the lofty granite ridge of Kipaséha, its sharp saw-like
crest standing clear against the sky. Near to us was the Betsileo
village of Ivátoavo, through which we were to pass, and in which the
houses are built in and amongst a mass of gigantic boulders, with a
thick cactus hedge as their protection. As we passed, the women all came
out to look at us. We also looked at them; for their hair was fastened
up into a number of flat buttons, which looked like a supply of black
penny-pieces hanging about their ears. We reached our destination at
four o’clock.
AMBOHIMANDROSO is an important town. It is situated on a round clay
hill: the Hova fort and governor’s house being as usual on the crest,
3260 feet above the sea. The houses are three hundred in number; and the
total population must be fifteen hundred. Most of the houses, according
to the usual Betsileo fashion, are built of wood. The posts are strong
and square, the walls are of thick boards fixed upright: and the roof,
as in Imerina, has a high pitch. It is formed of strong timbers and is
thatched with leaves or reeds. The windows of Betsileo houses are small:
the door also is small and the door-sill is high above the ground: a
post therefore is provided for the paterfamilias and his belongings, on
which each carefully stands before he doubles himself up and makes his
way through the opening. It is worth noting that in Malagasy the same
word is used for door and window; both being constructed in the same
fashion and in old houses differing little from one another. The houses
of the garrison, of the governor and his officers, follow the fashion of
Imerina; they have large doors; are strongly made; and their sides are
neatly panneled. But as elsewhere they lack finish; and but little
provision is made for privacy. Not a single house we saw had a glass
window in it, to provide light, when rain and wind compel the owner to
close his wooden shutters. The newest houses outside the fort are being
made of clay. The town has on the south other lofty hills: but as in
Ankay and Menabe, the sandy parts of these hills have worked into deep
hollows which at a distance look like scars and sores upon the
hill-side.
On the north, east and west the basin of Ambohimandroso is more level;
the rice fields are numerous, and the little hamlets with their rings of
verdure dot the country everywhere. The basin is watered by a single
stream, flowing from the eastern hills. Its supply is not overabundant.
Hence the curious name given to the place, _Tsi-énim-paréhy_, “not
enough for the rice cultivation.” A larger supply of water would
doubtless produce far greater crops in both portions of the district.
Beyond a low ridge to the east is a second open valley with numerous
arms, rich also in villages and rice grounds: several of these villages
have chapels: and it is the comparative abundance of population, which
renders this town so eligible as the residence of an English Missionary.
The Chapel of Ambohimandroso occupies an excellent site and is of large
size, sixty feet by thirty. But it needs a great deal of improvement to
make it, what it ought to be, the model chapel of the district; and it
will be well worth the while of the Mission to assist the congregation
in giving to it that position.
We spent a pleasant Sabbath with the people: and though the governor of
the town, the native pastor and his excellent wife, and many other
principal members of the church were absent with the Queen, we had
several serious consultations with those still here, on the provision
they would make for the comfort of the missionary, who was now on his
way from England. How far would they co-operate with him in securing for
their children a more thorough Christian education than they have ever
enjoyed? On the whole they responded to our views; and we believe that
the Station can be made as great a position of usefulness as any in the
Betsileo Country.
We spent three days in Ambohimandroso, gathering information on many
points of value. We were encamped in the Chapel, and two young officers
of the garrison showed us great attention in securing our comfort and
making our habitation less airy. The butchers of the town were not so
complaisant. And when our cook enquired after some beef for us, as a
change from the constant supply of poultry, they answered that there was
a good quantity of “old beef” still unsold; and they declined to kill
until that had been expended. It mattered little. Mr. Cousins was an
admirable caterer; and though our Irish butter somewhat failed us, yet
other English stores, with good turkeys, chickens, bread made by English
ladies, sweet potatoes, plantain fritters and other trifles, provided
sufficient sustenance even for hungry Englishmen in the keen, hard air.
During Monday we arranged for the preparation of a temporary house for a
missionary: and then made a careful survey of the town and
neighbourhood; we connected our observations completely with those made
by Mr. Cameron at Fianárantsoa, and took sketches of the ground. Mr.
Pillans went off early with a select band of bearers to climb the peak
of Iody, ten miles to the south-west, and take observations of the
granite ridge, which bounded the horizon beyond.
During the day Mr. Cousins made special enquiry concerning the IBÁRA
tribes, among whom the Mission will be glad in due time to preach the
gospel; since almost none of them have heard it. He found with much
satisfaction that they are akin to the Betsileo and in many respects
resemble them. Their language is substantially the same: here and there
he caught a new word, or an older form of idiom. But he judged that as
the language of the Tanála and the Betsileo differs but moderately from
the Hova dialect, so the Ibára differs but little from the Betsileo.
They build too the same kind of houses: on the hill tops they erect
their forts, while in the open valleys they form válas or hamlets with
the green fence, and plant gardens around them. They also have large
herds of cattle. But as the Betsileo differ from the Hovas in the mode
of dressing the hair (though closely akin to them), so do the Ibára
differ from the Betsileo. While the latter tie up the hair in
penny-pieces, the Ibára form a topknot on the crown of the head,
profusely plaistered with grease. Two Ibára men turned up in the town
during the day and came to visit us. We found that the tribe lives west
and south-west of this place. For a day and half (thirty miles) there
are still Betsileo villages, even below the foot of the hills and
forest. Then for four days Ibára occupy the country; and beyond them are
Sákalávas. M. Grandidier who approached these tribes from the west coast
indicates in his maps the same thing.
The chief town of the Ibára in this direction is Benarivo: and they hold
considerable intercourse with the Hovas and Betsileo. They look on the
present governor of Ambohimandroso as a friend; and through him they
only recently sent a friendly message to the Queen at Fianáran, with a
small brass gun. There is hope that the gospel will soon find an
entrance among them. It happens, in God’s good providence, that the wife
of the pastor at Ambohimandroso is herself an Ibára, the daughter of the
chief ruling in Benarivo. When young she was taken captive in one of the
Hova wars and went to the Capital a slave. There she married. Her
husband and she bought their freedom and after a time leaving the
Capital, they came south and settled in the Betsileo. Making enquiries,
they found that her father and many relatives were still living in
Benarivo. She was warmly welcomed home again, with her husband: and from
Ambohimandroso, where he holds his appointment, they occasionally visit
her friends. Both husband and wife are good Christian people: and it is
hoped that through them, an entrance for light and truth and grace may
be secured among the Ibára tribes. We can hope this the more, that
though the rule of the Hovas in the past has often been hard, selfish
and grasping, a great improvement has taken place among them. They are
far more merciful, gentle and just toward other tribes in modern days,
than they were: and they are far more willing to help in raising them.
Were all the local officers (notwithstanding the temptations of their
poverty), to be as considerate and just as the Queen, the Prime Minister
and a large number of the officers immediately around them, the whole
system of Malagasy government would be raised, and a moral conquest of
the whole island would be a mere question of time.
A short day’s journey to the south of Ambohimandroso brought us by
several important villages, to IMAHAZONY, one of our principal
out-stations. In a pool below the hill on which it stands, I was
delighted to find a large cluster of blue water-lilies. Imahazony is a
large town, containing two hundred houses. It is a busy place, and has
many rice fields and several villages in the valleys around it. There is
a great deal of sedimentary clay in this south part of the Betsileo, and
towards the east the high hills give rise to many small streams of
water. We had much pleasant talk with the elders of the congregation
about their religious wants. It was plain that they were not far
advanced: and that the whole district stands greatly in need of good
schools and systematic instruction.
We had now reached the south border of the Betsileo country. Indeed we
might say that we were close to three boundaries which enclose its
southern end. And when in the afternoon, my colleague and I climbed the
ridge of Kinanga, which overhangs the town, we had these chains of hills
prominent and near. On the west and south-west was the granite ridge of
Kipaseha, towering over the country. Within it were two lower groups of
gneiss hills, with the forest close by, bounding the Ambohimandroso
valley. To the east was the lofty mountain of Ambóndrombé, covered with
dense wood. Directly south was a line of hills crossing the country from
the one set of ridges to the other and shutting us completely in. Beyond
the town to the south we noted several villages, and ten miles away,
upon a spur of these hills, with the green forest just beyond, was the
village of Angalampona, the last village peopled by the Betsileo in that
direction. This was the boundary of the Hova dominion; and of the sphere
which the Mission has yet occupied. Imahazony is on the line of Lat. 22°
S.
It must not be supposed that on the other side of the southern forest
there is no population. Population does not cease, but it changes its
character. What change there may be in the ground no one could clearly
describe. One thing however we had ourselves observed with deep
interest. The fall in the ground of fourteen hundred feet, immediately
south of Ivato-avo, as well as the profusion of red clay outside the
gneiss hills, indicated that in the basin of Ambohimandroso we had
descended on to the first terrace toward the south. We were no longer on
the high level of the Imerina and Betsileo plateau. It is exceedingly
probable that some few miles beyond another and lower terrace is
reached, as in the north of the island. From the top of Iody Mr. Pillans
observed that the country seemed to be falling and to be more open: and
the natives were unanimous in declaring that in the south the country
was more level and more easy to travel than the Betsileo. As on the
eastern and western slopes, so towards the south also, the ground
doubtless falls in broad, well-watered terraces, till it reaches the
great, level plains observed near the extreme end of the island. It is
hoped that in due time some members of the Mission may solve these
questions by a personal examination of the district.
Whatever it may be with the geography of the country, one thing we know,
that both in and beyond the south forest, the country is occupied by
Ibára tribes, and that their villages are numerous. Their capital is
said to be Ivóhibé, a day and a half to the southward and built on a big
hill. The name of the chief is Rebáhy. His people and he did not burn
their idols when the Hovas did. They still practice divination by the
sikidy, and observe lucky and unlucky days; they sacrifice on old stones
on joyful occasions, and give thanks to their ancestors who to them have
become gods. Their speech is louder, broader and more uncouth than that
of the Betsileo. Their chief believes himself to be a great man. No Hova
is ever allowed to see him. When he goes abroad his own people also are
debarred that pleasure. His attendants cry out: “The Biby is coming,”
and every one disappears. His kingdom goes a long way to the south: the
people have a trading place below the hills, called Soava: and they
visit a port on the west coast, called Isáli. East of these Ibára are
the Tanála again.
Much remains to be learned concerning these districts. To the south and
south-east there are two small provinces, Anosy and Vangaindrano, never
yet visited by the Mission; and yet in one, or both, of them there is
Christian work going on through the medium of the Hova officers and
garrisons. The beautiful and fertile valley of Ambolo coming down to the
sea-coast near Fort Dauphin, is reckoned to the Betsimisáraka people.
But the Hova armies have always reached it through the Betsileo
provinces: and the river Mangáry is said to be the line of route.
Radáma’s troops took full possession of the place fifty years ago, and
pulled down the French flag as unauthorised. Hova garrisons have
occupied both districts since that time, and they are said to contain a
large population. It was from one of these provinces that three years
ago some soldiers came to the Capital, after a long march of two months,
seeking for Christian books and Bibles. Hova Christians had been
teaching the people: chapels had been built: the Sabbath was observed:
congregations were gathered. But they had only four Bibles. And as they
had heard a rumour that plentiful supplies of Bibles and Hymn books
could be obtained in Antananarivo, they resolved to go and see if it was
true. The strangers came. They happily fell into the hands of Mr.
Parrett; who showed them the wonders of the Mission Press; supplied all
their wants and more; and sent them back again with rejoicing hearts.
Ought we not to try and learn more about people like these?
From every part of Imahazony, one can see on the east the massive
mountain of AMBONDROMBE. It is distant twelve or fourteen miles, and is
some ten miles in length. It stands on the edge of the Betsileo plateau:
and from the terrace beneath it to the east it must present one of the
grandest objects in Madagascar. It is covered with dense forest. While
at Imahazony we heard much about it. It is considered to be the entrance
to the Malagasy Hades. Its Betsileo name is I-rántsy, “the evil place.”
It is peopled by Tánin-dulo, “sons of ghosts.” “Have you been there?”
(we asked of our informant). “No: I dare not go.” “There is a large
village there,” he added. “Are there any houses in the village?” “No:
none.” All exhibited a great fear of the place. “Well: we Englishmen
would not be afraid to go and see it.” “Then you must be very good men.”
The people stoutly assured us, that on the day the Queen arrived at
Fianáran, the ghosts fired three guns! “We heard them.” When Radáma came
into this province he sent three officers to examine Ambóndrombé. Of
these one was Raháníraka, so well known in later years as a Government
Secretary. He reported that there is in the hill a great cave and that
in certain states of the wind, the sound of guns seems to issue from the
cave. On this occasion the people probably heard the guns at Fianáran
direct.
To the east of Ambóndrombé is the lofty rock of Ikongo, on which is
built a native fortress, a maiden stronghold hitherto attempted by
enemies in vain. Radáma and his army tried it in his Betsileo campaign.
The rock is of peculiar shape, is unusually precipitous and is
accessible only by ropes from above. Ikongo is the head of a little
kingdom, containing some ten to twenty thousand people. Its chief is
very proud of his independence. But it separates him and his people from
their Betsileo neighbours: and leaves them all in ignorance and
barbarism, Efforts will be made by the Mission to get access to the
people and supply them with the knowledge of the Gospel and the means of
education. The Queen when in Fianáran sent presents and friendly
messages to the Chief of Ikongo; and received a friendly embassy in
return.
From Imahazony we returned to Fianárantsoa by the eastern route, under
the long buttresses of Ambondrombe and up the great rice valley lying to
the east of Ambohimandroso. We rested at Itsimaítsohasóa, the former
capital of this district; and were pleased to find a most efficient
school and a goodly band of scholars. This district, the fifth and most
southern of the Betsileo provinces, is called Iárindráno, “abounding in
water,” and it thoroughly justifies its name. From Fianáran southward
the great gneiss hills are full of springs, and the little streams are
abundant on every side. But off the main road of the province the
villages are few. We traversed with ease the long valley south of
Midongy; passed beneath the lofty peaks of Sánga-sanga and Vohimánitra;
crossed the narrow col of Maneva; and skirting the great boulders of
Ieranány, late in the day, reached Fianárantsoa once more in safety.
Our rough journeyings were beginning to tell upon our health: and in
Fianáran I was laid up for several days with a severe cold. At this time
my colleague and Mr. Cousins paid a visit to the important town of
IFANJAKANA, which it was proposed to make the centre of a Mission
district and the residence of an English Missionary. Ifánjakána is now
the chief town in the Sandra province: (4630 feet above the sea); and is
the principal residence of the Sandra family, which, before the days of
Radáma, ruled the Betsileo people, south of the Matsiatra. This province
lies almost entirely west of the road which we had travelled from the
capital: it extends westward to the edge of the hills and the line of
forest: and it contains several important towns.
My colleagues reached Ifánjakána in eight hours. They travelled to the
north and west along the Ranofotsy; then crossed various ridges and
narrow valleys to the north-west of the river: passed the village of
Itomboana; with many hamlets in fertile valleys: and reached the high
ground, scored with long clefts and valleys on which Ifánjakána stands.
Beyond it to the west the plateau is high and so continues for ten
miles, when it falls away towards the lower plains. They found the town
to contain nearly three hundred houses, with fifteen hundred people. On
a high ridge facing it to the eastward is the township of Ivohitromby,
containing as many more, and giving the same number of people to
Government service. The valley east of the town swells into uplands
which go off in the direction of Ambohinamboarina. All these valleys
contain a scattered population, which has Ifánjakána on its western
edge. But a little to the south-east is a fine cluster of villages. Near
the ruined town of Mahazarivo are the tombs of the Sandra Kings,
surrounded by gigantic trees, planted at the time of their burial. Of
the town of Nasandratony the sister of the present prince, granddaughter
of the last King, is the head.
Farther west is an important place, Ambohivolamena, “gold-town.” And
still beyond, to the south-west, there is a town more important still,
Ikálamavóny. It stands below the edge of the plateau, in the lower
plain, and it has a high and massive hill behind it. Sheltered from the
easterly winds its climate is warm, and its people suffer much from
fever. It has often suffered in former days from the raids of the Ibára
tribes, and has both had its houses burned and its people destroyed. It
has long flourished in recent days under an excellent Hova Governor; and
it is owing to his zeal and skill and taste that the Church at
Ikálamavóny is the handsomest place of worship in the whole Betsileo.
The congregations of this cluster of towns in the Isandra district have
had a most interesting religious history: they have been willing
scholars, under more than one zealous and devoted native teacher; and
the English Missionary who will take them under his charge, will have
before him a sphere of solid usefulness.
I need scarcely say that throughout our visit, under the guidance and
with the companionship of Mr. Cameron, we followed up with great care
the survey of the country. We based it on the survey of Imerina,
commenced by Mr. Cameron four years ago. It is laid down by an unbroken
succession of cross bearings of a long line of conspicuous points, both
up and down the province: and by a series of latitudes, determined by
meridian transit of the sun and of various principal stars. Throughout
our journey also both ways, I daily placed in my Journal a sketch of the
ground traversed; and the number of these local sketches is large. The
result of all these observations is embodied in the Map of the district;
and only a portion of these results has been referred to now.
As with the map of Imerina the key of the map is the position of the
Capital: so in the Betsileo, the key of the whole is the town of
Fianárantsoa. By several observations, Mr. Cameron fixed the latitude of
the town at 21° 27′ 10″ S. Judging from his map, M. Grandidier, who
crossed the Betsileo at this point, makes the latitude the same. Mr.
Cameron was foiled in his attempt to determine the longitude by
independent observations of Jupiter’s satellites and moon culminating
stars: the rolling mists obscuring both moon and planet at the moment
when they were needed to be clear. But both Mr. Cameron and M.
Grandidier agree in placing Fianáran on a meridian 30′ to the west of
the meridian of Antanánarivo. Having both taken and worked out the
series of observations myself, I concur with Mr. Cameron in his
conclusions: and would fix the longitude of Fianáran at 47° 11′ 30″ E.
of Greenwich, at a distance of seventy-five miles from the Indian Ocean.
The following is a brief list of the principal heights in this part of
the island:—
Feet.
Ambositra 4320
Angávo-ridge 5680
Nandihizana 4780
Long ridge, 4900
south
Ambohinamboárina 3600
Ikala valley 3920
River Matsiatra 3700
Fianárantsoa 4200
Ivatoavo 4660
Ambohimandroso 3260
Imahazony hill 3660
Iody, peak 6450
Tsimaitsohasoa 4650
Ifanjakana 4630
Moromania 4300
Ambodifiakárana 4620
Great moor 6200
The Betsileo Province is a continuation southward of the province of
Imerina: and embraces the entire width of the plateau lying along the
backbone of the island. On its northern boundary, the river Mania, the
province has a breadth of fifty miles: it narrows as it goes southward;
at Imahazony, on the line of lat. 22″ S., it has a breadth of only
thirty miles: and from the peak of Kinanga, we were in sight of the
three ridges which close the province in. The cultivable area within the
Province is but a limited portion of the whole: and that which is under
cultivation, owing to the scantiness of the population, is smaller
still. The province is full of mountains. It seems to be free of
volcanic influences: but it is crossed by long ridges of gneiss and
clay, strewn with boulders of enormous size. South of Fianárantsoa the
rocky ridges lie close together and the massing of the mountains is very
grand. Several of its ridges and detached mountains, like Ilalanza and
Ipáno, Iódy and Indraimbáki, Kipaséha and Ambóndrombé, I have already
named. The cultivated spots of any great size are the basin and valleys
of Ambositra; the amphitheatre of Nandihízana; the valleys of
Ambóhinamboárina and Ifánjakána; the basins of Ikála and Natao; the
valley of the Matsiatra and its offshoots; the valleys of Fianáran; and
the broad basin of Ambohimandroso. I have said that the province
contains five districts. Two of these, Ambositra and Nándihízana, lie
north of the chief river the Matsiatra; and three others, forming the
Betsileo proper, lie south of that river, viz.—the Isandra to the west:
Ilalangina near Fianárantsoa; and to the south, the Iárindráno,
abounding with fertilizing streams.
The province is almost entirely agricultural. Manufactures have made
little progress and are at present in a primitive stage. Fine herds of
cattle are abundant: one chief duty of the Hova dependents who live down
south is to watch over the herds, belonging to Imerina nobles, which are
fed on the unoccupied hills and wastes. But the chief staple of the
Betsileo is rice, and of this great harvests are reaped, which supply
the people with abundance of their favourite food. Give to the Malagasy
rice and gravy, gravy and rice, and they desire little more. The
ingenuity with which the Betsileo secure their crops is deserving of
high praise. I do not mean the unhallowed ingenuity with which, after
digging up their rice fields and flooding them, they turn a herd of
cattle in and drive them round and round, over and over, the soil to
mash and pound and tread it into soft mud, until the poor beasts are
utterly wearied and are splashed from head to foot with the filth, which
in due time the young rice plants will clothe with their tenderest
green. I mean the ingenuity with which they terrace the hills; tap the
streams at their highest sources, and lead them down step by step over
the terraced fields; or by long channels bring them from one basin to
another, making the water do duty many times over and securing abundant
fruitfulness. Very pleasant to the eye are these bright terraces when
the rice is young. Rich in rice are the valleys of Ambohimandroso and
the broad fields of Ikala; but nothing can exceed the skill and care
expended on the amphitheatre of Nandihízana, in which the terraces
descend step by step from a great height, and a lavish supply of water
from three streams, covers them year by year with a golden harvest.
It was in the weekly market of Nandihízana, that we saw as good an
illustration of the products of the Betsileo, as in any part of the
province. The chief articles exposed for sale were rice, manioc, Indian
corn; in meat, pork, beef and fowls; and a little honey, on the purchase
of which there was reserved to the buyer the right of clearing the
spoon. The manufactures were very simple: lambas made of rofia fibre; a
little coarse silk; coarse but strong iron spades; spade handles, timber
rafters, thick clumsy window shutters, with the hinge-pin projecting
above and below; wooden spoons; leaf plates; grass baskets and earthen
plates.
We were surprised and disappointed as to the population. We had always
heard that the Betsileo were a million and a half in number. As we
traversed the country and saw how painfully empty it is, we asked
ourselves again and again: Where are the people? In a few broad basins,
in a few rich valleys, are built a small number of towns, having from a
hundred to three hundred, houses. Only Fianáran has five thousand
people, including the Hova garrison. Enjoying complete security, the
peasantry scatter themselves over the open country, not building their
houses in large clusters or in villages containing from a hundred to
five hundred people; but in _válás_; with two or three houses each; and
in the absence of wood, which will not grow in the hard, foggy climate
and the keen east winds, the eye looks with pleasure on the multitude of
green rings, the cactus hedges of these little hamlets, which stud the
hill-sides, or the terraces above the levels where the rice-plant grows.
The government reckon in all the Betsileo and Tanála provinces fifty
thousand _hetra_ or holdings, great and small. This number will indicate
as many families; even allowing for changes since the arrangement was
made. And that calculation would give for the entire Betsileo a
population not exceeding three hundred thousand souls.
In their religious knowledge and character the Betsileo people generally
are behind their Hova friends in Imerina. The latter have been under
direct missionary instruction for many years: and it was from some of
the faithful members of the Hova Churches, living in Fianárantsoa on
duty, that the province first received the gospel. It has now fairly got
in among the Betsileo proper: the former royal family, many Betsileo
nobles and judges, are professed Christians: the majority of the
scholars examined by the Queen were Betsileo. The Directors had long
planned to send English missionaries to the country districts of the
province, as well as to Fianáran, and had sent out men: but until the
time of our visit only Fianáran had really been occupied. That town has
three churches: and here Mr. Shaw presides over the Normal School: and
Dr. Parker conducts the Medical Mission. It was arranged during our
stay, that we should occupy as central stations in the country, the
towns of Ambositra, Ifánjakána and Ambohimandroso: and before we left
Madagascar, English missionaries were occupying the first and last.
There will be for the future seven missionaries in the province, with
Normal and Theological Institutions; and a good staff of schools.
These important questions all arranged and our personal visits all paid,
we commenced our return to the Capital. The season was advancing and the
rains might be expected before many days. We left Fianáran on Wednesday,
Oct. 15th, taking the road through the centre of the province by which
we had come. We spent the Sunday at Ambositra travelled direct to the
Mania by Isándrandáhy: saw the strange hills of Kiririoka: climbed the
Pass of Ambódifiakárana; and traversed the great granite moor above it
to the foot of Vótovórona, one of the finest hills in South Imerina.
Keeping to the east road, we rested at Ambatomainty, celebrated for its
rats; avoided Be-goáika, still more renowned for its fleas: obtained a
fine view of Ankárat and its peaks from Ankazoláva; slept at the foot of
the fine boulder hill of Iháranandrían; and reached the Capital, tired
out and ill, on Friday, October 24th. We had had a rough journey: but it
was worth all the weariness five times repeated, to see what we had seen
and to learn what we had learned.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER IV.
RETURN TO THE CAPITAL.
Return of the Queen and Military Expeditions—Thunderstorm—Public entry
into the City and reception by the People—Uniforms and ceremonies on
the occasion—Reason and Course of the War—Our Interview with the
Queen—Address from the Directors—Rest in the City—Home at
Análakély—Visits to the Institutions in the City—Worship with the
Native Churches—Festival of the Fandróana—Visit to Country Missions
in Imerina—Importance of these Stations—Vonizongo—The District: its
spirited people: their high principle: many of them Martyrs—Position
of an English Missionary in these Districts—Ambohimanga—Journey
thither across country—A Royal City: its sturdy people: places
around it—Ambátovóry: its beauty—Ambatomena and its People—Our
return to Antanánarivo.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER IV.
RETURN TO THE CAPITAL.
WE had just reached the city, and were beginning to rest after our weary
journey, when we were quickly followed by the Queen’s Camp, and by the
two military expeditions which had been absent in the south-west. All
parties were anxious to be safely housed before the rainy season set in.
All had observed those premonitions of its approach, which in every
country the unscientific seem to read so strangely. And all were anxious
that full advantage should be taken of the earliest showers to dig and
sow the rice fields. The camp arrived not a moment too soon. The tents
had only just been pitched on the plain of Imáhamásina, on Tuesday,
October 28th, when at sunset a violent thunderstorm broke over the city,
with a perfect deluge of rain. The system of drainage in force in
Antanánarivo is truly scientific, and is at the same time severely
simple. The water seeks the lowest level, and is allowed to run just
where it likes. All the outlets in the centre of the city on its west
side converge on the Imáhamásina plain. The camp therefore not only
received its fair share of the deluge from above, but became the bed of
countless streams below. The entire place was speedily under water. Her
Majesty the Queen was safely provided for on the top of the
dining-table. But boxes, bedding, dresses, guns, cartridges, were
speedily afloat, and the plight of the new arrivals was pitiable in the
extreme.
On Thursday, October 30th, the Queen made her public entry into the
city: and the people gave her a most hearty welcome. The Queen is
exceedingly fond of her subjects, is truly interested in their welfare;
and her people yield her a simple but sincere affection in return. The
day was therefore a happy one on all sides: and the whole city shared in
the joy. The place of reception was Andohálo, a triangular space, on the
crest of the city-hill, a little north of the palace. Near the centre of
the green is the sacred stone, on which the sovereign stands. The sides
of the triangle slope upwards; are partially cut or worn into terraces;
and are bordered and overlooked by high houses, gardens and walls. These
places afford opportunity for a large number of spectators to dispose
themselves conveniently for any public gathering, such as a coronation
or the enactment of laws. They were therefore crowded to-day with people
of all ages, especially by women and children: it is said that sixty
thousand persons were present, and the coup d’œil was most effective.
White predominated in the dresses worn: but blue and scarlet, mauve and
purple, were present in abundance: and under a sky of brilliant blue,
with a sheen in the clear, sharp air, to which our own sombre country is
a stranger, the glancing of the light and the play of colour were truly
beautiful.
The inner boundaries of the assembly were, as usual in other countries,
kept by soldiers. The city guard were all in white and in native dress.
But the troops who had accompanied the Queen to the Betsileo were in
uniform. As at Fianárantsoa, there marched in not only the ordinary
soldiers with Brown Bess as their weapon, but men with the red coats of
the English infantry, with trousers having pink and white stripes, or
with red knickerbockers; and the young men in rifle green, armed with
the Snider rifle. The Armstrong gun, by many degrees the latest “infant”
of the artillery community, was brought up with care: and was duly
fired. The majority of the men are no doubt militia, and their weapons
are ancient and rarely used. Good powder is precious in Madagascar: and
the country people have immense faith in an empty gun. Nevertheless, one
feels a deep regret that the Malagasy government should keep so many
soldiers in arms: and should think so much of military matters.
To me the most interesting element in the military spectacle was this.
There stood before us, in groups, at the upper end of the assembly, some
five hundred men, wearing the uniforms of Field-Marshals, Generals,
Colonels and Sergeant-Majors; in coats of cloth or green velvet, and
even long-haired railway rug, covered with gold lace, with high braided
collars, and in many instances with epaulets. The larger proportion of
them were men in years, holding “honours” and still ranking as officers,
though practically “on the retired list.” Some of the uniforms must have
been imported in the days of Radáma, and some were of the pattern, both
of coat and facings, which we see in Hogarth’s sketches of military
life. These were “the ancient men” of the community, the cautious,
conservative class, of settled habits, who are afraid of change, and
whose influence acts as a powerful break upon those wiser men, who would
wish to promote real improvements in the social and public life of the
community. Their influence, we hear, has greatly diminished in recent
years: the strength and prosperity which are manifestly springing from
healthy changes have silenced their opposition; and it is quietly dying
out.
The hats on the ground were something wonderful. Such a collection of
specimens of the genuine British head-piece, it would be difficult to
gather in London itself, except amongst the stores of its Semitic
inhabitants. They were of all ages, shapes and sizes. They have been
kept with extraordinary care. Not one was black: they were all brown.
But not the rusty brown of London, with its dust underfoot and its
gloomy skies overhead. It was a rich, glossy brown, due to the sun and
the fresh breezes of Madagascar. There was the tall hat, an astonishing
production; the French hat; the narrow brim; the brim curled up; and the
brim sloping off into infinite space. And there were numerous, choice
specimens, the original owners of which it was impossible for the
initiated to mistake. As he looked with deep interest on those neat low
crowns and broad brims, one of the Friends present declared that they
could have come from no other place in the three kingdoms than an
Essex-Quarterly-Meeting. To me all this was most suggestive. Antiquated
hats, tall collars, costumes of days gone by, worn with satisfaction and
believed to be perfectly proper, brass bands and the roar of guns,
indicate ideas; and show the phases of opinion and of social life
through which this most interesting nation is passing.
At the upper end of the Andohálo plain had been erected a platform for
the Queen: and above it was the canopy which had been employed for her
coronation, and which bears the inscription: “Glory to God on high: on
earth peace: good will to men: may God be with us.” On the platform had
been placed her gilded chair and footstool: and a small table with a
crown. The English community stood in a group a little to the right and
front of this platform: the Norwegian Missionaries were close by: and
the members of the French Mission were a little beyond. Behind was a
band of judges and magistrates, in purple and brown lambas; with a small
knot of Arab merchants, who spoke Malagasy fluently. The guns were fired
all the morning, both on the lower plain and on the Andohálo hill: and
from nine o’clock the troops from the camp began to march steadily on to
the open green. About eleven, the scarlet umbrella appeared at the
western end of the little plain. Soon after the Queen alighted, stood
for a few moments on the Sacred Stone: and then walked, attended by the
Prime Minister, to the platform, whither the ladies of the Court had
preceded her. And when she appeared in front, amid the firing of cannon
and the music of the military bands, the people testified their delight
with shouts of joy. “May you live long, Ruler of Madagascar,” was heard
on every side.
The various ranks and classes of the people then in turn expressed their
congratulations and offered the “hásina,” a dollar, in token of their
loyalty to her rule. The governor of the city and his officers, the
judges and magistrates, heads of thousands and heads of hundreds, the
governor of Ambohimánga, the superintendent of powder works and others,
briefly reported the state of their departments: the Arabs offered their
homage: and then the European missions presented their congratulations.
The Queen made a brief speech in reply, thanking all parties for the
order observed during her absence, and for the good service they had
rendered. She expressed her thanks to God and her satisfaction, that she
had returned in health and safety: and briefly informed them of what she
had been doing among the Betsileo. The people responded with renewed
shouts: a general salute followed, both with music and guns; and when
the enthusiasm had begun to cool a little, the English present took it
up again, and gave a ringing English cheer, thrice repeated, which
rather startled the Malagasy, and with which the Queen was greatly
pleased. The Prime Minister next described the Queen’s journey and
proceedings in the Betsileo. He also announced that the Queen gave the
soldiers four months’ holiday after their long march: and she hoped that
they would diligently employ it in cultivating their fields, that so
they might have plenty of food. The assembly then broke up.
On the following Sunday the city churches were once more filled with
large congregations. All the members and preachers who had been absent
came to offer their thanksgivings, and to join in worship with their
families and friends. The military expeditions also returned to the
city. On Monday there was a crowded missionary prayer-meeting, and we
had the pleasure of hearing two of the principal officers describe what
they had done. The conduct of these expeditions was in many respects so
remarkable, that it would be a serious omission not to refer to them.
The reason why war had been declared against the Sákalávas was, that
they had refused reparation and apologies for plundering the cattle of
the Hovas. Among the Sákalávas are many fugitives and outlaws from the
Hova dominions; and it is to their evil conduct and bad advice that the
difference has been attributed. In one army, under the command of
Rainimáharávo, the chief secretary, were three thousand men. These
troops marched to the westward, to a point fifty miles south of the
Mania river, and three days’ march from the west coast of the island.
They suffered greatly from the heat: but they found their enemies, in a
town surrounded by water, and ornamented by magnificent tamarind trees.
They fought them for three days, and lost a large number of men: but the
enemy fled; the Hovas took possession: and then marched home again. In
the second expedition there were fifteen hundred men, under the charge
of Ravonináhitriniarivo: they marched on a line a hundred miles south of
their friends, and had no fighting. They had daily prayers in the camp:
and showed remarkable kindness to the tribes among whom they journeyed.
They treated the women and children with respect; they purchased their
supplies: and everywhere they left behind a name and reputation held in
honour. The Ibára chief said, “If this is the fruit of the praying, it
will be good for us to pray too.” Before their departure from the city,
a general contribution was made by the churches, to supply their friends
with quinine and other medicines, and with comforts needed in their new
circumstances. The people were deeply interested in all they heard of
their experiences. And when the Vonizongo levies returned home they
informed their friends: “We were never treated so before: our officers
were most kind: our wants were inquired into: and if we were sick, they
gave us medicine.” These were fine illustrations of the influence
exercised by Christian truth upon the Hova people.
A few days after her return the Queen kindly received my colleague and
myself, with several members of the mission, in special audience: that
we might place in her hands the Address which had been forwarded to her
by the Directors of the Society; and might offer to her and to the Prime
Minister valuable presents of which we were the bearers. Amongst these
was a beautiful casket from Mrs. Allon and the ladies of Union Chapel.
The Queen expressed herself as much gratified by the Directors’ words,
and said she would send her reply when we returned to England. In
reference to the younger missionaries who were presented with us, and
who had just arrived in the island, the Prime Minister said that they
were deeply interested to hear that two of them were about to settle in
the Betsileo province: and he appealed to the elder missionaries present
as to the protection and security which they had always received and in
which their labours were carried on. Our interview with them was a
gratifying one. There was a homeliness and a cordiality about their
looks and words, and a readiness to respond to our assurances of good
will, which showed that we are truly regarded as friends; and that they
are themselves truly anxious for the welfare of the people. Such was the
intercourse which my colleague and I continued to enjoy with them
throughout the period of our stay.
We paid formal visits at this time to other principal officers of the
government, men of high standing in the community. And as we came to see
and know more of them as days passed by, it was a matter of great
thankfulness to find that there are amongst them so many men of sincere,
simple piety and consistent life, whose families also entertain a strong
attachment to the gospel and to the churches of which they are members.
This is true of many younger men and women as well as of their elders.
At the same time, amongst some of the young men, things occur which
occasion deep grief not only to their English friends, but to their own
families.
What a treat it was at this time to enjoy the rest of a quiet life. For
four months we had been incessantly on the move: first in sea-life, in
fierce heat, rough waters and strong winds; then on land, up hill and
down hill in these Malagasy districts, journeying through the most
mountainous country I have ever seen. It was no wonder that we had
returned to the Capital, wearied and ill: and that it took many days to
recover from the exhaustion produced by our rough journeyings. But our
purpose had been accomplished; and we had already completed one valuable
portion of our appointed duties. The fresh air had not been without its
advantages. We had both come back as brown as gipsies; and my hands were
never so burned before by the sun and the air. What a treat it was to
see the sky of brilliant blue, and quietly to breathe the pure, fresh
breezes. The air was thin, but it was bright, clear and quickening, and
we revelled in it. The light and heat were far less powerful than in
India, and I enjoyed them thoroughly. The mornings in November were
exquisitely fine and fair. During the day the thermometer would rise to
72°-77°. And by a strange but convenient rule the thunderstorms would
come on after four or five o’clock in the afternoon. The lightning was
at times intense: it would run along the sky in silver veins; or shoot
to the earth like an arrow of molten gold, or throw a violet tint over
the red hills; while the thunder followed instantly with the roar of
artillery, and reverberated from hill to hill in long, rolling peals.
When we arrived the country was brown; or vast patches of it were
blackened by the grass fires that swept over them day after day. But now
the hills were clothed with grass fresh and young; and the rice growing
tall and strong in the flooded fields, hid the entire plain of Imerina
with a mantle of brilliant green.
For six weeks at this time I resided in Análakély, as the guest of Mr.
and Mrs. Thorne. And no one could have studied more than did my kind
hostess, to secure for me in my isolation, the comfort of a truly
pleasant home. Most gratefully do I cherish the memory of her
affectionate kindness: and deeply did I share the grief of many around
me, when in the month of April she was called away from her earnest
labours here to the higher service of the heavenly world.
The house we lived in is English built and of English pattern. It
contains six rooms of moderate size: laid out in two stories after the
following fashion:
[Illustration]
The roofs run from east to west over the two north rooms: and from north
to south over the dining room. And the house presents the following
appearance.
[Illustration:
MR. PEARSE’S HOUSE.
]
I give these particulars for two reasons. In erecting this house for the
Rev. J. Pearse, Mr. Pool not only provided a modest and comfortable
dwelling, thoroughly suitable for an English family; but in the form he
gave it he so exactly hit Malagasy taste that the people were charmed
with it. Wealthy natives began building others like it for themselves:
it became the model which they were anxious as far as might be to copy;
and scores of new houses like it may now be seen, not only in
Antanánarivo, but dotting the more distant parts of Imerina; to the
great comfort of the people and the improvement of the arrangements of
their homes. The large one-roomed houses of old Madagascar will, in due
time, disappear before these newer dwellings. Even the numerous Field
Marshals give them their approval, though they scarcely know how to use
them.
My colleague and I at this time enjoyed the opportunity of visiting the
principal institutions of the city maintained by the various missions.
We addressed the Theological students, for instance: visited the
Friends’ Boys’ School, and Miss Gilpin’s noble Girls’ School; our own
Girls’ Central School; the Normal School; and the Medical Mission
Hospital, to which Dr. Davidson had just returned after his visit to
Europe, and in which Dr. Mackie and he find so great a sphere of
usefulness. We were present also at the half-yearly meeting of the
Imerina Church Union; and were greatly struck with the interest which
the members took in the public affairs of the churches and the spread of
Christianity in the island.
It was a peculiar pleasure to me to renew my acquaintance with the
native churches of which the Society has now so many in various parts of
the world. I have worshipped with our converts in many languages and in
many lands. And everywhere I have admired the gentleness of that
Christian life which is being developed amongst the races of the East.
Our English Christian life is of a high order, full of energy, heroic,
tried in its principle, self-denying in its service, ever on the watch
against undesirable complications, dealing with the deepest problems of
religious, social and public life. Its loftiness of principle however
renders it a piety of a somewhat hard type, trammelled with the order,
the stiffness, the proprieties of many, many centuries. These Eastern
converts, made in our own time, are more free. They have more of feeling
in their nature, more sentiment, more of the affectionate and the
emotional in their life and worship. And what gentle Christians their
good women become. How these Malagasy people sing: and how they enjoy
their singing. An hour’s “service of song” is the ordinary prelude to
the Sunday morning’s worship. They have a fine sense of time: they
appreciate harmony in the highest degree: they always take four parts;
and when (as in the Capital) they are well taught, they sing with a
fervour, a sweetness and a plaintive tenderness, which often brought
tears into my eyes. It is very refreshing to see their simple piety,
their delight in worship, their strong attachment to the Word of God.
This is the good side of these churches, the encouraging element in the
Mission work around us. There is alas! too much which is defective, even
in Imerina. In the Betsileo the people are still more backward. There
the outlying congregations get almost no teaching: good preachers and
competent teachers are few: the singing is poor; the schools are poor;
readers are few. We are anxious to meet these things: to spread our
English Missionaries more widely among them: the Normal Schools and
Theological Classes will year by year increase the number of trained
instructors. There is real life on all sides. We have now to build it
up: to nourish, feed and strengthen it in these children in the faith,
until, under God’s blessing, they grow up into the full stature of men
in Christ Jesus.
Every work on Madagascar describes the festival of the _Fandróana_. This
year it began on the fourth of December and we had the pleasure of
seeing some of its observances. Many superstitious rites were once
connected with the festival: in these Christian days it has become
almost entirely a season of universal fellowship and social regard. Fat
bullocks occupy a conspicuous place in its arrangements: and noble
specimens are brought into the city. They are slaughtered on a special
day: and then everybody sends to everybody affectionate messages and
presents of beef. Every family receives abundance: and the poor get a
large supply. Our native friends of all ranks sent huge quantities to
the Mission families; and our servants and dependents, the Mission
Hospital and the Church poor, came in for a good share. Christianity has
purified the festival and lifted it into a higher region of human
sympathy and consideration: and long may the Fandróana last, a national
Christmas in reality though not in name.
As soon as it was over Mr. Pillans and I left the city on a visit to the
three Country Missions already established in Imerina. To these and
similar stations the Directors of the Society attach the highest
importance. They gladly attach to the City a small number of
missionaries for the instruction of the Theological and Normal Schools,
on which all stations in town and country depend; and for the guidance
of the City Churches, whose views and example become the model which the
Country Churches copy. Beyond this limited number, the Directors are
anxious that every missionary available shall have pastoral charge of a
large district at a distance from the Capital; and that these brethren,
residing in the midst of their people, shall be to them new centres of
Christian light and life and power. They hold in high honour the men and
women who are willing thus to isolate themselves for the sake of the
Master and of the weak yet willing children who need their help. Such
men become “Bishops” indeed, during the youth of these imperfect
churches: we have many such in our Society; we see similar brethren in
other Societies; and great is their usefulness.
We proceeded in the first instance to the district of VONIZONGO, which
lies north-west from Antananarivo, at a distance of thirty miles: and we
started on Friday, December 12th. We had with us thirty men, of whom
fifteen had been our companions in the Betsileo journey: their wages
were sixpence a-day and twopence for food, out of which one penny was
clear profit! Our road lay through the City Market, across the rice
fields and along the embankments of the Ikopa river for several miles.
To the north we had the long ridge which bears the important town of
Ambóhidratrimo: once one of the twelve cities of Imerina, and the head
of a little kingdom. It contains three hundred houses, and on the crest
of the hill, above a mass of giant boulders, towers a splendid Amóntana
tree, which is visible over all Imerina. At a later period we visited
the town, and saw Mr. Baron settled in his new quarters. Beyond this
town, we passed through a great deal of swamp, the remains of the
original marshes of Imerina, and still full of the papyrus reeds, which
the people find so useful for roofing. Thence we skirted Ambóhimanóa, a
noble hill on a broad base, one of the great landmarks of the province;
rested for a while at Soávina; crossed the ridge of Ambóhimirímo;
entered the broad valley of Vonizongo; and after traversing endless rice
fields, on paths six inches wide, at the end of eleven hours, reached
the Mission-house at Fiháonana, and received a warm welcome from Mr. and
Mrs. Matthews.
Vonizongo is a broad open valley, fifteen miles wide by twenty miles
long. It has the noble mountain of Lóhavóhitra for its eastern boundary:
on the west is a long low ridge of the usual red clay. West of this
again is a fine valley, which has for its western boundary the lofty,
curving ridge of Ambóhimánga: outside of this running north-west to the
sea is the river Ikopa. The centre of the province consists of the sandy
clay, deeply scored by the strong streams which flow from Lóhavóhitra:
along the waters everywhere the levels are cultivated with rice, and
small villages are numerous. The northern part of the district is a
lofty moor, which clings to the skirts of the Ambóhimánga ridge, and
over which the east winds blow keen and piercing. Fiháonana, the chief
town, contains only seventeen houses. But it is and has long been the
residence of the chief of the local clans: and there are large villages
at a short distance. The population are much scattered: and there are
four or five clusters of villages, with fields and churches and a goodly
number of inhabitants, within eight miles of Fiháonana; which at once
point out the form which Christian labour must take among them: and
there are other clusters about Fierénana and in North Vonizongo to be
dealt with in the same way.
The inhabitants of Vonizongo have always been a spirited and independent
people. Radáma made soldiers of them, and he found them brave, enduring
and self-reliant. They used to have a multitude of chiefs, each with a
long pedigree and a longer tail of dependents and clansmen. The power of
the chief over his people was as great and as summary in its dealings,
as that of the Highland chiefs of old days: and the clannish feeling is
still very strong. The intelligence and spirit of these tribes led them
to appreciate the teachings of the missionaries in the earliest days.
Several lads from the district attended their schools in Antanánarivo;
and both Mr. Johns and Mr. Griffiths visited them. Indeed the
missionaries and the people felt an unusual regard for one another. The
missionaries found their teaching appreciated. The story of the Bereans
was rehearsed once more. “These were more noble than those of
Thessalonica: in that they searched the Scriptures daily whether these
things were so: therefore many of them believed, and consorted with Paul
and Silas: also of the devout Greeks, and of the chief women not a few.”
Can we wonder at the experiences which followed? The mother of the
present chief of the clans, was the first convert: her eldest son was
burned as a martyr for the Gospel: her second son was sold as a slave:
two men from the first little church, in their Christian zeal, went to
preach to the Sákalávas: were arrested on their return by the frontier
garrison; and were speared in the market-place for their Christianity.
One noble woman, Rabódománga, boldly gave testimony to her faith before
the judges: “I do not pray to wood and stone and to the mountains: unto
God alone do I pray.” Four of the sisters of this brave woman were
martyred. Of the fourteen martyrs who were thrown over the precipices of
Ampamarinana, seven were from Vonizongo.
Of Razáka, the pastor of Fiháonana, now growing grey with years, Mr.
Matthews spoke to us thus: “He is one of the most remarkable men I ever
met. To this man we owe not only the number, but the satisfactory state
of the churches in a large part of Vonizongo. He was sent to the coast
by Radáma II., while prince, before the death of his mother, in order to
see what the French missionaries were doing on the west coast. He was
captured by the Sakalavas, was sold to the French, and was taken to
Bourbon. There they tried hard to make a priest of him, but could not;
he knew his Bible too well. When they found that they could make nothing
of him, and that he was likely to turn some of their people from them,
by teaching the Gospel, they sent him back to Madagascar. He returned,
after some time, to his own village. Since the death of the old Queen,
in 1861, he has been not only the pastor of the mother church at
Fiháonana, but really the head of the whole district, and the man to
whom all the churches look as to their father and their guide. Although
only a clansman, and neither a chief nor a freeman, such is the respect
felt for the man, that he has more influence in the district than twenty
chiefs.”
It was a great pleasure to Mr. Pillans and myself to see this good man:
to talk with him of the hard days of trial; and to hear from his own
lips the story of the sufferings endured. He told us of the meetings
which the fugitive Christians held for worship and mutual help. They
used to come long distances to such meetings; tracts were lent from one
to the other, as a tract could often be carried, and hidden away under
their garments, when a Bible or Testament could not. Parts of the New
Testament were also lent about, even to single leaves; and leaves of the
hymn book and Pilgrim’s Progress. He said that they often used to long
for a rainy night, in order that they might be able to sing. He showed
us the underground passage beneath the floor of his house, by which,
when the soldiers came to search, the inmates and visitors could escape.
He accompanied us to a pile of immense rocks, and showed us the little
cave beneath the big boulder, three feet high, into which they used to
creep for their meetings: and the hollow where their Bible was hid away.
He brought vividly before us the sufferings and the persecution which
his heroic brethren and himself had endured: and in him we realized
something of the power of that faith by which all had been sustained.
Few finer bodies of Christians have been won to Christ by modern
missions than these faithful men and women in Vonizongo.
[Illustration:
MARTYRS’ CAVE.
]
We remained ten days with Mr. Matthews, every day finding some new
object of interest. We accompanied him to the principal localities of
the district and made a careful survey of the whole: we ascended
Lóhavóhitra and had a fine prospect of the country to the west. We were
much struck with the respectability of the people: with their bright,
intelligent looks: with the self-respect manifest in the demeanour of
the Christian women; and with their hearty enjoyment of the religious
services at which we were present. Two of the most pleasant days we
spent in the island were occupied in visiting the northern groups of
churches at Ambóhizánakólona and Sambáina. We were glad to take the
pastors by the hand, especially Rainisóa, the pastor at Sambaina, the
son and nephew of faithful martyrs, himself a devoted instructor and
guide of the people committed to his care. We could not doubt the
genuineness and the thoroughness of Christ’s work in Madagascar, when we
visited churches like these.
We were clear also on the important point of the true position to be
held by the general body of English missionaries in Madagascar. All who
do not hold staff appointments in the Theological and Normal Schools,
but have the care of churches, should be placed in charge of districts
also. Each district should have its centre, with three or four
sub-centres. Instruction should be given specially and on system to the
preachers and pastors of the entire district: on system also to the
people generally by Bible classes maintained at the sub-centres: and to
the children in schools. An English missionary in Madagascar can rarely
visit the scattered congregations of his district; but by teaching and
advising all his preachers, and by systematically working on his
principal people at its centre and sub-centres, in the course of a few
years he will, under God’s blessing, contribute much to the
enlightenment of the whole. This form of labour is thoroughly approved
by the missionaries generally, and is carried out to a greater or less
degree in all the country districts.
We left Fiháonana on December 23d after a most pleasant visit, with a
view to spend Christmas with Mr. and Mrs. Sibree at Ambóhimánga, which
lies due east from Vonizongo. We passed under the west face of
Lohavóhitra, descending into deep gullies and crossing several streams;
came to the river Anjomóka, with which they unite: and which about
twelve miles farther to the west and south falls into the Ikopa. We were
now on the northern border of Imerina and were approaching the great
mountain mass of Andringitra, with its sacred, oracular caves. We passed
beneath the western buttresses of Miakótsy; and then under Andringitra
itself. It is a noble mountain, without any prominent peak, but
presenting an enormous mass with a high curved ridge, the most
conspicuous object in North Imerina. To the south are the long green
ridges of Ambóhipiháinana and Ambohipoloálina. Passing these we entered
a long and narrow valley under the ridge of Ambóatány, and early in the
afternoon arrived at Ambóhimánga.
The town of AMBOHIMANGA stands on the long gneiss ridge, which, under
the roots of Andringitra, forms the northern boundary of the Imerina
plain. The ridge has been broken through at various points; and the hill
of Ambohimanga is isolated from those parts of the ridge which lie east
and west of it. It is beautifully wooded on all sides. On the north side
the houses appear among the trees in three large clusters; and numerous
villages are scattered about the clay roots and slopes of the hill. On
the south the face of the hill is precipitous: and the gneiss rock shows
itself in grey masses, among the woods, in which the white, thin stems
of the Amiana trees, gigantic nettles, are specially abundant.
Ambohimanga is a royal city; it holds high rank in the kingdom; and
indeed is always associated with Antananárivo in public proclamations.
It was one of the twelve great cities of former days; and held almost
the highest position among them. It is a favourite royal residence. The
great defender of the idols, Queen Ránaválona, is buried here; and it is
probably far more from that fact, and from her known enmity to
Europeans, supposed to subsist still, that they are not admitted into
the city. The Malagasy hold far more literally than we do the idea that
if English missionaries were allowed to preach on the top of the
Ambohimanga hill, the old Queen would “turn in her grave!” The present
Queen twice visited Ambohimanga during our stay in the island: she was
there at Christmas, when we reached the place: and every day she would
sit out on the level rock at the summit of the hill, while the scarlet
umbrella indicated to her people that their sovereign was “eating the
air.” Ambohimanga contains probably five thousand people. The ruling
tribe of the place are termed _Tsi-máha-fótsy_, “those who do not grow
white” with fear; “the bold and true, in bonnet blue, who fear and
falsehood never knew.” They are bold and brave, but they are rough in
manners and rude in speech. They rather pride themselves upon giving to
every one, be it their sovereign or their missionary, a bit of their
mind. And they have yet to learn that rudeness is no ornament to
bravery, whether in Gaul, Goth or Northman; and that it is possible to
wear a velvet glove over an iron hand.
There are three Christian Churches in Ambohimanga: and excellent schools
both for boys and girls, conducted by Mr. and Mrs. Sibree. There are
numerous other churches in populous villages in the immediate
neighbourhood: churches out in the Imérina plain among the rice fields,
and churches all along the roots of Andringtra: churches in a great
valley to the northward, enclosed by noble granite hills, the Anátivólo;
and a cluster of churches five miles to the eastward on the edge of the
barren moors. As in the case of Vónizóngo, so with Ambohimanga and its
district, we felt what a noble sphere of effort it constitutes: and
admired the energy and devotion with which our friends in these country
districts have accepted their isolated position for the usefulness which
it secures. We were debarred from the pleasure of worshipping with the
city congregations; because they assembled around the Queen, at the top
of the hill and within the city gates, which no European, English or
French may pass. But we visited one or two of the district churches a
short distance away; we saw several of the Ambohimanga Christians, and
among them the sturdy pastor Rainikoto, whose father was priest of the
great idol, who guarded this portion of the country.
We spent some delightful days with our kind host and hostess and with
two other mission families, which were rusticating at Ambohimanga during
the Christmas holidays. We scoured the country, looking in upon the
“lions,” and finding among them many objects of interest. The idol
village of Amboatány we found embowered in trees, the Aviávy fig, the
Amóntana with its broad glossy leaves, and the gigantic nettle-tree, the
Amiana. Near it are the enormous boulders of Mánga-be. North of
Ambohimanga are three beautiful hills, richly clothed with green, with
flourishing villages at their feet. Four miles to the east on an
isolated hill is the old royal city of Ambóhidrabíby; it is named from
its king Rá-bíby, who is said to have discovered the excellence of beef,
just as Charles Lamb’s Chinese friends found out the delicate flavour of
roast-pig. He was a noted hunter too, and among the swamps filled with
huge reeds and rushes, like Macaulay’s Etruscan hero, he brought to bay
and slew the great wild boar, which was the terror of the country:—
“The great wild boar, which had his den,
Among the reeds of Cosa’s fen:
And wasted fields and slaughtered men
Along Albinia’s shore.”
From this exploit he was named Ralámbo. His tomb stands outside the old
house where he lived and is a simple structure. His lineal descendant,
the head of the tribe here, still occupies the house; and being of a
practical turn of mind ornaments his little garden with beans, cabbages
and onions, as well as dahlias and roses.
A mile from this antiquated town, we came upon a pretty chapel in
Ambodi-fáhitra, built with good taste in Gothic style and having
coloured glass windows. We were not expected: and were pleased to find a
good school of boys and girls busily at work. The pastor of this church
is a younger brother of one of the martyrs, Andriamán-anténa, who lived
close by. When I took his hand, said I was glad to see him, and told him
how his brother was honoured in England, he was profoundly astonished;
and said how could you know anything about me and him? The martyr’s
widow still lives and is one of the most hospitable ladies in all
Imérina. On two occasions we visited her house and were most comfortably
provided for.
On Monday, December 29th, we quitted this pleasant corner of Imerina,
for another mission station, Ambátovóry, which lies to the east of the
capital. As before we enjoyed the advantage of crossing the country by
an unusual route and of seeing a great deal that was new. The valley of
the Mámba we found full of villages and churches. Passing through the
ridge which bounds it, we came opposite a remarkable village,
Ambátomanóina, a mass of boulders of enormous size, but embowered in
trees. Thence we passed by the town of Soávina, the chief town of the
district, close to which the new mission-house has been built; and
winding in and out among the hills, soon reached the hospitable abode of
Mr. and Mrs. Peake, which had received us on our first arrival in
Imerina.
Ambátovóry is a place of peculiar beauty, and is in many ways fitted to
be the sanatorium of the Imerina Mission. It is only ten miles from the
capital. Bracing air, pure water, noble hills, rich cultivated valleys,
patches of forest, beds of ferns, and broad moors, contribute to its
beauty. Close to it on the east is the noble mountain of Angávokély; and
on the south a fine conical hill, Ambóhitsilého, covered with boulders,
and looking like an enormous pine-apple. The ground is high, 4600 feet
above the sea; potatoes grow readily, and the soil should produce wheat
and English grain and fruit. The Cape laburnum, with its rich clusters,
was in full flower: the little thorny Euphorbia brightened the hedges
with scarlet or yellow flowers; and all over the hills the wild flowers
were abundant.
In their religious knowledge the people of Mr. Peake’s district are far
more backward than their neighbours of the Imerina plain. And he will
have hard work to get them on. The population immediately around the
station amounts to about 12,000: but they are conveniently distributed
and three excellent sub-centres for regular visitation, can be formed at
no great distance.
There is one bright exception to this state of things. Among the new
arrangements of the mission, was the transfer of a group of churches
from the care of Mr. Wills and his people to that of Mr. Peake. And two
months after our present visit to Ambátovóry, in March 1874, we went to
the station again to be present on the occasion. Ten miles to the
northward, out on the great moors, is a noble ricevalley, abundantly
supplied with water. Around this valley are thickly clustered several
fine villages: Ambátoména, Antsámpandráno, and Ambóhitsehéno are the
chief: there are many others, and they contain in all a population of
more than five thousand souls. Several fountains burst from the higher
parts of the moor, and soon run into streams and rivers, all of which
are head waters of the Betsiboka. Two of these fine streams run together
at the foot of a hill, on which stands a fine village with a church. The
hill and village are called Antsámpandráno, “the meeting of the waters.”
From this point the river is called the Mánanára. A mile to the north,
it flows into a broad level plain, which forms the finest rice plain we
saw in the province except the central portion of Imerina itself. We
found the people a most amiable, spirited and intelligent people. We
visited them in three congregations. Each church was crammed; and in
every case there were two hundred and more listeners outside. In the
three churches we had not less than three thousand people, including
many children. They took a deep interest in the change of
superintendence: and heartily approved of it, promising to give Mr.
Peake a warm welcome among them. They received us most kindly and
treated us royally. At each place they wanted us to dine after the
service. We staved off their well meant hospitality the best way we
could. But our bearers were less scrupulous. They confessed to having
had two dinners within an hour and a half: and some of them tried a
third shortly after. We found that these good people were a colony from
Ilafy. And that they have themselves sent off a swarm, to people another
valley of the Mánanára, forty miles to the north; where they formed the
village of Anjozórobé and its neighbours.
Later on and after the visit to Ambátoména in March, we left Ambátovóry
to retrace our steps along the Tamatave road and pay a visit to Angávo.
After living long among the bare hills of Imerina, we were greatly
struck with the richness and profusion of the Angávo forest and with the
loveliness of the hills. We saw nothing to equal it in all Madagascar.
Thence we passed to Andrángalóaka, also on the borders of the forest,
and spent three pleasant days with Dr. Davidson. We saw also Mántasóa,
the great factory of former days, in which the chief workshops were
built by the Christian martyrs, who had been enslaved. We visited also
the iron district, and examined the claims of three towns in that
direction to be the residence of an English Missionary. Of these
Ambátomanga, the usual stopping place of visitors to the capital in
former times, was one. Hills, rocks and valleys, running streams, rice
fields, villages, succeeded one another in rich variety and ceaseless
numbers. In these country visits we added hourly to our knowledge of
this strange but interesting land, and understood more clearly the way
in which its people have been led and trained for their present
attainments and for the part which they have yet to play in the world’s
history. And we looked with deep interest upon the old idol village of
Ambóhimánambóla, with its great cactus hedges and inhospitable dogs; and
saw the spot, where in September 1869 the idol had been brought from his
house and burned before all eyes. “Behold how great a matter a little
fire kindleth.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER V.
HOW IT STRIKES A STRANGER.
Settling in the Capital—My Madagascar Home—Prospect over Imerina—Family
Life and Housekeeping—Our Servants, the Garden—Weather,
Thunderstorms—Beauty of Imerina—The great City Market: Food, Dress
and Manufactures Sold—Low Prices—Money—Settlements of the European
Families—Roads—Our Dress—The Sun—The Palace—Social Life in the
Capital—Lack of External Stimulus—Sources from which it may be
supplied—Memorial Church at Faravohitra—The Martyrs who suffered
there—Conference of Missionaries held in January—Topics
discussed—Resolutions and Arrangements—Concluding Meeting—Important
Re-arrangements resulting from it—Love of the Bible among the
People—The Churches in the City—Opening of the Memorial Church at
Ampamarinana.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER V.
HOW IT STRIKES A STRANGER.
THE rainy season had fully set in and we prepared to settle down in the
Capital for three or four months. Busy times were before us. We had to
hold important consultations with the missionary brethren respecting the
arrangements of the mission: we had correspondence to maintain with
home: and there was much to accomplish in working out our numerous
observations and framing maps of the Imerina and Betsileo Provinces. Our
first work was to provide a suitable home for this period of our stay.
Mr. and Mrs. Pillans found a neat little house on the east side of the
City-hill: and with the help of an excellent native woman and her
husband, intelligent, kind-hearted and upright people, they managed
their novel housekeeping exceedingly well. Mr. and Mrs. Grainge kindly
received me into their house; and until I finally left the city they
provided so kindly and considerately for all my wants, that it became to
me a very pleasant home.
Our house was situated at the end of the Faravóhitra hill; on a long
clay spur projecting to the north and east, which spread out into a
level terrace, with steep banks on its north and west sides. The house
faces the west, and has opposite a noble mass of granite rock, above
which stands conspicuous the Faravohitra Memorial Church. From the north
side of the terrace we had a beautiful view over the Imerina plains. The
wooded hill of Ambóhimánga; the solid arched ridges of Andringitra, the
lofty peaks of Lóhavóhitra, and the broad massive hill of Ambóhimonóa,
formed the outer border of the landscape. Naméhana was in the centre of
the picture on its round hill; on the right was Iláfy with its green
woods: while close before us were the large villages of Ankádifotsy and
Manjákaráy, with their dark red soil, their neat new chapels, their
numerous well-built houses and long walls.
Our house was limited in size, though it looked large; having but four
rooms round a large central hall. It was built of sun-dried brick; had
two gables on its west front; and a verandah all round. A weak point in
the house was, that though boarded, it was on a level with the ground.
The house was not native, but of English pattern, and would pass very
well for an Indian bungalow. My own room was soon put in order: and with
its camp bed and washing-stand, a solid table, a deep wardrobe, my
travelling-trunks, and its little fire-place, it was a cosy, comfortable
den. The broad shelves of the wardrobe contained my books, clothes and
instruments: and kept my papers, maps and letters within easy reach. On
the top were ranged a camera, my tool-box, a small chest of tea, and a
supply of English stores. Here I passed many months of pleasant toil,
editing the Conference Papers, conducting correspondence, drawing maps;
and holding friendly consultations with numerous visitors, who came to
talk over serious matters, or perhaps have a quiet chat over
four-o’clock tea.
As in all Christian missions abroad, our family life was very simple.
The meals were breakfast, dinner and tea: the English supper, as in
other tropical countries, being omitted. Beef was the chief meat
available; and occasionally good mutton, with the long, fat tail.
Turkeys, ducks and fowls we could buy in abundance. The potatoes were
moderately good; stewed peaches are a dish for a king; and peas are
becoming common: but the country has few green vegetables like those of
England. The Malagasy have no cakes and no bread. These are made in the
mission families from flour imported either from England or the Cape.
Good coffee is being grown on the island: but our tea and sugar, sauces,
oils and pickles, were all imported. Good jam is made from the Cape
gooseberry, well known in India, and also from the mango: but all the
usual English jams were imported from home. Of eggs and milk we could
obtain a good supply: and butter was made in the house; on the primitive
system of shaking the milk in a bottle. The stock of rice in the markets
is large: but we could not get for an English table the many finer kinds
which are so abundant in India.
Our Malagasy servants were not nearly so skilful, so neat in their dress
or so regular in their habits, as are servants in India. They have been
under English training a comparatively short time; till recently many of
them have not been able to earn money for themselves: and they have
lacked the great motives to personal improvement and diligence by which
the free service of India is stimulated. What curious costumes they
would at times put on! What strange cookery they would produce! What
vagaries they would be guilty of! Indian servants worry their mistresses
enough in household arrangements: but I am afraid that the Malagasy
servants are a greater worry still. My own servant was willing and
attentive; but he was not strong: and certainly he went through a great
deal and travelled far in the course of my wanderings in the island. His
wages were six shillings a month for service; and two shillings extra
for food: and on that magnificent sum he maintained a wife and two
children; kept his house in repair; and subscribed systematically to his
church funds. I learned much Malagasy from him: and with occasional
interpretations of difficult matters from my host and hostess, we
managed to understand each other tolerably well.
Our house stood within a large garden: and the pains taken by my hostess
in cultivating it were rewarded by seeing it for months together bright
and gay with flowers. Many of our English flowers grew readily: but
nothing could equal the coxcombs in their beauty. The flowers were
enormous: we had eleven in the garden, all handsome in form and of a
deep rich crimson. But one, the pride of the garden, grew to be
thirty-two inches in length and eighteen inches across: and when finally
cut off, close to the green stem, it weighed two pounds and a quarter.
It was a truly splendid flower.
Our garden was a very practical place also. We grew English peas, broad
beans, French beans, carrots, mint and vegetable marrows. We had a large
number of mango-trees, which yielded a good crop of mangoes, and several
bibás or loquat trees, which also gave very sweet fruit. And several
cucumber vines secured a regular supply of English cucumbers.
During the rainy season, from December to April, the weather was
exceedingly pleasant. The sun was hot: but the air in Imerina is thin
and the heat was not oppressive or fiery, as on the coast or in the
plains of India. The thermometer usually stood in the shade at 75°.
Under a strange but convenient rule the storms and thundershowers rarely
fell before four in the afternoon. But often during the evening they
would burst with great violence: the lightning would stream in chains of
molten silver all over the sky; the thunder would follow in sharp,
cracking peals with a terrific cannonade; and then the rain fell in
torrents. During the morning the air was exquisitely fresh and crisp and
pure: the sky was a pale, delicate blue; the light was sharp and
brilliant; and we could distinctly see objects many miles away, as if
they were close by.
The view from the platform on which our house stood, over the plain to
the northward was wonderfully beautiful. Bordered by grand hills and
studded with hundreds of villages and towns, Imerina is in many respects
one of the most picturesque provinces of Madagascar. Here it is gay with
the bright green of the young rice: there it is shaded with the dark
woods of Iláfy and Ambóhimánga. Here the great turtle-head rock of
Ambátomaláza stands conspicuous in the landscape, or the lofty pillars
of the Three Sisters; there are the long slope of Fándravásana, the
rugged peaks of Antóngona, or the towering masses of Ankáratra. Here lie
the quiet waters of the Queen’s Lake, with its little island embowered
in trees; there are seen clusters of villages with their brown huts, the
green ramparts of Ambóhidrapéto or the lofty amóntana of Ambóhidratrímo.
It was impossible to survey this wide-spread scene without feelings of
exhilaration and delight. We know the golden glory which at sunset
lights up the snows of Switzerland: but nothing can exceed the sharpness
of the light as it plays over the landscape in the crisp, clear air of
Madagascar after refreshing rain; and no pen can describe the deep
golden blush which beautifies the red hills with an unearthly radiance
when the autumnal sun sinks calmly to rest. Day after day, from the
terrace of my Madagascar home I looked with feelings akin to rapture
upon that wondrous scene. For I saw on every side not merely material
beauty, the grace of form, rich tones and tints of colour, or the
bountiful supply for a people’s wants; I beheld the proofs of a young
nation’s progress; new houses rising in the villages; new houses of
better pattern for the wealthier classes. I saw the fortressed hills
deserted for the open plain; peace, security, mutual confidence had
taken the place of intestine war: I saw the new school-house and the
handsome church, intelligent children and devout congregations; I saw
that men were living in truer fellowship with men, because together they
were striving to rise higher towards God.
The great market of Antananarivo was a place full of interest to us
strangers. It is called the ZOMA or Friday, because it is held upon that
day. It stands on the north-west of the city; on the hill which forms
the outer side of the Analakely valley. It is lozenge-shaped, and its
sides are about sixty yards long. It may once have proved spacious; but
the requirements of the place have outgrown the accommodation and it is
now far too small for its work. It is believed that thirty thousand
people come into it from the country every Friday. The south side of the
market extends to the public road, and there have been erected a line of
booths, covering wooden platforms, which in Madagascar form the nearest
approach to shops. Everywhere else there is a great absence of
convenient arrangements for the display and sale of goods. A few squares
of raised clay, a few wooden frames, a few large umbrellas, these are
the only fittings. In most cases the traders just lay their goods on the
ground on mats or a white cloth. There are also no fixed roads through
and across the market-place, and it is as difficult to move through the
dense crowd as through a herd of cows.
The articles sold form an excellent index of the degree of civilisation
which has been reached by the people. There is a loose classification of
them to be found in various divisions of the market. Firewood is brought
in large quantities from the forest: but it is not large wood, it is
mostly brush. Huge piles of _hérena_ also are close by, a broad-leafed
papyrus, most useful for thatching: beams, boards, poles and door-posts
are brought in considerable quantities: they are prepared in the forest
solely by the hatchet: a noble tree makes but one board, which sells for
half-a-crown; and the waste in preparing it is enormous. The principal
meat sold is beef, of which there is abundance throughout the island.
Good mutton also may be had, of the fat-tailed sheep; and plenty of
pork, which I do not recommend. The sheep are tied together by their
legs. Turkeys, ducks, geese and fowls appear in large quantities. Rice
abounds, of several kinds; and is sold both cleaned and in the husk.
Potatoes are provided more for the English families than for the natives
generally; and with green peas, are usually brought to their houses.
Yams and sweet potatoes are abundant; and also Indian corn. Green
vegetables are not common; some twelve or fifteen kinds are known and
eaten by the people: but they do not form so decided an element in their
food as in England. Rice is all in all to the Malagasy. There is a good
supply of fruit in the market; the bananas, large and small, are good:
pine-apples are abundant, good and bad; also green lemons, large, red
tomatoes, mulberries, wild peaches, and a little round fruit, the Cape
gooseberry. There is plenty of honey: also of tobacco, of native growth.
The tobacco is sold in leaf, stalk and powder: with little snuff-mulls
made from bamboo; and the people do not smoke, nor smell, but suck and
eat it!
All varieties of the common native lamba appear on the stalls; whether
made from cotton or from the palm-fibre; with English chintzes, printed
cottons, calicoes and long-cloth: and in wearing imported dresses the
natives seem to consider as an ornament the name of the English
manufacturer or merchant stamped on the cloth in large blue letters.
Lambas with striped borders are favourites with the natives: but there
is a fashion in these things, and the fashion changes in Antanánarivo,
as well as in Paris. Fine straw hats are common: they are worn by the
Hovas with a broad black velvet band, and make a handsome headdress.
Flimsy umbrellas with double cover, through which the sun shines
powerfully, are numerous and cheap. Good mats also may be purchased, as
well as coarse and common mats. Silk lambas are not exposed for sale in
the market, for solid reasons: but baskets of cocoons, both yellow and
white, may always be seen: they are small in size. Hanks and skeins of
the silk are common, white, yellow and brown.
There is a good supply of iron work in the market: but it is rough and
coarse. Heavy spades; nails of various sizes; hinges, locks, pincers and
tweezers, hatchets, choppers, hammers and trowels, are sold in
abundance, all of native work. Many articles of a superior kind, saws,
hatchets, padlocks, hinges and the like, are English. Of native crockery
and glass there is nothing: it is all English: and the English houses
that import it seem to think that flaming patterns suit the native
taste. A great deal of crockery is gradually being introduced among the
people, who find dishes, bowls, plates and cups exceedingly useful. A
bottle is much prized in Madagascar, as in India. The native pottery is
very poor: it is ill-burnt and very brittle. Still water pitchers, jars,
plates and saucers (both red and black) are brought to the market in
large quantities. The potter’s wheel is not known in Madagascar, as it
is in India; where excellent tiles are made on it, as well as vessels of
many kinds. There is good tin ware in the market: cups, water-scoops,
and blue boxes with round and flat lids. Neat wooden boxes also are
sold; but they are heavy. There was one stall in the market, for
lozenges and tea: and a Christian schoolmaster had one, for the sale of
slates, books, pencils, steel pens, note-books and paper. Lastly there
were always for sale a few slaves.
Many things that may now be purchased in the city are not brought to the
market at all. Good boots and shoes are increasing in numbers: and the
natives work them neatly: but the sole-leather is poor and ill tanned.
House furniture on English patterns can be made to order: sideboards,
wardrobes, tables and chairs, can be purchased at moderate rates. The
native carpenters also produce all the fittings of schools and churches,
window frames, and Venetian shutters, and doors and flooring for houses.
To me the prices of all these things were an object of constant
amusement; they were so low. A lady would tell her cook to bring home
from the market six-pennyworth of sirloin; and receive some five lbs. of
beef as the result. I once sent into the Capital a bushel and a half of
potatoes for which I paid a shilling. Common pine-apples came into the
market, five hundred for a dollar, that is ten for a penny: beautiful
pine-apples were a penny each: a large dishful of good mangoes cost
twopence. Beams and rafters, four inches by six, and twelve feet long,
would cost from sevenpence to tenpence each. We used to get forty eggs
for a shilling in the city: in the country they had a fancy price and
were a penny each. A large turkey cost a shilling: a fat fowl, twopence.
Wages are of course low in a country like this: they are lower even than
in India: but food is also much cheaper. In one district we found that
sixty lbs. weight of maize was sold for threepence: rice was equally
cheap and plentiful. With improvements, expenses are increasing, and
prices are slowly rising: security, honesty, diligence properly demand
higher wages; and they furnish in abundance those increased resources by
which such wages are paid.
With increase of civilisation, production and sales there has naturally
arisen an increased demand for money. The Malagasy have no coin of their
own: and the want is supplied by a constant importation of French
silver. The only coin which passes current with the people is the
five-franc piece, which has the value of a dollar, i.e. four shillings.
The whole piece represents what is a large sum to a Malagasy. To provide
therefore for small payments the dollars are cut into halves, quarters,
eighths, and smaller pieces. Some men can get six hundred pieces out of
a dollar, each piece having a portion of the stamp on it. This broken
money is sold or paid by weight: and every household, English or native,
has its little weights and scales for the purpose. Coins of the Malagasy
government, both silver and copper, of various values, will be a great
improvement on this inconvenient system. But it will take time to
introduce them. I learned in India that on no subject are natives so
sensitive as on that of coined money.
The European community live principally in the northern parts of the
city: a goodly number reside near the earliest seat of the mission in
Análakély: a large group again occupy the upper part of the Faravohitra
hill, among whom the Friends are conspicuous. Three of the public roads
were in constant use amongst us, as they united the various houses and
settlements together. The road along the top of Faravohitra going south
climbs a steep part of the city-hill and terminates in the Andohalo
plain. Close by its termination a road runs westward: it passes the
Girls’ Central School, the Normal School and the London Society’s Press:
then turns down the hill at the head of the Analakely valley, and passes
the Norwegian Church to Ambátonakanga. Turning north under the walls of
the Memorial Church there, it descends into Analakely, then keeps up the
side of the Faravohitra hill, until it joins the first of the roads at
the north end of that hill. I was anxious to see these three roads well
paved: to see them made a model of what the city roads and paths should
be. But difficulties were suggested and it was thought that the expense
would be heavy. Nevertheless a good beginning would have been worth
something; and I yet hope to hear that the project will be carried out.
At present all the city roads are in a bad way, even at their best. At
Ankadibevava, the road which enters the city on the east has a yawning
gulf at its side, which would not only swallow one Curtius and his
steed, but would bury a dozen enterprising young Malagasy similarly
mounted. A strong stream of water from open drains pours into this
gully, which year by year is growing deeper. The heavy torrents of rain
which fall in a single thunderstorm cut up the ground badly wherever
they are permitted to run uncontrolled. And it is because so little is
done both to check them in their fall, and to repair the damage when
once produced, that the city roads are in such an uncivilised condition.
If once put right, they must also by constant care be kept right. But
the need of that care is no reason why they should not be repaired at
all.
In moving about during the day my Indian experience led me to be careful
of exposure to the sun. I wore a light woollen dress: my Indian helmet
of pith proved most useful; and I carried a large double umbrella. We
had all to guard against the morning mists and the strong east winds:
and there was a constant tendency to get chilled by changes of
temperature in the pure, thin air. Such chills, I found, were far more
frequently the cause of fever in our native bearers, than anything else.
We walked as much as we could without suffering fatigue: or were carried
by four men, in the usual _filanzan_; which is the back and seat of a
chair hung on to a pair of well-fitted poles. We observed with interest
that after sunset the streets of the city are completely deserted by the
natives: and in moving about we always carried lanterns.
[Illustration:
THE QUEEN’S RESIDENCE.
]
Beyond Andohálo, proceeding south, we rise to the highest part of the
city-hill: and here in a cluster stand the Queen’s Palace and many
houses of the Prime Minister and the chief nobles of the country. The
Great Palace is growing a more conspicuous object than ever; owing to
the verandah of stone pillars by which Mr. Cameron is now strengthening
it. When finished it will be a handsome building: but it has been a
heavy tax upon the people’s energies. The Queen’s residence is a smaller
palace of wood just behind. Close to it is the Royal church, a handsome
building also, erected after an English pattern by Mr. Pool. These
various buildings have often been sketched by writers on the city; they
are shown in the frontispiece to this volume; and I need only refer to
them. The many improvements introduced into them in recent years, as
well as into the churches and dwelling-houses in their neighbourhood,
give striking indications of the great advance made by the upper classes
in the island.
Our social life in Antanónarivo had few excitements. More than twenty
families are now stationed in the city, connected with the different
missions; and constant and most friendly intercourse takes place between
them. My colleague and myself were made most welcome in their pleasant
homes, and the friendship extended to us did much to lighten the burden
of what would otherwise have proved a somewhat lonely life. Social
gatherings frequently took place. But the most pleasant of all was the
regular Friday-evening prayer meeting, held at the different houses in
succession; at which thirty or forty were present; and which was felt to
be a constant stimulus to spiritual life and power, where external aids
were so largely wanting. Our English service on Sundays in the Andohálo
school-room furnished similar help. By common consent my colleague was
installed as principal chaplain during our visit: and his wise counsels
and the ripe Christian experience embodied in his discourses, were not
only a present help and pleasure, but will be long remembered now that
he has returned home.
We all felt much out of the world in Madagascar. To the great world
which we had left, the trade, the government, and the people of the
island, are linked by very slender ties. The Malagasy know very little
of foreign lands: few understand the English language and the condition
and affairs of England. Those who have been to England have not felt
free to tell what they saw: in former days it would have been dangerous
to tell it: for to depreciate Madagascar by showing the superiority of
other countries was neither more nor less than high treason. Knowledge
is increasing among them; the pictures and sketches of the _Illustrated
London News_ and the _Graphic_, are teaching them many things: and the
monthly periodical, _Tény Soa_, issued by the Mission, systematically
describes many others. Perhaps it is well that, where they are so far
behind the great world, the knowledge of that world should not be
brought to bear upon them too fast or too far. The mass to be lifted is
broad and heavy: power may well be applied to it by degrees and
steadily: it is rising now and will be lifted more rapidly in due time.
Meanwhile the vis inertiæ around them exercises a most depressing
influence on the English community. Its tendency is to weary out the
efforts of the enterprising, to damp the spirits of the cheerful, and to
produce languor in the earnest. We could not but notice this immediately
when we arrived. There was a stillness in the air which was in strong
contrast to the active life which we had just quitted. There seemed a
want of cohesion, of the active co-operation, which we naturally looked
for. The diligent were working earnestly, but alone. The stillness had
doubtless been intensified by the fact that the mission were waiting for
those final rearrangements, which had been in preparation for some time,
but the details of which had yet to be shaped out in consultation with
ourselves. We also felt the influence of the quiet. The quick, electric
life of London, in politics, in scientific discussion and religious
thought was gone. We had only one mail a month, which at its best
brought us a limited supply of news. Even this mail was irregular. The
postmaster at Bourbon through whose hands the bulk of it passes,
occasionally detained the mail till next time; or suddenly began
charging us sixteen shillings postage on some newspaper; or was guilty
of other vagaries inscrutable by an ordinary mind. We received a few
periodicals, and there reached us indistinct echoes of parliamentary
discussions, of startling addresses by Huxley or Tyndall; of the Indian
famine, and of the revival commencing in Scotland. The mail which should
have brought us intelligence of the great break-up of the Liberal Party
and the election of the new House of Commons, never came at all, till
its successor reached us.
Such things greatly affect the English communities abroad. Who can
wonder that as years go by they fall somewhat behind the age: and that
the more isolated they are, the less complete is their knowledge of the
society which they quitted and their sympathy with the progress which it
has made. This is a point to which the attention of English missionaries
in all countries should be carefully directed. Their function and their
work are of the loftiest kind. They are the sources of spiritual power
to tribes and nations destitute of it. The converts and their churches
look to them for counsel and instruction in regard to things present,
and for stimulus and suggestions in respect to future progress. So long
as their zeal and self-denial are fresh, their enterprise will be fresh
and spirited also. If they lack spring and energy, they will fall into
routine; their watchfulness will give place to dullness: and continued
advance will be slow, if not impossible. I used to feel these things
when in India: and was glad that in a city like Calcutta the external
aids to the maintenance of freshness and vigour in our work were
numerous and powerful. We had frequent mails, a good supply of the
latest English literature, discussions in the Calcutta Missionary
Conference, and friendly counsel and co-operation not only amongst
ourselves but in the different Societies. Such aids will ever be of high
value, but the greatest help of all will be found in a continued and
lofty self-consecration to that high aim which above all men on earth
the Christian missionary professes to follow; will be found in the rule
“One thing I do,” “looking unto Jesus, the author and the finisher of
faith.”
Shortly after our return from Ambátovóry, in the beginning of January,
it was arranged that a GENERAL CONFERENCE of the English missionaries
should be held in Antanánarivo, to consider the present position and
needs of their missionary work in the island. The place chosen for the
meeting was the Memorial Church at Faravohitra: and it was impossible
not to associate the present prosperity of the mission and its
consequent demands, with the uncompromising fidelity of the martyrs from
which they have sprung. Mr. Pillans and I took the deepest interest in
all the details of that great day of suffering, which the Faravohitra
Church specially commemorates. We heard the story from men who had
witnessed the events: we trode every step of the ground which the feet
of the sufferers have made evermore sacred: and from the platform on
which the church stands, every spot connected with it from its beginning
to its close was before our eyes. It was patiently rehearsed for us: the
crowded assembly on the Análakély plain beneath: the booming of the
cannon; the agitation of the people: the sentence pronounced by the
judges on the noble four, of death by fire. There (we were told) they
mounted the red clay road, singing: “There is a happy land, far, far
away:” here they crossed the bare granite rock: there they rounded the
old tombs: here they reached the weird, waste ground, whereon the
brushwood was already piled. Around them were the silent crowd, that
wondered and trembled but could not understand them. We stood on the
spot where they died; where they died joyous, triumphant, singing and
apparently without pain. In the first meeting of the Conference we sang
their dying hymn: a hymn which is now used as their dismission-hymn by
more than a thousand Christian congregations in Madagascar every
Sabbath-day. It is always sung to the tune _Mariners_.
“Grant us, Saviour, royal blessings,
Now that to our homes we go;
Fill our hearts and lives with gladness,
Make us love divine to know:
Gladden us with joys of heaven,
In this desert world below.
“Thanks we give Thee, Holy Spirit,
Who hast taught us words divine:
May we learn the holy lesson,
Let Thy face upon us shine:
Dwell in us, enlighten, lead us,
Nothing would we be but Thine.
“And when earth no longer keeps us,
When shall end life’s little day,
Bear us to the upper heaven,
Father, in Thy house to stay:
Joy unspeakable our portion,
There, for ever and for aye.”
The Conference commenced its sittings on Tuesday, January 13th, and with
a brief interval sat till Thursday, the 22d. There were present during
those sittings some sixty members, including the missionaries of the
Friends’ Association, our brethren in the country stations of Imerina,
and two brethren from the Betsileo. One half the members were ladies,
who took much interest in the discussions, and attended the meetings
with great regularity. The daily devotional service proved very pleasant
and profitable to all. The harmony that prevailed was delightful; the
discussions were active and lively: the papers read were full of
information, and the conclusions reached were all but unanimous.
I need not enter into detail respecting the important questions
considered during this Conference. There were six points, however, lying
at the very centre of the present system of operations, on which
considerable advance was made, to which I must make brief reference.
_a._ In Education, it was desired that the Theological Institution
should take men for short courses as well as the long, full course; that
it should be enlarged so as to be a “College” for general instruction,
with good English classes; and that the best congregational schools
should teach English to their topmost classes in order to feed it. Great
anxiety was expressed to improve the congregational schools.
_b._ It was resolved, that it would improve Pastoral and Episcopal work,
to concentrate it more fully at certain points; to establish a good
Central Station in every district, with three or four Sub-Centres: that
it would be well to make preaching at those centres more full and
systematic; and to have Bible Classes, few but taught with great
regularity.
_c._ New districts in the country were desired on all hands: and that
the men appointed to them should leave the capital and occupy them
without delay.
_d._ Great anxiety was evinced to watch over the admission of members to
the native churches; by firm discipline to reduce the present excessive
numbers; to enlighten the churches as to their responsibilities; and to
improve the present forms of worship.
_e._ While desirous to secure the voluntary gifts and willing service of
the churches, as hitherto, the Conference were fully of opinion that the
local gifts are not sufficient, and the true zealous Christians are not
numerous enough, to sustain the well-trained evangelists and native
missionaries needful for the mission; and that additional money help is
needed from England, to be employed on the healthy conditions laid down
by our Directors.
_f._ All were anxious that the mission should seriously take up new work
at definite points among new tribes, as the churches also need an outlet
for their zeal.
There yet remained to apply our discussions to the actual improvement of
our own mission in detail. Hence naturally followed a District Committee
Meeting, which with its sub-committees, sat five days. The meeting was a
thoroughly good one and got through a great amount of solid work. The
brethren in many respects placed the mission in Imerina on a broader
basis than before; they adopted some important principles as elements of
the system on which it shall be instructed; and they agreed so to locate
themselves in country stations, as both to spread their influence over a
wider area, and to make the labours of each co-operate with the efforts
of all around him. And now that the Directors in London have carefully
reviewed, extended and confirmed their recommendations, the great
purpose had in view in the recent enlargement of the Madagascar Mission,
and the fuller scale of expenditure for which the Society’s friends made
provision, will speedily be carried into effect.
The Conference meetings were concluded with a little entertainment to
which Mr. and Mrs. Pillans and myself invited all the members. It was
held in the Andohalo school-room and proved a great success. Tables,
tea-trays and crockery were willingly lent on every hand; the ladies
of the various missions were exceedingly kind, both in superintending
previous arrangements, and aiding the tea at table: our English stores
proved most serviceable and popular. In addition to the sixty members
of Conference, we had present six of the principal officers of
Government, and seven of the chief native ministers: we were
seventy-eight in all. After our little feast was over, we had some
capital speaking and some good singing, for about three hours. The
native guests liked this part of our entertainment extremely; at their
own feasts they simply eat for a couple of hours or so and then go
home. But here there was much cordial fellowship; the singing was
inspiriting; the speaking dealt with lofty topics and was full of life
and power: they were quite stirred by it and did their own part well.
Eloquently did Andriambelo contrast the present with the “dark days”
gone by. And heartily did Ravonináhitriniarivo (the head of one of the
recent expeditions) express his thanks to their friends “over the sea”
for the great things which they had done for Madagascar.
Soon after these consultations an event occurred which threw strong
light on the inner life of the people generally and on the religious
feelings and principles lying below its surface. After long waiting
there arrived in the capital a consignment of the reprint of the
Malagasy Bible, just prepared by the British and Foreign Bible Society.
It proved a neat, handy volume, and there were six thousand copies.
Looking at the value attached to a shilling by the Malagasy, it was
resolved to sell the Bible for that sum. The people were greatly excited
by the news of its arrival: the Depository was besieged by applicants
from the Queen downwards: and in a fortnight they were gone. Mr. Grainge
felt sure that if he had had six thousand more, every copy would have
been sold. Many of these Bibles were purchased by people in the capital
for their friends in distant parts of the country.
In the four churches erected in memory of the Christian martyrs, and on
the places where they were put to death, the Directors and friends of
the Society in England have taken a deep interest. In that interest my
colleague and I heartily shared, and it was a peculiar pleasure to us to
visit these buildings and to hear over again from the lips of preachers
and friends the story of the fidelity and the suffering of which they
are a memorial. Our first Sabbath service in Antanánarivo was in the
Ambátonakánga church in the centre of the city. We joined the meetings
of the Congregational Union of Imérina in the church at Ambóhipotsy. The
general Conference was held at Fáravohitra. And we were privileged to
share in the opening services of the church at Ampamarínana which was
completed during our visit. All these buildings are of stone; they are
great ornaments to the city; and they do great credit to the three
gentlemen who have superintended their erection. They are much admired
by the natives: and they have exercised a most powerful influence in
stimulating those improvements in building, which have distinguished the
city during the last ten years. A fifth Memorial Church, which will
render the list complete is now in course of erection. The Norwegian
Missionaries have also erected a large church near Ambátonákánga, with a
highly original spire. But these are not the only churches of importance
in the city. So far as the congregations are concerned there are five
other churches whose members are as numerous and influential as these:
while in the immediate suburbs some five or six more exist, whose
congregations are large. Including the Royal Chapel in which there is
now a fully organised Christian Church, there are not less than sixteen
churches in the city, which have sprung from the Mission and gather
large congregations of sincere and faithful worshippers every
Sabbath-day. All the principal families of the Imerina province are
directly or indirectly connected with them: while others will be found
in the churches of Náméhana, Ambohimánga, Ambátománga, and other
flourishing towns: and there are two congregations even in the old idol
town of Ambohimánambola. None can look upon the great transformation
which the city and province have undergone in recent years without
exclaiming “What hath God wrought?”
The fourth Memorial Church was opened (as I have said) during our visit:
and we held it a high privilege to share in the public services held
upon the occasion. The 28th of March 1874, was the twenty-fifth
anniversary of the terrible occasion on which the four nobles had been
burned at Faravohitra, and fourteen others had been thrown over the
cliffs of Ampamarinana: and it was resolved formally to open the church
at the latter spot and dedicate it to purposes of public worship on that
day. The church which, with the rocks beneath, appears in the
frontispiece, is a handsome building; the campanile tower stands well
out at the north-east corner, and the wheel windows with their stained
glass add much to the beauty of the interior. Large congregations
gathered to the services both on the Saturday and on the following day:
and the people manifested the deepest interest in them. Indeed on the
Sunday afternoon the church was crowded to its utmost. Many members of
the martyrs’ families were present. Others were there who had seen them
carried along the road. One was present who had officially shared in
their condemnation. These faithful witnesses whom nothing daunted, whose
peace nothing could disturb, occupied the first place in every one’s
thought; and their fidelity, their patient endurance, the uses of
suffering and God’s blessing on faithfulness were the topics made
specially prominent in our addresses, hymns and prayers.
The treatment of the matter in these public services required care: and
the members of the ruling family had many fears respecting it. The Queen
is a Christian: the principal nobles are Christians: they could not but
admire with us the principle and the faith of the sufferers whose death
that day brought to mind. But the persecutor, through whose stern
attachment to the national idols the martyrs had lost their lives, was
the present Queen’s aunt, and was her predecessor on a throne, whose
edicts have always been regarded by the Malagasy with profound respect.
It could not but be painful to the Queen to hear that anything hard or
harsh was spoken of her aunt, even on so sacred a matter as this. We
felt the difficulty: and from the high regard in which the Queen and
those around her are held, it was agreed that scarcely any reference
should be made to the chief mover in the sorrows of the past: but that
we should dwell prominently if not exclusively upon the martyrs
themselves. The course pursued was privately reported to the authorities
by some who were present at the services: and evidently gave them
satisfaction. So great is the revolution in the nation, so completely
has the rule of the idols and diviners passed away, that the injustice
and the mistakes of the wrongdoers may well be forgotten and forgiven.
As if to teach us this lesson, during the last few years, the rocks over
which the sufferers were thrown, have been thickly overgrown with dense
masses of the prickly pear cactus. And while their ashes rest in peace
under the shadow of the Memorial Church, and the grass is green upon
their grave, myriads of scarlet flowers bloom above the rocks once
stained with their blood, and cover them with a mantle of beauty fresh
from the hand of God.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER VI.
THE LAND AND THE PEOPLE OF MADAGASCAR.
The East Coast of the Island—The West Coast—Travels of M.
Grandidier—Maps of Madagascar—Mr. Cameron’s Survey—Additions made by
us—Size of Madagascar—The Mountain-mass along its centre—Terraces on
all sides—The Malagasy people a single race—Their Three Tribes and
their Sub-divisions—The Malagasy not an African race—Their Malay
origin—Evidence supplied by their Language—New Words from Arabic,
French and English—Reference to Madagascar by Marco Paolo—Early
Navigation of the Eastern Seas very extensive—Phœnician, Hindu,
Chinese and Malay—Madagascar colonised by Malays—Three independent
Movements—Traditions of the Hovas—Their Arrival in Imerina—Conquest
of the Vazimba—Increase in Imerina—Their recent History—Ralambo and
his Descendants—Impóin and his consolidation of the
Kingdom—Radáma—State of the Country, of Social Life and of the
Sakalava Tribes in his day—The people still a federation of
tribes—Their Institutions—Their steady growth in Civilisation, as
well as in Religious Character.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER VI.
THE LAND AND THE PEOPLE OF MADAGASCAR.
COMPARATIVELY little has hitherto been written on the geography of
Madagascar. French travellers and English officers, as well as
missionaries, have landed on the east coast and have journeyed up to the
Capital: and the character of the country along their route has been
fully and frequently described. The eastern coast of the island has
hitherto been better known to us than any other portion. The splendid
Bay of Diego Suarez; the wooded promontory on the east of Antongil Bay;
the colony of Benyowsky and the Isle of Ste. Marie; Foule Point and
Tamatave; the lake of Nósibé and the lagoons which follow it;
Andevoranto and Máhanóro and Mánanzára; the limestone cliffs of Anósy,
the rich vale of Ambólo, and the settlement of Port Dauphin; these are
the points referred to by successive writers from Flacourt downwards:
and all that needs to be said about them will be found carefully
compiled in Ellis’s History of Madagascar, written nearly forty years
ago.
Of the western part of Madagascar we know very little; though from the
breadth and richness of its provinces we should like to know a great
deal. Mr. Boothby in the time of Charles I. and Drury, in the days of
Queen Anne, give us information respecting St. Augustine’s Bay. Captain
Owen and the officers of the English navy, who in 1824 laid down so much
of the coast line, have dwelt upon the great harbours of the north-west.
To M. Guillain we are indebted for information respecting the same
quarter, the island of Nosibé, the Hova settlements near Pasandava Bay,
the town and port of Mojangá, and the Sákaláva districts as far as
Morondáva; and we owe much to Mr. Lyons Macleod, formerly Consul at
Mozambique, and still more to Mr. Ellis’s History, for giving us a
summary of this information. During his visits to the island, Mr. Ellis
scarcely touched the question of its geography; he took no observations
and prepared no maps: though to the botany of the island and to the
facts connected with the moral condition of the people he added greatly.
The traveller who has seen most of Madagascar previous to our visit is
M. Grandidier. This gentleman spent several years in the island between
1865 and 1870; and devoted much time and strength to the examination of
several of its districts. He lived for a considerable time on the
north-east and the west coasts: he travelled up from Mojangá to the
Capital; crossed the island through the Betsileo province; and visited
the almost unknown district of the Sihánaka tribe. His observations have
not yet been given to the world; he has read to the Geographical Society
of Paris, and has published, a sketch of his travels; and has published
a general map of the island on a moderate scale, far more correct than
anything which has preceded it. But the geographical world yet waits for
the complete story, which he promises them in ten or twelve volumes. He
was well known to our missionaries and respected by them.
All recent maps of Madagascar (except Grandidier’s) are traceable to two
sources. The coast line was laid down by Capt. Owen and his companions
in 1824. The detail of the interior is derived from the map of Colonel
Lloyd, published in 1849 by Mr. Arrowsmith: and Colonel Lloyd’s memoir
on the geography of the island will be found in vol. xx. of the Royal
Geographical Society’s Journal. In regard to this map Colonel Lloyd
says: “The coast line may be depended on as tolerably exact, having been
reduced from the various nautical surveys. For the detail of the
interior I cannot claim the slightest pretensions to correctness. It is
only an attempt to form approximately some foundation for future
inquiries, and more correct and extensive research.” Notwithstanding
this frank disclaimer, editors and writers have gone on copying this map
down to the present time.
In this important matter I have felt personally interested for several
years. Anxious at one time to provide for the Directors a good map of
the interior, we found that exact details were wanting. We knew the
names of prominent mountains, rivers and stations, but where to place
them no one could say. The Directors then applied to our missionaries in
the island: and several excellent journals and sketch maps were
communicated in reply. The principal contribution to our effort was
this. Mr. Cameron the senior member of the mission, after carefully
fixing the position of Antanánarivo, commenced a triangulation of the
plain of Imerina: and step by step prepared a most valuable map of those
portions of the province contiguous to the capital: the defect of the
map was, that though it indicated the chief positions, it did not
exhibit the form and height of the ground.
Aware that part of our duty would require us to visit the whole of the
central portions of the island, my colleague and I prepared to take
advantage of our opportunities and add something at least to the
knowledge of these provinces possessed by the geographical world. We
carried out our purpose under the happiest auspices. We were everywhere
received as friends. We invariably informed the Prime Minister of our
movements and proceedings; we were at liberty to go where we liked, and
we experienced nothing but hospitality and kindness. By special
permission we photographed the Queen’s Palace and the Royal tombs; we
planted our theodolite, compass and tripods on the tops of hills and in
the open markets; and we let every one know that we were anxious to make
a correct map of the country for their use as well as ours.
In the first instance we worked on Mr. Cameron’s lines. We went over a
great portion of his work; revised it from our own observations; and
extended it in all directions. To the north-west we laid down Vonizongo
as far as the population extends. West and south-west we carried the
survey to Ambohiveloma; over all Imamo, to Lake Itásy and the districts
of Mándridráno and Menabé. Thence we passed it through Betáfo and
Sirabé: enclosed the Ankárat mountains within it and measured their
height. With Mr. Cameron himself, as I have already shown, we continued
the survey down the Betsileo Province to its southern end. Eastward we
laid down Angávo, the moors of Ambátoména, the plain of Ankay, and the
Sihánaka Lakes. And finally by a route lying west of that taken by M.
Grandidier, we went down to the sea at Mojangá. The work proved most
enjoyable. We followed up the country step by step, greatly aided by the
numerous conspicuous hills, with whose names and appearance we soon grew
perfectly familiar. The MAP which accompanies this little volume is one
result of our work: and the red lines which mark our routes upon it will
show how fully we traversed the country and how much of it we saw with
our own eyes.
Much of the information acquired in our journeys will be found in the
several chapters which describe them, and which the various sections of
the map are intended to illustrate. It will suffice therefore here to
indicate the general structure and character of the island. The
navy-surveys show that the island of MADAGASCAR has a length of 818
geographical miles, measuring from Cape Ambro on the north to Cape St.
Mary’s on the south. The position of the former is in lat. 12° 2′ S.:
that of the latter is lat. 25° 40′ S. The greatest breadth of the island
from Cape St. Andrew to Tamatave is 354 miles: the longitudes of these
two points being, long. 44° 30′ E. and long. 49° 28′ 30″ E.
respectively. These longitudes have been fixed by reference to the
Observatory in Cape Town. The island is a long oval, pointed at the
northern end; and its major axis lies in the direction of N. 16° E.
While a crevasse and channel of great depth separate it from the
continent of Africa, the Farquhar Islands, at its north end, the
Séchelles with their red clay, and the coral reefs in the Indian Ocean
seem to me to connect its granite hills with the Laccadive and Maldive
Islands and with the mighty forces which in Southern India threw into
their present position the Nilgiri and Kunda hills. The island was
probably the noblest portion of some great continent which stretched
away from Hindustan to the south-west; and which shared in the tropical
flora and fauna of India in an early stage of the earth’s history, and
was separated from it while both were still young.
The chief physical feature of Madagascar is the central mountain mass,
which commences with lofty mountains at the north end of the island, and
retains them till within a moderate distance of its southern cape. The
entire central line is high ground and only its two sides are level
plains along the east and west sea-coasts. The central mass is by no
means uniform in its appearance. We have already shown how, on ascending
to the interior from the east coast, the traveller meets and
successively mounts three lofty mountain walls, each supporting a broad
terrace behind it. The first of these, west of Ampásimbé, rises 900
feet: beyond Befórona, the second terrace is 1400 feet higher: the third
ascent at Angávo carried us up 1620 feet on to the highest part of the
Imerina plain. The central plateau has a general height of 4000 feet: at
its widest part it is ninety miles in width; in the narrowest it is
about thirty miles. This plateau is somewhat over two hundred
geographical miles in length. It abounds in ridges and detached hills of
gneiss and granite, which give wonderful variety to the scenery; and at
several points these rocks spread out in wide, lofty and barren moors.
The rugged ridges enclose broad basins of the sedimentary clay, and the
numerous streams of pure water furnish abundant sustenance for the rice
crops, which form the principal food of the people. As this central
level is reached by great terraces from the east, so on the north, south
and west, the traveller descends from it on to other terraces, going
gradually lower and lower, until he reaches the level of the sea. It was
a matter of deep interest to Mr. Pillans and myself that we descended on
to the first terrace at several points; at Ambohimandroso, beyond Lake
Itasy, and in the valley of Ankay, before we finally followed down the
entire series of steps on our way to Mojangá. The fact that to so large
an extent the island consists of red clay, and appears to have been at
some time perfectly buried in it, accounts for the peculiar form of its
terraces and of the basins which they sustain. The enormous volcanic
forces hereafter to be described may have been required to break the
granite rocks and render them available for the use of men: but water
has exerted a mighty agency likewise on the island: and whether by rains
or streams or waterspouts, in the bursting of lakes or by gentle
showers, during long, long ages it has been ploughing and moulding and
shaping the land, and it is moulding and shaping and beautifying it
still.
The Malagasy people who inhabit the island appear to be a single race,
notwithstanding some tradition about “dwarfs.” Nowhere do we find any
tribe or clan or race in any secluded corner of the land, (such as we
meet with in the hill districts of India, of Sumatra and Borneo),
totally different from the inhabitants of the plains or open provinces.
Nor do we meet with any portion of the people specially degraded below
their fellows as a conquered and despised race. So far as known the
people of the entire island are in most respects similar to one another;
and sixty years ago they stood more on a common level than they do now.
The main differences at present existing between one portion and another
are the result of Christian education and of compact, just and settled
government.
There is undoubtedly one distinction which may be drawn among the
Malagasy; they may be divided into the dark and fair tribes. From the
first writers on Madagascar have referred to this difference between
them. But in the face of important points of agreement I think too much
has been made of it. It is well known to residents in India, that low,
hot, saline and malarious districts tend to darken the olive complexion;
while dry, open, cooler plains, tend to bleach it and render it fair.
Now it is the coast tribes of Madagascar, inhabiting the hot, feverish
provinces, which have the dark skin: while those which occupy the
central plateau with its bracing air, are, in general, fair. Other
considerations must be looked to: and I find them in the dialects
spoken; and in the course taken by the movements and migration of the
tribes as they gradually occupied the island. In regard to these matters
several mistakes have been made by various writers.
Judging from the movements of the tribes and from their present
relations to one another, it seems to me that the Malagasy are divided
into three tribes, starting from different centres, and inhabiting
separate districts. The BETSIMISARAKA tribe and its offshoots occupy the
east coast and its two lower terraces. The SAKALAVAS hold the broad
plains of the west coast in all its length, and overlap the upper
extremity of the north-east coast. The HOVAS and their branches inhabit
the entire central plateau, and the flanks of its southern extremity.
The Betsimisárakas include the Sihánakas, the people of Ankáy, and (I
think also) the Tanálas, all on the higher terrace between the lines of
forest. These upper divisions of the tribe have separate names; but they
are merely expressive of the localities to which the people have
migrated. The Betániménas are those who occupy the “districts of red
clay.” The Tanálas are the people of “the forest districts.” The Tankays
live “in Ankay,” the “open land”; not concealed by or broken by long
hills. The Sihánakas are (as we shall see) “the people of the lakes.” In
no part of the country occupied by this tribe is the population
concentrated and numerous: all their districts are thinly peopled.
Important mistakes have been made in regard to these subdivisions. Both
the Sihánakas and the Bezánozáno of Ankay have been described as
Sákalávas. But a visit to the districts which they inhabit shows at once
that with the Sakalavas they have nothing to do. They are shut off from
the latter by all but impassable mountains. They are Betsimisárakas in
their houses, their dialects, and the dressing of their hair: and an
examination of the country plainly indicates the points on the east
coast, from which their people started. In regard to the still greater
error of regarding the entire Betsimisáraka people as half-breed Arabs,
there is even less to be said. The statement must have originated in
some mistake. It might apply to a few people in and around the Arab
colony of St. Mary’s; but it is wholly inapplicable to the entire people
of the east coast.
The Sákalávas are also divided into tribes: but there is little cohesion
amongst them; they live separate from one another, and have frequent
petty wars. Their numbers cannot be great, though they occupy a large
tract of rich tropical country, which under a settled government and in
diligent hands would yield vast quantities of produce. They have for
ages been at feud with their Hova neighbours, ever ready to carry off
their cattle and plunder their farmsteads and fields. The name they
bear, “the tall cats,” is a complimentary title given by their Hova
foes, who have found them as fierce and formidable with the ancient
weapons as any wild cat to be met with in the woods. The Sakalávas have
not been slow to return the compliment; and they contemptuously style
the Hovas _ambóalámbo_, a mixture of the dog and the boar, “a set of
vagabonds.”
The HOVAS proper now occupy all the northern portion of the central
plateau, whether Vonizongo, Imámo or other districts. And though at one
time it was usual to describe their province as Ankova, in recent days
the tendency has been to drop this term altogether, and to call the
entire Hova country, IMERINA. The Betsileo tribe are without doubt of
the same blood as the Hovas. The Ibára tribe, who live south and west of
the Betsileo, are (as I have shown) kindred to the Betsileo. Each of
these sections of the central population has grown numerous, has had its
separate interests, and has been at feud with its fellows. Nevertheless
many similarities of language, dress, customs and manners exist between
them. And the differences are no greater than those which divide them
from the other tribes of the island. Politically these tribes are
drawing nearer to each other under Hova rule; and these similarities
will be increased and developed rather than repressed.
In the important inquiry whence the Malagasy have come and with what
other branches of the human race they are connected, the evidence
supplied by their language is of the first importance. Naturally it
might have been expected that living so near to the continent of Africa,
they would be connected with the African tribes; or at least that some
of their settlements would have been founded by African colonists. And
among scholars there have not been wanting those who have argued warmly
that they are substantially an African people. The views of the late Mr.
Crawford on this point are well known. He argued that the Malagasy are
substantially a negrillo race; with woolly hair, African blood and an
inability to form an alphabet: that Malay pirates, blown away from the
eastward, had mingled with them and left their mark upon the language;
and so on. He has been followed by Mr. Wake and others in recent days.
Even on theory it might have been objected that the African tribes are
not navigators, and that the Mozambique channel with its strong currents
and stronger south-east winds must have been, as it still is, a
formidable barrier against intercourse between these tribes and
Madagascar. But in point of fact there is no tribe on the island (so far
as it has yet been examined) which can be shown to be substantially
African, in its language, its features, its habits, its relations to its
neighbours. There are pure Africans in abundance (as we shall see)
scattered about in certain districts on the west, imported through the
Arab slave trade. And that African element has tainted the original
Malagasy race. But no original and distinct tribe on the island has yet
been pointed out as long settled African colonists: much less can the
entire Malagasy people be identified with such a tribe. On the contrary
the three great divisions of the Malagasy hold together; embrace almost
the entire island; and their language and tribal customs suggest a
totally different direction as to their origin.
In illustration of this unity of the races now occupying Madagascar, I
have noted with interest that the names given to localities in all parts
of the island, Sakaláva, Betsimisáraka and Hóva are of the same
character; and are plainly derived from the present Malagasy language.
Many of the Sakaláva names are distinctly Hóva. Off the north-west coast
we find Nosibe, “big island,” Nosikomba, “monkey island,” and Nosifály,
“glad island;” we have Ampásiména, “red sand village;” Mároláhy, “the
village of princes,” and Andránomaláza, “famous water.” We have
Márovoáy, with its “many crocodiles,” Mojangá “the restorer of health,”
and Mevatanána “good place for a town.” On the west coast we have
Máintiráno, “the black river,” Mafándráno, “hot springs,” and Mámiráno
“sweet waters.” We have one town, Mánandáza “the glorious,” and another,
Malaimbándy “the place of indolent lies.” We have Fierénana in Vonizongo
and on the Sakalava coast. We have the pass of Ambodifiakárana among the
limestone ridges of the Sakalavas, and under the granite moors on the
Mania. Hundreds of names are scattered over the east and west coasts,
bearing a striking similarity to those of the interior, and applied as
fittingly to the places which they indicate. The names and the people
are evidently one.
Baron Humboldt, the linguist, long since detected the Malay element in
their language. Other writers have followed him. And the more
attentively and completely the subject is examined the stronger will the
evidence of that origin appear. Unhappily such a complete examination
has not yet been made. Malay scholars have but partially understood
Malagasy: and Malagasy scholars have looked but little into Malay. And
we know scarcely more than was written by the Rev. J. J. Freeman, forty
years ago. Yet the materials are beginning to accumulate out of which
the comparison may be made in full detail. Besides Marsden’s Grammar and
Dictionary, in Crawford’s Malay Grammar, in Wallace’s Eastern
Archipelago, in the Appendix of Dr. Turner’s “Nineteen Years in
Polynesia,” there are lists of words and idioms in the Malay and its
cognate dialects, Samoan, Máori and Tahitian, available for the
discussion of the question: and ere long we may hope to see it
undertaken thoroughly. I have no pretensions to a knowledge of either
tongue. But it happens that during my visit to Madagascar unpublished
papers from competent men came into my hands, and I will venture to give
a few illustrations which they furnish of the connection between the two
languages. Mr. Freeman observes with interest that it is the
Betsimisáraka edition of Malagasy which comes nearest to the Malay; and
it is the Maláya branch of the language, rather than Javanese or Báli,
which comes closest to Malagasy. Here is a simple list of twenty words.
ENGLISH. MALAY. MALAGASY.
crocodile buáya voáya.[1]
bone tulang taolang. (Bets.
fly lálat lálitra.
fruit búa vóa.
ground tánah tány.
grow támboh mi-tombo.
hand tángan tángana. (Bets.
heaven lángit langitra. (Bets.
hang gantong mi-hantona.
fear tákut tahotra.
moon bolan vólana.
stone bátu váto.
year tahun táona.
spirits túaka tóaka.
mosquito nya-mók móka.
two dúa róa.
four ámpat éfat-ra.
six ánam énina.
ten sa-puloh folo.
twenty dua-puloh roa-polo.
thousand sa-riba arivo.
Footnote 1:
The o in Malagasy is pronounced like the Italian u. This arrangement
was a fatal mistake in the early writers of the language; and is
calculated to mislead any one outside the island. Hova ought to have
been written Húva.
In their structure and government the two languages resemble one
another: but the Malay seems a less formed and complete tongue than the
Malagasy. Both languages have the inclusive and exclusive pronouns: and
the same form is used in the nominative and objective cases. In both
reduplication is common. The prefixes through which the verb is
conjugated, though differing slightly in form, constantly bear the same
meaning in Malay as in Malagasy and are used in the same way. In both
cases the same sort of improvement was needed: and came from the same
source. The Arab traders gave to each people the names of the days of
the week and of the months of the year. The scales for weighing money
are Arabic, mizán. The word for writing, sóratra, seems Arabic also.
Additional improvement to the Malagasy came from their intercourse with
the French, who in the course of many years’ visits to the coasts of the
island, introduced new articles to their notice, which are still called
by their French names. At least seventy French words have become
naturalised in Malagasy and that in very curious fashion. The young
Malagasy now sits upon a _seza_, in front of _látábat-ra_; his rice is
brought from the _lákozy_, and he eats his beef with a _fórisét-y_. He
wipes his face with a _mósara_, washes his hands with _sávona_, and
dries them on a _sáriveta_. He keeps his clothes in a _lálamóra_
(armoire); rides forth on his _soavály_; and wears patent-leather
_bóty_.
* * * * *
The colonisation of Madagascar by the Malay tribes is a topic full of
interest: but we know almost nothing about it. It is singular that in
the very first mention made of the island, the celebrated notice of it
by Marco Paolo, he should have made a strange mistake and mixed it with
information which belongs to the Somali country around Cape Gardafui.
Madagascar has neither elephants nor hippopotami; neither leopards nor
bears nor lions. Nevertheless it is evident that the great traveller
learned something real about the island, and of that aspect of it which
was specially presented to the great sailors of his time, the Arab and
Persian traders, whose fathers had visited it for many ages. Sandal wood
is still exported from the northern ports; and the Hindus carry on “a
profitable trade.” I do not think that the people whom Fra Mauro speaks
of as blown away to the southward were connected with the original
settling of Madagascar by the Malays: the accident he describes seems to
me of much later date than that settlement; and that it happened to
Indian traders who were sailing down the African coast. When they were
blown back again, they may have seen shells of the Œpyornis, on the
sandy terrace at the south-east end of Madagascar, where M. Grandidier
found both shells and bones. Fra Mauro does not say that they saw the
living birds. Sindbad’s additions about the elephants and the jewels are
applications of “travellers’ tales” and traditions floating about the
nautical world long before his day.
That in early times there should have been a Malay immigration into
Madagascar is nothing strange. Every thing new which we are learning
about the Indian Ocean and the China Sea tends to show how boldly and
continuously those seas were traversed before the Christian era.
Phœnician navigation, both from the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf, was
ably carried out even in the time of Solomon; and the evidence is
accumulating that their colonies, trading settlements, and ports of call
were established along all the African and Indian coasts before the
Ptolemies had ceased to rule. They had long since learned the regularity
of the monsoons and decided how to employ them; Zanzibar and its
neigbourhood had become the head-quarters of the Central African trade;
and every year a great fleet crossed the Indian ocean from the ports of
Gujerat and Malabar with the north-east monsoon. What was a twenty days’
voyage before a fair and steady breeze, to men accustomed to the sea, in
large vessels of three hundred and eight hundred tons, such as the
Alexandrian corn ships or the buggalows of the Gulf of Cutch, with their
strong masts, long yard, and huge sails? To me it seems that they
mastered the navigation early: its continuity was never broken till
Albuquerque and Almeida took it with violence from their hands: and I
venture to think that in the Arab merchants of these Eastern seas, with
their Khojah friends in Western India and the “Old Man of the Mountain,”
at their head, we have the lineal descendants, in blood and language and
employment, of the Phœnicians of ancient times.
Able navigation was not confined to the waters of the Indian Ocean. We
know how before the Christian era Hindu merchants and sailors traversed
the Bay of Bengal, passed the Straits of Malacca and had flourishing
settlements, temples and palaces in Bali and the great islands of the
Java Sea. The Malay races in those islands had already proved themselves
adventurous navigators. We do not know how early they left their mark on
all the eastern kingdoms of the Bay of Bengal; on Ceylon, which was to
them _Pulo Selán_ “the island of gems;” and at various points along the
coasts of India, as far west as Gujerat. The Chinese too have not been
behindhand with their well-built vessels and the compass which they
first employed to direct them. Long, long were they at work, before they
had formed and perfected the enormous junks which so delighted Marco
Paolo, with their well-caulked seams, their fifteen watertight
compartments, their fifty cabins, their three hundred sailors and
numerous families of women and children: ready to undertake long
coasting voyages, or even run up the Straits to Ceylon, or visit the
three Ports of India which they loved, and from which they were driven
only four hundred years ago. The very finest of these vessels belonged,
not to the northern ports of China, but to the harbours of Siam. Among
all the Hindu and Arab vessels I have seen at Zanzibar, Calcutta and
Bombay, none equalled in size and strength of build the noble Siamese
junks, which I once found at anchor, after their annual voyage
northward, in the bends of the Peiho. It is when these pursuits are in
full activity that ability in their management is developed in its
highest forms. And what more natural than that among these Arab and
Siamese and Malay navigators there should appear, from time to time, men
of genius to shape out new enterprises: or that among their chiefs and
people there should arise another Prince Henry or Queen Elizabeth or
Ferdinand and Isabella, to foster and encourage them?
Anyhow there the Malagasy are; a Malay people, following Malay customs,
some of them possessing Malay eyes and hair and features; and all of
them speaking a Malay tongue at the present hour. When they came, where
they landed, what hindered their return, we know not. Was some large
vessel caught in a furious cyclone and driven ashore? Were the first
colonists few or many? Did they communicate with their friends and get
others to join them? Were several settlements established at different
points: was the colonisation continuous: if so, over how many years did
it spread? Did Malay navigation extend to the east coast of Africa, and
are Zambesi, Kilimány, Mombása, Kiloa, Masambika and other names there,
of Malay origin, as Mr. Freeman suggested?
Judging from modern results, I incline to think that the original
colonisation was not extensive; that the trade was found not to be
remunerative; while navigation so far to the south was found to have
special perils; and that the connecting link between Madagascar and
Great Malaya was early severed. The population has increased but slowly
during these long ages. Even now the Betsimisáraka tribes in their five
divisions only just exceed a quarter of a million: the scattered
Sákalávas, even in their wide and fertile plains, contentious and ever
at feud with one another, cannot exceed half a million. The three Hova
divisions are strongest in numbers, in civilisation and resources
generally, and yet amount to less than a million and three-quarters
altogether.
Hitherto the various writers on Madagascar in describing the population
have all followed Mr. Ellis’s estimate of forty years ago. That
estimate, amounting to 5,500,000, appears to be wholly inapplicable to
the present day. It was to a large extent guess work, and included
districts which had then scarcely been visited by an Englishman. I speak
of the population, as (to a large extent) I saw it; and I estimate it as
follows:—
POPULATION OF MADAGASCAR.
1. BETSIMISARAKAS, including— 300,000
Sihánakas, 40,000; Tanálas,
20,000; Tankays, 50,000;
Ikongos, 20,000
2. SAKALAVAS, North and South 500,000
3. HOVAS and Cognate Tribes:—
Imerina and Vonizongo 1,000,000
Imámo and Mandridrano 100,000
Betafo and Vákin ’Ankárat 100,000
Betsileo 300,000
Ibára, &c. 200,000
————— 1,700,000
—————
TOTAL 2,500,000
The results at present produced show at least three independent
movements in the settlement of the island. The Betsimisárakas have lived
a quiet life on the east coast, quite independent of the other tribes,
and have quietly spread up the hills into the Tanála, the Sihánaka and
Ankáy. And they have preserved in simple fashion the rough tongue of
their forefathers in Sumatra. Whether the Sakalavas are one people, or
have sprung from more than one colony, north and south, we know not.
They have had constant wars with their neighbours above the hills, as
well as among themselves. A dread of their courage and skill in war has
established between them and those neighbours a Noman’s land of fifty or
sixty miles in breadth. And their movements and their history seem to
have been all along independent of others.
The only traditions and remnants of past history come from the HOVAS,
who also have been independent, and who having found opportunities of
development not possessed by their fellows, have come to the front among
the Malagasy tribes. They tell us how their original settlement was in
the south-east of the island: when commenced, how developed, lasting how
long, they do not know. Results show that here they became a strong
people; and swarming off, they began to push their way up into the
hills. Evidently they entered the upper plateau at its south-east
corner; and while the foremost of the tribe pushed on, other branches
gradually springing from it, and now named Betsileo and Ibára, filled in
the districts behind. The advanced Hovas seem to have reached Imerina
about eight hundred years ago. For perhaps a hundred and twenty years
they were on friendly terms with a tribe which they found there, if not
actually subject to them.
This tribe they call Vazimba. In the present day they talk of them as
their ancestors; in the idolatrous days they were deified; and their
tombs are still the most sacred objects in the country. Happily the Hova
traditions give us the names of seven Vazimba kings. These names are as
genuine specimens of Malagasy as the Hova names themselves. The Vazimba
tombs are of the shape and structure of the usual Hova tombs, though of
rude work and rough stones. So far therefore as we know anything about
the Vazimba, they were a true Malagasy people: there is nothing African
about them.
After a while the Vazimba and the strangers quarrelled. Contests arose
and the Vazimba were driven out of the province; “to the south-west”
says the story; and that means “into the unknown.” This superiority of
the strangers, says tradition, was due to their use of iron. Whether
they had iron while on the coast; whether their fathers had brought and
retained any knowledge of its use; or whether they had learned it from
their Arab friends and neighbours at Mátitánana: whether they had
supplied themselves with iron-headed spears during their march up the
Betsileo; or had only produced them on arriving in Imerina, from the
iron hills of Amóronkáy, it is now impossible to say. But in the
assertion that they knew the use of iron, while their opponents had only
spears of wood, there is nothing improbable.
They made Imerina and all the upper plateau their own. And here for five
hundred years they settled down and spread and grew. They ate, they
drank; they planted, they builded; they spun and they wove; they married
and were given in marriage. They formed the iron hatchet and the iron
spade. They cut down the forests and built houses, well framed, well
fitted, with roofs that successfully shed the rain. They built villages
and towns; surrounded them with deep ditches and protected them with the
cactus hedge. They grew into compact tribes, obedient to their chief and
his appointed officers. The members of the tribe met in council; and in
the public assemblies, not only maintained their liberties, but
developed the powers and the resources of their mellifluous language.
They made war on their neighbours or defended themselves against attack:
their kings cemented peace by marriage alliances. They made great
feasts; and though no poetry has survived, their orators could recite
the traditions of the past: and their assemblies were enlivened with the
dance and the song. Great heroes arose among them, like Rapéto and
Ralámbo; of whom wondrous stories went abroad.
Two hundred and fifty years ago the Malagasy not only began to be better
known to the outside world, but light begins to be thrown upon their
internal growth and condition. At that period we find the Arab merchants
settled at three points on the coast and a foreign trade steadily
carried on. We find them on the east at two points. At Mátitánana they
have been settled long; they have written the Malagasy language in
Arabic characters; they have taught the tribes the Arabic names of the
week days and the months: but they have made no converts. As the first
specimens of the rukh’s egg were dug up here, it is possible that
Sindbad’s application of the old story may have been derived from some
sailor who had visited the settlement. There was another Arab colony on
the island above Tamatave, called by them Nosi Ibrahim: now known by the
French name of I. Ste Marie. Both these settlements, owing doubtless to
the Portuguese invasion of the eastern seas, were in a state of decay.
The third settlement, at what is now called Mojangá, had done better: it
was more easily accessible; it was nearer to the head quarters of the
Arab trade at Zanzibar; it was on the lee side of the island, on a
splendid bay; and both the Indian cloth trade and the traffic in slaves
were carried on under favourable conditions. More than this, able men
among the Arabs had watched their opportunities, had practically usurped
the government of the locality, and as the Sakalavás had no cohesion,
they retained their power long. At this time the trade of the Indian
Ocean was breaking up. The Portuguese had built up nothing in the place
of the power they had destroyed. The sea swarmed with adventurers:
Captain Kyd and other English pirates made Madagascar their head
quarters: and French schemers were planning and contriving settlements
on the sea board, hoping in the end to obtain possession of the island.
From all these quarters the Malagasy people gained no help. Under God’s
care in the quiet of the interior they were making steady progress. It
is evident from their traditions that two hundred and fifty years ago,
considerable strength was accumulating in the community, broader ideas
began to prevail, and efforts at closer union were put forth. Ralámbo
stands first in the new line of monarchs drawing the people onward. To
him are attributed great advance in the care of cattle, and the
establishment of the Fandroana festival. His second son, Andrianjáka, in
the days of Cromwell, founded Antanánarivo, on the hill till then called
Iálamánga. Sixty years later (about 1720), Andriamásinaválona, a man of
large mind, brought the whole of the Imerina towns under his rule. He
was a wise and thoughtful ruler, ready for great enterprises. To him is
attributed the greatest engineering work yet executed in the province,
the embankments of the river Ikopa, which prevent the annual flooding of
the great rice plain. His name is always mentioned in public kabáries
with profound respect. On his death his kingdom was broken up among his
sons; but a hundred years ago, all the twelve cities were re-united
under Impóin-Imérina, the ablest monarch of that princely line. The
border provinces also on every side felt the weight of his strong hand:
and his son Radáma, by hard fighting, long marches and untiring energy,
consolidated and extended the dominion on every side. Only the
south-west Sakalávas and Ikongo remained independent.
Even then, with all their growing energy, the Malagasy nation was still
young. Their cities were growing; the villages were becoming numerous;
and on the whole peace was maintained. But it was often broken for a
time: and the hollow valleys between the royal towns were still swamps
full of reeds, a protection to each city against its neighbours. The
rice cultivation was extending; but an immense area of the great plain
was still occupied by these great reeds, high overhead, thick, and all
but impassable. It took three days to travel from the present capital to
Ambohimanga, twelve miles to the north: the swamps were traversed in
canoes: and enemies, with spears, might be encountered at any point,
lurking in wait for prey.
In this brief sketch I cannot enter at length into the customs of these
tribes. Their ancient warfare with the thin spear and round hide shield;
their cylinder-bellows, and clay furnaces for smelting iron; their
simple looms and spindles, have all been described and pictured by Mr.
Ellis. With one thing however I was greatly struck: with their custom of
giving over to the dead in their large stone tombs, the dresses,
ornaments, furniture and possessions, which were favourites while they
lived. And I remembered how the Malay tribes of Polynesia and the North
American Indians have been accustomed to do the same. Another custom was
to exhibit by rows of cooking stones, or of bullock skulls on poles, the
extent to which the funeral feasts had been carried in honour of the
dead, and the estimation in which they were held.
The social life of the Capital at the beginning of this century, shows
in a very striking way how poor, as compared with other nations, the
civilisation of the Malagasy still was. Almost no European improvements
had reached them, except the fire-arms which they had obtained from the
coast, and which proved a powerful instrument in securing the
consolidation of the kingdom. When Le Sage visited him, Radáma was a
thorough Malagasy, in his dress, his superstitions, his house, his
habits. He was dressed in a lamba, and sat on the floor, to eat with his
hands out of a silver dish. His people were the same; and when they met
Le Sage and gave him a royal reception as the English envoy, they were
covered with silver ornaments, and shouted and danced and sang around
the strangers with truly barbaric pomp and show. In mental grasp and in
their longing for better things Radáma and his father were much beyond
all this. Radáma was a gentleman in his manners, courteous, considerate,
hospitable and kind. Both kings were wise in council, energetic in
action, eloquent in speech: both were humane in purpose, though in
despotic harshness they were often cruel; both were truthful,
straightforward, and truly anxious to improve. They were fine
illustrations of the weaknesses of Madagascar, as well as of its native
strength and native virtues.
Beneath the surface lay many proofs of the backwardness of the people.
Life and property were insecure: there was much poverty: few incentives
existed to active industry: the country was destitute of roads:
systematic travelling and intercourse between the different parts of the
country, was all but unknown. To me one of the most instructive
illustrations of the state of the island and of the relation of its
people to the world at large is furnished by an event which occurred at
this time on the north-western coast. On more than one occasion at the
end of last century the Sakalava tribes had taken advantage of small
vessels, in calm weather, had seized them, brought them to land and
burnt them for the sake of their copper and iron. Gathering together
hundreds of men, they had undertaken occasional expeditions against the
Comóro Islands and harried and robbed their people. But in 1816 they
planned a great expedition against the fort of Ibo, near Mozambique,
three hundred miles away. They gathered no less than two hundred and
fifty canoes, containing 6250 men; and set out on their expedition. They
were overtaken by a violent hurricane and only sixty-eight canoes
reached the African shore. That was in 1816. Yet it reads like a page
from Robinson Crusoe, or a story from the South Sea Islands.
I need not pursue the history. With Radáma we have reached our own
times; we have reached modern efforts, modern improvement, modern
missions. Often has the later story been written: it is told by Mr.
Sibree in his little book, and by Mr. Ellis in his “Martyr Church”
effectively and with brevity. Let us look at the people as they are. At
first sight my colleague and I thought them backward: but the more we
reflected on the past; on their complete isolation from the great world
around them; the simple frame-work and the small attainments of their
national and social life, so late as sixty years ago; the more
thoroughly we appreciated the great stride in progress which they have
taken in that brief period. Many officers of Radáma’s day are still
living, with their antiquated coats and antiquated notions; and till
very recently they have much hindered change and trammelled advance. But
solid progress has been made. It has been made in their outer life. But
best of all, it has been secured in far greater degree in their
religious character and in their moral and social habits. Indeed it is a
matter for special congratulation and thankfulness, that it is that
moral improvement which has come first; and that it is so deeply rooted
and so widely spread. The external civilisation will follow quite
rapidly enough.
In the form of their national life, the Malagasy are still a federation
of Malay tribes. Each of the greater tribes has numerous sub-divisions:
at the head of which are the noble families and princes descended from
the great chiefs of former ages. Among these the immediate descendants
of the ancient kings of all the sections and cities of old times occupy
an honoured place. The feudal rights and dignities and privileges of
these noble clans are carefully maintained, as well as their feudal
duties faithfully performed. All the commoner ranks of the people are
enrolled and included among the clients and followers of these inferior
chiefs and princes; or among the direct followers of the sovereign. All
payments for taxation within the tribes are made in kind or in feudal
service rendered. Officers are remunerated by lands or by the assignment
to them of the service of so many inferior men. Rice, sugar-cane,
lambas, firewood, beams for building, bundles of thatch, stones, pork,
beef are all rendered to them and to their superiors as part of that
service. Under the law of Ralámbo, the rump of every ox slaughtered in
the Capital is delivered to the Queen. On a message from the Queen
asking for any special form of service, local meetings are held by the
clans to arrange as to the mode of distributing it. The term used to
denote this system is _fánampóana_, which means exactly “service;” and
it bears all the variety and breadth of meaning which the English word
had in feudal times. Though having in it just elements, the system has
many weaknesses. It bears heavily upon the skilful: it is unequal in its
demands: it represses progress by taking away all stimulus to
self-improvement or to individual enterprise. It keeps society on a dead
level and fosters indolence and indifference. It will only be cured by a
fair distribution of the services required in all grades of society, and
by a commutation of the service for a fixed money payment.
In regard to legislation and general government, the Queen is the head
of all the tribes. On great questions public meetings of the tribes
(kabáries) are held: discussions take place, and the Sovereign
pronounces the decision. The Sovereign in this way enacts all laws. But
they are declared verbally by herself or some appointed officer, (as we
have seen in the Betsileo) in public meeting; and the people and their
representatives respond. Judges and magistrates, “heads of hundreds,”
and so on, are appointed to hear cases and complaints, or to examine
criminals: they sit in the open market. Many improvements are coming in
to these arrangements. The laws have been codified twice by recent
Sovereigns, and have been put in print. The Malagasy have now a “Prime
Minister,” a “Commander-in-Chief,” and a “Chief Secretary of State,”
called by the English names. And these officers, with a few others, form
a kind of inner council, who consult together about public affairs.
Formal receptions are held by the Court and affairs are conducted with
dignity and good sense.
Apart from their religious instructions, the missionaries of the London
Missionary Society have done a great deal to enlarge the general
knowledge of the people and elevate their family and social life. They
have given them new instruments for material progress, that have already
secured valuable results. They first systematically wrote down the
language: and both by learning to write and to use the press, the
government and the people have made abundant use of the new power placed
at their command. Mr. Chick, with his huge anvil and muscular arms,
astonished the people by the larger forms of iron work which he could
produce. Radáma admired him greatly. The native smiths and artisans soon
copied their master. Carpenters, builders and masons have done the same.
Perhaps the most striking improvement which has been accepted on a large
scale, is the adoption of the English dress. It took place during our
visit, in December 1873. With the approval of the people, the Queen
expressed her readiness to receive her subjects at Court dressed in
English costume. The transformation was rapid, and the demands made in
all directions for hats, bonnets, feathers, sprigs of flowers, and
ladies’ jackets was very great. Higher wants than these are being felt:
and in due time they will no doubt be supplied. Of these roads are an
important item: and the payment for service in money. And it is a happy
thing, that by improving and elevating the customs and institutions of
the country on their old lines, the stability and safety of the nation
are secured.
Things are yet very backward. But the Malagasy are an intelligent
people, an orderly people, a loyal people, a religious people. They have
learned much already: and they are improving daily. They are governed by
a good Queen and by wise and able officers. Had they at hand, in the
Capital, a wise English Consul, to advise them (when they need) in
difficulties, and to aid them in the solution of important problems
continually coming before them, their progress would be greatly
facilitated. Under such influences, secular and sacred, Hawaii, with its
sixty thousand people, has grown into a Christian nation and has taken
its place in the world’s history. Far greater will Madagascar at length
become, when elevated, sanctified and ennobled in all the elements of
its social and public life.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER VII.
LAKE ITASY AND THE VOLCANIC DISTRICT.
South Border of Imerina—Hill of Antongona—Arivonimamo, the old
Capital—Great number of beautiful hills—Miádana Manjáka—Lake
Itasy—The Mándridráno—Religious knowledge of the people—The grass of
Madagascar—Numerous craters and crater-lakes—Mahatsinjo and its
people—Vinány hill—Kitsamby river—Antoby—The Vava Vato—Norwegian
Missions—Menabe—Betafo and Sirabe—Volcanoes—Hot springs and
Limepits—Votovorona—The East of Ankárat—Andraráty—Our return—Western
Imerina—Ambohiveloma—The Fárahántsana: falls of the Ikopa.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER VII.
LAKE ITASY AND THE VOLCANIC DISTRICT.
THE season was now advancing: the dry weather had come, and in the open
parts of the country there was little fear of fever. The plans of the
mission were pretty fully shaped out: and there were important districts
which we had not yet seen. In dividing the country parts of Imerina
among the churches of the capital as spheres of Christian labour, the
south-western, the district of Imámo, had been allotted to
Ambóhitantély. This church and its branches were in the hands of the
Friends; who have given to them the most devoted care. During our visit,
one of their number, Mr. Clemes, had gone to settle at Antoby near the
end of the district. We arranged therefore that we would visit this
district first: and Mr. Joseph Sewell, the senior member of the Friends’
Mission, kindly engaged to accompany us.
We left the capital on Tuesday, April 14th, at ten o’clock, having
planned to accomplish but a single stage on the first day of the
journey. As our route lay along the south border of Imerina, we crossed
the Ikopa, and three of its tributaries, and bent our steps towards
Antongona, one of the most striking hills in the province. The Sisaony,
which we crossed first, is a broad but shallow river, which we had met
with higher up, near Ambátomaláza. The Andromba we found a hundred yards
broad and four feet deep. The Katsaoka, a few miles beyond was about the
same size. Both rivers rise among the eastern roots of Ankárat, and
coming round Fandravásana and Kingory, flow across a level, which looks
wonderfully like a dried-up lake; and uniting at its western end, flow
northward to join the Ikopa, at the foot of Ambohimanoa. Before crossing
these rivers we found that the population was sensibly growing thinner.
ANTONGONA is a noble hill of gneiss, running nearly east and west. Its
name seems to recognise its resemblance to the human foot. It consist of
two sections, and in the centre of the western part is a lofty mass of
rocks, round which a number of houses are clustered. We climbed to the
summit (570 feet above the plain); obtained important observations: and
had a striking view of the country, which lay clear beneath us on every
side.
On the second day we rested at Arivonimámo, the former capital of the
IMAMO district. It is a small decayed place, with seventy houses. It is
surrounded by a deep fosse, and has on its north side a fine specimen of
the Malagasy town-gate, with its round stone. In the centre of the
little town are some royal tombs, shaded by five noble amóntana trees.
All the principal families, once settled here, have removed to the
capital and its neighbourhood: and the population is kept up by their
dependents and a few aged people past work. The town stands in an open,
undulating plain: but it has little population around it.
[Illustration:
STONE GATE AT ARIVONIMAMO.
]
From Antongona westward the country has many beauties. The hills are
bold, lofty and of fine form. The ravines are narrow; and the hills are
soft and rich with groves of the tapia tree on which the silkworm lives.
Ambóhitrámbo, which from the capital seems merely a noble conical hill,
we found to have a long ridge behind it, like the body of the Sphinx.
Ambóhimpanómpo, full of ravines and cascades on its northern face,
curves round to the south and south-east, in a great ridge covered with
boulders. South of Arivonimámo is a low hill, the basaltic stones of
which are heavy with iron. Close to its foot, come down some of the long
lava tongues that have flowed out from the lofty peaks of Ankáratra,
Ambohitsámpan and Tsi-áfak-áfo, twenty miles to the south. Still
westward, Iváhanámbo and Tsitákondáza, twin hills of great height, tower
above the country. Beyond them is the noble mass of Vódivóhitra: and
between it and Nánza lies one of the prettiest pieces of rural scenery
in western Imerina. Journeying onward we began to approach the edge of
the Imerina plateau, and were involved in ridges, that rapidly succeeded
one another, with deep ravines and gullies between. Throughout the
journey we crossed several small rivers, draining the north side of
Ankárat, the Ombifotsy, and the Anonibe, which join the Ikopa; and
others which fall into Lake Itasy and thence flow down into the western
plains. All these results of our observation are carefully embodied in
the Map of the district which is one product of our journey.
On the evening of Friday, the fourth day after leaving the capital, we
reached the village of Miádanamanjáka. It was on a hill and well raised
above the swamps. But it was a dirty place, of sixty-two houses; full of
pigs and cattle; and muddy from the heavy rain which fell just before
our arrival. The chapel, in which alone we could find accommodation, was
very damp and had a great hole in the roof. We put up the tent however
inside, spread our waterproof tent carpets, and made ourselves
comfortable. Here we spent three days, looking into a variety of matters
connected both with the place and with the people.
Saturday we devoted to LAKE ITASY; and spent a most delightful day
examining it. The ridge, upon the end of which the village stands, runs
north, and at its highest point overhangs the lake, being 1630 feet
above it. From the crest of this ridge we had a fine view of the entire
country: and as usual we took a series of observations and photographed
the lake, now lying in all its length before us. Lake Itasy is scarcely
known in the geographical world except by name. Its eastern end has been
visited on three or four occasions by the English Missionaries; and also
by M. Grandidier. The lake possesses many points of interest. One of its
most striking features is the noble mountain of Ambóhimíangára, which
overhangs its north-east corner. This is one of the grandest among the
many grand hills of Imerina. It is twelve miles in length; and its base
is over two miles wide: it has three peaks: each of which is fifteen
hundred feet above the general level of the plain. It is said to contain
a great deal of iron, and has for many generations been resorted to by
the people of the neighbourhood for their local implements. Other lofty
hills border the lake on the west. Indeed, except on its south bank it
is surrounded by hills; and on that side, the swampy level indicated
that in former days and when the waters were deeper, the lake extended
to a hilly mass now more than two miles from the shore. The lake is not
a deep ravine with one end dammed up by rocks (like Nynee Tál), and so
filled by the waters accumulated from above. It is a submerged level. At
its western end it looks shallow: and the fishing showed it to be
shallow: but toward the east, where strong winds produce a current, the
lake is deep. Many streams flow into it from the south and east: and it
has but one outlet on the north side: the stream from which goes to the
west and south-west and falls into the Kitsamby. The lake is eight miles
long and two miles and a half broad. It contains six small peninsulas,
jutting into the water; on one of which, called Ambóniházo, “wooded
hill,” is a little village, with a pretty church, embowered among the
trees. The country around it is very bright and green: and under the
clear sky, the lake of pale blue was a most pleasant sight. In the
afternoon we descended the hill and went down to its western shore. We
found there a plain a mile broad, with rice, maize and fruit growing in
the fields: with the little village of Moratsiázo and a chapel. Standing
on the margin of the lake, we counted nineteen boats or canoes, dotting
the water near, each with a separate man, catching with rod and line the
fish for which the lake is celebrated. The water is sweet, but it was
very dirty. The people of the village received us hospitably: they gave
us some excellent guavas; we had a most acceptable tiffin in the chapel;
and we left one of our men, who proves to be a good preacher, to conduct
service for them on the morrow.
The district we had reached, on the south-west corner of the lake, is
called the MANDRIDRANO, “sluggish waters.” The drainage of the district
is certainly imperfect: there are long levels in the valleys, the
outlets of which need artificial enlargement: to these sluggish waters
(which they drink) the people attribute the fevers which abound. The
population is by no means deficient. The weekly market was attended by
some three hundred people. There are several flourishing villages, as
Andrainarivo, Tsáravinány and Ambonilouka, within two miles: while
beyond Moratsiazo, there are Ambohipólo and Ambohidráno, villages of
some size with chapels: and to the west there is a large and fertile
basin with a large population, to be more particularly described. The
people too are by no means poor. They have plenty to eat and drink:
cattle are numerous: fruit is abundant, and rice and maize are
fabulously cheap. Mr. Parrett specially noticed during his visit (some
years ago), that a bushel of maize, weighing 70 lbs., could be bought
for threepence. Three bushels of rice cost ninepence. The market was
well supplied with beef, grain and fruit. But the people are extremely
ignorant; and the great among them are very consequential. They live in
a secluded corner of the country: they have rarely received a visit even
from intelligent men among their own nobles: and only by rumours does
any thing reach them from the great outside world. It was no wonder
therefore that our coming created a sensation. Three Englishmen at once
and a village-full of travelled fellow-countrymen quite turned their
heads. They were full of curiosity, and watched all that we said and did
with keenest eyes. Our folding chairs amused them greatly. Our railway
rugs and striped blankets, so thick and warm and bright coloured,
appeared to them truly gorgeous. Anything so warm and comfortable as our
tent they had never seen. How convenient and full of wealth our boxes.
How strong our water-cans; and as to our spoons, cups and enamelled
plates, our teapot and our boots, they were wonderful indeed. We had a
crowd around the place the whole time.
Five years ago there was only one man west of Arívonimámo, who professed
to be a Christian: and he proved to be a pretender. The old heathenism
of the country was unbroken. The petty idols, the magical charms, lucky
and unlucky days, were regarded with a veneration free from doubt. The
sovereign of their country was looked up to, as twenty years ago a
Russian peasant regarded the Czar, as God present upon earth. Except in
a single case, no faithful Christians fled hither, during the days of
persecution, as they fled to Vonizongo. There was no silent teaching, no
quiet moulding, of public and social life, by the words and the example
of martyrs, which other districts and towns enjoyed. Heathenism remained
unchecked, unattacked, unconquered. But when the idols were burned all
over Imerina, the superstitious regard of the great people for their
Queen, naturally led them to say to their dependents and slaves, “We
must pray, as the Queen prays:” and an external change was the result.
With it neither the missionaries nor the public authorities had anything
to do. It was the act of the people themselves. Heathenism had taught
them to follow their sovereign in every thing: and external heathenism
was ruined as the result. Mr. Sewell informed us that when he first
visited these people, and enquired who had taught them, what did they
know, and how they worshipped, he could get no replies. He gave them the
best help he could find, little as it was: and it has borne good fruit.
They do know something of Christianity now. It is difficult to secure
good teachers for them. The district is known to be unhealthy: the
people are backward in every thing: life is rough; though food is
plentiful. And it is only on the missionary principle of self-denying
labour for the Lord’s sake, that native preachers and their wives can be
induced to settle among them. One such teacher and his wife we saw at
Mahábo. And the bright face, the frank manners, and the clean, white
dress, showed in a moment how superior they were in the range of their
life and thought to the people among whom their lot was cast. One thing
however Mr. Sewell said, had sprung from this great lack of instruction;
which he observed more clearly every visit that he paid them. Knowing
that others have this instruction, the longing of the people for
teachers, for books, for Scriptures, has been intensified. We could see
the proof of this ourselves. We had seen the same thing in other parts
of the country, and were to see it again. Indeed among all the phenomena
of religious life in Madagascar that have come under our own eye, this
is the most prominent; that the ignorant multitudes of Malagasy are
eager to learn about the Christianity, which the nation has chosen for
its faith; and that they make the most attentive and docile scholars
that any Christian missionary, English or native, can desire to
instruct. We spent a pleasant Sunday among these people. The chapel was
well filled: and a large number of very respectably dressed men and
women were present. The singing was rough: and a style of bass, which
faintly resembles a bombardment, seemed very popular. We often heard
this bombarding bass in outlying districts. Mr. Sewell of course
conducted the service: and preached the gospel simply and to most
attentive listeners in connection with the story of the raising of
Lazarus. He also gave away many books in answer to earnest requests. I
think there are no parts of our visit to Madagascar, from which my
colleague and myself learned so much, as these visits to country
stations.
It was during our visit to the Mándridráno, that I received the
impression, afterwards repeatedly confirmed, that one of the most
beautiful things to be found in Madagascar is its grass. This grass
covers many thousands of square miles. It is beautiful as it spreads
abroad over the open plains, where it is short, compact and juicy; and
supplies abundant nourishment to the great herds which the nobles of the
land send to fatten upon what costs them nothing. It is beautiful in the
sheltered valleys, where the soft, tender blades, enriched by the pearly
dew and the gentle rain, are refreshing to the eye, and yield like
velvet beneath the foot. It has a few wild flowers self sown among its
roots: but has nothing of that profusion of colour and variety of form
in its wild companions which render the flowering plants on the broad
straths of Switzerland so brilliant to the eye, and such poor food to
the cattle which consume them. But the grass of Madagascar is in its
glory on the great hills. Burnt year after year by long sweeping fires,
it springs up again with a profusion and a fulness which clasp huge
rocks within its soft embrace. Here it is short but strong: there it
rises in vast tufts, each of which contains many thousand blades and
covers many feet of ground: and yet again it spreads over vast patches
of country in thick, tall masses, which tower above men’s heads, open
their tinted blades to the warm sun, and wave their myriads of golden
feathers in the summer winds. And it is when we contemplate this rich
but simple provision of the divine bounty, when we watch these masses of
slender blades, each tuft a forest in itself, clothing with beauty what
man has neglected, laying up store for man and beast, opening their
golden hair to the dews by night and the warm winds by day, and joyously
revelling in the life given them from above, that then we can, with Mr.
Ruskin, appreciate and share the admiration and the praise given by the
Psalmist to Him “who maketh the grass to grow upon the mountains.”
When standing on the lofty height overlooking Lake Itasy, we looked to
the north and west over a large number of strange hills. Mr. Sewell had
said that in his judgment, old volcanoes were to be found in this
neighbourhood: and it was clear to us as we stood on this commanding
position together, that the craters were before us. One of them, named
Ambóhitrondry, was of great height and width; outside it on the east was
a second, nearly circular; and a third hung on to that. Beyond these to
the north were two craters of moderate size, one of them double. And
beyond these again numerous others. Some were hollow craters; others
were cones of beautiful shape: and all were richly clothed with grass.
At our second station nearer the lake we were close to a lofty crater
called, Mángaháfa, and could look into it. Behind Moratsiázo was
another, Isáhadimy: and to the west of this, another Támpóly, with a
fine figure of a sleeping lion at the top. All these we carefully noted,
and placed in our maps.
The district on which they stand lies immediately west of Lake Itasy:
and it struck us that the eruption of these volcanoes, by elevating the
land, had barred the way of the original river, had submerged the level
plain through which it flowed, and formed the Lake. The waters must have
been high, until they found an outlet on the north and west in the
channel of the present stream.
Passing on to our next resting-place, the town of Mahatsinjo, we went
under the slopes of Ambóhitrondry and crossed two lines of lava which
had streamed from it in its active days. A short distance on we passed
through a cutting in the lava stream: which had a depth of twenty feet.
To the south of this cutting we had four grassy cones, and at their foot
a small lake, Kazanga, a mile long and half a mile broad. Three streams
run into it from the east and south; its outlet is on the west, where
the water has cut its way through a thick bed of lava pebbles. On the
following day we ascended a lofty hill, a little to the north of
Mahatsinjo, named Ambóhimailála, and found that it was a lava cone. It
gave us a fine prospect of the country. There were other cones and
craters to the north, amongst which was Gasgea, one of the noblest in
the group. And on a lower level of the land, were several others, of
which, later in the day, we visited two, perfectly circular craters,
with dirty greenish lakes at the bottom. On continuing our journey to
the south, we passed several others. Altogether we counted forty cones
and craters in this district of which we were sure. Some were of
enormous size, with lofty walls, conspicuous for many miles: others were
small. Many were of horse-shoe shape: a few were circular. There were
numerous little lakes and bowls among them: of which the largest was
Lake Kazanga, which we believe no Englishmen have seen hitherto. The
country is strewn with lava. Here and there it appears in huge blocks
and its pieces are heavy: or it lies in layers, at times perfectly even,
at times twisted like dough. Vast quantities have the little crystals of
olivine in their tiny cells. The spongy lava and pumice have
disappeared. The colour of the lava was in some masses a bright black:
in others a pale lead colour: all over this district brown earth and mud
are abundant: and they form a soil very different from the gritty red
clay, the common soil of the island. Here and there we saw conical heaps
of these lava stones, piled up by the people, who attach to them a
superstitious reverence. We saw more of the volcanic system at a later
period in this journey.
MAHATSINJO we found to be no common town. It stands on a spur of a long
clay ridge, the upper part of which is overlaid by the lava; and is a
place of some importance. It contains three hundred houses, many of them
large and built of wood with reed-panels. The houses stand on “terrace
upon terrace” cut into the slope of the hill. The rova or government
house is a substantial dwelling. The population is unusually numerous,
and reaches to probably eighteen hundred: we were told there were in the
place a thousand children. As with their neighbours in this Mandridrano
district, the people are well to do in the world: their cattle are
numerous and rice and corn are cheap. Below Mahatsinjo on the south
stretches a wide and level rice valley, supplied with abundance of
water: the whole is under careful cultivation and its volcanic soil must
produce enormous crops.
The town occupies an important position. Far richer in resources than
Miádanamanjáka, it is the real capital of the Mándridráno district: it
is surrounded by cultivated fields and has near it numerous villages.
Indeed the district seems to have gathered a population of its own,
settled in its choicest spots, and very much separated from their
neighbours in Imamo. It illustrates the way in which Madagascar (even
yet but partially occupied) has been peopled, and in which the various
sections of one race have grown up independently of one another. There
is abundance of Christian work to be done in the district, and
Mahatsinjo will prove an admirable centre for that work, with several
sub-centres around it. Mr. Sewell felt with us that it would be well
worth while for the Friends to place an English missionary here. The
people gave us a warm welcome: they eagerly attended Mr. Sewell’s Bible
classes and services: and earnestly requested that one of us would stay
and live amongst them.
Behind the hill on which Mahatsinjo stands is another broad level,
covered with rice fields, and having many little clusters of houses
(like the Betsileo válás) dotting its surface and the roots of its
bordering hills; and in their midst the little town of Ambálaváto. This
level lies below the Imerina plain and forms part of the first terrace
toward the west. With it the population comes to an end: for one day’s
journey beyond scattered houses may be found; then for three days a
traveller must sleep in tents and carry his supplies with him. The
district reached is a veritable Noman’s land, with the Sakalava tribes
on the farther side. The severity of their ancient raids upon Hova crops
and Hova cattle has prevented quiet people from attempting to occupy the
vacant territory. From the lofty heights of Ambóhimailála, we looked for
more than twenty miles across the plains of red clay. They were deeply
cut and scored with little valleys: and at a distance were long and
lofty ridges running north and south. One of these Bóngoláva (“long
heaps”) denoting a long ridge with numerous boulders, is said to be
visible from the west coast: and three lofty peaks, Ampanána, Sapila,
and Ivohibe, form conspicuous landmarks for recording the geography of
this region.
Both at Mahatsinjo and farther south, we heard much of an important town
on the farther side of Noman’s Land, named Mánandáza (“the glorious”).
It was described to us as a place as large as Mahatsinjo and as
populous. It is among the friendly Sákalávas, and is occupied by a Hova
garrison. “A good traveller may reach it in five days: a man driving
cattle will take a week.” This would indicate that the distance from
Mahatsinjo must be about seventy miles. Judging from our later journeys
I should imagine that the town will be found on one of the rivers
running from here to the westward, (probably on the Kitsamby) at the
point where it quits the hills to cross the lower plains to the sea. It
must be seventy miles from the west coast. There is a large church in
the town: and the Hova Christians have one excellent preacher among
them. Few of the Sakalavas are Christians.
After spending several pleasant days in this district, on Wednesday,
April 22d, we turned southward, with a view to visit the mission station
of Antoby and thence go on to Betafo. Hitherto we had travelled to a
large extent along the line of the Imerina valleys. Now we were to cross
them; and as they run out from Ankárat westward, are numerous and often
deep, we had rather a wearisome time until we had passed over the clay
country and had left it behind us. We passed many noble hills on the
way. Vinany, a grand towering hill of gneiss, proved an excellent
observing station and gave us a fine prospect of the country. Under
another noble hill, Antsárabé, the river Kitsamby comes down from the
roots of Tsi-áfakáfo. We found it a fine stream; two hundred feet broad,
three and a half feet deep, with a current of two and a half miles an
hour: the water was thick and brown with clay. Looking up stream we saw
that the river flows through a fine gorge between lofty ridges. To the
west it passes over rapids at the foot of a gneiss hill, and far out on
the plains, it receives the waters of several streams and then flows
round the south end of the great ridge of Sapilá fifteen miles away.
Climbing again to the level of the plain, up a long basin beautifully
cut out of the clay, we crossed successively the Sahomby, which flows
out from the Lake of Vinánynóny: then other small streams: then the
Sáhasáhatra which drains the north side of the Vava Vato; a rapid river,
a hundred feet broad, which has cut through everything to the primitive
rock. A lofty hill, Ambohitrolona, gave us a fine prospect of the
Kitsamby river and the western plains: and brought under our eye the
first of the Hova military stations, under the Sapila range. Another
river of clear, sparkling water, the Nangalána, next crossed our road;
followed by a smaller stream deeply coloured with clay: when, tired with
our three days’ climbing up and down these numerous valleys we safely
reached the ANTOBY Mission-house, on Friday afternoon.
The kind welcome of our friends Mr. and Mrs. Clemes soon made us forget
our troubles: and with quiet Sabbath services we enjoyed in a double way
a sense of rest. There is no town at Antoby. The Mission is planted in
the midst of small villages, and has many others of greater or less
importance at various distances, as out-stations. We had already passed
several of these and saw others during our visit. At the same time we
thought that the sphere of labour is a limited one; the working of it
involves a great deal of toil: and it is only peculiar circumstances,
that suggested the position and that are best controlled by an English
missionary’s personal influence, which justify the appropriation of a
missionary even for a limited time, when larger spheres are open to him.
The Mission-house is a most modest dwelling, simply and neatly
furnished; and though too small, more completely realises my idea of a
country Mission-house than others which I have seen.
For several days we had had in sight the great granite mountains of the
VAVA VATO, which we had skirted on their eastern side, on our journey to
the Betsileo province. The lofty serrated crest of these mountains had
furnished us with conspicuous points for our survey. On the west centre
were the noble peaks of Iávohaikia and Ivohitány; in the south bend was
the peak of Máhasóa; and on the northern curve were two rounded hills,
exceedingly like elephants; one very large, with a small elephant
standing in front of him. These points occur repeatedly in our survey
lists. We had long been approaching these granite mountains: the single
line first seen on the horizon had broken up into masses, showing
different ridges: and at Antoby we not only found ourselves close to
them, but Mr. Clemes assured us that there was no difficulty in making
the ascent and returning the same day. Our men, fortified for extra toil
by an extra day’s pay, entered into the scheme with spirit, and we
devoted Monday to the expedition.
We started at half-past seven and returned by half-past five: and with
lovely weather and a clear sky, had a successful day. We penetrated into
the very heart of the Váva Vato range: and climbed to the summit of
Iávohaikia (7100 feet), the highest peak of all. We found that, counting
from the west, the mass contains three ranges and on the third in its
centre is Iávoháikia. Behind is a fourth range, which bends to the
south-east: on this is Ivóhitány. The first three ranges run south for
three miles, then curve and end with a western front in the mass of
Máhasóa. To the north these ranges bend to the eastward, and on the
curve of the third and highest range are the two elephants. From them
and from the fourth range, two lofty ridges run to the east and
south-east: with fine grassy alleys between them.
This mass of mountains is piled up upon the grandest scale. Each ridge
is lofty and impresses one with its greatness. Who can adequately
describe the combination of the whole? It is impossible to enter into
details; to picture the thousands of fallen rocks; to tell the size and
vastness of individual rocks, bigger than palaces and temples; here
piled upon one another, there scattered in profusion over a vast space.
We walked beneath them, looking like pigmies: we climbed and climbed and
stood upon them, looking like flies. Their shapes were wonderfully fair:
their combinations and massings were strangely picturesque. Here a broad
grassy level lay between two ranges: there a dark narrow way passed
between giant rocks which towered high into the air. At the foot of huge
square pillars which might be formed into an Egyptian temple, we took
our refreshment on a granite table: the water everywhere was bright and
pure. No finer rocks, no masses of such surpassing grandeur, have I seen
in any of the countries which I have visited.
The granite of these mountains is of pink felspar, of fine grain and
delicate tint. It is in a very rotten condition. Is this the result of
weather only: or does it come of the fierce heats of the volcanic region
by which it is entirely surrounded?
The district in which we were now travelling, from the Kitsamby south
and from the Vava Váto mountains to the sea is called MENABE, the “great
red” land. It deserves the name, for the red clay is most conspicuous on
all its western side. The population continues for only one day’s
journey to the west. It is worthy of note that while on the eastern edge
of Imerina the first descent is covered with thick forest along the
entire line of country, the first descent on the west, both in the
Mándridráno and Ménabé, is quite bare of wood: the terrace below for at
least fifteen miles westward is bare also. There is brushwood in the
hollows; but there is no forest properly so called. Farther south on the
western edge of the Betsileo, M. Grandidier’s map indicates that there
is forest.
We now looked forward to a visit to the Norwegian Mission Stations,
which were not far away; and the first of which, AMBOHIMASINA, is only
six miles south of Antoby. We had already obtained three bearings of
both the village and the Mission-house from various points. Taking
farewell of our kind hosts, we left Antoby on Tuesday, April 28th, and
had a pleasant run of two hours and a half, over the clay hills, and
across the Ikokomy river, to Ambohimasina; where we were most kindly
welcomed by Mr. Eganes of the Norwegian Mission: and joined him in a
late breakfast. Mr. Eganes has lived a lonely life for two or three
years at this distant station: but he has gathered round him the
apparatus for Christian work: has built a simple, comfortable
dwelling-house, and school: has been learning Malagasy; and now joined
by a good wife, who was at the time of our visit on her voyage, he is
prepared to devote all his strength and time to the instruction of the
people around him.
At one o’clock we set out for the station of BETAFO, distant about
fifteen miles. The journey was somewhat long and the road rough and
unknown: but the bearers were as anxious as ourselves to arrive before
dark, and they stepped well forward. Mr. Sewell and I brought in the
rear of the party just before six o’clock and we were soon comfortably
housed under the hospitable roof of Mr. and Mrs. Eng. I will not
describe the details of our journey: but the ground over which we had
travelled is in many respects remarkable, as illustrating the manner in
which the present surface of Madagascar has been formed.
Our course from Ambohimasina was south-east, right up the valley of
Betafo. This valley is in shape like an inverted funnel: at the western
mouth it is five miles across: at the higher and eastern end it is a
mile and a half wide. It is enclosed by high ridges through its entire
length. A fine gneiss ridge overhangs it on the south. On the north the
granite mountains of Mahasoa and the inner ridges of the Vava Vato, hang
above it for ten miles: then follows a low gneiss ridge which extends to
Betafo. The floor of the valley is of the sedimentary clay: it belongs
to the upper plateau of Imerina and would, if undisturbed have descended
to the west by three broad stairs, each five miles wide. It is the
disturbances from which this enclosed valley has suffered, that give it
its peculiar features and make its physical geography a subject of so
much interest. Like many sections of Ankay it illustrates in miniature
the process by which whole continents have been formed. First, at its
upper corner on the south side, there meet two rivers, the Andrasáy from
the east and the Lóalámbo from the north: the latter brings down a
strong body of water from high ground: and both streams under the name
of Loalómbo, have cleared the clay down to the gneiss rock, through the
entire length of the valley along its south side, and carried the soil
into the western plains. Five miles below their junction a strong stream
comes out from the Vava Vato, called the Tsi-tánymaláma, “not a slippery
land;” a sensible name, given by some Malagasy traveller with bare feet,
when he was passing over its sharp granite pebbles: this stream cuts the
great valley clean across with a valley of its own, and through the deep
gulley flows into the Lóalámbo. Below this again, small streams from the
granite have made numerous minor cuttings: and five miles below, a
second river, the Sakóva, shallow at present but strong in the rainy
season, does the same; cutting the clay with beautiful curves and
leaving a high bank and ridge overhanging the water on the east side.
All the ledges at the foot of these ridges are studded with villages,
and hamlets, and in the centre of the valley, below the Sakova, is the
village and Mission-house of Soávina, another station of the Norwegian
Mission. On the north side of the valley is a series of clay terraces,
beautifully formed; and numerous hamlets in a cluster combine to make up
the town of Ambáranákóho. There is considerable population in this part
of the valley and more than one chapel is conspicuous on the hill-side.
Near the broad mouth of the valley, though the clay hills are numerous,
the general level that has been reached by all this cutting and washing
of the streams, is that of the lower terrace in Menabe. At the
south-west corner of the valley, the Lóalámbo having gathered all the
streams into itself, flows full and strong across the plains, south of
the great peak of Ivohibe, to join the river Mania.
Our visit to Betafo was made most pleasant by the great kindness of Mr.
and Mrs. Eng. Mr. Eng has now been several years in Madagascar and knows
the district well. He has suffered greatly from the local fevers, which
re-appear in his system again and again, and keep him an invalid. But
his earnest zeal and his longing desire for the welfare of his people
render him a valuable member of the Mission. His position is one of
great usefulness. The mission-house stands on a little hill in the midst
of a vast amphitheatre, cut out of the great valley, at its upper end,
by the rivers above named; and while the waters run free in the deep
beds which they have made, the sloping banks around the vast enclosure,
have been shaped into hundreds of terraces upon which rice is grown.
Villages have been placed on all the best parts of the higher ground:
and within sight of the mission-house, there must be in these villages
some twenty thousand people.
A few miles to the east, on the way to Sirabe, is a broad plain, also
rich in rice fields. Sirabe itself is full of rice grounds. So also is
the Mánandóna valley to the south, which we had already traversed: and
so is the Lávadráno plain to the east. There is no lack of villages and
people throughout this region. The district lies south-west and south of
the Ankárat mountains: and among the Malagasy is known by the technical
name of Vákin’ Ankárat, “cut off by Ankárat.” It contains altogether ten
thousand _hetra_ or holdings, and these are believed to represent a
population of one hundred thousand people. Betafo itself was the head of
an independent kingdom, the fortress of which was on the top of a
conical hill, on the south of the amphitheatre. It was summoned to
surrender by Radáma; and yielded itself without trouble. The district
has since formed an integral portion of the Hova dominions. And on her
journey home from the Betsileo province, the Queen, with her camp,
turned aside to Sirabé, that she might meet with her people. As at
Fianáran, so also at Sirabe, she addressed to them all wise and stirring
words upon the subject of educating their children.
The district forms an excellent sphere of usefulness: and it is occupied
by the Norwegian brethren in force. They have established nine principal
stations, occupied by seven missionaries. The people have been somewhat
prejudiced against these brethren, as not being Englishmen and of the
same Society as those who first instructed them. But they are overcoming
these prejudices; and Mr. Eng assured us that there is decided
improvement in their congregations and schools. We could not wish it
otherwise. Trained in the Evangelical school of the Norwegian Church,
these brethren are anxious to work in harmony with the Friends and
ourselves: questions of jurisdiction have practically been settled
between us. And we can truly wish them God speed in their labours. Their
reception of Mr. Sewell, my colleague and myself at all these stations
was affectionate and cordial in the extreme.
At Betafo we were in the neighbourhood of the volcanoes once more: and
having expressed our desire to examine them carefully, Mr. Eng kindly
offered to accompany us. Ivoko, the noblest of all the craters in this
district, was only two miles from the house. We had seen it from far
down the valley, towering above the country; and we were anxious to
climb to the summit, in the hope that by its means we might connect the
eastern and western lines of our survey: as well as obtain a good view
of the district at large. In this plan we found complete success. But
our friends had resolved that we should have ample comfort in our day’s
work. Abundant provision was made for our wants: the children of the
family were delighted to join us: and a large number of the Christians
of Betafo, anxious to show us respect, also accompanied us. Our visit to
the Ivoko crater turned out a pleasant jaunt rather than a day of toil:
and under a bright sky, with little wind, it yielded us thorough
enjoyment.
We had a good climb: the total ascent being eleven hundred and thirty
feet. Our native friends, used to hills, coolly walked right up the
steep side, and thought nothing of it. Others of us took the more gentle
ascent or were carried by our men, who enjoyed the holiday, as much as
ourselves. The prospect from the summit was truly beautiful. Ivoko, we
saw, was a vast crater, a quarter of a mile across; the encircling wall
was complete, except at the south where the opening was fifty feet wide.
The western wall is higher than the eastern. Beneath us, half a mile to
the east, was another crater, Iatsífitra, second only to Ivoko, with its
opening to the north. Long narrow mounds of volcanic rocks, running out
from each of these hills showed the course taken by the molten lava
streams. Both hills were covered inside and out with living grass. On
the north-west shoulder of Ivoko were two other large craters,
overhanging Betafo: two more were close by at the north-east: and others
were conspicuous ten miles to the north. On the south again were several
others, the horse-shoe shape being very marked in all. While ten miles
to the south, was the round crater of Tritriva, with a green lake, deep
down within. Far away to the east were other craters near and to the
north of Sirabe.
Our survey of the country had now been carried along the western
districts of Imerina, and thence to the south; and it had embraced the
whole country lying between the Ankárat mountains and the great ridges
and peaks of Ménabé. On our former journey we had laid down the inner
portions of the Vákin Ankárat; Mr. Cameron had determined the latitude
of Betafo, Sirabe and Votovorona, nearly in a line; and we had examined
the whole eastern side of the upper plateau from the capital to the
south border of the Betsileo. At Ivoko we stood midway between these
separate lines of observations: a large number of the principal peaks
and positions were in sight; and we enjoyed an excellent opportunity of
comparing them together, and testing the accuracy of our own work. When
duly worked out, it was satisfactory to find that the sets of
observations were consistent with one another, and that the
discrepancies were few and within small compass. It is from these
observations that our Maps have been constructed.
Descending to the crater of Iatsifitra, of which I obtained a
photograph, we observed that the lava rocks, which had issued from it to
the north, were black, sharp and fresh, as if they had been broken
yesterday. On its eastern side was a plain, a mile square, covered with
heaps of broken lava, like stone cottages, fortresses, and ruined
palaces. I counted thirty greater piles: and noted numberless smaller
ones. It was clear that, like the Phlegrœan fields in Italy and the
neighbourhood of Mouna Roa in Hawaii, the entire plain had at some time
been on fire; and that a hundred jets of fire and flame and molten lava
had spurted from its surface, hurling their blazing rockets into the
sky. The heaps were now old and moss-grown: but one of the peasantry
informed Mr. Sewell, that there was a kind of tradition amongst the
people, that their ancestors had seen these flames bursting forth. They
called the fire _áfo-to_: and the lava _kitroka_.
Near to Betafo in a cutting, ten feet deep made by a stream, I observed
a specimen of the strata formed by the successive eruptions of these
volcanoes. At the bottom were lumps of lava, somewhat small. Above these
came several bands of brown earth: then one of black earth: above this
several strata of ashes, and of lava gravel: above these again were
strata of earth. Similar strata we had seen in a cutting in the
Mándridráno: and subsequently saw others under the hill of Ivohitra in
Sirabe.
I need not give the details of our inquiries and their results on each
day of our journey. Travelling farther east, across Sirabe and round the
southern end of Ankaratra we had the lava still, with long tongues,
cinder heaps, and old craters again and again. We ascended one of the
noblest hills in the country, the conical peak of Votovorona, a most
important station in our survey: and we found it to be volcanic. Another
fine cone to the east of it, Ihankian, was volcanic also. In this
district we found sixty of these cones and craters. Altogether in this
important journey we saw and counted a hundred extinct craters,
extending over an arc of ninety miles, not reckoning the central mass of
Ankárat, the finest of all, round one side of which this great arc
bends. Even these do not exhaust the tale. The volcanic belt appears
once more to the northward in the lofty hills with which the island
terminates. The peak of Mataola is volcanic. Mount Amber is volcanic:
the renowned fortress close to it is an ancient crater. Nosibe is an
island full of volcanoes. Mayotta and Johanna in the Comóro isles are
full of craters, lava peaks and lava streams. What a mighty volcanic
force must have been exerted over this enormous area! Does Java itself
show a more wonderful volcanic field? If human eyes could have beheld
and appreciated them, what a scene of indescribable grandeur must have
been presented when these volcanoes were active: when the land was
rocked with earthquakes, and the mighty hills of gneiss and granite were
upturned and rent in pieces: when showers of blazing rocks shot out like
meteors into the lurid night, and the molten lava streams flowed like
red rivers out of the mouths of these flaming furnaces. Wonderful in the
history of the earth has been the agency of fire: nowhere can that
agency have been exhibited more grandly in the present age of the
earth’s formation than on the great volcanic field of Madagascar.
Among the adjuncts of the volcanic field we found four hot springs,
three of which are near together in Betafo and Sirabe. The temperature
of the spring at Betafo, as tried by Mr. Cameron on our first visit was
130° Fahr. The water seemed perfectly tasteless.
In three places we also found jets of carbonic acid gas. Beneath the
broad and level plain of Sirabe, extending over fifty square miles,
there is evidently a great deposit of lime. The pits of Sirabe, worked
by the government convicts, supply nearly all the lime used for building
both in the Capital and Imerina at large. With the exception of some
lime deposits, containing satin spar, north of Ankárat; and a little
sandstone in South Betsileo, this lime of Sirabe is the only secondary
rock we met with or heard of in the upper districts of Madagascar. It is
massive lime and contains no fossils. It is from this lime that the
wells of carbonic acid gas are derived. One well with numerous jets was
connected with a filthy mud pool; the water bubbled all over the surface
and our bearers could not imagine why it remained quite cold. In a
second case the tubular well was dry, and we found butterflies and
various insects dead and dying around its mouth: we were told that frogs
and mice are also at times found dead there. Among the lime pits the
bubbling springs were numerous. At one point a huge tufa rock has been
formed, having caverns with stalactites on its eastern side. On the top
of the rock there is a natural basin: the water of a spring continually
flows up through a crevice, bubbling as it rises. And thus it provides
neither more nor less than natural soda water, of which we could drink,
as we liked, without charge.
During our journey we looked everywhere for columnar basalt: but failed
to find it. We saw abundance of lava, great and small, and of volcanic
earth: but of columnar rock there seemed to be none. At last we found a
single patch of it, about fifteen miles north of Voto Vorona. It covered
a space of thirty feet by twenty: the columns were, as usual, six-sided:
and the pillars exposed on the edge of a low ridge were four feet long.
It is in the neighbourhood of these volcanoes that all the metals and
peculiar earths in the island are said to be found. A district
south-east of Sirabe and near to the Mania, is said to possess copper.
Sulphur in small quantities is found at the south end of Ankárat. The
lime is in Sirabe and a little of it north of Ankárat. Iron is found in
abundance in the hills of Amoronkay, fourteen miles from the Capital and
to the east of Ankárat. It is also abundant in the lofty mountain of
Ambóhimiangára on the north-east corner of Lake Itasy. On the whole the
native metallic supply in Madagascar seems poor and scanty.
Journeying from Betafo to the Capital, we paid a brief visit to the
mission at Másinandráina; skirted the little lake of Iraikiba, the scene
of a local legend of the Hero and Leander type; exhibited the bubbling
well to our astonished bearers; and a second time enjoyed the
hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Rosaas at Sirabé. Thence we journeyed east
over new ground to the broad level valley of the Lávadráno, “hollows
with water;” and received a kind welcome from Mr. and Mrs. Nilsen at
Lóharáno. With Mr. Nilsen, we climbed VOTOVORONA, and from the summit
carefully surveyed the country on all sides. The clear view furnished us
with several connecting links of great value to the lists of
observations taken hitherto. We saw far to the south the hill
overhanging Ambositra: we saw Ivohibe to the west; and to the north had
several lofty hills of known position a few miles south of the Capital.
Votovorona is a noble conical hill, of most striking appearance. It is
844 feet in height, and stands on a broad base, 900 feet across. The
base is gneiss: the cone proper is of lava rocks; one stone of which was
clinkstone with a decided metallic ring. From Votovorona we had a clear
view of several horse-shoe craters on the neighbouring moor: and the
long valley of the Lavadrano was beneath us in all its length and
breadth. The great granite mass of Ibety, south of Sirabe, towered high
over the country.
From this point to the capital, travelling was comparatively easy. We
were on the high plateau of Imerina. A single journey on the Saturday
along the western side of the plain took us across the river Elaborona
(“bird’s wing”) just where it joins the Onibe: and led us comfortably to
Ankisitra. Here we rested for the Sunday and had a fresh opportunity of
observing the ignorance of our country congregations at a distance,
their perseverance in maintaining worship, and their willingness to
receive instruction. In all this part of the country we saw no
population. Next day we slept in the chapel at Andraráty, at the foot of
the great peaks of Ankárat. We took valuable observations from lofty
hills: but for two days the weather baffled our attempt to climb the
highest, Tsi-áfa-závona: and we were compelled to give it up. Crossing
the lava tongues and ridges, at Miantsoarivo, we fell into our former
track on starting for the Betsileo. Again we passed along the waters of
the Katsáoka (here called the Berimo) and of the Andromba issuing fresh
from the lava; and reached the thick clusters of villages in South
Imerina. Again we visited Ambátomaláza, with its grand turtle-head rock.
We had completed the circle of Ankárat, had enclosed this great mass of
mountains within a ring of observations, connected point by point. We
had seen and visited the population that drink of its waters. On
Thursday, May 7th, a little after noon, we reached Antananarivo once
more, wearied, but safe and well.
A few days after we set out to pay a brief visit to the town of
AMBOHIVELOMA, which has been selected as a station for the residence of
an English missionary in Western Imerina. The place is situated at the
distance of a long day’s journey from the Capital. Having crossed the
Ikopa and rounded the great hill and island of Ambóhitramanjáka, so
prominent in the landscape of Imerina, we rested at the next village of
Anósimanjáka, to give the men breakfast. And here we met with a singular
reception. Mr. Pillans and I were alone; there was no interpreter to
help us in our intercourse with the people. Putting up in a handsome new
chapel, not yet finished, the elders of the village came to pay their
respects: the chapel mats were speedily spread, and things were put in
preparation. We were strangers to these village elders: they knew that
we had come across the sea to visit the native churches: but they had
heard rumours that we were addicted to strange proceedings, which they
did not understand, and concerning which they had received no
instructions either from political or ecclesiastical authorities. They
were evidently afraid of us: they were therefore courteous but reserved.
After a few inquiries about things in general, whence we had come and
whither we were going, the reason came out. “In travelling about, do you
not take pictures?” “Yes, we have made many pictures.” “Do you not write
down the country and the churches?” “Yes, we do.” They looked very
serious over these confessions: and eventually the oldest goose in the
village and two little pots of rice were deemed a fitting present for
such very suspicious visitors.
Going on our way we had to cross the Andromba, now a strong stream,
eight or ten feet deep and sixty yards wide, bearing the waters of the
Kátsáoka as well as its own. Bridges are unknown in Madagascar over such
streams, and we must cross in a canoe. The only canoe available was a
narrow thing, with a big hole in it, stopped up with lumps of turf, and
leaking considerably. Besides there was not a single paddle to propel
it. What matter? Some luggage and a few bearers were put into the
gallant bark: and the ferryman rowed them over with his legs, using
first the right foot and then the left, that the resultant might be a
right line! The party landed safe: and in due time we followed. An
efficient paddle would have cost that genius one farthing.
Passing well to the north of Antongona and Ambohitrambo, we kept up a
long level valley, south of a fine hill that was new to us,
Ambóhimanáha. Again we crossed our old friend the Ombifotsy, and in due
time came near the Anonibe. We reached our destination just at sunset.
AMBOHIVELOMA is a country town of unusually striking appearance. It is
situated on the top of a clay hill, 450 feet above the rice plain: the
hill slopes up rapidly and is deeply scored with ditches and gullies
once relied on as fortifications. The town contains a hundred houses.
Two large and well-built houses stand at the top of the town, which
belong to the principal family in the place, and near them are the
family tombs. Indeed the tombs are royal, one of the old kings of the
district being buried here. There are other houses about, enclosing
plenty of space: and the hill is covered with trees. The chapel is
rather a small building, unworthy of the place and people: but that
defect will soon be remedied. We found in it a school of thirty-five
children. It has been arranged that the missionaries coming to occupy
Ambohiveloma shall rearrange these two principal houses, and reside in
them while the permanent English house is being built, on the northern
slope of the hill.
Ambohiveloma is surrounded by fertile rice valleys well supplied with
water. It is therefore the centre of a large population; villages and
hamlets are seen in all directions on the little terraces of the hills
above the fields. A hundred such are found within a few miles and some
of the villages are large. Beyond these villages on all sides the
population is thin; even on the east as well as north and south. And as
the ancient kingdom that was established here stood isolated from
others, so the new Mission district about to be arranged for, will have
a sphere of its own and be to a considerable extent separated from
others. Nevertheless it has the prospect of much usefulness.
On the following day we ascended a lofty hill, named Ambóhimaláza, four
miles to the south-west of Ambohiveloma: and had a fine view of this
western part of Imerina. We stood in a new position just between
districts, to the south and north, over which we had slowly travelled.
Many of our great landmarks were in sight and were distinctly seen in
the clear air. Lohavohitra to the north: Ambohimiangára to the
south-west: Tsiafakáfo and the peaks of Ankárat: Ambohimanáha, and
others even more distant, were prominent points in the outstretched
landscape. We saw also two noble granite masses in the north-west,
Ambohitrondrona and Antáramánana, which have lofty serrated peaks and
resemble in many respects the granite ridges of the Vava Vato and of
Ibety.
During the day we observed many beautiful butterflies about the hill:
and several were brought to us by the children, pinned to a small stick
by a thorn. They were beautifully marked with green and black and gold.
The day closed with one of the finest sunsets I have seen in the East.
As we stood on the platform at the top of the hill, we had an immense
territory under our eyes. The whole was lighted up by the departing sun
with a gorgeousness and splendour indescribable. The colour of the whole
was a rich golden red. Every hill and valley, high and low, was bathed
in the glowing radiance, which seemed not of earth but of heaven.
[Illustration:
THE FALLS OF THE IKOPA.
]
On our return home, we bent our course a little to the northward that we
might visit the falls of the Ikopa. These falls are not only very
striking in themselves, but the barrier reef over which the river leaps
occupies a most important position in the economy of the province. The
sedimentary clay of Madagascar yields so readily to the action of water,
and is so speedily scored into gullies and ravines, that if it had
nothing to stay its course, broad plains would be impossible; only long
and narrow rice cultivation would be practicable. The truth of this we
have seen again and again in the scored and riven districts of Menabe
and Ankay, where it is difficult to find level ground. On the western
side of Imerina, at the point to which the line of its drainage by the
Ikopa tends, there is in God’s good providence a remarkable reef of hard
gneiss rocks. This reef retains the waters of the river at a certain
fixed height. Age has passed after age, generation after generation: but
the waters remain. The clay hills of Imerina have been melting away; but
the silt at their feet, and the rich soil that has been formed, have
only found a more perfect level. They cannot be wasted and washed away,
over the stern barrier which retains the waters: and so the plain of
Imerina, twelve hundred square miles in size, has only grown richer, as
its swamps were cleared of reeds, and has become more fit to feed the
multitudes of people that cluster in the hundreds of villages which stud
its fertile bosom. A similar reef of rocks at Sinjoarivo retains the
waters of the Onibe in the Ankisitra plain: and yet another, the winding
stream of the Mánantánana, which waters though imperfectly the broad
basin of Ambohimandroso. It is due entirely to these rocky barriers that
this rich silt and the fertilising streams, which support a million
lives have found a secure resting-place, four thousand feet above the
sea.
The Fárahántsana, or reef of the Ikopa, lies at a point, a few miles
north-west of Ambohimanoa and immediately south of Vonizongo. We struck
the river a little above the reef, where it bends round to the north;
and we clambered over the rocks beyond, until we stood on a projection
of the bank, opposite to the falls. The reef is two hundred yards in
length; and the rocks are piled on one another in a solid mass, while
hundreds more lie struggling in the waters in the bed below. The
Fárahántsana is the second fall; there being a smaller fall with
numerous rapids half a mile above. In the chief fall there are two
passages for the water, and the height of the fall is fifty feet. Once
over they boil and foam and hurry onward, taking a second leap a little
below, and foaming over great boulders rush down the rocky ravine toward
the sea. The scene is in many ways one of great beauty. I was glad to
secure two photographs of it, the one facing the fall, the other looking
down the ravine.
After examining and enjoying the scene, we went to tiffin in what
appeared to be a pretty looking cottage, on one of the islands, and
embowered in trees. It proved to be a Malagasy house of the usual order,
dirty, disorderly, with a clean mat or two vainly endeavouring to hide
what was beneath. Of course while we rested the inevitable chickens
would come between our feet, and carry away everything that their hungry
little beaks could grasp. The next day we returned to the Capital:
having made large additions to our knowledge of the details of Imerina
geography, during this little journey of four days.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER VIII.
THE SIHANAKA PROVINCE AND PEOPLE.
Special reason for a visit to this Province—Crossing the Granite
Moors—Basin of the Mananára—Anjozorobe and its People—Spend Sunday
with them—“The Gate of Rock”—The Wilderness of Ankay—Capital of the
Sihanaka, its Governor and People—Christian work and the Native
Pastor—Tour round the District—Ambohidehilahy—Ambodinónoka—Petulance
of our Bearers—The great Swamp and its Reeds—Ambohitromby—Reception
at Ambohipeno—Amparafaravola and its kind Governor—A Volcanic
Hill—Ambohijanahary—Ambohitsara—Enquiries about the Gun—The Alaotra
Lake and the Scenery around it—Marosalázana and its bright
Scholars—Memorials of the Dead—Whence came the Sihanaka People—How
they became Christians—What the Gospel is doing for them—Form,
Extent and Population of the District.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER VIII.
THE SIHANAKA PROVINCE AND PEOPLE.
THE SIHANAKA province, to which our steps were next directed, has
hitherto borne an evil reputation as a hotbed of fever. But there were
strong reasons which made it imperative for us to see the place and its
people. Good work had been done there. The people needed a visit. Only
one of the missionaries knew anything about them, the Rev. J. Pearse,
now in England, and he had offered, with singular devotion and
self-denial, to give up all the comfort of his settled ministry in
Antanánarivo, and help “the sheep in the wilderness,” far distant from
their brethren. For the satisfaction of his colleagues, for the
satisfaction of the Directors, it was necessary that we should see his
chosen field and give our judgment respecting it. At the last moment, we
received a kind message from the Prime Minister, informing us that
small-pox had broken out in the Sihánaka district; and though he left us
at perfect liberty to proceed thither, he desired at least to warn us
that we might be on our guard. We thanked him for his kindly caution,
and assured him and the Queen that, though we felt obliged to pay the
visit, we would watch with care over our men, and do our best to bring
them back in safety. Under God’s blessing we escaped all harm; and our
fifty-four bearers and servants returned with us to the Capital strong
and well.
We were to be absent three weeks. We carried with us one of the large
tents; our portable beds, canteen, camera, surveying instruments,
clothing and stores, with a good supply of Malagasy books: and our Camp
formed a very compact and manageable body of men. The Rev. J. Sibree was
our companion; and by his thorough knowledge of Malagasy and the
readiness of his help, rendered us great service. Mr. Sibree is a
practised surveyor; and in consequence we were able to secure on this
journey a double set of observations for the mapping of the new country.
On Wednesday, June 17th, we left the Capital for Ambohimanga, Mr.
Sibree’s station, twelve miles across the plain, which we reached by
five o’clock. The Queen and Court were still there, enjoying the quiet
of this royal city: and before an hour had passed, one of the officers
came down, to express on the part of all their good wishes for a safe
and prosperous journey, and with kindly thoughtfulness to add a few
comforts to our stores. Our men too found themselves among relatives and
friends; and were so lost in rice and beef and general hospitality, that
it was with difficulty we recovered them the following morning, in
anything like proper time.
The first portion of our journey on Thursday led us into a fine cluster
of villages and churches on the edge of the great northern moor, and
three hours distant from Ambohimanga: and here our men rested for their
morning meal. Resuming our road we soon left all population behind. The
moor was high, bare and cold. It was not a level; but was scored into
lines of low hills, the forms of which were full of beauty. We crossed
the Zabo, the fountains of which we had seen among the round hills of
Ambátovóry and Angavokely, many miles to the south-east: it has a
strong, full stream of water and is one of the four chief tributaries
which form the Betsiboka river. All day on these high lands the
south-east wind blew hard and cold, and our poor bearers suffered
greatly. At five o’clock we reached Ambatomainty, a village of twelve
houses, but without house or chapel in which we could rest. Our tent was
soon set up; and bravely stood the wild wind which blew all night. And
when we were fairly enclosed, and the tea-table was duly arranged (on
three overland trunks) we felt snug and comfortable.
On Friday morning a thick fog lay on the hills and we could scarcely see
our road. When it lifted we saw on the east of the Ambatomainty ridge a
long, unbroken valley coming from the moors on the south-east and going
away north-west, full of rice, and drained by the Tsárasáhatra, which,
like the Zabo, has its springs in the buttresses of Angavokely. At this
point both rivers are small. Near by are two small villages, Mangatany
with one of our churches; and Andrainarivo, with a Roman Catholic
chapel. Then came three beautiful patches of wood; “Boulder Glen;” and a
small stream with two cascades. High hills, covered with wood showed
themselves to the east. After a journey of fifteen miles over a country
thoroughly bare and unpeopled, we mounted a lofty hill,
Ambóhitsitâkatra, which gave us a fine prospect on every side. We fixed
its position, with ease, by bearings from seven of the principal hills
of Imerina: and made it the starting point of new positions to the north
and west. On the west we had the deep valleys of Anátivólo: and the high
hill of Vohiléna. On the south-east was the lofty cone of
Ambóhitrakóholáhy, above the Beforona Wall: and to the east lay a great
gneiss ridge covered with forest, which forms the western boundary of
Ankay.
One interesting feature of our position was this. The gneiss hill on
which we stood is on the watershed of the island: it forms part of the
edge of the great granite moors, which go south to Angavokely: and
beneath us on the east, was a broad basin, scored in all directions, a
portion of that vast sedimentary clay region, which forms Ankay. It
looked like network. This basin is drained by the river Mananára; it is
enclosed between gneiss ridges: is full of rice fields and has a large
cluster of villages. Early in the afternoon we reached the village of
Anjozorobé; and took up our quarters in its neat chapel.
The place was wholly unknown to us. We had only its name in Grandidier’s
map and on our list of native church stations. It proved a spot full of
interest. The pastor of the church was a devoted, active worker; the
school children were full of life and intelligence; and the congregation
and its neighbours were striving to make progress in the knowledge and
practice of their new faith. They gave us a warm welcome: and as they
had not seen an Englishman’s face for five years, and entreated us to
spend the Sabbath with them, we had no difficulty in so doing.
Saturday was a busy day. Mr. Sibree examined the school children. We
visited together a high hill to the northward to take bearings:
photographed the village and the ravine of the river; and attended to a
large number of patients. The village is built on a high clay hill: it
contains seventy houses with a population of less than four hundred
souls; and the usual complement of fowls and pigs. The prospect from the
chapel was very fine. To the north were high wooded hills. Beneath us to
the west was the basin of the river, which wound through it with the
most graceful bends: and the edges of the basin, and its numerous
cuttings were curved with such beautiful lines, as made it certain that
the place had been formed by running water, and was at one time a
portion of a great lake. The river Mananára is here a hundred and
fourteen feet wide, from two to five feet deep, and runs with a strong
and rapid stream. It is crossed by a fixed bridge in two spans: each
span being composed of three balks of timber of a scantling of eighteen
inches by sixteen. We had seen the fountains of this fine river near
Ambatomena: where they water one of the largest rice fields in all
Imerina and feed some five thousand human beings. We found with interest
that the population of this basin are closely connected with the people
of Ambatomena and its neighbourhood.
We spent a delightful Sunday with them. At the outset came some twenty
patients, suffering chiefly from chills and fever. The congregation was
large for the place, and additions from distant villages kept coming in
till near the close of the service: when the place was thoroughly filled
with over three hundred people. Our “native chaplain,” who had helped us
so much on the Itasy journey, preached the first sermon: then Mr. Sibree
took for his text “God so loved the world, that He gave His only
begotten Son.” Very earnest and intelligent listeners did the people
prove. One could not look upon their devout demeanour, their clean
dress, the self-respect manifest in the faces of both men and women, and
hear the correct answers given by them to their instructor, without
feeling what a powerful influence the gospel exercises, in elevating,
controlling and sanctifying all life. For five years pastor and people
have been left to themselves, to the teaching of the Spirit, the
teaching of His Word: and this was the result. In the afternoon we all
went over to Ambohiveloma a flourishing village two miles to the
westward: and found another good congregation, with a number of
intelligent and devout young men. Away to the south is the village of
Antoby, where lives a good old blacksmith, who has been the means of
drawing a large number of people to the Saviour. Both in the morning and
afternoon Mr. Sibree and our chaplain taught the congregations two new
hymns and tunes, which have just come out in the Capital and with which
they were greatly delighted.
On Monday, June 22d, we resumed our journey early: and towards midday
approached the great inner belt of forest, which occupies so conspicuous
a position in the geography of the country. It forms the western
boundary of Ankay; appears in wonderful loveliness at Angavo; and
continues in unbroken grandeur, west of the Tanála, and as far south as
Ambóndrombé. It is not forest alone; it is a great gneiss wall, running
down the entire length of the country, the edge of the upper plateau of
the island: and the forest clothes and beautifies it. Near its inner
side we crossed the branches of the small river Manánta, another feeder
of the Betsiboka, running north-west. We crossed the ridge by a noble
pass, Ambárabáram-vato, the “gate of rock.” A climb of five hundred feet
from the clay plain brought us to the summit, a narrow ledge, about
three yards wide: from whence we had an extensive view over the Ankay
plain, as well as over the basin we had just quitted and its
continuation to the west. We found that the hill on which we stood had a
second summit a short distance away, called Ambohimila. We took
important observations, to fix the hill: and through all our trip, its
two lofty peaks proved a conspicuous landmark to which other points
might be referred. We descended by a natural staircase of huge granite
blocks: then reached the clay, which was very wet and slippery; crossed
a low clay ridge, covered with forest, through which our palankins with
difficulty found a way; and at last came into a fine long valley,
bordered with noble hills, whereon the forest seemed thicker, richer and
more lovely than ever. The total descent from the crest of the hill was
1280 feet. It will be remembered that at Angavo (a point on the same
wall further south), our ascent was 1206 feet. On the outer side of the
wall we observed hundreds of rounded buttresses, with deep inlets
between.
Though we had reached a comparative level and had rice fields around us,
we looked in vain for a village, where our men might get their first
meal. And it was two o’clock before we halted at a little cluster of
twelve houses, significantly named Mandánavátsy, “get your tiffin.” To
travellers coming from the Sihánaka territory, in the direction opposite
to our own, it conveys the excellent advice, “Make a good meal before
you go farther; you will find nothing to eat for hours.” We took the
advice on the way back. Having rested for two hours, we continued our
journey; and winding round and through richly wooded hills, we came at
sunset, to a clump of seven houses, called Ambatolampy, with a few
others scattered about. In one or two huts, now deserted, there had been
cases of small-pox, but the men carefully avoided them. Where they all
found accommodation, I was afraid to enquire. I only know that our three
servants slept somehow within the photograph tent, _four feet square_.
We had the eleven feet for ourselves; and had it not been for the
mosquitoes might have slept comfortably.
During the next two days we were still in Upper Ankay. In general the
centre ridges were level; but the plain was deeply scored by the
streams; the gullies having a bend to the north-west. Here and there
were high hills, which we used as surveying stations: and from one of
which we had a fine view of the east wall of Ankay and the valley of the
Mangoro river. The head waters of that river were close to our hill. As
we proceeded, we came upon one village and then another, peopled by the
Sihánaka. The women were fair, and had necklaces and ornaments of beads
and coral: both men and women had numerous strands or plaits in their
hair. These villages smelt badly of the native rum: the little sheds
which contained the stills were very conspicuous; and the ground was
strewn with shreds of the sugar cane from which the rum is made. One
little stream we crossed, with its edging of wood was called Sahamaitso,
“green valley”; pretty indeed, but very different in size and beauty
from the Green River of Colorado. Another, with a fine curve, was the
Ranofotsy, “white river,” flowing over clean sand. Near the village of
Mangatány, we passed through a grove of myrtle trees; and we found
abundance of chlorite and chlorite earth, from whence the village is
named. We were now close to the east wall of Ankay, and turning up a
narrow defile, crossed by a beautiful reef of pure milk-quartz, we
climbed 750 feet to the top of a noble hill of red clay, called
Ambohiborona, “bird hill.” The hill made an admirable station: it
towered high over the country round, and gave us our first clear view of
the Sihanaka district. It stretched northward for nearly forty miles.
The high ridges on the east; the low hills and gullies of Ankay; the
dark green forest line which bounded them; the lighter, softer green of
the reed swamps to the north; the long fingers that came and dipped into
the swamps and were lost; the dark hills on the northern horizon; and
the blue lake of Alaotra at their feet:—these were the objects on which
we gazed long from that lofty tower. This was the country which we had
travelled far to see. Descending the hill, we crossed in succession
three ridges with their intervening levels: had our first experience of
the swamps for which the district is famous: saw how the swampy levels
are being recovered and employed for rice fields: and at last, after a
hard day’s work, mounting a low hill, beheld beneath us the goal for
which we had aimed. In a few minutes we were deposited, by our bearers,
in their best style, at the door of the beautiful chapel of
AMBATONDRAZAKA, the capital of the Sihanaka district.
Having sent in to the governor our letters of introduction, we were
speedily invited to pay him a visit. We were duly carried in state by
our men, and passing through the gates of the double stockade, were set
down at the door of the government house. Entering the lower hall, we
found the governor seated in the middle of the room; while his officers
were behind him, and a goodly number of common people, (exercising
doubtless an old tribal right), placed themselves on his right hand. In
front three chairs were placed for us. The governor whose name is
Ra-tsi-mihára, and who is an officer of 12 Honours, received us
cordially; and after we were seated, addressed us, according to custom,
in the following manner: “Since you, our friends and Englishmen, have
come from the Capital, we ask of you, How is Queen Ranaválona, the
sovereign of the land? How is Ráinilaiarivóny, the Prime Minister,
protector of the kingdom? How is our venerable father, Rainingory? How
is Rainimáharávo, chief secretary of state? How is Rabe, his son? How
are the princes, the relations of the Queen? How are the great people?
How is the kingdom of Ambohimánga and of Antanánarivo? How are the
‘under heaven,’ the people? How are you, our friends? And how is your
fatigue after your journey?” To these inquiries, after a pause, Mr.
Sibree gravely replied seriatim: informing the governor, that the Queen
was well: the Prime Minister was well; the kingdom was well; that we
were well, though we were fatigued: and so on. He then inquired in turn,
how the governor was, and the town and the people, and things in general
in the Sihanaka district. He also described the purpose of our journey;
informed him of our visits to the churches in other parts of Madagascar:
and specially inquired about the small-pox epidemic. We learned that it
had prevailed, but by a careful isolation of the patients, had been
stamped out: and no new case had occurred in the town for three weeks
past. Every evening every house in the town was visited by one of the
officers to inquire into the health of the inmates.
The governor then took us by the hand and led us back to our quarters:
and dinner being ready, we invited him to share it with us. He readily
sat down and in due time emphatically declared that pancakes and English
jam were excellent food. After tea, surrounded by his officers and by
the people of the town, he presented us with a number of geese and
fowls, several baskets of rice, and an unwilling pig, who did not see
why he should be sacrificed in the cause of Sihánaka hospitality, and
vociferously protested against the proceedings. A formal speech was made
on the occasion; the things being presented in the Queen’s name: to
which we made a formal and grateful reply. The pig was handed over to
the men, with the baskets of rice; and while they disposed of him at
their leisure, we took possession of our airy room, and enjoyed a sound
and healthy rest.
Thursday proved a busy and pleasant day. We paid numerous visits to the
various quarters of the town; examined the market; held consultations
with the pastor of the church; and examined the scholars he had gathered
in the school. Thus we learned a great deal respecting the district, the
town we were visiting, and the progress of the Christian congregations
which it contains. We found an excellent observing station and took a
few photographs.
AMBATONDRAZAKA is a good town of four hundred houses, and a population
of two thousand souls. It is built on the side of a peninsula or ridge
running up from the great ridges on the south-east: and it overlooks a
fine bay in these hills from which a great rice-harvest had only
recently been carried away. A broad road coming down the crest of the
ridge divides the town into nearly equal parts. In the centre of the
town and east of the road stands the rova or fortress occupied by the
Hova governor and his garrison. This rova is laid out with great
regularity: its large well-built houses are all in line; the streets are
broad and clean; and each house forms a block with a road on every side.
The whole is surrounded by a double stockade; and between the two fences
is a space of thirty feet. The governor’s house, or lápá, is in the
north-east division of the town, and has a stockade of its own: it is a
house of two stories, with verandahs round it, and looks large and
comfortable, even among the substantial buildings by which it is
surrounded. In old Malagasy fashion, all these houses are built of wood.
Outside the rova are a large number of houses, built of clay, wood or
reeds, with large enclosures of clay or reed for the great cattle-herds
with which the district abounds. The people in these houses looked
squalid and poor: pigs were abundant, and the streets were dirty. The
Chapel, however, on the west of the road, and opposite the rova, is a
handsome building, a copy of its mother church at Analakely in the
Capital. It is built of clay; is ninety feet long by thirty-six broad;
and has doors, windows and pulpit all well made. The walls are
white-washed; and the floor was covered from end to end with fine mats,
carefully sewn together. We heard with much pleasure that, before the
outbreak of small-pox, this fine building was usually filled at the
Sunday morning service. In a town like this our bearers soon found
friends; as retailers of the latest news from the Capital, with which
the soldiers of the garrison are connected by a thousand ties, they were
everywhere welcome, and without difficulty made themselves at home.
To us the market looked small, though deemed by the inhabitants and
their country neighbours an important place. We found in it fine banánas
(always an acceptable addition to our table, especially when fried); our
men purchased the enormous sugar canes, ten and twelve feet high; and
there was for sale a quantity of small dried fish brought from the east
coast. While we were taking observations and photographs from a
neighbouring slope, the transactions of the market were brought to a
complete stand-still. Buyers and sellers all turned to look on. Our
instruments were watched with interest and wonder; and our bearers were
called in to explain their magical and mysterious uses. But the cattle,
always in a state of excitement on market days, began frisking and
capering about; and at length commenced a general stampede down the town
with half the population at their heels. In the evening we dined with
the governor: but before we sat down he presented us with a bullock,
that had been duly killed and cut up for ourselves and our people. After
a brief speech and our formal reply, we summoned our bearers to carry it
away. The governor’s dinner was excellent, consisting of soup, curry,
roast turkey, coffee and abundance of fresh milk. On returning to our
rest-house, we found our bearers seated in a line on the top of the
wall, intently watching the small mound of beef, which they were eager
to divide. They were soon made happy and carried their happiness far
into the night; singing over their beef and stimulated by stronger
waters than the swamps usually supply.
Christian work has prospered in Ambátondrazáka. Here, as in other
places, the Hova Christians from Imerina, thrown on their own resources,
have steadfastly maintained their hold on the Gospel. They keep the
Sabbath: they maintain public worship, having two services a-day; they
have an appointed pastor; they send their children to school. Here, as
elsewhere, we saw a few copies of the new Bible; several teachers have
been sent to the country churches; and even grown people have learned to
read. It was specially pleasant to us to find that the young pastor of
the church, Andríamáhaléo, was not a Hova, from a distance, but was an
Antsihánaka, a native of the province. Though in early days his people
had been refused permission to learn to read or write, as a boy, quick
and shrewd, he had secretly taught himself to do both. Being employed in
the office of the Governor, he had observed the form given to words,
which he knew to have been inscribed on the public letters: he compared
the inscription on one letter with that on another: and arguing back
from known meanings and known sounds, he learned to identify those
sounds with the written symbols. He became a Christian: he picked up
knowledge; and he became so well acquainted with the Sihánaka customs
and laws, that he was appointed one of the judges of the province. He
proved also an excellent expounder of the Scriptures, and the church
invited him to be their pastor. “I am not wise,” he said; “I wish to
know more of the Word of God myself; but they said I was able to teach
them; and I do my best.”
Having taken farewell of the Governor, on Friday morning we commenced
our tour round the southern and western sides of the Sihánaka province.
All the centre of the province is under water and is occupied by the
great reed swamps, or by the deeper waters of the Aláotra Lake. The
population has settled on the roots of the hills by which the basin is
surrounded. For two hours and a half we proceeded westward along the
edge of the hills or crossed one or two narrow arms of the swamp on
frail plank bridges, and then reached the prosperous village of
Ambóhidéhiláhy. The village contains a hundred and fifty houses, and is
situated on the end of a long clay promontory. The chapel is a simple
building, made of reeds; but we found a new and much larger one, at its
side, in course of erection, of substantial clay bricks and solid
timber-roof. The good people gave us a hearty welcome, in the middle of
the village. They placed before us abundance of beef, poultry, eggs and
baskets of rice; and with the usual inquiries after the authorities and
ourselves and the usual words of welcome, begged our acceptance of their
present.
While our midday meal was preparing, we went into the chapel, which we
found full of people, and very gladly gave them a service. As elsewhere
during this journey, Mr. Sibree kindly acted as our spokesman, and gave
them the instruction they desired. It was pleasant, yet it was painful,
to see the eager look on the faces of the many respectable women, the
bright young men and the intelligent children, who had been waiting for
us two or three hours. We heard many of them read, examined them as to
their knowledge of the Scriptures; and when they had sung a hymn, Mr.
Sibree gave them an address, dwelling on the prime truths of
Christianity, especially those connected with the Lord Jesus Christ
himself. Ill do those understand Christian missionaries, who imagine
that in instructing simple converts like these, we dwell on the outside
questions of denominational organisation and worship. It is the Lord
himself whom they need. It is the Lord alone who can satisfy their
soul’s hunger and who does satisfy it, when once they find Him. The more
simply, the more completely, we bring them to Him, and bring Him to
them, the more truly is our work accomplished. We want not to make
proselytes: we want these ignorant wanderers to become Christians.
We observed that the house in which we dined was unusually large and
substantial: and Mr. Sibree kindly pointed out to us those
peculiarities, which proved it to be fashioned not after the Hova
system, but after that of the Betsimisárakas. The Hova house has one
post at each end and one in the centre: it has one door and one window
on the west side; the bed-stead is fixed in the north-east corner; and
the hearth is in the north-west corner, with a two-storied frame,
covered with soot, on which the cooking pots are usually laid. Our
present house had three well carved posts in the centre and at each end:
the west side of the house had two doors; there was a window in the
north-east, the bed-stead was in the south-east, and the fire and the
saucepan-frame were in the south-west: the floor was nicely covered with
very fine mats. We saw many such houses in the province: and in them all
is still preserved the traditionary use of wood. Even in the Capital,
the erection of brick houses, within the city-proper, only dates back a
few years.
Having taken a few observations, we proceeded ten miles to the
southward, in order to round the great swamp, which was now on our right
hand and impassable except by strong canoes. We crossed in succession
the ends of the ridges over which we had passed two days before, and had
conspicuous before us our noble observing hill, Ambohiborona. The little
rivers between the ridges were shallow and sandy. Under Ambohiborona we
came to the village of Manákambahiny, where a little congregation
awaited us, and offered us their welcome and a present. Beyond this
village we got into one of the arms of the swamp; and now saw what noble
reeds grow in it. The zozóro papyrus, with its triangular stalk was very
fine and very tall: the flat _hérena_ also grew luxuriantly: the colour
of both was a rich, strong green. Our journey ended at the village of
Ambódinónoka, on the northern edge of Ankay.
Here a curious scene took place. The elders of the village, with a fine
old judge at their head, had made their little speech; had thanked their
“friends over the sea” for sending us to visit them; and had offered us
their hospitable present; but none of our bearers were at hand; and when
we called them to take the beef and rice away, they declined to come. On
inquiry we found that they were in the sulks and were holding an
indignation-meeting, to protest against the ill treatment they were
suffering at our hands. Asking for particulars, we were informed that
they had two grievances; first, three days ago, we had continued our
journey a whole quarter of an hour after sunset; (we had not reached the
village;) and secondly, we had publicly reproved them to-day, because
they had taken up the geese offered as presents. We replied that we were
astonished at their impudence; that they had greatly disgraced us
to-day, by greedily seizing the birds and the rice, even before the
hospitable people had formally offered them to ourselves. They might
sulk if they pleased; we should give them no beef or rice this evening;
we should give the whole of it to the poor of the village: which we did.
A moderate supper at their own expense, followed by a placid night,
restored their moral tone; and the next day, they did a good day’s work
with energy and spirit. What a petulant set of children they were!
On Saturday our journey was long; we started very early and were nine
hours and a half in the palankin. Again and again we went down into the
swamps; crossed a river with a curious name, “that which a girl cannot
pass”; came close under the western hills of Ankay, covered with forest;
and enjoyed a pleasant midday rest at the fine village of Ambohitromby,
or “ox-town.” The swamp was difficult to traverse to-day. The _zozoro_
was very tall, strong and green: the _herena_, with its flat blade, was
often six feet long: and the _via_, the beautiful Arum lily, the
_Astrapœa Wallichi_, with its huge well-crimped leaves, was here in
abundance. We had also a few rofia palms. At times the ground was lumpy;
then we had swamp; then soft clay; we went round the edge of the reedy
forest or forced our way through it. Now some men stuck fast with the
luggage, then others. One spot was all but impassable. The water was
deep: the men beat down the stalks of the reeds; and staggered over the
slippery bridge as they best could. In another there was a single plank;
and our palankins were carried over with but one man at each end: the
firmness and steadiness with which they moved forward were wonderful:
and we all passed without accident.
This great swamp covers altogether an area of over six hundred square
miles: It has many arms running up into the hills on every side: and on
its north-east side is the clear lake of Alaotra. It lies at the north
end of Ankay; and receives the drainage of a vast district on the
south-east: the hills in that direction are peculiarly sandy and
friable: waterspouts and storms have wrought havoc among them, and all
the silt has been carried into the Sihánaka level. The only exit for the
waters is on the north-east: and here the ravine is narrow and rocks bar
the way. The waters are retained at a high level; and the sediment
washed down is buried beneath them. Long tongues and fingers of clay
project into the reed-covered reservoir; and a few hills stand out like
islands in the deep green sea. Imerina must once have been what this
great province now is: it has still the remains of the ancient swamps
and forests of reeds. And Imerina is now, what in due time the Sihánaka
will become, a magnificent rice plain, with its rivers embanked and
bridged, with smiling villages on every side, feeding myriads of
Christian people, living in peace.
Ambohitromby is a good village of ninety houses, on a round hill: with
abundance of geese and fowls; and having large herds of cattle in its
neighbourhood. We had a most pleasant meeting with its people. The
little chapel was crowded and many present were Sihánaka. Again we
examined all the scholars, and Mr. Sibree gave the people an address. We
were objects of great curiosity to them all, but especially to the
women, who had probably never seen an Englishman before.
We now had a long journey before us: but it was for the most part on
level ground. We were travelling north, on the main ridge of the
district on its west side; and to-day we got over many miles of ground.
At times we went through inlets of the swamp which separated the ridges
from one another: and then found ourselves on a broad level terrace,
along which the men raced and ran with great speed. Parallel to us on
the east was another level ridge, running into the swamp from the
north-north-west. A large portion of the low level between has been
redeemed from the swamp and is being cultivated with rice. Villages were
seen here and there with chapels; on the grassy level the cattle were
numerous; and the little stacks of rice stood in long lines on the open
plain. Close by on the west were great gneiss hills covered with forest:
away to the north was the volcanic mass, which overhangs the town of
Ampárafárávóla; and across the swamp to the eastward were the red clay
ridges, made golden in the warm light of the afternoon sun. It was one
of the most pleasant trips we had made in the country.
Late in the afternoon we came to an inlet, which gave passage to a small
river flowing from the western hills, and was filled as usual with the
zozóro reeds. Across the inlet on the north, was a steep red hill, which
had on its summit the old walled village of Ambóhipéno. We noticed that
there was a group of people looking for us on the top of the hill: the
choir of women was on the east; the school children were on the west,
and the elders of the town stood in the centre. As we commenced the
ascent of the hill the women and children began to sing: and when we
reached the top, the old judge of the district, a man of hearty, genial
temper, came forward and shook us warmly by the hand. Recognising us as
“messengers of the churches over the sea,” and as “friends of the
kingdom,” he gave us a hearty welcome and as usual presented us with
some provision for the way. We stayed a few minutes talking with these
kind people; and as we could not remain to spend the Sabbath, we
promised to return for the afternoon service. They kindly sent our
presents on, and after another hour’s run, we arrived just after sunset
at Ampárafárávola.
This Hova town is the place of second importance in the Sihánaka
province, and is the residence of the Second Commander or Lieutenant
Governor. It contains over ninety houses; all included within a double
stockade, and not having the order, neatness and finish of the Hova town
at Ambátondrazáka. There are many Sihánaka houses scattered about the
neighbourhood; and little villages of such we had passed in the rice
fields just before our arrival. The Lieut.-Governor and his people all
came out to welcome us: they made the usual kind speeches and enquiries:
presented us with abundance of beef, fowls and rice, for ourselves and
our men; and then expressed serious concern as to our quarters for the
night. The governor’s own house was being rebuilt: and the large new
chapel outside the stockade, though unfinished, was _in posse_ the most
comfortable place of shelter. It had a good roof and solid walls: but
the doors and windows were only partitions of reeds. However we erected
the tent inside the chapel at one end: fastened the tent carpets over
two of the windows; and though, like the cave of Æolus, the place was
somewhat draughty, and the mosquitoes were numerous and active, we made
ourselves considerably comfortable. How sweet the sleep, even in rough
quarters, after those long and weary journeys in the dry, fresh air.
We spent a delightful Sunday with those good people, and saw for
ourselves more of the religious life of the district than we had yet
done. As soon as the building was in order the congregation assembled.
On the rough little table belonging to the church we placed my
camera-box; and spread over all a gay, if not gorgeous, rug belonging to
Mr. Pillans: it excited great admiration and was thought on all sides to
have added dignity to the occasion, henceforth memorable in this town,
when three English Missionaries were present at the service. The slaves
of several families now brought in the hassocks and cushions, on which
the ladies were to sit: and as soon as the governor and his family
entered, the place was well filled. We thought there were nearly five
hundred people present, of whom a good proportion were Sihánaka. They
sang tolerably well: but the tunes had become greatly altered by
interpolations, deductions and shakes, and we could only just recognise
them. Our chaplain preached the first sermon: and Mr. Sibree the second,
both choosing the same text: “This is a faithful saying: that Jesus
Christ came into the world to save sinners.” I added a brief address in
English (the sound of which greatly interested the people), which was
interpreted by Mr. Sibree. We all had but one theme: and the attention
manifested throughout our two hours’ service, was gratifying in the
extreme. Subsequently Mr. Sibree gathered the singers, gave them some
good advice about their singing, and taught them the new tunes which we
had brought with us. They took to them most heartily. They sang in the
chapel: then they removed to the school-room; with the help of the
chaplain they practised all the evening: deep into the night we heard
voices proclaiming in Malagasy, “There is a happy land, far, far away”:
and as the sun rose the next morning and we set out on our journey once
more, the last echoes of the same melody died upon our ears.
One thing greatly struck me during the afternoon service. After a sermon
by our chaplain from the well-selected text, “God be merciful to me a
sinner,” the native pastor of the church, took the congregation through
their catechism. This was the highest catechism containing, I believe,
over a hundred questions. As he put the questions one by one, the entire
congregation answered. The governor, and the governor’s wife; the
officers old and young; the women and the female slaves; the young men,
boys, girls; the Sihánaka as well as the Hovas, all answered clearly and
correctly. These people had been carefully taught. Far away from
Englishmen, receiving but indirectly life and stimulus from the churches
of their brethren in Imerina, dependent entirely upon one another and
upon native teaching, these people were keeping the Sabbath, were
maintaining in an orderly manner public worship, and all were being well
instructed in the faith, from the sole fountain of the Word of God. Has
not that word been glorified among them?—The same afternoon Mr. Sibree
and Mr. Pillans went over to Ambohipeno, where the people had received
us so kindly yesterday afternoon. They found the chapel full and had a
congregation of four hundred people, who most attentively listened to
the addresses which they gave.
We had invited the governor to dine with us: but he preferred and
pressed that we should dine with him. His officers and family were most
kind. While we were dining the choir sang hymns; the singing having been
substituted for the customary honour of the band playing during an
entertainment. An hour or two later the governor came over to take a
quiet cup of tea with us, and talk about the religious wants of the town
and district. He heartily seconded the proposal made in Ambátondrazáka,
that the whole province should be placed in the hands of one or two
English missionaries, and that teachers and pastors should be trained on
the spot for the instruction of the native congregations. He wanted some
arrangement made for the regular supply and sale of Bibles. He asked
whether our friends in England would not kindly supply them also with a
few sets of simple Communion Services, which cannot be made or bought in
Madagascar.
We all took a great liking for this excellent Christian man. He was so
simple, so child-like in his spirit, and so truly affectionate and kind,
that our hearts warmed to him, and we felt anxious to do all we can for
the help of himself and his people. His name is Andríamamónjy. He has
not been to the Capital for twelve years, during which all the great
improvements have been introduced there: but though isolated he has
learned much: and he is truly anxious for the enlightenment and
improvement of the people around him. We assured him of the deep
interest that would henceforth be felt in the province; and we hoped
that an English missionary would come and reside there. Here as
elsewhere we gave books to the teacher of the school, the pastor and
others: we found that the school has seventy scholars and there are
twenty-five who can read.
Mr. Sibree relates in his Journal a curious incident which happened in
this town two years ago, to two students of the College in Antanánarivo,
who visited the place on their way to Mojangá. Among various
perplexities on religious matters which troubled the minds of the
people, this was one:—
“The people enquired, ‘When it is Sunday and the water in the house
happens to be all used, is it right to fetch a little from the spring?’
We replied, ‘That is a matter one cannot lay down a rule for, but we
think you should ask of your neighbours.’ ‘Our neighbours,’ said they,
‘are just in the same plight as ourselves. And then when strangers
happen to come on Saturday evening and there is not water enough, what
is to be done?’ ‘Does that often happen that it troubles you so?’ said
we. ‘It is often the case,’ the people replied, ‘or we should not be
concerned about it.’ So we bade them do as follows: We told them to buy
three big water-pots, and every Saturday evening have them filled, so
that those whose water was expended on Sunday, or had strangers come
unexpectedly, might take from them what they wanted. And these three big
pots are to be called ‘Charity water-pots’ (Sini-ben’ ny fiantrana); to
all which they cheerfully agreed, and appointed three men to be
superintendents of these water-pots, both as to filling them and giving
out supplies; and here are the names of the superintendents.” Had we
remembered the incident we should have certainly asked for a sight of
the “Charity water-pots,” and enquired how the arrangement worked.
We saw our kind friend the governor once more on Monday morning; and
having said farewell to him and his family, at nine o’clock we continued
our journey to the north. After taking a few observations, we noticed
with interest that the lofty hill one mile north of the town is
volcanic: it is part of an old crater: large portions of one side have
been broken away; but abundance of lava is strewn on and around it over
a wide space. This is the only specimen of volcanic action we have found
in all the district. The line of that action lies in general farther
west. And the nearest volcanic hills are on the north-west shoulder of
the island, in the island of Nosibe and the great hills opposite to it
on the mainland.
Bounding the volcano to the eastward, we came into the level bay between
the main hills and the promontory outside. We passed four small
villages, crossed a stream running south by which the western hills and
this level are drained, and close to a spur of the promontory, came to a
large village, Móraráno, with seventy houses, and a little neighbour,
Marafotsy, with thirty more. We next climbed the promontory itself,
which was to be our road for many miles: and from a high point on the
ridge had a beautiful view of the district. On another lofty hill,
having a single thorn tree, we found an excellent station, which we
named One Tree Hill. We had long since left all population behind. We
saw not a house for several hours. Indeed we saw neither house nor
people from Móraráno to our resting-place. The fact is very significant,
and shows the two directions from a common point in which the province
has been peopled. Our men and ourselves took the refreshment we had
brought with us on the hill-side; and then pressed forward to our
destination. We descended into the swamp once more, crossed two of its
north-western arms; then rounded the corner of the province, kept under
its northern hills, over a grassy plain, full of cattle; and at four
o’clock reached the village of Ambóhijánaháry.
It was the poorest place we had yet seen, and looked dirty and unkempt
in every way. They told us it had recently been burned down: a great
calamity in a country and to a people where the accumulation of capital
goes on so slowly. The calamity alas! is of frequent occurrence in these
country towns and is natural. The houses are built of wood and reeds,
and are thatched with leaves or straw. The kitchen fire inside and the
hot sun without dry up every particle of moisture from these substances
and turn them into huge tinder-boxes: while the people are extremely
careless about fire. As Earl Russell justly said about the cities of
Japan: “If people build their cities of bamboos and brown paper, can
they wonder if they are burned down?”
There were one hundred and six houses in the town. It stands on a spur
of the northern hills; and is surrounded by hedges of the Euphorbia
Cactus, which have grown to an enormous size. The Cactus arms were thick
and tall, and the pears on them were very large. It was difficult work,
to pass along the lane unharmed, and still more difficult to get the
palankins and baggage through the gate of hanging poles, by which
entrance to the town is guarded.
We had now reached the north end of the province and our road lay along
the face of the hills, which form its northern boundary. These hills are
not a single chain; but are the ends of several chains all having the
same general trend from about north-west to south-east, and
corresponding to similar ridges at the other end of the district.
It was with difficulty we got our men together the next day, to resume
our journey. There was a reason for it in their own minds: but the silly
fellows would not tell it out, or offer to us those explanations which
they had gained from private talk with the householders around them. In
the face of the vexation caused by their dogged resistance we went on to
Ambóhitsára, “the beautiful place,” the dirtiest village we had yet
visited, a stage lower in the material and social scale than
Ambohizánaháry. It stands on the edge of a swampy plain: the soil is
spongy; the houses squalid; the chapel was a little reed house, the
play-room of the village children: there was mist all round; and rain
began to fall. Altogether there was an accumulation of “creditable
circumstances,” rare in these Madagascar journeys, sufficient to test
one’s good spirits and the power of looking on the bright side of
things.
The good people offered us rather a damp welcome: and it was evident
that in general intelligence they were somewhat behind the age. The
elder who was their spokesman, after inquiring about the health of the
Queen, and the officers in the Capital; and gradually localising his
interest in the health of the Governor at Ambátondrazáka, and the
Lieut.-Governor at Ampárafáravóla, concluded by asking how the gun was,
which guards the stockade of the latter town. This gun is a little thing
on large wheels, a one-pounder, cast by M. Laborde in former days in the
factory at Mantasoa. The Malagasy are still in that early stage of
social intelligence, which believes strongly in guns, and rather
overlooks the importance of having brave hearts to manage them. In
former days, in these formal interviews with strangers or with
Government officers, the people frequently inquired after the guns. This
was the only occasion, however, on which the inquiry was addressed to
ourselves. I am afraid that the general depression seriously interfered
with the reply of our friend Mr. Sibree. The dignity and fulness, with
which he usually dwelt upon the affairs of the kingdom and the health of
the authorities, and the flowery elegance with which he would describe
the purpose of our visit, entirely failed him here. His reply was brief
and guarded; and the gun he passed over in total silence.
We were anxious to cross the Alaotra lake this afternoon, so as to reach
Ambátondrazáka to-morrow evening and hold a service with the people. We
inquired therefore eagerly after the canoes which were necessary. There
was an evident reluctance about the people, which we could not
understand; but with which our bearers sided: all were anxious that we
should stay for the night. However we got them together and went down to
the water. Not a boat was visible: so we spent an hour on the shore,
admiring the loveliness of the view before us. Meanwhile the east wind
blew strong over the lake, as it usually does in the afternoon; the
lumpy water, in solid waves, came tumbling in at our feet: and the
conviction grew that, with shallow, cranky canoes, laden with baggage
and more than fifty human lives, the passage across the lake in such a
wind and sea, was utterly unsafe. The people knew the fact well: the
proper time to cross is the early morning before the wind rises: but why
had they not the moral courage to tell us plainly?
The mists had disappeared; the afternoon was bright; and the entire
province in all its strangeness lay before us. We took a few
observations, which proved to be of unusual value, and quietly settled
down for the night in Ambohitsára. The chapel was a poor place to stay
in; it was indeed “an airy habitation and a name.” But the tents
provided sleeping quarters, and we bore the reeking atmosphere and the
cold winds as we best could.
On Wednesday morning at seven we crossed the lake in smooth water. A
dozen canoes had been brought for us; of which several were good boats,
over thirty feet long and four feet wide, hollowed from a single tree.
The morning was bright and the sail across was delightful. We landed at
Ambohitsoa, just where an arm of the lake runs in to the eastern hills.
And when we stood at the top of the bank, and looked around, the view
was simply enchanting. The lake stretched far away to the southward, its
waters of a clear, delicate blue; to the north its many arms ran in
among the purple hills; the green swamp with its dense forest of tall,
shapely reeds, lay to the west: the headlands were dotted with villages,
each with its little church: the mountains lay behind us, crowned with
dark woods: and over all was the clear azure of an unclouded sky. As we
stood silently contemplating this vast and varied picture, we thought we
had beheld no fairer scene in all Madagascar than the landscape at our
feet.
Three miles away toward the south, and on the road home again, was the
village of Márosalázana, a neat, clean place of fifty houses. Our visit
had been expected, and made quite a gala day among the kind and simple
people of this retired corner of the world. Some four hundred had
assembled, dressed in their best. And in the centre of the village, on a
raised platform, sat all the scholars ready to be examined. Their
dresses and ornaments were quite a study. The Hova girls had the smooth
hair and braided bands, common in Imerina. The Sihánaka women and girls
had their hair in numerous plaited strands: they wore numerous chains
round the neck, with coins and medals; they had also bracelets and
armlets: and their dresses were chiefly of blue “Pondicherry cloth.” It
was a pleasure to look on their bright, happy faces, and see the keen,
inquiring looks with which they scanned our dress and faces, and noted
everything we said and did. The elder of the village, a venerable and
genial old man, at once came forward with the people and bade us
welcome. After the usual inquiries and presents, which included some
enormous sugar canes, he spoke of the object of our visit, told us of
the wants of the churches and schools; and expressed on the part of all
their thanks and their joy in the prospect of having Mr. Pearse to live
among them.
Mr. Sibree then examined the scholars; and they seemed proud to exhibit
their attainments and the efforts they had made to get on. They read
from their school books and the New Testament: answered readily
questions from the Catechism and sang to us several hymns. Their teacher
had been diligent and faithful; and it was a pleasure specially to
recognise the earnestness with which, unknown to men, he had been doing
his appointed work. This was one of the most pleasant opportunities and
interviews we had enjoyed with the Sihánaka people: and it proved to be
the last. The impressions which it left can never be effaced.
All over the Sihánaka country we had noticed the singular manner in
which the people erect memorials of the dead. They take the thin poles
of the _vintána_ tree, fix them firmly in the ground, and under the high
fork of the tree they fasten a number of cattle-skulls and one or more
tin boxes, baskets or mats. The latter articles were the property of the
deceased: the skulls belonged to the cattle slaughtered at his decease.
The relics are placed there, doubtless, according to the usual custom of
the Malay tribes, best known to Englishmen from the North American
Indians, under the idea that they will be useful to the deceased in the
world to which he has gone. In the tombs of the nobles throughout
Imerina, and especially in those of the royal family, the amount of
property laid up in former days was very great. Forty years ago, on the
death of one of our scholars, a young noble, his books, slate, pencils
and copy books were placed with him in his tomb. Christianity, the great
teacher of common sense, will soon change all that. Outside Márosalázana
we found a larger group of these memorial poles than we had found
anywhere else. There were twenty-four in all in six rows of four each:
and we thought that the village had been named from them.
Close to Márosalázana and at the end of the ridge on which it is built,
stands the old fortress and town of Ambóhitrandriana, “Prince’s town.”
It occupies the end of the bluff, and overhangs the waters of the lake
which guard it on three sides. Deep fosses have been cut around the top,
especially on the land side, with a view to render it impregnable. Only
five of the Sihánaka hills have been fortified in this way. A
recognition of all the circumstances of the province and the manners of
the people produced the conviction that the Sihánaka province has been
colonised from the east coast, and that its inhabitants are an offshoot
of the Betsimisáraka tribe. Their houses are Betsimisáraka; their dress,
their ornaments, the plaits of their hair, the necklaces of their women,
are all from the same quarter. As a people they stand almost entirely
alone. On the south lies the province of Ankay, the only district easily
accessible: but all the northern part of Ankay is uninhabited; its
population are Tanála and Bezanozano, working from the south: and their
villages have not yet reached the large district without inhabitants
through which we ourselves had passed. Access to the province on the
west, east and north is barred off by the great mountains. In the
north-east is the valley of the Maningory river, the outlet of the Lake
Waters. It is evident that some pioneers, ascending this valley from the
sea-coast near Fenoarivo, discovered the great plain, saw the rich soil,
appreciated its capabilities, and invited their friends. The largest
number of villages is still in this north-eastern corner, around the
head of the lake. From this point they spread southward along the level
shores on its east side: they founded the town of Ambatondrazáka: and
still pressing on have rounded the south end of the swamps and turned
northward again along the western shore. Other colonists have passed
along the northern end of the waters and the two streams have not yet
met, completed the circle, and filled the land. If this view be a sound
one, no better place can have been chosen for their first town, and a
safe dwelling for their chief, than the lofty bluff of Ambóhitrandrian.
To this day they hold constant intercourse with the coast by the valley
of the Maningory. But if they be Betsimisárakas, how came they to change
their name? They did so for a simple but sufficient reason, derived from
their new position. The word _hánaka_ is an old Malagasy word for
“lake:” _sihánaka_ denotes many lakes and pools of water. The colonists
appropriately gave this name to their new home; and for themselves they
became _Antsihánaka_, “Lakers,” “the Betsimisárakas of the Lakes.”
Here they remained for many generations, an isolated people; independent
indeed, but ignorant, superstitious, given to charms and magic and
witchcraft, and greatly addicted to drink. A hundred years ago, the
great ruler of Imerina, Impoin, the man with the ambitious mind and the
strong hand, cast his eyes on the territory. What he planned and partly
secured, in 1823, his son Radáma completed: and though the Sihánaka
resisted, he conquered the land and made it his own. The last stand of
the people was made on the island of Anosizánaka under the northern
hills. It was not taken without hard fighting. To get at the island,
Radáma placed his cannon and people on rafts. The rain fell in torrents:
the muskets and guns, were useless; and the first attack failed. Some of
the soldiers fled and, according to the prevailing custom, the leader in
the flight was burned. A second effort proved successful. Like other
tribes, notably the Bezanozano, the Sihánaka have paid a heavy price to
the conqueror. Until recent years, when they felt the power of the
gospel, the Hovas were hard taskmasters. And no one is more truly
conscious of the great wrongs they have done to various parts of the
country, or more truly anxious to repair the injustice now, than the
able Minister who is the head of the nation in the present day.
Christianity however is the best friend of the Sihánaka; and it is
working among them with power. It is moderating the rule and the demands
of their governors. It is uniting the two races together. It is
strengthening the order, the security, the peace in which the people
live. Everywhere the fortressed hills are deserted for the open plain.
Police are little needed. Property is secure. The great cattle-herds
roam over the grassy hills, almost without attendants.
The gospel was brought to them by their own countrymen; and it is almost
entirely by native agency and by the native churches that it has been
since sustained. Seven years ago some of the Christian officers and
soldiers of the garrison in Ambátondrazáka applied to their minister,
the Rev. R. G. Hartley, for a teacher. A young man, named Rábé, who was
teacher of their day-school, was selected by Mr. Hartley’s people for
the purpose. He was a slave, but they purchased his freedom; and for
three years he did the people in the province good service; greatly
assisted by the young Sihánaka, who is pastor at the present time. In
1869 they were visited by Mr. Pearse. In the same year the great
stimulus which sprang from the burning of the idols reached them. And
they have derived continual benefit from the growth and improvement of
the Hova churches in Imerina, whence officers and soldiers with their
families continually go and come.
Would we know what the gospel has already done for them, let us look at
the picture drawn of them by their teacher, Rábé, when he first arrived
among them. At that time, he says,—
“Only a person here and there could be found who washed their clothes;
for everyone’s dress was smeared with castor oil, and they thought it
would spoil their clothing to wash them, as they would be soon worn out;
so that the clothing of the people was offensive to the last degree. For
that reason the dark blue cotton was generally worn, as it was nearly
black to begin with. But now there is hardly anyone who does not wash
his clothes, and has not white dress. Not long ago, when it was evening,
the young men in the villages used to form into two parties, and had
violent boxing-matches all through the village, the women also often
joining in the fray. But now no one practises this rough sport. Not long
ago, rum was what the people chiefly delighted in; and if any strangers
who visited them were not made thoroughly drunk, the owner of the house
was looked upon as inhospitable, although he gave them the best of
everything to eat. One day I, with five others, happened to be staying
at a certain village, and the people of the house in which we stayed,
brought thirty bottles of rum and a small water-pot half full for us to
drink together with the family. And although we reproved them, it was
with difficulty we prevented them from drinking, until they saw we were
really in earnest. And this is but a sample of the love of the people
for drink. So that at night there was great disturbance everywhere from
drunken people. But now there is nothing of that kind, for if anyone is
seen drunk by his companions he is exceedingly ashamed; and those who
still like excess drink in secret, for everyone now knows the folly of
it. And what has brought about such a change but the spreading of the
Word of God?”
There are now thirty-one churches in the Sihánaka province; and in a few
years, judging from the villages we saw, the number will be increased.
Of the strength of their principle and the vitality of their piety we
saw abundant proofs. Left to themselves they keep holy the Sabbath; they
maintain public worship; they have chosen pastors for their instruction;
they pay teachers for educating their children. From small beginnings
they have grown numerous and strong. The grace of God which has helped
their brethren, which has helped converts in other lands, has
strengthened and upheld them. Their family life has grown purer, the
great vice of drinking has vastly diminished: the soiled clothes are
replaced by clean dress. Order, peace, fellowship and good will prevail
among them. And the root of all this regeneration and revival is the
simple Gospel of Christ.
They will gain greatly by the proposed residence among them of their
friend Mr. Pearse and a younger colleague. The Christian women too will
greatly benefit by the advice and example of one or two English ladies
in their midst. The work of a wise Englishman in these young
communities, is to shorten processes of growth, to remove difficulties,
to warn against errors, to expound the Scriptures more fully, to
organise efficient agencies, especially schools; to stimulate by his
example and his higher knowledge; and in other ways to bring the power,
the experience, and the resources of a higher Christian civilisation to
bear upon the elevation and improvement of these children in the faith.
The willingness of these converts, the earnestness with which they have
kept their faith, and their longing for more light and higher life,
indicate that our friends have before them a noble prospect of
usefulness.
Judging from our survey and the map resulting from it, the Sihánaka
province, within its bordering ranges, covers a space of about two
thousand square miles. It is a vast basin in the midst of these hills,
having a clear lake and a great reedy swamp in the centre. The levels,
redeemed for rice culture and pasturage, and the dry ridges above them,
form but a limited portion of the whole. The Alaotra lake lies nearer to
the eastern than the western shore: it is hammer-headed in shape, and
has a length of thirty-two miles, with a breadth of four or five. The
reed swamps, with their numerous arms cover a space of over six hundred
square miles.
The population of the province we estimated at forty thousand people. We
counted some sixty villages and small towns in the district, of which
only three have more than six hundred inhabitants.
The day following our pleasant visit to Márosalázana and its bright
scholars, we reached Ambatondrazáka once more. Most reluctantly we
quitted our kind friend the governor and his people to plunge once more
into the wilderness. But time was pressing; we explained the case to our
bearers, stimulated them by the offer of a day’s pay; and they bore us
vigorously over the rough hills. More than ever we admired the soft,
rich foliage of the forest; we climbed the lofty “Gate of rock,” and
rested for another quiet Sunday at Anjozórobe. Again we traversed the
basin of the Mánanára; crossed over the granite moors; had a pic-nic
tiffin in “Boulder Glen”; and slept in peace in the handsome church of
Ambohitrérena. The next day, July 7th, at noon, we reached the capital,
glad and grateful for the wonders we had seen.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER IX.
OUR JOURNEY TO MOJANGÁ.
Last Meetings in the Capital—Farewell interview with the Queen—Departure
to Vonizongo—North Vonizongo—Angavo—The five Garrison
Towns—Religious condition of their People—Crossing the Wilderness—No
man’s land—The Cataracts of the Ikopa—Vast deposits of Drift—Town of
Mevatanána—Voyage in Canoes—Junction of the Ikopa and Betsiboka
Rivers—Amparihibe—Crocodiles in the River—The Level Plains—Town of
Trabonjy, its Governor and People—Marovoay—Arrival at Mojangá: Its
Churches and People—Religious condition of the District—Trade and
History of Mojangá.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER IX.
OUR JOURNEY TO MOJANGÁ.
OUR work in Imerina was done: we had only a fortnight left to make our
preparations for another voyage, to complete sundry matters of business,
and say farewell to our friends. The day after our return we attended
the opening services of Mr. Jukes’s church at Ankadibeváva on the east
slope of the city-hill. The Directors of the Society had assisted the
native congregation by a grant of £300: and for that sum and other
contributions raised by the people, Mr. Pool had erected a substantial
and handsome building, convenient for worship and an ornament to the
city. The church, when the seats are finished, will hold eight hundred
people. The congregations were large at the opening services, and as in
other lands on similar occasions the ladies appeared in bright and even
gorgeous dresses. Several new hymns and tunes, prepared for the
occasion, were most effectively sung by choirs from various churches and
the congregation at large. Amongst other addresses, a touching sermon
was preached by an officer high in the Government and the community,
from the text: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of
these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”
Among minor incidents of our life at this time, I may mention that,
while spending a pleasant evening with Dr. Davidson, the house and city
were well shaken by an earthquake, the second we have experienced during
our year in the island. The shock was a moderate one, and its general
direction was north and south.
On Thursday, July 16th, we were invited to a very pleasant
entertainment, by the members of the Friends’ Mission, the Medical
Mission and of our own Society, that they might express their kind
feelings toward us in relation to our visit, and together wish us
farewell. The members of the Friends’ Mission have all along been
working in perfect harmony with our own: and it was a source of great
satisfaction to my colleague and myself, that by making their
acquaintance, looking into the form and character of their work, and
settling one or two questions which had been pending, we had been able
to draw the bonds between the two missions even closer than before. To
the members of the Medical Mission the families of our mission are under
great obligations for constant and unvarying kindness: while in their
special work of giving effective help to the native families of the
city, young and old, rich and poor, and in the medical education of
young men, our brethren and ourselves can feel nothing but warm
sympathy, and give them willing co-operation and aid. The stations of
the Norwegian Mission we had seen in various parts of the southern
country; and from all the missionary brethren, in country and in town,
we had experienced great kindness. The members of all four missions are
at the present time in complete accord; they have the same spiritual
aims; they teach the same Evangelical doctrine: they are co-operating in
many ways together in their plans: and week by week they meet together
in each other’s homes to ask for the same Divine blessing on the
missions to which they belong. That we had done anything to promote this
loving union, was a source of much pleasure to us both. We were assured
in various quarters that it was so. And at this social gathering Mr.
Dahl spoke in affectionate and emphatic terms of the benefit which, in
this direction of union, our visit had conferred upon them all.
The native pastors manifested the warmest affection toward us, as the
time of our departure drew near: and on Saturday evening they paid us a
formal visit. Fifteen were present. They said kind things of ourselves
and our coming amongst them: gave each of us a beautiful silk lamba as a
parting gift: sent the most affectionate messages to the Directors and
the friends of the Society at home; and then requested Mr. Pillans as a
pastor of long experience to give them some parting counsels in regard
to their work. When he had finished the younger pastors, who had but
just left the College and entered upon Church work, asked for a few
special words for themselves. No young pastors in England could have
made the request more naturally, have listened more intelligently, or
have been more grateful for the weighty words which fell from my
colleague’s lips, than these young men. And it gives us hope and
confidence in regard to the future of our churches, that such are the
simple, true-hearted, well-trained ministers of Christ, whom our
Theological College has begun to send forth to be the guides and
instructors of the Malagasy Church.
Our friends within the Palace also studiously manifested their regard
for us. Three of the principal officers, from whom we have all along
received much kindness, visited us, and presented us with dresses and
other manufactures of the country; each giving us different specimens of
native work. And one, not only sent messages to his young cousins, now
being educated in Europe, but desired us to express his warmest thanks
to the Directors and our Churches, for the service which they have long
rendered to his countrymen in Madagascar by preaching among them the
gospel of Christ. The Queen and Prime Minister added many expressions
and proofs of their regard to those of their relatives and friends. And
it was arranged that on the morning of Saturday, July 18th, the Queen
should in the presence of the Court, grant us audience to say farewell,
as she had given us a formal reception on our arrival; and that she
should then place in our hands her reply to the Address of the Directors
which we had brought with us.
We were accompanied by several members of the Mission, including our
kind interpreter, the Rev. W. E. Cousins, and punctually at ten o’clock
we were introduced. The Queen received us in the usual audience hall of
her own palace. She was seated on a sofa on the north side of the hall:
and we observed that she had under her feet a gilded footstool, sent by
a member of my family, while an illuminated Scripture card, given by
Mrs. Pillans, was hanging on the wall; a thoughtful recognition of
little attentions shown to her in our first interview. There was a large
assembly of the officers of government, who stood chiefly on the Queen’s
right: and almost as numerous a gathering of ladies, who were seated in
two rows upon her left, wearing English morning dress. The interview was
a remarkable one in many ways.
Addressing the Queen for my colleague and myself I made the usual
enquiries after her health, and the welfare of her kingdom; and then
said that we had completed the work which had brought us to Madagascar,
and had come to say farewell. We had been sent by their friends across
the sea to salute the churches of Madagascar, to consult with them and
with the missionaries as to their welfare, to arrange for the
enlargement of the mission, and to visit those parts of the country in
which the mission is carried on. We had in this way visited the Betsileo
province and Imámo, Vonizóngo and the Sihánaka; we had described to her
in our letters what we had seen, and especially had expressed our
gratification at the great progress of the gospel among the churches of
her people. We were now anxious to see the churches in the Sákaláva
country, and proposed to take the English steamer at Mojangá.
We thanked her and the Prime Minister for much personal kindness; for
their warm interest in the welfare of the churches; and for the wise
words spoken by the Queen on several occasions about the schools. We
thanked them for their special interest in the progress of the students
in the College and in the Normal Schools: and we commended these
institutions to their continued care. We thanked the Queen for her care
over the English missionaries; and that they and their families and
ourselves lived so safely in the land. Might we add one thing. We had
seen how the churches were growing: how they worshipped, and kept the
Sabbath-day and were governed in an orderly way. But forms were not
faith: the spirit and life are needed: the Teacher is the Holy Spirit,
the root and rule of faith are to be found only in His word. We should
pray for the churches that they might have this life in a large measure:
Madagascar has many friends in England, and will have many more. To this
Mr. Pillans added a few words. The address was translated sentence by
sentence by Mr. Cousins; as was also the reply.
The reply of the Prime Minister was warm and hearty. The Queen (he said)
was pleased to see us again and to hear our words; those words were
good. The Queen and himself thanked the Directors for their kind
presents and the messages they had sent. They were glad, very glad, to
see the progress of the gospel among their people: for “What should it
profit a man if he gain the whole world, yet lose his own soul?” They
were glad we had come to visit the churches and the island: they had
often wished that some friends might specially be sent to see the
progress which the mission and people had made: therefore they had given
us full opportunity to travel everywhere and see things for ourselves:
they had nothing to conceal, they wished us to see that the money and
labour expended on Madagascar had not been expended in vain. In respect
to the missionaries, he said they thought them good men and good
preachers and did their work well: but we were sensible men and could
judge of this for ourselves. The Queen would still protect them and
permit them to continue their work in perfect freedom.
The Prime Minister then, in the name of the Queen, desired us to convey
their thanks to the Directors for all the good which the Society had
been doing in Madagascar. They remembered that it was our Society, which
had sent missionaries and the gospel in the days of Radáma I.: that it
had always been their friend; and that it was now sending thirty
missionaries for the instruction of their people. Therefore they desired
us to convey their thanks to the friends of the Society across the sea
for all their kindness. He added a special message about the education
of his son, who is under the care of the Directors. Lastly the Queen
regretted that we could not be present at the opening of the
Palace-church; she would have liked us to be present: but we could see
that it was not yet finished. After a few further remarks we took our
leave.
The written address, forwarded by the Queen in reply to that of the
Directors, is as clear and explicit as the Prime Minister’s spoken
words. It is in itself a most interesting document. But the authorities,
to manifest their appreciation of the honour which the Directors had
shown to them, employed all the means in their power to illuminate and
ornament their reply as the Directors had done. The result was a work of
art most creditable to the island: it gave the Board great satisfaction;
and it will be framed and placed in the Board-room. The words are as
follows:—
“TO THE DIRECTORS OF THE LONDON MISSIONARY SOCIETY.
“GENTLEMEN,
“Our good friends, the REV. DR. MULLENS, Foreign Secretary
to the LONDON MISSIONARY SOCIETY, and the REV. J. PILLANS, one
of the Directors, and his lady, have reached Madagascar in
safety; and, whilst we were in Fianarantsoa, had an opportunity
of joining with HER MAJESTY and MYSELF in public worship at the
camp.
“ON our return to the Capital, they had again an audience of HER
MAJESTY and MYSELF in the Palace, and on that occasion they
presented your Address, dated London, June 30, 1873, together
with the various presents sent by your SOCIETY to HER MAJESTY
and MYSELF.
“The Address has been carefully perused, and its contents duly
noted by HER MAJESTY, and I am authorised by HER to answer it.
“I have to inform you that, through the blessings of the DIVINE
BEING, HER MAJESTY the QUEEN, MYSELF and all the members of the
Government, are well. The Kingdom enjoys peace; but, more than
that, HER MAJESTY is happy to tell you, that by the power of the
MOST HIGH and the mercy of JESUS CHRIST our SAVIOUR, according
to the saying, ‘THE KING’S HEART is in the hands of the LORD,’
GOD has shown mercy to our SOVEREIGN, and has enlightened HER to
know JESUS CHRIST, and has endowed HER with strength, so that
from the time when she began to receive the GOSPEL, SHE has led
and encouraged her subjects to serve GOD and pray to HIM through
JESUS CHRIST, and to be diligent in using all opportunities of
acquiring useful knowledge. SHE has also done her best to help
the missionaries of your SOCIETY, so that, during the reign of
HER MAJESTY RANAVALOMANJAKA, the Kingdom of CHRIST has made
great progress in MADAGASCAR, and the number of believers has
increased more than during any period, notwithstanding the way
in which the missionaries for many years contended with
difficulties, and exerted themselves to the utmost. But still
the QUEEN continues to pray GOD that His Kingdom may advance
until the joyful words shall be fulfilled which say, ‘They shall
all know Me, from the least of them unto the greatest of them,
saith the Lord,’
“HER MAJESTY the QUEEN thanks you, the DIRECTORS, and all the
constituents of the Society, because she knows your ardent
desire to benefit her kingdom by your sending Missionaries and
Teachers to preach and teach the GOSPEL and other useful
knowledge, from the reign of HIS MAJESTY RADÁMA I. to the
present time. HER MAJESTY therefore wishes me to assure you that
the missionaries and teachers sent by you to labour in
Madagascar shall continue to enjoy HER protection, and be
allowed full liberty to preach the Gospel, and to impart useful
knowledge in accordance with the laws of the kingdom.
“OUR friends, the REV. DR. MULLENS and the REV. J. PILLANS, have
been allowed perfect liberty to travel where-ever they have
pleased to visit the Churches of Madagascar, they have had full
opportunities of making their own observation, and will be able
to bring you a reliable report of the state of things here. MAY
GOD protect them to reach you in safety! What they have done
here has been good, and has given us much pleasure. They are
worthy men, and well fitted to act as the representatives of
you, our friends, across the seas. We are especially pleased
with their words saying,—‘WE DO NOT TRADE NOR DESIRE TO GAIN
ANYTHING FOR OURSELVES, but only that the people may know JESUS
CHRIST.’ These are indeed very good words, for they show both
the excellence of your views, and also what will be sought by
your good brethren the missionaries in Madagascar.
“HER MAJESTY thanks you very much for your kind message, and the
good wishes for the prosperity of her kingdom; and SHE prays GOD
that they may be fulfilled. SHE also thanks you for the presents
you sent HER, and accepts them as a mark of your friendly
feelings towards HER.
“AND I, too, thank you very much for the nice presents you sent
to me.
“HER MAJESTY also desires me to thank you for the very kind care
you have taken of RAPENOELINA, for he was sent by HER Government
that he might obtain a good English education. What you have
done for him has given HER MAJESTY great satisfaction, as his
progress is already manifest from his letters to me. HER MAJESTY
will be pleased if you convey to RAPENOELINA’S teacher the
thanks of HERSELF and HER GOVERNMENT; for his instruction and
kind care have given HER very much pleasure.
“MAY the ALMIGHTY GOD bless you in your useful labours for the
evangelizing of mankind, and may HE ever give to the people
earnest hearts to help you to spread the GOSPEL of JESUS CHRIST
among all nations.
“THAT, dear friends, is the wish of HER MAJESTY the QUEEN of
MADAGASCAR and MYSELF for you all.
“I AM, GENTLEMEN,
‘In the name of HER MAJESTY the QUEEN of MADAGASCAR,
“YOUR SINCERE FRIEND,
“RAINILAIARIVONY,
“Prime Minister.
“GIVEN at the COURT of HER MAJESTY the QUEEN of MADAGASCAR, at
ANTANANARIVO, this 18th day of July, in the year of OUR LORD,
1874.”
The news of what had passed at this interview, was speedily circulated
among the people, and gave them much satisfaction. Pastors and
congregations everywhere expressed a hearty concurrence with the words
of their Sovereign; for there prevails among them a deep feeling of
attachment to the Society, which for fifty years has stood their friend,
which never forgot them in the dark days, which sprang at once to their
side when light and order returned, and which is doing at the present
time more than ever for the edification of its Malagasy children.
Our heavy baggage was sent on a-head. On Sunday we held a farewell
service with our missionary brethren of the four Societies and their
families: and on Tuesday morning many of them accompanied us several
miles along the banks of the Ikopa. Then with difficulty we said
farewell; and took our last look of the city of Antanánarivo, in which
we had spent so many pleasant days. Just at sunset, we safely reached
Vonizongo: and occupied our old quarters at Fiháonana in Mr. Matthews’s
house.
The route to the north-west coast which we were about to follow was new
to Englishmen, though employed for fifty years by the native
authorities. Since Radáma and his cousin Rámanétaka, with the Hova army,
subdued the Iboina district in 1824, and governors (or commanders as
they are termed) and garrisons had been placed in several of its towns,
messengers, officers and detachments of troops have continually passed
up and down country between Imerina and the conquered province.
Unhappily little information could be gathered from them; for our native
friends make neither Itineraries nor maps; they have no good standard
for measuring distance or time: and changes in the scenery, details as
to valleys, hills and rivers, are things which they have not yet learned
to note. M. Grandidier travelled from Mojangá to the Capital; but he did
so by a route some miles to the east of our own: and even of that route
he has spoken only in brief terms. Mr. Maynard, who returned to England
a few months before ourselves, had at our suggestion taken this route;
and he gave us several valuable hints and indicated the general
character of our journey. A colporteur also from Vonizongo prepared for
us an outline of his own proceedings and adventures, when he visited the
churches down country last year.
All parties took great interest in our proposed expedition: the majority
regarding it with hearty approval, while others gravely shook their
heads. “It was a serious experiment:” “the fevers were deadly.” “The
roads were rough and rocky,” said the bearers: “Sákalávas, enemies,
robbers, were to be expected:” “for some days the country was a desert;
and we should find nothing to eat for ourselves and our people, and no
place to sleep!” We persevered; for we have conquered such difficulties
before: and have found Malagasy, as well as English, bugbears and bogies
collapse when well grasped. It was of importance that the churches in
the Sakalava country should no longer be overlooked; that an attempt
should be made to open the route more fully to Mojangá; and that the
Directors should be enabled to decide whether an English missionary
should or should not be placed at that station, with a view to
superintend the churches and the mission work of the district at large.
The fears of the bearers could of course be gauged by money: they soon
showed that if they were to go at all, they intended to make a good
thing of the journey: and it was not without difficulty that their
exorbitant demands were reduced within reasonable limits. Even then we
had to pay twenty-six shillings to each man for the journey down, before
our arrangements could be completed; and several of our best men
deserted us at the last moment, because they thought that rate not
sufficiently remunerative. Mr. Matthews had engaged to be our companion
and interpreter: but early in July, family illness compelled him to lay
the plan aside, and Mr. Jukes very kindly took his place. We were
greatly indebted to him for much kind and effective service rendered to
us on the way.
In Vonizongo we rested a day to complete our preparations, to rearrange
our baggage, and write our last letters. On Thursday, July 23d, we
fairly entered upon the unknown; and we reached Mojangá in perfect
health and comfort on Saturday, August 8th, having spent sixteen days on
the way. All our men, ninety-five in number, were with us, suffering
from nothing worse than fatigue. And it was amusing to find that, after
all that had been said and feared, we had had one of the most safe, easy
and enjoyable journeys, performed during our visit to the island.
The country we now visited divides itself into three sections, differing
in a marked degree from one another. The first section includes the
inhabited country among the hills: Noman’s land occupies the middle
position; and the Sákaláva plains, as far as the sea, take the third.
The first section of our journey carried us along four broad terraces,
of which three mark very decided falls of the ground towards the sea. At
the same time our course led us, not directly to the most abrupt descent
of the ground, viz. toward the west; but obliquely along the descent,
and over a larger space of ground. This is the reason why we found the
journey so easy and pleasant.
While travelling on Thursday, July 21, through Vonizongo, we followed
the track we had already taken, on that pleasant Sunday which we spent
in December 1873, with the people of Sambaina. As then, we traversed the
high moors beyond Fiháonana, the ground rising higher and higher, till
we came abreast of the great ridge of Ambohimanga which here curves
toward the east. As before, the south-east wind blew keen and cold over
these exposed moors, which lie 4600 feet above the sea. We descended
over the edge of the ridge, seven hundred feet: and came into North
Vonizongo, a long level valley, between two pleasant lines of hills and
drained by the river Andránobe. On the left we had the noble ridge of
Ambóhidambínana, with a large village Ambohizáfy at its foot. Other
small villages are near. Proceeding due north, we came upon a curious
bend of the Andranobe (3880 feet), and crossed that river twice. The
people informed us that it rises on the north side of Andringitra and
east of Lohavóhitra: it passes through the populous valleys near
Ambóhitrólona, with their numerous churches; rounding the promontory of
Ambohimanga, it enters north Vonizongo; and having watered that valley
for many miles, passes through the western line of hills and falls into
the Ikopa. We have ourselves seen the greater part of this course.
Passing a few villages beyond this bend of the river we came to
Ambohitromby, where our men had their morning meal. We ourselves had
tiffin in a private house: and the good people took the opportunity of
seeking light on a variety of outside Biblical questions which trouble
the Malagasy mind. We did our best to explain them: and everything would
have gone well, if the long strings of venerable soot hanging from the
roof had not diverted themselves by dropping contributions into our rice
and tea. A pleasant and easy journey during the afternoon, brought us
early to the village of Ankazobe (3830 feet). With fourteen houses,
surrounded by deep fosses and high cactus hedges, full of dust and pigs,
a chapel with a falling wall, clumsy window-frames and no windows, it
was not a first-rate place of accommodation either for ourselves or our
men. We managed however: though the night was very cold.
Next day we continued along North Vonizongo, and sent our baggage direct
to Maháridaza, a few miles distant, where we were to sleep. We ourselves
turned aside to climb the lofty ridge of Angavo (4880 feet), which
promised numerous and valuable observations. We had a long and heavy
climb, but were amply repaid by the prospect we obtained. It was no
scene of beauty that spread around us: we looked upon a treeless, empty
wilderness: the only population was in the long valley up which we had
come. The whole district is within the region of the sedimentary clay:
the valleys have been scored out of it by water: and naturally the clay
hills are of one height. Looking over the eastern ridge in the direction
of the Anátivolo, we could not discern one prominent hill: all the
summits were of uniform height. To the west it was the same. The only
exception was in portions of ridges like the Angavo on which we stood.
This was a grand mass of gneiss; and the bluff at its northern end is a
lofty perpendicular precipice, one of the finest rocks we have seen in
the country. North of Angavo, the next ridge is unbroken, the valley of
North Vonizongo is completely shut in; part of the waters have escaped
down the Andránobe on the south-west: the remainder have swirled round
the precipice at the head of the ridge, have cut out a beautiful hollow
in the northern hills and have escaped along the west side of Angavo,
down what is now the valley of the River Antrobo. The ridge itself and
others parallel with it trend off to the south-west. To the south
Lohavohitra and Tsi-áfa-balála were conspicuous points: and to the north
we fixed the position of several prominent hills, near which we
subsequently passed. Descending the Angavo ridge on its western side, we
crossed the Antrobo, and as we went along saluted the inhabitants of
Antándrokomby, a village of forty houses, who came out to meet us. The
precipice of Angavo overhangs this village and it looked grand indeed,
as we passed close to its foot.
Maharidaza we found to be a village of forty-two houses; very dirty and
with countless herds of swine. The people were very ignorant but very
willing. Some of them had never seen a person write, until Mrs. Pillans
showed them how it was done and what meaning it had. It reminded me of
the early days of Raiatea, when John Williams, to the astonishment of
his people, used “to make chips talk.” They have had but little
attention paid to their wants, and although there are chapels all up the
valley to this point, the means of instruction at their command have
been very scanty. Now however that the organisation of the Imerina
Mission has been extended, Mr. Stribling will probably give regular
superintendence to all these churches. With them and their neighbours
the ordinary population of Northern Imerina in this direction comes to
an end.
On Saturday we had a short journey. Our course lay up the inner bend of
the long valley, and then we climbed over the ridge by the pass of
Ambohimena (4800 feet): and on the hill to the west we took several
useful observations. Nowhere did we see signs of upheaval in the latest
and existing stage of things. The entire country was sedimentary clay,
which had buried and enveloped the gneiss ridges and boulders of an
earlier time, and was now cut and scored to great depths by the action
of water.
To the east and west the tops of the hills were of the same height. To
the north the clay had given way. The red hill of Ambohimena and the
ridge to which it belongs is the edge of the Vonizongo terrace. On the
north side the ground begins rapidly to fall. And we pass down two or
three long stairs before we reach Noman’s Land; the total fall in which,
over a length of sixty miles is 1700 feet. The fall was patent to the
eye, and it showed itself in two parallel valleys, divided by a
remarkable line of conical hills. In less than three hours we reached
Kinajy (3490).
The town of KINAJY is the first of a series of military stations, five
in number, in the direction of the Sakalava country, and along the line
of easiest access. It is the guard and gate of the north-west road into
Imerina. Each of these towns has its commander, its government house,
and its garrison. Each is at the same time a great cattle post; and
immense herds, belonging to men high in authority in Imerina, are fed
and tended in their neighbourhood. The kraals in which they are kept are
very large. The town consists of sixty-eight houses, and is placed on a
spur of the hills, having many deep gullies on its northern side. On the
south it has a double gateway: and each gate can be closed both with
poles and stones. The pigs as usual were multitudinous. But the chapel
was a clean little building, neatly fitted with mats, and the Governor
and his people willingly allowed us to occupy it. We spent a most
pleasant Sunday with them. The building was well filled both morning and
afternoon: the congregation included several respectable Hova families,
dressed with great neatness: and as Mr. Jukes had not yet overtaken us,
we were glad to find that we had in our camp two native preachers, who
could speak well and to whom the people listened with pleasure. All day
long we were receiving applications for books, especially the new
lesson-book: the young people were delighted to practise the new tunes
and hymns; and I had a large number of patients suffering from feverish
colds.
We spent the next three days in completing our journey through the Hova
stations; and found the country very easy to traverse. The moment we
left Kinajy, the ground began to fall. We crossed a fine valley to the
north; and at an opening between two conical hills, came upon a little
winding river, the Mánankázo, “that which has wood,” a truly descriptive
name, when in the midst of this dry, clay country, the only bushes and
trees were to be found in the ravine of the stream. The river rises in
the hills near Vohilena, to the north of the Anátivolo. On the bank and
along the roots of the hills the grass was truly beautiful: much of it
was in vast tufts, very tall, tinted with pink and purple; another kind
was a strong, reedy grass: and a third was crowned with a handsome white
feather, soft as down. Passing to the eastward over the shoulder of
these rounded hills, we came into a second valley, and found ourselves
between high parallel gneiss ranges, with a rough and rocky edge. A
stream of clear water came out of the eastern hills, called the
Firingáláva: and we crossed many streamlets rushing down to join it.
We took our lunch at AMBOHINORINA, the second of these garrison towns,
with fifty houses and a clay chapel: duly enclosed by a ditch, wall, and
gates. Four miles north was a deep basin, which ended in a ravine down
which the river ran. Here the grass was on fire, and we had to run the
gauntlet: then we climbed the ridge to a higher level, and passed
between two noble mountains, Sáháfásika, on the west, four miles in
length; and Ambohibe on the right. Both these mountains we had duly
noted from Angavo: and the double head of the latter, made it a
conspicuous object for many miles. We spent the night at AMPOTAKA
(2490), a dirty town of thirty houses, with an immense cattle fold and
fine herds that filled it. Beyond Ampotaka, we mounted high ridges,
which gave us excellent observing stations, but over which the east wind
was sweeping with violence. We looked down at one point upon deep
valleys, and passed along the upper edge of a fine waterfall. The hills
were very fine in all directions and the scenery was truly picturesque.
We now descended into the valley of the Máhamókamita, “that which makes
musquitoes to cross,” which passes clean through the western ridge. The
river comes from the moor on the south-east; it winds much through the
clay, into which it has cut deep, and in the middle of the glen into
which we descended it falls in a fine cascade over a reef of hard rocks.
All through the glen the scenery was bold and pleasing. We came out into
an open and level basin, in the centre of which was the town of
MANGASOAVINA (2160).
This was a pleasant town of eighty houses, enclosing a rova and
stockade: with abundance of cattle, pigs and fowls. The people were
exceedingly intelligent and we found them hospitable and kind. The basin
in which it stands is eight miles across; the land is grassy and level:
several villages were in sight: and we judged that altogether there were
four hundred houses in the town and neighbourhood. A fine gneiss hill
Andriba, formed its northern boundary: and when we had rounded it, we
found beyond a second basin, containing fine clumps of the rofia palm,
and a few travellers’ trees. It was a charming spot, with small villages
and rice cultivation. The basin was crossed by the river Kámolándi,
which like the Máhamókamita, drains the eastern moors and passes to the
west into the Ikopa. Half a mile beyond the river was the town of
MALATSY (2140), the fifth and last of these garrison towns. The town has
sixty houses; on the slopes there may be some ninety more; and about a
hundred others scattered about the valley. Near the centre of the valley
is a Sakaláva village, the people of which were greatly interested in my
photographing, when I endeavoured to take successively pictures of the
Andriba Hill and of the Rofia palms. Here once more the grass was on
fire and the roaring flames passed within a short distance of our
position. We secured valuable additions to our series of observations
and carried our stations onward into the districts we have yet to
traverse.
The religious and social condition of these five towns was a matter of
serious concern to us all. The populations are not numerous: they are
exiled: they are isolated. But they are important in themselves; and
they have an important relation to the communities still beyond them.
They are easy of access. They lie along the valleys at intervals of from
six to ten miles, and small clumps of houses are found in their
neighbourhood. East and west the country seemed entirely empty. No
English missionary had visited them, till we went along the line. Mr.
Matthews, their nearest neighbour, had been too occupied with the
pressing work of his own district to see them personally: but he had
several times sent a colporteur among them with books and Scriptures.
The only other help they have received is from Hova officers and
soldiers and their families, who have passed by them on their journeys
northward or when they have come to settle on public duty in their
midst. Naturally therefore we found their condition backward and needing
much attention from Christian people.
Kinajy contains some active Christians, and the little chapel is not
only well kept, but is usually well filled. There are sixteen church
members in the community: many could read: four could write; and there
was an earnest and persevering demand for books, which we were glad to
supply. Ambohinorina has a little clay chapel: no school: scarcely one
person able to spell out a few words. Yet they were most hearty in their
hospitality and they seemed eager to learn. Ampotoka has a little chapel
of reeds and mud. Two could read. A few knew the alphabet. There was not
a Bible in the village; there was however one Testament. Altogether the
people were very dark.
Mangasoavina was much more advanced. There were twenty who could read:
many more knew their letters. Sixteen were baptized and form the church.
They have one service on the Sabbath and one hundred and fifty people
attend. They have two pastors.
The people were anxious to have a service during the evening of our
stay; and Mr. Jukes gladly assented to their request. My colleague, Mr.
Pillans, has given an interesting account of this little conference at
which he was present. In going into the governor’s house where the
people had assembled, he passed through the kitchen, where a fire was
burning on the floor filling the house with smoke. In an inner room were
thirty or forty people seated on the floor. In the midst stood a native
lamp, with a thick wick; and a little girl fed the lamp from time to
time by dipping a stick into a lump of grease and stripping it into the
lamp with her fingers. The light was sufficient to make darkness
visible: but scarcely enough to enable Mr. Jukes, though down on his
knees, to read the texts to which his enquiring companions continually
referred him. “We were anxious to learn what kind of teaching these
people received, and enquired what the pastors taught. ‘To do no evil’
(they said) ‘and to love one another.’ ‘But what do they teach about
Christ?’ ‘To observe his laws.’ ‘What do they teach about Christ
himself?’ ‘That he was a substitute for the guilty.’ ‘What about the
Holy Spirit?’ One said it was a difficult subject.—They had many
questions to ask about the Bible and particular texts: some of which
reminded us of questions which have occupied both learned and unlearned
at home. ‘Who was Melchizedek?’ ‘Who wrote the Epistle to the Hebrews?’
‘Why did Christ call himself the Son of man?’ ‘What is the meaning of
the parable of the tares?’ and so on. The wife of one of the pastors, a
daughter of the governor, took a leading part in this conversation. She
seemed a most intelligent woman and an eager inquirer. All the people
expressed themselves as most grateful for our visit and urged their need
of help from the Imerina Mission. Mr. Jukes suggested that they should
unite with their neighbours in the villages around and get a teacher
from Imerina. They could easily support him and he would have a good
sphere of labour.” They should also enjoy occasional visits from the
missionaries in Vonizongo. The distance is not great: the influence and
sympathy of an Englishman go very far with our native converts and
encourage them much: and the assurance that they were known and watched
and cared for by their Imerina friends would prove an invaluable
stimulus to their improvement.
Beyond Malatsy came the second distinct section of our journey, a
portion of the Noman’s Land of Madagascar. It took us two days to cross
it. It is usually termed “the desert;” but that name is scarcely
applicable to a land full of valleys, small streams of clear, fresh
water, and chains of hills covered in part with wood. It is scarcely
applicable to a region in the midst of which we found the river Ikopa, a
fine broad stream, falling over huge rocks in noble cataracts and
watering a thousand fair islands, that stud its bosom with bright and
living green. The region is doubtless unpeopled: we saw not a hut on our
line of march, not a blade of rice, not a yard of cultivation. It was
interesting to us to meet this district once more. We have come upon it
in the South; in the East; away in the West; and now in two places in
the North. It is easily accounted for as the border land between the
Coast tribes and the Hovas of Imerina and Betsileo, between whom till
recent times there was perpetual feud; and therefore not to be
cultivated with any hope of profit. It seems to form a complete ring
round the central provinces: and it leaves the sea-coast a poor,
ill-peopled district indeed.
Our bearers made elaborate preparations for crossing this region of “the
unknown.” They spent half a day in pounding and husking rice; in eating
hearty meals; and in sharpening their numerous spears. With a view to
prevent the loss of stragglers, who might be sick or footsore, we
arranged to march in military order: and while my colleague led the
little column, Mr. Jukes and I agreed to bring up the rear. The
announcement that we would do so, gave the liveliest satisfaction: and
when we allowed Mr. Jukes’s empty rifle to be strapped outside his
baggage as a warning to evil-minded persons, there stole over the
countenances of our friends an expression of serenity and peace truly
refreshing to behold. The Malagasy as a rule have immense faith in an
empty gun, even though they have no powder near.
We left Malatsy early on Thursday, July 30th. The need of our
precautions against straggling was soon seen. Within the first quarter
of an hour of our march, seven men lagged behind for no solid reason
whatever. But we whipped them up and kept them to their duty: and we
reached the resting-place within a quarter of an hour of my colleague’s
arrival. On two subsequent occasions we picked up a poor fellow
suffering from fever, and thoroughly unable to manage his load. His
companions readily shared it or carried it in turn; and we were able to
bring the invalids safely in. Had we left them, it is certain that they
would have travelled for miles in perfect loneliness and at the best
would have arrived long after ourselves. It is these unhappy stragglers
who alone are exposed to real danger.
We had a most pleasant march through the solitudes of this “lone land.”
Our course lay up long valleys, over first one pass and then another; or
over hard clay ridges, sprinkled with quartz gravel, and then along some
clear stream, bordered with fresh, green wood. The valleys were simple
and open and very green. The rofia palm grew more abundant: there were
varieties of the acacia with their pinnate leaves; with a few specimens
of the bamboo palm; and of the _dábo_, a coarse fig tree. The bamboo
cane was common, with its tall stalk, from fifteen to twenty feet high,
and its soft, white feather at the crown; there was the wild citron
also. Everywhere the grass was strong and full of beauty. All the
streams too had cut their way down to the rock. The eye could see that
the ground was falling rapidly: we were continually descending the
slopes of hills: the gullies in the red clay were deep and numerous:
nowhere was the ground level, till we reached the rock.
Our first halt was by a pretty stream, under the Pass of Marókolohy. The
men spread themselves out along the water and soon had their little
fires blazing and the rice boiling in their iron pots and tin saucepans.
We ourselves rested under a tree: and a small supply of English stores
on this and similar journeys, tins of soup and meat and vegetables, good
cocoa and first-rate tea, rendered us independent of surrounding
circumstances and satisfied our English tastes. The ridge behind us was
bold and high. When we climbed to the summit, we travelled some distance
along the crest and found an excellent station for observations.
Crossing a second ridge called Kalomainty, we descended into a green
valley with a stream of water. At the north end of the valley the dried
grass was blazing furiously, under the strong wind and it was not easy
to avoid the flames. More than once our men had to run for it, and but
for the hardness of their feet would have suffered from the hot ashes
and stones on which they trod. Crossing a third ridge, we passed down a
rocky valley and entered a piece of country, like an English park, well
watered by the River Andránobé. All day the loneliness was most
complete. Not a bird started from the brake, not an animal appeared in
the wood. The silence was intense and Nature was here in complete
wildness: for untold ages has she had her will: and calm, still beauty
is the result. We had only one trouble, a plague of flies. We were
followed by swarms of creatures with the look of a fly, but with the
power of biting and stinging like a musquito. They settled everywhere,
on the hands, the neck, the face: and unless soon driven off, inflicted
an irritating bite. The men suffered from them as much as ourselves.
Very strangely they disappeared at sunset and only a few followed us
next day. It was just at sundown that we crossed the shoulder of a hill
between two bends of the Andranobe, and encamped on its western arm
under a fine wooded hill.
We pitched our tents upon a terrace which overhangs the stream: the men
lit their fires, ten in number, on the sandy bed, where they resolved to
sleep. And it added to the charm of our position, that as the moon rose
full behind us the whole body of our bearers gathered together for
evening prayers: sang with spirit their plaintive Malagasy hymns, said a
hearty Amen to the words of the 91st Psalm: and cast themselves on the
protection of that Saviour, to whom (they said explicitly) they have
found it good to pray. Let none say that in this prosaic age, the days
of romance have passed away. To me the simple realities of life often
bring scenes as romantic as any which fiction can pourtray.
The following morning while the baggage was being packed, we breakfasted
by the light of a brilliant moon, and recommenced our march. The men
were in good spirits, though stiff after their _al-fresco_ sleep. We
soon traversed a natural park, full of beauty, spread out for miles, and
waiting for a master. We again followed for a space the rocky valley of
the Andranobe: and just at sunrise came upon the most charming scene
which we had beheld in all our journey. We had reached the bottom of the
hill country: and the plain of Ménaváva lay stretched before us away to
the distant horizon. The River Ikopa was turning toward us from round a
rocky hill four hundred yards broad, its bed for miles very rocky, a
hundred green islands rising from its bosom, clothed with wood, while
the rushing water fell in cataracts of foam over a reef of rocks which
completely covered the stream. The cataracts reminded me of those of the
River Máveligunga in the middle of the island of Ceylon. The islands,
rocks and rapids were our companions for several miles, to Nosifito,
where “seven islands” form a striking group in the river.
We now turned a little inland; crossed a small stream, the
Andranobe-vava, and came upon a region of wild disorder. The gneiss
strata were tilted perpendicular. Hills of quartz, gneiss, and clay were
thrown up, made of broken fragments of primitive rock. The boulders were
countless: the country was covered with them, and many were of enormous
size. They were rounded, ground, water-worn: multitudes were half-buried
in the clay. The reason was simple. We were travelling over the surface
of the drift and debris of the higher districts. The present Ikopa
indicates the line of valley down which for many ages the drainage of
Imerina has poured; and we had reached the point at the bottom of the
hills at which the material brought down by the waters has been
deposited upon the plains. It was not the fact of that deposit which
surprised us. It was the extent to which it had been carried. We saw
that mighty forces had been at work; we saw the results of enormous
floods, of the rending of barriers and outpouring of lakes, everywhere
stamped upon this wide-spread scene of ruin. We were nearly four hours
traversing it, in a hot sun: not a stream crossed our path, and our men
suffered much from thirst.
At last we reached a beautiful glen, on the north edge of the drift,
down which was flowing a stream of the purest water. The men were wild
with delight; they just flung down their burdens; rushed pell-mell into
the stream; and drank and bathed and revelled in the water. The fires
were soon blazing and the cooking-pots well occupied. We did not need to
hurry them, as we were near our destination: and a short run of five
miles brought us to the town of Mevatanána, which we reached safe and
well.
With MEVATANÁNA, we were in the SAKALAVA country, and continued through
it to the sea. This was the third principal section of our journey. We
found it well-defined; the granite hills and their long spurs forming an
inner boundary to its broad and fertile plains. It was everywhere
beautifully green. Warm in climate, it gave us back the fan-palm, the
tamarind, the mangoe and the plantain as strong, beautiful and fruitful
trees. The grass was rich for the many herds of cattle: the enclosed
basins and undulating plains seemed capable of producing roots,
vegetables, rice and fruit. But the population is thin and scattered:
the Sakalava villages consist of ten, fifteen, twenty houses; and they
are few and far between. We found that there are twelve churches in the
district; the six most important of these are in six towns, garrisoned
by Hovas, all of which we visited except one. Only in one of these
churches are there Sakalavas. That people have as yet scarcely been
touched by the gospel: it is to the Hovas and their surroundings it is
almost entirely confined. Everywhere we were heartily welcomed. The
people had heard of our coming and had looked for us long. Presents were
showered upon us, including oxen, turkeys, geese, fowls, eggs and milk:
our congregations were very large: our men were happy.
[Illustration:
GATEWAY OF POLES—MEVATANANA.
]
MEVATANANA justifies its name which means “an excellent site for a
city.” It stands on a spur of that inner ridge of clay through which the
Ikopa has cut its way: and has deep ravines on three sides. The town is
240 feet above the sea level: the river is 150 feet. The town contains
168 houses, of which 80 are within the stockade. The governor’s house is
in a broad open square: close to which are the principal shops for
cloth, meat, vegetables and fruit. The town occupies an admirable
position in relation to the country generally. It stands on the edge of
the hill districts and of the fertile plains: it is two miles from the
east bank of the river: it is the point up to which the river is
navigable by canoes. It is a good stopping station for all travellers
from the coast; and the first resting-place to others journeying from
the Capital. It is also the edge of the population. To the east and
south the country is empty. Across the river to the west the district
contains a few Sakaláva villages of three, five, seven houses at long
intervals. On the north at moderate intervals are the six garrison towns
in line, which end with the port and harbour of Mojangá. A considerable
number of the inhabitants of the town are the Hova garrison from
Imerina.
The people gave us a hearty welcome. We occupied the chapel, outside the
stockade, on the edge of the ravine: and weary with our wilderness
journey were glad to secure a long and refreshing sleep. Surveying,
photographing, looking round, talking with the shopkeepers, talking with
the Governor of the town and the pastor of the church, writing journals,
making sketch-maps, and idling generally, made up a quiet, pleasant
Saturday: though our wild friend, the south-east wind, did not forget
us, but blew hard all day, raised great clouds of dust, drove away
plenty of malaria, and made himself generally disagreeable.
In the evening we dined with the Governor. He is an old gentleman, who
ought long since to have been put on pension. But he and his nice, old
wife, were hospitable and kind. The feast was simple and truly
primitive. Roast fowls, boiled rice, abundance of gravy and bowls of
milk are no bad provision for hungry men. The Governor and his lady sat
at table with us, as did three of his officers. We brought our knives
and spoons with us: but the three officers ate out of a common plate
with a horn spoon each. Three other officers sat on the ground and
against the wall: while the cook, who superintended the primitive light,
and evidently had great faith in the usefulness of his fingers, freely
joined in the conversation and gave his opinion upon various matters
without the slightest hesitation. Amongst other questions discussed, was
the important topic of our journey onward. Was it better to go by water
or by land: if the latter, was the journey long or difficult: if the
former, could we get canoes here? We had tried in vain to get clear
light upon these points, from the captains of our baggage, during the
day: so we asked the opinion of our friends to-night. After serious
discussion among themselves, the Governor and his officers delivered the
following judgment. “If you take boats, that is good. If you go by land,
that is good; because you prefer it. What you like, we like. What
pleases you, satisfies us.”
We spent a pleasant Sunday at Mevatanâna. The little chapel was well
filled: our own bearers making a considerable addition to the usual
congregation. Some twenty of them presented to the native pastor their
tickets of membership in churches in the Capital and joined with the
local members and ourselves at the communion of the Lord’s Supper. Mr.
Jukes, who speaks Malagasy well, preached an excellent sermon, from the
text, “God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son” &c.,
which was listened to with deep attention. We had a second service in
the afternoon, with sermons from our two chaplains. But we were not
impressed with the spiritual life of the people. They seemed very
ignorant, very dead. There was no leader among them; no man of real,
spiritual force, who by his example and his teachings could stimulate
his brethren. The native pastor could scarcely read and seemed in other
ways an ignorant man. I do not think there was any school in the town.
We could not but regret that things were so backward.
At times it has been thought and said, that by the route of the Ikopa,
boats and steamers could reach to within sixty miles of the Capital. The
student of the Map, which represents our route, can form his own opinion
on this subject. Near the sea at certain seasons there are shallows. All
about Mevatanána and above the influence of the tides, the shallows are
more numerous and more formidable. Above Mevatanána the river is full of
rocks and islands. And above Nósifito come the great cataracts, from
which upward to the Fárahántsana, the entire bed of the Ikopa, so far as
we have heard, is a series of rocky rapids. Now Mevatanána is one
hundred and fifty miles from the Capital: and as we shall see is ninety
miles from Mojangá. From Mevatanána at least all the upward trade must
go by land.
We now hired canoes for our whole party. We could only find three,
though they were long and spacious: and I felt rather nervous. We had to
stow in them all our baggage and just a hundred men. One canoe was about
forty feet long and over three feet broad. It carried forty-three men.
But we were tight-packed: and it required great care to change the
rowers from time to time, while the canoes were still afloat. Our trip
down the stream was delightful. We left the bank at ten o’clock, the men
in high spirits at having nothing to carry. The river was about three
hundred yards broad; and was shallow and full of islands. Three miles
onward, the islands ceased and we had two long reaches to the north and
west. The banks were fair and green: profusely covered with the bamboo
cane, with its long lithe stalk and its white feathery flower. We soon
began to see crocodiles; and were astonished at their numbers. They
appeared in groups; they lay on the banks in the hot sun, lazy and
asleep: and when awoke by the shouts of our men, quietly went and hid
themselves beneath the water. There was one enormous creature, full
twenty feet long, with a huge body and vast jaws. These reptiles were
visible all the way down. After resting for tiffin at the village of
Ambinány under a noble tamarind tree, we pitched our camp upon a broad
bank of sand. There was abundance of drift wood lying about, and the men
lit large fires and maintained them all night to keep the crocodiles
away.
The spot which we had reached was to us full of interest. Opposite to
the camp was the BETSIBOKA river coming up from the south-east, and here
the two rivers joined together. The Ikopa is a quarter of a mile broad:
the Betsiboka is much broader and in the rainy season comes down in
great flood, so as to throw the Ikopa waters far into the western bank
and produce the broad sand on which we stood. High up in the moors of
Imérina and among the roots of Angávokely, we had seen the fountains of
numerous streams from which these rivers take their rise. At Ambatomena
and Anjozorobe we had seen the Mananára, the Zábo, the Manánta: near
Mantasóa we had seen the beginnings of the Ikopa and the Varáhina: at
Andramásina and under Ankárat, the Sisaony, the Andromba, the Katsáoka
and many more: all the waters of the Anátivolo, of Lohavohitra and North
Vonizongo find their way hither; and now the united streams, keeping the
name of the larger, the Betsiboka, will bear us to the sea.
Four miles up the stream of the Betsiboka and on its eastern bank is the
flourishing town of AMPARIHIBE “the town of the big lakes.” We could see
it plainly from our camp, standing out prominently on its clay hill. Mr.
Jukes had paid it a visit by land and told us about its people. The town
is well built: its people are unusually intelligent and amiable. On
Sunday afternoon when he arrived, they gave him a most hearty reception.
This morning at the monthly missionary meeting, five hundred people were
present. He gave them our salutations and preached to them; and then for
two hours, answered their questions about the Word of God. He found them
most anxious to learn, most anxious to do right. The service concluded,
they all walked down to the river with him and said good-bye. They
loaded him with presents, and sent us most kind messages. They expressed
the deepest regret that they had not met us: and they begged Mr. Jukes
on his return to spend a Sunday with them.
We were away early on Tuesday, and found the river broader, but winding
and somewhat more shallow. The banks were beautiful with their light
green: and here and there the trees were large. But nothing struck us
like the crocodiles. They were more numerous than ever. We seemed never
to lose sight of them: here there was a group of five, there of eight,
six and ten. Sometimes they rose to twenty: and on one occasion on a
broad spit of sand, we found no less than forty sleeping in the sun.
When we took to counting this was the result: in the first hour we
counted a hundred and five; in the next half hour, we saw one hundred
and two. During the four days of our river trip, we must have seen not
less than sixteen hundred crocodiles: indeed my opinion is that the
number rose to two thousand. Some were babies, from twelve to eighteen
inches long: others were strong and active; a few were old, of enormous
size and very sluggish. The skins of the last were course and rough; and
the studs and knobs along the back stood out prominently. Their colour
was a brown yellow. I could not detect among them the _gayál_ or
fish-alligator, so common in the Ganges; they all seemed to belong to
the _magars_ or true crocodiles. The natives of the district told us
that the river swarms with fish, which the crocodiles eat; they lie in
wait to seize the cattle, when they come down to drink; and now and then
some poor Sakaláve, crossing the river, half tipsy, in a frail canoe,
falls into the water and is never seen again. A crocodile moves slowly
on land, with his short legs and heavy tail: but once in the water, he
is master, and his tail is an engine of great power.
Our course to-day was about north-west: and our speed down the stream
about four miles an hour. The flow of the water was strong and in our
favour. We were leaving behind us and on the south-east, a fine, lofty
ridge, with a very conspicuous gap. The hill on the south of the gap is
Namakía; and close to it is Tóngodrahóds. M. Grandidier, travelling from
the coast by land, passed close to these points, and has inserted them
in his map. Toward the north-west we were gradually approaching another
ridge, the bearings of which, as of the former, we had taken at
Mévatanána.
Early in the afternoon we passed a little Sakalava village, named
Kárambíly; and at 3.25, reached the mouth of a small stream, the Kámona,
near to which we knew was the important town of TRABONJY. We found it
five miles inland, in an open basin upon a low hill. The hill was
prettily covered by mango trees, in full flower, by fine tamarinds, and
numerous palmettoes, the fruit of which is unhappily used to distil rum.
The Sakalava town is on the west side of the Hova town. It contains a
very large house, the residence of the princess and head of the tribe:
and numerous simple dwellings of the Sakalava people. To us they had a
singular appearance: they looked like huge bird-cages, being formed of
split bamboo and reeds, and quite open to the winds. The houses of the
Hova town are unusually large and built in rows with wide streets
between: they are formed of wood, reeds and palmetto leaves. The people
were on the look-out for us, met us in a crowd at the city-gate; and
manifested unmistakeable pleasure at our arrival.
From the intelligent and able governor of Trabónjy, Ráinisóamánana, as
well as from his intelligent wife and daughters, we received a
peculiarly kind welcome. They could not make enough of us: and we had
just to tear ourselves away, if we would reach our port in good time for
the steamer that was to bear us home. With the governor we had abundance
of serious talk on many things. He saw the importance of our visit; set
before us the condition of the churches of the district; and sent an
earnest request to the Directors that an English Missionary might be
appointed to instruct and guide them. Both he and his people sent the
most grateful and affectionate salutations to the Society which has so
long been the friend of the Malagasy people.
We were invited to visit the family. We found that their house, built in
Sakalava shape, was spacious and the roof was high. It contained but one
room the portions of which were parted from one another by screens of
cloth. On one side stood a table, covered with bright crockery, water
decanters and glasses. Above it were hung two engravings of Queen
Victoria and the late Emperor Napoleon. A large wardrobe contained,
among other things, numerous bottles of medicine. One of the governor’s
sons has been a medical student with Dr. Davidson and is exercising his
gifts among his people here. The governor told us that the church in
Trabónjy contains 250 members: that fifty of these are Sakalavas and 150
Sakalavas profess to be Christians and worship with the congregation.
All the Sakalavas of this district, friendly to the Hova Government,
burnt their idols, when those of Imerina were consumed. The independent
Sakalavas worship their ancestors and keep to their idols still. There
are two hundred houses in Trabonjy: in the neighbourhood there are quite
two hundred more. And the entire basin must contain two thousand people.
Embarking once more in our canoes, we made steady progress down the
river. At five o’clock we came to a fine bend in the river, under a
wooded ridge; and turning the boats’ noses in shore we disturbed a
“happy family” of twelve crocodiles, who had retired to rest for the
night; and took possession of the sand-bank from which they were
dislodged. Again we pitched our tents upon the upper terrace, made large
fires, and slept well.
We had now reached the ridge, the bearings of which we had taken from
Mevatanána. It was very broad, and the river wound its way through,
having high banks on either side. These banks were covered with dark
thick woods. The air was warm; the vegetation luxuriant. Here and there
we passed long gardens of plantains, the plantations of the Sakalavas.
The palms were full grown and had broad leafy fronds. We saw too
abundance of birds. Wild ducks rose in flocks as we passed on: the
flamingo, with his pale purple legs, rose over our heads: the heron was
disturbed, while fishing in the stream: white storks were numerous:
there were a few wild pigeons: and one little humming-bird kept flitting
in and out of the jungle, curious yet afraid.
Early to-day we met the tides, some fifty miles from the sea. The marks
on the banks did not indicate a high rise of the water, probably from
the fact that the land itself has not yet reached the sea level. During
the afternoon we pulled steadily along a fine reach of the river for
several miles: its direction was nearly north: and some fine hills were
in sight, under one of which, with a double head, was the town of
MAHABO. At sunset we passed along the east side of a large island; wood
and jungle were rich; the mud banks were evidently fertile: the mangrove
was thick with its matted roots: and again we saw vast quantities of the
_Via_, the great Arum lily, which we had admired so much on the east
coast a year ago. At the north end of this reach we turned eastward into
a narrow stream for five miles, and at eight o’clock, were landed in the
mud at the important town of Marovoay.
MAROVOAY contains five thousand people and consists of two towns, the
Hova settlement and stockade on the hill, and the trading town on the
river bank. The latter is extremely dirty: it is full of hides and
offal, sweltering in the burning sun; and is reputed to be extremely
unhealthy. How can it be otherwise? A large number of Hindu merchants
reside in the town; who responded heartily to salutations in Hindustani,
and were greatly surprised and interested to meet an old Calcutta-walla
in this out-of-the-way corner of the world. We observed with regret the
large number of pure Africans in the town, many of them quite young. The
Hova houses within the stockade are large and numerous; the chapel is a
spacious building, and near the chapel and the gate of the stockade are
two noble tamarind trees.
The governor is a most intelligent man and evidently has the interest of
his people thoroughly at heart. He and his wife were extremely
thoughtful and kind. In the morning, before we went round the town, he
and his officers and their families, came in force, with the earnest
request that we would stay over the Sunday at Marovoay and help them.
They pleaded eloquently also that they might have an English Missionary
for themselves. It was hard to refuse. Their arguments were ingenious:
they parried objections most skilfully and turned them against
ourselves. But we were pledged to the people of Mojangá. For our own
purpose, as well as to keep faith with the native churches, it was
necessary that we should spend our last Sabbath in the island with them.
And so, though with deep reluctance, we were compelled to go forward.
Mr. Jukes promised, that if it were practicable, he would spend a Sunday
with them, on his return. Paying off our canoes, we secured two boats,
fit to cross Bémbatóka Bay, in which strong winds and high seas are
often met with. At three o’clock, the kind governor and all his people
escorted us in procession to the river side, with drums beating, fifes
playing, banners flying. We embarked in our little vessels, in presence
of the entire town: and hoisting sail, and giving the governor three
cheers, we started on our way.
Our dhows were no great things for a sea voyage. They were open boats:
thirty feet long, eight feet broad and six feet deep. We stowed our
larger baggage and several men in one, and placed our personal effects
and ourselves, with some ten men, in the other. There was a quarter deck
aft, seven feet by eight. Altogether our space was limited. The sails
were of the usual Eastern type, the lateen sails of Malta and the
Levant. We managed to boil a kettle and get some tea, while going out of
our little river and sailing along the still waters of the Betsiboka;
but it was an amusing affair. Then it grew dark and we settled down for
the night. Mrs. Pillans buried herself in rugs in the hold, on the top
of the baggage. Mr. Jukes, my colleague and myself occupied the
quarter-deck in parallel lines, which like those of longitude, converged
on the helmsman at our feet. A mattress beneath us softened the boards
and plenty of plaids and rugs kept us warm: while, like the Egyptians of
old and the Samoans of modern days, we made a pillow of the quarter-deck
rail, which had but little down in its composition. The night was
lovely: the stars shone brightly and clear. Ere long the wind freshened,
though it kept very steady; and the boats flew along the water. Our
course was for a while north-west: then due west, which we kept for at
least five hours. After a time we slept for very weariness: and at the
end of ten hours, were run ashore high and dry, under Mr. Laing’s
windows at Mojangá, under a brilliant moon, at three o’clock in the
morning.
Our little trip was a truly pleasant one, though we were exceedingly
fatigued all the next day. We could not but feel grateful and happy that
we had suffered no delay from contrary winds or a rough sea. We were
able too, in God’s good providence, to fulfil our purpose of spending a
Sunday with our Christian friends and to enjoy that intercourse with
them which would make us acquainted with their condition and wants. Our
arrival gave them great satisfaction, and they showed every kindness
both to ourselves and our men. Pleasant quarters were kindly offered to
us in the house of Messrs. Porter, Muir and Laing; by Mr. Angravink, the
gentleman in charge of their agency. Our men however were not
particularly gratified with the airy houses of the Sákalávas.
The town of MOJANGÁ stands on a long tongue of land, on the north and
east side of a vast inlet, called Bembatóka Bay. It is in lat. 15° 42′
54″ S. and long. 44° 20′ E. The bay is from seventeen to twenty miles
deep. It is eight miles across from north to south: and the entrance
from the sea is three and a half miles wide. The river Betsiboka enters
the bay by two channels on its south-east and east sides, a large island
coming in between: and so great is the force with which it has scored
out the bay, that near the western entrance, the water is sixty-three
fathoms deep. In the centre of the bay a long promontory projects from
the northern shore. On this were once situated the town of Bembatoka and
the village of Ambátolámpy. Ruins of these places may still be seen:
otherwise they have disappeared, and at the present day they are
represented by Mojangá, which lies much nearer to the sea, on the north
shore of the outer bay. The entrance of this outer bay is guarded by two
promontories; that on the south is named Katsépa: that on the north is
Amorombáto. These points of land are parts of a long limestone ridge,
which here forms the sea-coast of the island. This ridge is capped with
the usual red clay: on the Katsepa point it showed itself as two white
bands beneath the clay, each about ten feet thick. It runs half a day’s
journey, about twelve miles, inland toward the north-east. The district
south of the Bay is termed Ambongo: that to the north, in which Mojangá
is situated, is called Ibóina. The latter includes all the Hova towns as
far as Mevatanána, and the district to the foot of the Namakia ridge.
Like other important places of trade Mojangá consists in reality of two
separate towns, and has done so for many generations. This fact, so
simple and patent to a visitor on the spot, has introduced a curious
confusion into descriptions of its history; its one name appearing under
two perfectly different forms of spelling. The upper town is on the
ridge, and is the stockaded residence of the Hova garrison. The lower
town is the trading town, built on the inner side of the promontory and
on the north shore of the outer bay. The two places are joined by a
broad road running straight up the slope of the hill.
The upper town is laid out with great regularity. It includes the house
of the Governor, now old, with thick walls and in need of considerable
repair. It has numerous houses of large size for the garrison: and in it
are the garrison church and the house in which the Sákalávas have
deposited relics of some former king, whom they greatly honour. The
palisade of the Hova town is surrounded by a ditch and a platform, and
is defended by a number of old English navy guns, 12- and 9-pounders.
Below and around the Hova town, the hill is covered richly with wood.
Indeed there is quite a forest of tamarind, mango, palm and cocoanut
trees, many of which are noble specimens of their class. The
talipot-palms also were strong and massive. And there were ten or twelve
specimens of the baobab, called in Malagasy, the _Botona_. Of the great
baobab I obtained a good photograph: the tree is over sixty feet high:
and the trunk near the ground is forty feet in girth.
The lower town extends half a mile along the shore: in the central parts
it is five rows of houses deep: at the east end these are thinner. These
houses are very light and frail: they have a wooden frame: but the
panels are filled in with palmetto leaves, which form a pretty pattern:
they are thatched with larger leaves of the cocoanut and palm. They are
of course very inflammable and one does not wonder to hear that the town
is burnt down nearly once a year. At the west end of the town on a spit
of sand in the market, with a vast collection of bullocks’ skulls, bones
and remnants: the smell of which was dreadful.
An important element in the lower town is the Hindu and Arab houses,
which are employed both as residences for their owners and as safe
storehouses for goods. They are built on the Indian pattern: they are of
solid material, stone or brick, cemented with lime dug from the hill;
they are of two or three stories; have flat roofs and terraces, and
contain small rooms. There are about forty of these houses in the town:
they have been built by Malagasy workmen, look rough and coarse: and are
wholly wanting in the neatness and finish which are given to such houses
in Calcutta or Bombay. The town has two mosques: one for the Arab
merchants: and one for the Mahomedan traders from Bombay, whose customs
doubtless differ in some points from one another. Rival muezzins,
morning and evening, summon the faithful to their prayers.
The number of houses amounts to 1327: and the entire population reaches
probably to ten thousand. The Hova element is very strong. The Indian
adults are about fifty. There are a few Sákalávas in both towns: and the
African slaves, universally called by the Malagasy “Mojambikas,” are
very numerous. Their skin is very dark: and they have thick lips and
curling hair. But they are not pure negroes. They belong to various
tribes on the east coast of Africa, who all understand more or less the
Swahili language.
The port of Mojangá has long been known to history. The entire districts
of Ambóngo and Iboina belonged originally to the Sákalávas tribes. But
the Arab traders from East Africa and the Persian Gulf found them out
centuries ago: and it was from them that Marco Paolo heard about the
island. Several generations back these Arab merchants made themselves
strong as advisers of the Sakalava princes; and all last century they
had the chief power in their hands. They held the fort on the hill; were
masters of the trading settlement. And of course were deeply involved in
the slave trade. The high-handed proceedings of the Portuguese fleets,
and the later piracies of Captain Kyd and his companions had crippled
their commerce, but had not destroyed it: and as the Indian trade, after
the days of Admiral Watson and the destruction of Saverndrog once more
grew secure, the strength of the Arab trade also was renewed. Mojangá
was a strong place in 1824: the town was then a mile long; and it
contained a considerable population of Arab blood, “whose fathers had
been there from time immemorial.” Radáma had cast his eyes on the
district and in 1824, he had his first expedition down to the coast. He
was seconded with great energy and skill by his brother-in-law and
cousin, Rámanétaka; and Mojangá and all its companions fell into his
hands. The district rose in rebellion the following year: but it was
again subdued, and Rámanétaka was appointed the first governor. The town
is said to have been burnt, a thing quite probable; but it must have
been rebuilt. It was far more seriously affected by the stoppage of the
slave trade, on which Radáma insisted; according to his recent treaties
with the English government. Since then, with varying fortunes, it has
remained in Hova hands.
With the year 1874 the British India Steam Navigation Company have made
an enterprising attempt to increase the trade of Mojangá, by linking it
on to their steam lines to Zanzibar and Aden. Having obtained a ten
years’ contract with the French government to carry the mails from
Zanzibar, through the Comóro Islands to Nósibé, of their own accord they
have extended the steamer’s course, without contract, from Nosibe to
Mojangá: and during 1874 a visit has been paid to the port once a month.
The effort is a most praiseworthy one. It deserves to succeed. Its
success would prove a great benefit to the island. But what are its
prospects?
Fully developed, the export and import trade of Mojangá should include
two distinct elements: the local trade (among the garrison towns and the
Sakalávas of the district): and the through trade with the Central
Provinces and the Capital, Antanánarivo. In favour of this through
trade, is the consideration that the gradients of the country are easy;
and were villages planted in line, as they might easily be, at short
distances through Noman’s land, the entire line of traffic could be made
safe, as well as easy, and the direct connection with Europe would be
complete. On the other side it has to be remembered that that direct
trade is of moderate value; that the bearers are thoroughly used to the
Tamatave road; and that they asked twenty-six shillings a man for the
Mojangá trip, as against ten shillings a man for that to Tamatave. The
chief element of the outward trade of the island is bullocks and hides;
and as sailing ships carry these articles between Port Louis and
Tamatave, they are available for bringing the direct imports at cheaper
rates of freight than would prevail in the purely steam line from
Mojangá.
What then are the prospects of the local trade? Hitherto it has been
very poor for three reasons. The Sakalava population in the whole
district is not numerous: the people are poor, ignorant and uncivilised:
they have few wants: they get fish from the rivers; plantains from their
gardens; beef from their flocks and herds: their houses cost them a
little labour: a few hides will purchase their clothes: at present they
produce little more than they can use: they sell a few hides, a little
rice, a little bees’ wax. The Hova officers and garrisons in the
district are poor: they live upon the public allowances: they are
numerous: they produce very little: the idlers and hangers-on form a
little army: what money have they with which to purchase goods? The
largest portion of the public allowances consists of food of various
kinds: only a certain surplus gathers in the hands of the chief
officers: and they are the only traders. This brings up the third
difficulty in the way of trade: a difficulty felt all over Madagascar.
The number of masters, of various grades, doing nothing, living without
pay, and living on what they can squeeze out of slaves and clients below
them, is countless. Christian justice is softening down these things;
but changes in the laws and life of the people are essential to any
great improvement. And even with these changes we must give the people
time to adapt themselves to their new circumstances: while vested
interests die out and public opinion becomes settled and grows strong.
We spent a most pleasant Sabbath with our friends in Mojangá. In the
morning we worshipped with the church in the garrison: in the afternoon,
we attended the church in the lower town. We saw a good deal of the fine
old governor and his family. And we were specially pleased with the
young pastor, Rakótobáo; of whom Sir Bartle Frere spoke so kindly in his
letters to the Foreign Office and in his address at Exeter Hall. From
the sermons he preached to-day; from his views about church life and
discipline; and from the spiritual influence he is exercising over the
two congregations here, we judged him worthy of all the commendation he
received and even of more. He has only been here eighteen months, and
things have greatly improved.
We learned that the ordinary attendance in one of these churches is
three hundred: in the other, two hundred and thirty. There are fifty-six
members in the two: and all join together in celebrating the communion.
They have among them six preachers and six deacons. There are sixty
children in the school: of whom thirty can read well. Some thirty adults
can read. Six or seven Sakalavas attend worship. In receiving members,
they follow the rule prevailing at the Capital of two months’ probation;
then the case comes before the whole church. In a similar way, if a
member goes astray, he is visited and counsel given him; if unrepentant,
he is dealt with by the whole church. In visiting the twelve churches in
the district in 1871, the pastor formed schools in them all.
The SAKALAVAS as a people have not yet been reached. In some places as
at Trabonjy, a number of them attend worship; but they need to be dealt
with very cautiously to prevent their going off altogether. Their regard
for Christianity is more a sign of their political relation to the Hovas
than a token that the gospel has fairly taken hold of them. Work among
the Sakalavas has yet to begin at the beginning.
We asked ourselves whether we should recommend the Board to place an
English missionary in this district. Our judgment is that such an
appointment is most desirable. We would not urge the Board to enter upon
new ground, and commence an entirely new mission. But all the good in
the Sihanaka Mission and in this Mojangá district has sprung from our
old work; is based upon it; and in order to complete the old, these
elements in it should without delay be heartily followed up. We should
thus consolidate and strengthen the good already existing; we should
gather new fruit from past efforts; and prepare the way for new
movements and local extensions by the native churches themselves.
We had hoped to remain in Mojangá for six days. But to our surprise the
_Malacca_ came into the bay on Monday morning; and would leave again on
Wednesday. We had however only to select the tents and other portions of
our travelling gear, which we no longer needed and which we purposed to
hand over for the use of the mission. Our baggage for board ship packed
into very small compass. We saw the young pastor once more: completed
our preparations; and said our farewells to the willing and careful men,
who had travelled with us so often and so far. Then the school children
sang to us as we went into the boats: and so we quitted the land, in
which we had spent a delightful twelvemonth, and a people, among whom
the grace of God has wrought great marvels, in the face of a sceptical
and unbelieving world.
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CHAPTER X.
OUR RETURN HOME.
Domestic Slavery in Madagascar—Ancient Trade in Slaves—Rádama’s Treaty
with Governor Farquhar well observed—Similar clause in the Treaty of
1865—Slaves imported nevertheless—Capture of Slaves by the
_Vulture_—Successful efforts against the Slave trade—Recent
Proclamation of the Queen of Madagascar—Our Return Home—The new
Bishopric in Madagascar—Its aggressive attitude and spirit—God’s
care of His people.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER X.
OUR RETURN HOME.
THROUGHOUT our visit we felt that there is one very weak point in
Malagasy social life, the system of domestic slavery. We saw it; we
touched it at many points; it forced itself continually upon our
attention. And we were glad to find that many thoughtful men among the
upper classes of Malagasy society feel it to be a serious evil, which
must some day be carefully considered by the Malagasy people and be
entirely abolished. It is an ancient institution in the island: and as
in other lands, for the sake of a present and temporary advantage, it
has done, and is still doing, deep and permanent harm. It has been fed
from two sources, without and within. From abroad there have been
imported into Madagascar a multitude of pure Africans, who have to some
extent been absorbed into the community, and have tainted the pure
Malagasy blood. Many individuals in the highest Hova families have crisp
woolly hair and thick lips, even with the high forehead and straight
nose of the Malay races. From within the slave-class has been increased
by captives in war from all the native tribes, Hova and Betsileo, as
well as Sakalavas; also by the criminal classes, whether condemned for
theft and murder, or (in the dark days) for the crime of reading the
Word of God. In general slaves are very cheap: they may be purchased for
as little as ten dollars, or for as much as forty and fifty. To possess
slaves is one sign of respectability: and many a man, especially of Hova
blood, who has redeemed himself from bondage, as soon as he can manage
it, will buy slaves for himself. The general effect of the system is to
degrade labour, to give the community the idea that people of station
should not work, but should live on the labour of others. Slaves are
held in large numbers by the leaders of society: some individuals own
hundreds; and some have even two and three thousand slaves. Many
excellent Christians own them: many pastors of churches have them. And
the churches and congregations are filled with slaves. The system is
local and domestic. Christianity is greatly affecting it and influencing
it for good. As a rule it is not harshly administered. Opportunities are
of frequent occurrence under which slaves can purchase their freedom
either by their own efforts or by loans from their friends. The male
slaves too have a great deal of independence both in action and spirit.
They are allowed to earn money, to carry burdens to great distances, and
to receive the price of their service. Sometimes they give their owners
nothing: at other times they agree to give a portion, say half their
earnings. Sometimes the owners are hard and selfish and demand the
whole. In such cases spirited slaves run off. The country is large and
wide: Noman’s land is not distant; and the injured people go to another
part of the country and settle in the forests or dig new land. Under the
influence of Christianity, and in the absence of any imperative demand
for produce of special kinds, this domestic slavery has become serfdom
rather than slavery: and there are many points of resemblance between it
and the former system of Russia. The most prominent among its evil
effects at the present time is that it encourages and increases the
general idleness of the community, and renders all labour inefficient;
because to such a large extent feudal service, as well as slavery,
denies to the man who would be industrious, any large share in the
fruits of his industry. As there spread among the community a deeper
sense of what is just between man and man, a deeper respect for good
women, slave as well as free, and a truer estimate of the worth of men
as men, the way will be prepared for a right settlement of these
important questions; and the relations of the members of the community
to one another will be placed upon a healthy footing.
The system was in a much worse position in former days than it is now.
Before Radáma I. inaugurated the great change, the trade in slaves, both
for home use and foreign export, was very active. We have already seen
how captives in war, even of Hova and Betsileo blood, were fastened in
gangs and sent down to Tamatave to be sold to Mauritius and Bourbon, to
the Cape and to the West Indies. Radáma, when appealed to by Governor
Farquhar, heartily acknowledged the wrong and set himself to remedy it.
The “vested interests” among his people were the chief difficulty: but
his shrewdness and his strong will carried the day. The Treaty was made:
and he and his people steadily kept it. For a while it produced a great
change on both coasts, and Mojangá and its neighbours lost a
considerable trade. The treaties all broke down in the days of his
successor: but when the late Queen Rasoherina in 1865 renewed a Treaty
with the English government, among other humane enactments, the clause
against the foreign slave trade was again inserted and put in force.
By the Hova Government it is still observed: and there is reason to
believe that by the Government and by the officers and people generally
any infringement of its stipulations is disapproved. But the territory
is larger than the government. Over the unfriendly Sakalavas on the west
coast they have no control whatever. The officers in the garrison towns
among the friendly tribes apparently tamper with the evil. And
individuals are freely named both in Imerina and in the provinces who
are said privately to soil their hands with the traffic and to make from
it large profits. The Arab and Hindu merchants live on the coast: the
Arab dhows run backward and forward between the west coast of the island
and Mozambique: they are said to run their vessels, not into Mojangá
Bay, but up the deep river Loza, some forty miles to the north, or into
the quiet bays away from the Hova towns. And Sir Bartle Frere not only
exposed the system, as the result of his inquiries on both sides the
Mozambique Channel: but he avers on good grounds that the number of
Africans, run in by these vessels, amounts to six thousand a year.
That the import trade into Madagascar has been active to the present
time we can ourselves testify. Not seldom were pure African slaves,
knowing but little of the Malagasy tongue, met with in the Capital and
other parts of Imerina. The people in general know them as “Mójambíkas.”
Still more numerous did we find them in the seven garrison towns in the
north-west. Several came round us in Mevatanána. Márovoay was full of
them. In Mojangá they form a large portion of the population in the
lower town. And they all have a great dislike to the Hovas, whom they
regard as the authors of their exile and captivity. The other proof of
the activity of the trade is found in the important captures that have
been made, since the vessels of the English navy and their crews on
boat-service, have been hunting down the slave dhows during the last
three years. Capt. Sullivan in his _Dhow-chasing_ on the coast of Africa
has testified amply to the reality, the effectiveness and the success of
this work. The captures by the _Daphne_ are well known: others of the
greatest value were made by the _Thetis_ and the _Vulture_ during the
period of our visit.
My colleague and I had just embarked at Mojangá, on board the _Malacca_,
which was ready to sail for Zanzibar, when the _Vulture_ came into the
Bay, and we were invited on board. We found the open deck covered with
Africans, captured out of a slave-dhow the previous day: and near them,
sitting in a corner by themselves, were thirty-seven Arabs, crew and
“passengers,” _alias_ slave-dealers, who had had the unhappy people in
charge. Commander Brooke welcomed us to his vessel and kindly explained
to us what had occurred. He had been cruising about the coast for some
time, and several of his boats were away, examining the bays and river
mouths to the northward. Yesterday morning they had spied a dhow making
for the land, but with little progress, owing to the light wind. His
steamer was soon alongside; the flag was hauled down and his men went on
board to take possession. Having sent away the crew, they proceeded to
open the slaver’s hold. They lifted out several children, and then one
of the men said to the officer, “Sir, these are only at the top: _there
are three tiers of them; and the men and women are at the bottom_.”
Exhausted, attenuated, wholly unable to stand, the poor creatures were
carefully lifted out, one by one, into the boats, were rowed to the
_Vulture_ and placed upon her deck. There were two hundred and
thirty-six in all: forty-two men, fifty-seven women, and a hundred and
thirty-seven children. They had all been packed, like herrings, in the
hold of the dhow in a space, a yard and a half high, the little ones at
the top. They had been seven days on board; and had been nearly starved.
The dhow had all but made good her voyage, when in God’s providence, she
was captured and her victims were set free. I had often read of the
“horrors of the middle passage:” but they never came home to me as they
did then. Poor people! Many of them were injured by their cruel
confinement beyond recovery. The _Vulture_ carried them to the English
colony in Sechelles: but before their ten days’ voyage was completed,
seventeen of them were dead. Since our return to England we have seen
with pleasure that the _Vulture_ and her companions have made other
captures: that the squadron on the East Coast of Africa has been
strengthened: and that the English government and people are determined
to have the trade stopped.
Apparently the Madagascar government and people have adopted the same
resolve. It was with special satisfaction that only a few weeks ago the
friends of the mission received the proclamation issued by the Queen in
November last, under which every African slave imported into the island
since the date of the treaty in June 1865 has been set free, and is
allowed either to remain in Madagascar a free subject, or to return to
Africa. If well carried out that arrangement ought to ruin the Arab
slave trade in the island and completely stop the importation. We may
well hope that in due time the difficult problems connected with the
domestic system will also be solved, and the system entirely disappear.
We left Mojangá in the _Malacca_ on Wednesday, August 12th: having been
in the island of Madagascar twelve months, wanting two days. What a
comfort it was to travel and sleep in a clean, bright English steamer,
instead of in close packed canoes and uuswept chapels. I need not
describe the journey. I may not dwell on the wide Bays of the north-west
coast, the Hova Stations, or the great hills: I cannot describe our
visit to the island of Nosibe with its many craters; our run through the
Comoro Islands; the beauties of Johannna: and the pleasure we derived
from a week’s stay in Zanzibar. Again we touched at Aden, more
interesting than ever in its connection with the native navigation of
these Eastern Seas; just saw the minarets of Suez and the palaces of
Alexandria; skirted the barren shores of Messenia; saw the spires of
Loretto; and were rowed along the canals of Venice; and at length were
welcomed once more to home and work in London, on the evening of
Tuesday, Sept. 22nd, after an absence of fifteen months.
My visit to Madagascar not merely afforded me intense pleasure; it gave
me a very high idea of the spiritual work going on amongst its people.
From reading and correspondence that work had for years appeared to me,
as to others, truly marvellous. I found it all that I had hoped, and
even more. In certain respects its form differed from what I looked for:
the outward civilisation of the Malagasy was less advanced. But the tide
of Chrstian life through all the Central Provinces and its offshoots was
flowing wider, deeper, stronger than I had imagined. The Christian
renovation of the Malagasy people is truly the work of God; and by the
direct use of his own instruments, the teaching of the Word, the
bestowment of gracious gifts, and the discipline of sorrow, the Holy
Ghost has long been leading, not individuals only, but multitudes of the
nation toward himself. It was a source of the greatest satisfaction to
my colleague and myself that in the spirit and the aims of the four
evangelical missions working side by side in Imerina, we found nothing
to mar that Divine work, but every thing to carry it forward, in
dependence upon the Saviour’s blessing and to his praise. And what we
desire and hope for these Malagasy converts is that they may grow up
unto the full stature of men in Christ Jesus, not as a branch of any
English Church or Denomination, but as a veritable Malagasy Church,
organised in a way natural to itself, worshipping God in its own
fashion, and offering its own contribution of national life and faith
and love at the feet of the Saviour.
Therefore it is that we join heartily in the objections which have been
offered by many Christian Churches in England, though offered
unsuccessfully, against the attempt which has been made to turn aside
our Malagasy Churches from their simple faith, and annex them to a
foreign institution, the Episcopal Church of England. So far as a
Bishopric in Madagascar or the visits of a Bishop from Mauritius, were
intended to complete the framework of the Episcopal Churches and
congregations gathered in the island, while the necessary arrangements
involved no attack upon churches which had long preceded them, the
Directors of the London Missionary Society and other Christian men
declined to interfere. But established as that Bishopric has now been,
in the face of remonstrance, planted as it is in the very midst of our
oldest churches, with the avowed purpose of “showing” to those churches
“a more excellent way,” the way of the Church of England, they regard it
as an intrusion, they regard it as an aggression; they hold it therefore
to be an injustice to themselves; and they hold it to be a great wrong
to the native churches. If the missionaries of the many churches of
Christendom, labouring in foreign countries, have learned one lesson
more than another in their common toil, it is this, not to trouble their
children in the faith, the converts new from heathenism, with outside
questions of church order, but to do their utmost to lead them to the
Saviour and the highest forms of inner spiritual life. It cannot
therefore be otherwise than a wrong, a hindrance and an “offence” to
these “little ones,” when another Englishman enters among these churches
and says: “I alone teach and hold Christianity in the true way: your
missionaries are not authorised teachers; I cannot worship with them or
attend their prayer-meetings; and so long as you do not join me as your
Bishop, I cannot worship in your churches or pray with you.” The
advocates of this project little know the intensity of disapproval with
which it has been regarded by all churches in Great Britain outside
their own. I have talked with many laymen of the Church of England
respecting the scheme. I have never heard one of them defend or approve
it.
I feel objection to it the more strongly, that it ignores entirely the
past history of the mission and the mode in which God himself has been
dealing with his Malagasy children. Nothing more instructive than that
method has been seen in the history of Christianity. He has led them
himself; and has guided them, sustained them, moulded them, taught them,
in ways so simple, so efficient, so loving, that his work and its fruit
are at this hour the joy and the praise of the whole Christian Church.
Stereotyped systems seem to me wholly out of place among a people so
directed. Indeed stereotyped methods in missionary work ought everywhere
to be carefully avoided. “I BELIEVE IN THE HOLY GHOST.” I believe that
He lives still in the church as the guide and helper of all who work for
Him: and that it is when we appeal to Him most fully and cast ourselves
upon Him most freely, that He will “make all grace abound” to his
children, and varied as the works of creation among which they dwell, He
will make the scenes, the history, the fruitfulness of the churches
which He gathers around the Cross of Christ.
Let us then fearlessly and lovingly commit these Malagasy converts and
churches into His hands. He can preserve them from all evil. He knows
them well and has loved them long. He brought their fathers across the
sea to raise up a people whose Christian faithfulness all tribes and
tongues should know. He formed their land and endowed it with its many
rich resources for their good. He pours the sun-flood on the moist, warm
earth, breathes over field and forest in the summer days rich airs like
fragrant wine, and sends on all the toil and all the prayer of his
struggling children Divine benediction and peace. He has never forgotten
earing and harvest; he maketh grass to grow for the cattle, and herb for
the service of man; and fills all hearts with food and gladness
throughout the varied seasons of the revolving year. The towering palm
with its feathery crown, the massive breadfruit, the lithe bamboo with
its trembling leaves, and the tall tree-fern with its shady fronds, grow
at His bidding. He clothes the huge timber-trees with moss and lichen,
binds together their massive arms with the tough, pliant creeper, or
covers them with ferns, or brightens their sombre hue with myriads of
orchids and their soft waxy flowers. All living creatures are His daily
care: the creeping lizard and the spotted snake, the great spider with
his silver coat, and the locust-clouds, whirring as they fly. He made
the gentle lemur with its ring of fur, the little aye-aye that gropes
for its rich morsels in the darkness, and the huge butterflies which
flit joyously in the sun. The forces of nature are under His command. He
lays His hand upon the violet lightning; He guides the course of the
great waterspouts; forms in the upper sky the rattling hail; and arches
the drenched earth with the warm radiance of His promised bow.
He who has given all this, shall He not give still more? “Is not the
life more than meat, and the body than raiment?” “Man doth not live by
bread alone.” From Him came the Gospel which enlightened their fathers,
and the faith that led them to accept and obey it. From Him came the
priceless privilege of their hard training, their baptism of blood, of
fire, and of tears. Thence sprang the manliness of their children, their
strong convictions, their clear knowledge, and that firm grasp of the
truth from which, like the skin of the chrysalis, idolatry has died
away, leaving the nation free to unfold the wings of a new life, to bask
in the sunlight of divine love, and breathe the fragrance of the upper
air.
The very hairs of their head are all numbered. The Son of God has come
down among them, working for them wondrously, living in them, leading
them onward. Let us pray for them, and commit them fearlessly into His
hands. In the face of all evil powers He has said, “Behold I have
refined thee, but not with silver: I have chosen thee in the furnace of
affliction:” “This people have I formed for myself, they shall shew
forth my praise.” Therefore, “As the mountains are round about
Jerusalem, so the Lord is round about His people.” “The God of Israel is
he that giveth strength and power unto his people. BLESSED BE GOD.”
THE END.
---------------------
DUNCAN GRANT AND CO., PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
[Illustration:
THE
CENTRAL PROVINCES
OF
MADAGASCAR
BY
JOSEPH MULLENS D. D.
]
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● Transcriber’s Notes:
○ A Table of Contents entry was added for the map of Madagascar.
○ The List of Illustrations was re-arranged to be in page number
sequence.
○ Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected.
○ Typographical errors were silently corrected.
○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only
when a predominant form was found in this book.
○ Text that:
was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Twelve months in Madagascar" ***
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