The “Queen’s Bath.”—Soldiers and Officers.—Banquet and Ball.—Departure from Tamatavé.—Second Visit to Antandroroko.—Vovong.—The Fever.—Andororanto.—Land and Cultivation.—Condition of the People.—Manambotre.—The bad Roads and the Bearers.—Ambatoarana.
The “Queen’s Bath.”—Soldiers and Officers.—Banquet and Ball.—Departure from Tamatavé.—Second Visit to Antandroroko.—Vovong.—The Fever.—Andororanto.—Land and Cultivation.—Condition of the People.—Manambotre.—The bad Roads and the Bearers.—Ambatoarana.
Atlength, on the 13th of May, Mr. Lambert arrived. On the 15th I witnessed the preliminary celebration of the great bath-feast of the queen. This is the only national feast in Madagascar, and it is kept with great solemnity in all the dominions subject to the sceptre of Ranavola.
I did not see the great feast itself, and can therefore only repeat to my readers the description I received from several eye-witnesses. It is celebrated on the first day of every year, and may thus be called the New-year’s feast of Madagascar. But the Malagaseys do not follow our method of reckoning time, though they divide the year into twelve months as we do. Each of their months islunar, and when the moon has renewed itself twelve times their year is past.
On the eve of the feast, all the high officers, nobles, and chiefs appear at court, invited by the queen. They assemble in a great hall, and presently a dish of rice is carried round, each guest taking a pinch in his fingers and eating it. That is the whole extent of the ceremony on this first evening.
Next morning the same company assemble in the same hall. As soon as they have all met, the queen steps behind a curtain which hangs in a corner of the room, undresses, and has water thrown over her. As soon as she has been dressed again, she steps forward, holding in her hand an ox-horn filled with the water that has been pouredover her. Part of this water she sprinkles over the assembled company. Then she betakes herself to a gallery overlooking the court-yard of the palace, and pours the rest over the military drawn up there on parade.
On this auspicious day nothing is seen throughout the whole country but feasting, dancing, singing, and rejoicing, continued till late at night. The celebration is kept up for eight days, dating from the day of the bath. It is the custom for people to kill as many oxen on the first day as they contemplate consuming during the other seven: whoever possesses any oxen at all, kills at least one at this feast. The poor people get pieces of meat in exchange for rice, sweet potatoes, tobacco, etc. The meat is still tolerably fresh on the eighth day. It is cut into long thin strips, which are salted and laid one upon the other. The preliminary celebration of the feast occurs a week earlier, and consists of military processions. The votaries of pleasure then begin their feast, and thus have a fortnight’s jollity—a week before the feast, and a week after.
The soldiers whom I saw in the processions at Tamatavé pleased me well enough. They went through their drill and manœuvres with tolerable accuracy, and, contrary to my expectation, I found the music not only endurable, but positively harmonious. It appears that, some years ago, the queen sent for a European band-master and a complete set of instruments, and her worthy subjects were inducted into a knowledge of music, probably by means of the stick. She succeeded in her attempt, and many of the pupils are already become masters, and spread the science among their fellow-countrymen.
The soldiers were dressed in a simple, neat, and perfectly uniform manner. They wore a tight-fitting jerkin, reaching to the chest and covering part of the loins. The chest was bare, and covered by the gleaming white belts supporting the cartridge-box, which had a good effect in contrastto the black skins of the soldiers. Their heads were uncovered. Their arms consisted of a musket and the national lance, calledsagaya.
The officers looked comical enough. They went about in threadbare civilian suits, that forcibly reminded me of the fashions which prevailed when I was a child.
To these quizzical costumes, the ugly black faces and woolly hair gave such an effect that the whole was overwhelmingly funny, and I lamented that I had no skill in drawing, for I might have produced some wonderful caricatures from the models before me.
Except on parade and at exercise, the officers, like the soldiers, wear a costume that suits them. The soldiers live in a kind of barracks, in the court-yard of which the exercise is performed and the courts-martial are held. Europeans are strictly prohibited from entering these barracks.
The Queen of Madagascar can easily put herself at the head of a powerful army. Nothing but her potent word is needed to bring it together; for the soldiers receive no pay, and are obliged, moreover, to clothe and feed themselves. They procure provisions by going out to work, with the permission of their superiors; or they go home to cultivate their fields. But the soldier who wants his officer’s permission for frequent absence must propitiate the latter by giving him a part of his earnings—at least a dollar annually. The officers are generally very little richer than the soldiers. They certainly receive, like the civil officials, a remuneration for their services from the customs revenue; but the pay is so small that they can not live upon it, and are compelled to have recourse to other means, not always of the most honest description. According to the law, a very small portion of the customs revenue ought to come to the private soldier; but I am told the officers find the amount so trifling that they do not take the trouble to give any account of it, and prefer keeping it entirely for themselves, sothat the poor soldier who can not find work, and is too far from his home to be able to visit it from time to time, is literally in danger of being starved to death. He is obliged to endeavor to support life with herbs and roots, and all kinds of makeshifts (sometimes very nauseous ones), and may think himself lucky if he gets a little rice now and then. This rice the poor fellow throws into a large vessel filled with water, drinks the thin rice-water in the daytime, and only at evening allows himself a handful of the grain. But in war-time, as soon as he is on an enemy’s territory, he makes amends to himself for the hardships he has endured; then he plunders and steals right and left; villages are burned to the ground, and the inhabitants killed or dragged away to be sold as slaves.
After parade was over, the officers drew up, accompanied by the band, before our (or, more properly, speaking, Mademoiselle Julie’s) house, to salute Mr. Lambert, and invite him to a feast in the queen’s name. This is the only expense the queen is in the habit of incurring for people whom she wishes to treat with distinction.
Mr. Lambert treated the officers to some good wine, whereupon they marched off to the strains of the national hymn, which really sounded melodious enough.
On the 17th of May, the solemn banquet was held in the house of the first judge of the kingdom. The hour was fixed for three o’clock, but they did not come to fetch us until five. We betook ourselves to the house, which stood in the midst of a large square or court-yard, with palings around it. The soldiers stood in a double line from the entrance of the court to the house, and the national hymn was played as we passed. We were conducted at once to the dining-hall. Two sentries, with crossed muskets, stood before the door, but this did not prevent any one who listed from going quietly in and out.
The company, consisting of about thirty people, had already assembled to receive the guest of the day, Mr. Lambert, with due honor.
The first governor, who is at the same time commandant at Tamatavé, wore black European clothes, and across his chest a broad red satin ribbon, like that of an order; but, wonderful to relate, there are no orders yet in Madagascar. The second governor had donned an old European suit of faded sky-blue silk velvet, richly embroidered with gold; and the other gentlemen were likewise dressed in European fashion.
The table was covered with dishes of meat of all kinds, tame and wild fowl, fish, and other marine productions. I do not think I exaggerate when I say there were above forty dishes, great and small. The principal show-dish was the head of a calf of rather large size, so stripped of flesh that it looked like a skull, and produced any thing but an agreeable effect. There were likewise many different kinds of beverages, French wines and port, English beer, etc. After the meat, little badly-made tarts of various kinds were served, and the banquet ended with fruit and Champagne. Of the last-mentioned wine there was plenty, and it was drunk out of tumblers.
As far as I could see, all the guests seemed blessed with extraordinary powers as trenchermen, nor did they forget to do honor to the wines, and great was the number of toasts proposed.
Whenever the health of the commandant, of the second governor, or of an absent prince was proposed, one of the officers went to the door and shouted out to the soldiers in the yard the name of the person thus honored; thereupon the music struck up, and all the gentlemen drank the toast, standing.
The dinner lasted full four hours. It was nine o’clock at night when we quitted the table and betook ourselves to an adjoining room, where English beer was again offeredto us. After this, to my great astonishment, two of the highest officers danced a kind ofcontre-danse; others followed their example and indulged in a polka. At first I considered this fancy for dancing to be a consequence of the Champagne they had imbibed; but Mr. Lambert enlightened my ignorance, and told me that these dances were part of the etiquette of the occasion. I thought it a strange custom, but was infinitely amused at the grotesque figures of the performers, and felt quite sorry that they did not continue the exercise longer. As a conclusion to the solemnity, the health of the queen was drunk in a liqueur flavored with aniseed, and to the accompaniment of the national hymn. After the royal toast nothing more may be proposed; to do so would be considered an offense against her royal majesty, who, like her deceased husband, exacts something very like worship from her people.
Accordingly we broke up. When, on my way out, I went for my parasol, which, on entering the room, I had deposited in a corner, I found it was gone—it had shared the unhappy fate of my watch.
Though theft is punished with great severity, frequently even with death, and though it is lawful to kill a thief caught in the fact without any explanation to the authorities, there is more thieving in Tamatavé than any where else. As I have already said, it is not at all unusual for officers and men of rank to take part in nocturnal burglaries. A few years ago a robbery of some magnitude was perpetrated in Tamatavé, and the majority of the stolen articles were discovered in an officer’s possession. The man who had been robbed did not receive back the chief part of his property; but he got some, with an injunction to say nothing about the robbery, unless he wished to expose himself to very disagreeable consequences; and so the affair ended.
It is seldom that any one gives information to the authorities of a theft. In small affairs it is not worth while, as the detection of the thief and restoration of the property scarcely ever follow; and in robberies of any magnitude, persons of high position are almost sure to be implicated, and it would be dangerous to proceed against these. That the soldiers are among the most confirmed thieves is not to be marveled at, considering their miserable position. The officer or employé certainly has only a very small salary, but, at any rate, he gets something. Besides, he is a merchant or a landed proprietor, has slaves who work for him, and even makes a profit out of the soldiers who serve under him; but the poor private generally receives nothing at all, and it is almost too much to expect that he should submit quietly to die of hunger.
On the 19th of May we at length set out on our journey to Tananariva, the capital of the island. Our party consisted of Mr. Marius, Mr. Lambert, and myself. Mr. Marius, a Frenchman by birth, had been living for twenty years in Madagascar. He accompanied Mr. Lambert on his journey from a feeling of friendship, and undertook the office of interpreter and the general direction of the journey, and his kind assistance was of the greatest value to us.
The whole previous day and half of the present one we had been fully employed wrapping up the chests and boxes containing presents for the queen and Prince Rakoto, and our own baggage, in great dry leaves, to protect them against the rain.
Mr. Lambert had bought the presents for the queen and her court with his own money, and not, as they asserted in the Mauritius, with funds from the French government. The presents consisted of full and very expensive toilets for the queen and some of the princesses, her relations, rich uniforms embroidered with gold for Prince Rakoto, and valuable art-objects of all kinds, including several musical clocks, barrel organs, and similar toys. On these presentsMr. Lambert had spent more than 200,000 francs. For the conveyance of these treasures to the capital more than four hundred persons were required, who received the same pay as the soldiers; that is to say, none at all, for service of this kind is compulsory. Along the whole route the convoy had been announced, and the poor bearers had to be at certain stations on the road at an appointed time.
The people, about two hundred in number, who were to carry us and our personal luggage, were paid by Mr. Lambert. The fee for a bearer from Tamatavé to Tananariva, a distance of two hundred and twenty miles, is only a dollar; and even provisions are not found by the hirer. Mr. Lambert promised them good food besides the dollar, whereupon they expressed their gratitude by loud shouts and rejoicings.
The first day we only traveled seven miles, and passed the night at Antandroroko, the estate of Mademoiselle Julie’s younger son. Here things looked very differently from the appearance they had presented on the day when I came alone. I am far from being vain enough to suppose that I should have been received like Mr. Lambert, the powerful friend of the queen; but the difference need not have been quite so glaring. To-day every thing was done in European style, and the table was hardly large enough to hold the dishes piled together upon it.
But so it is all the world over—rich people find friendly faces every where, and are received with every mark of good-will and respect; but when the poorer guest arrives, the mask is taken off; and whoever travels as I do, gets to know human nature as it is, and the verdict can very seldom be given in its favor. How different from my description of this country would an account be from the pen of Mr. Lambert! What encomiums might he not pass on the hospitality of the people who often received me with frigid, uncourteous welcome! I fancy it was only to the consideration with which Mr. Lambert treated me that I owed the boon of a musquito-net, which was actually provided for my bed on this occasion.
May 20th. To-day we traveled the whole day long on lakes and rivers. The largest of the former was the Nosive Lake, which is about eleven miles long by five broad. The Nossmasay and Rassaby are almost of equal extent. As we approached a small island in the last of these lakes, our boat’s company suddenly began to yell and execrate with all their might. I thought some accident had happened, but Mr. Marius gave me the following explanation of the affair:
Many years ago a marvel of female beauty is said to have dwelt near this lake, but her life was the reverse of virtuous. This Messalina of Madagascar attained great fame, and considered herself greatly flattered thereby. She died young, and, in order to keep her memory green in future days, she besought her numerous admirers, on her death-bed, that she might be buried on this little island, and furthermore expressed a wish that all who passed by should roar and swear as loudly as they could, in remembrance of her.
Her admirers complied with her wish, and gradually the custom became universal.
The other lakes which we had to traverse were very small, and so were the rivers. A great loss of time was occasioned by the fact that very few of these silent highways communicated with one another. Between almost every lake and stream and its neighbor lay a little tract of dry land, from a hundred to a thousand paces in length, so that our boats were continually being unloaded and carried over. This was a hard day’s work for our people; but, at any rate, they had the satisfaction of being well fed on their journey. Mr. Lambert had quite a paternal care for their comfort, and there was always fresh meat and rice in abundance.
Our way lay near the sea-coast, and we constantly heard the sound of the breakers. The land was flat and monotonous, but the rich vegetation gave it a cheerful appearance; in our progress we noticed some very flourishing plantations, and water-palms in abundance.
Our quarters for the night were fixed in the village of Vovong, in a house belonging to the government. On the way from Tamatavé to the capital there are houses of this description in many villages, and these houses are open to all travelers. The interior is spread with clean mats, which the inhabitants are bound to furnish; they are also responsible for the repairing the houses, and keeping them in proper condition.
May 21. To-day our journey was again on the waters: first, a short distance on the River Monsa; then our bearers had to carry the boat for at least half a mile, after which we embarked again on a little stream, very narrow, and so overshadowed by small trees, bushes, and aquatic plants that we could often scarcely force the boat through. This journey reminded me of similar trips in Singapore and Borneo, with this difference, that in the latter places our way lay through virgin forests of gigantic trees. After a few miles we came to a broader stream, of peculiarly transparent and limpid water, in which every object was reflected with a clearness and brilliancy I had never before seen.
In these lower lands, and, with few exceptions, along the whole coast of Madagascar, the climate is very unhealthy, and dangerous fevers are prevalent. The chief reason for this probably is, that the land lies deep, and the rivers are choked up with sand at their mouths. In the rainy season the water pours unchecked over the plains, forming swamps and morasses, the exhalations from which, in the hot months from November till the end of April, produce a malignant miasma. Even the natives who live in the healthy districts, in the interior of the island, are just as liable to itseffects as the Europeans themselves, when they come to the unhealthy lowlands in the hot season. Of the Europeans, I saw a few in Tamatavé who were attacked every summer by the fever, though they had lived there for three or four years.
Our journey to-day did not exceed eight or nine miles; betimes in the afternoon we halted at the village of Andororanto to wait for our baggage, which had been taken overland by another route.
May 22. This morning we traveled three hours by water on the River Fark, which falls into the sea not far from the village where we had passed the night. This river is very broad, but has few deep parts. Its banks afford a greater variety of scenery than the rivers we had hitherto seen. The uniform flats begin now to alternate with little clusters of hills, and in the far background a low ridge becomes visible.
Coming to a great bend in the river, we disembarked. The boats remained behind, and our journey by land began in earnest. This day we accomplished eight miles more inland toward the east. The road was tolerably good, except in the neighborhood of a few wretched villages which we passed.
As far as I have yet seen of this country, it is exceedingly fertile, except a few sandy tracts. Capital pasture-grass grows every where luxuriantly. The plains at the higher level are said to be excellently calculated for sugar plantations, and the low-lying lands for rice-fields, and yet all was lying fallow. The population is so scanty that we hardly passed a tiny village in every three or four miles. This is certainly inevitable in a country whose government seems determined to lay waste and depopulate the land. In Madagascar scarcely any one is a landed proprietor except the queen and the high nobility. The peasant may cultivate the land and sow seed where he finds a tract unoccupied,without asking permission of any body; but this gives him no proprietary right, and after he has cultivated the land the owner may take it away from him. This circumstance, added to the natural indolence inherent in all savage tribes, readily accounts for the fact that the peasant only cultivates just as much land as he finds necessary to grow enough for himself.
The taxes are not oppressive. The peasant has to deliver about a hundred weight of rice to the government annually; but compulsory service and other exactions are very burdensome, for they prevent the peasant from attending properly to his work.
Rice is the plant principally cultivated in Madagascar. The crop is sown twice a year, and the government prescribes a month each time to be devoted to the work. With an active people this would be enough time to get the harvest gathered, and the new crop put into the ground; but, unfortunately, the natives of Madagascar are very far from being an active race, and so it often happens that the month has passed away before the work is finished. After the month is over, the government requires the men for all kinds of services, of more or less importance, just as the queen or the officers appointed by her majesty may please to order. Those are worst off who live on roads leading from the harbors to the capital, for they have to do so much compulsory service as bearers that they have scarcely any time left for agriculture. At one time many left their huts and fields, and fled into the interior of the country to escape this hardship, so that the villages began to be deserted. To check this, the queen condemned every fugitive to death; but, on the other hand, she relieved the inhabitants of villages on the roads from military service, the most hateful of all obligations to the people. A few little villages were also stocked with royal slaves, who had no other duty assigned to them but to act as carriers. If the people had only to transport the royal luggage and goods,their service would not be a heavy one; but every nobleman, every officer, can procure an order for similar service, and even compel the people to work without showing any authority at all. They can not complain, for a peasant would never gain a cause against a nobleman or an officer, and so they pass the greater part of the year working on the roads. In the districts where there are no goods and chattels to be carried, other work is found for them; and if there happens to be nothing to do, they are summoned in a body, not only the men, but the women, children, and all, to attend akabarat some place or other. Kabar is the name given to public judicial sessions, councils, audiences, and assemblies of the people, where new laws and royal orders are promulgated, and much similar business enacted.
The kabars are sometimes held in distant places, so that the poor people have to travel some days to get to them. Nor are the laws at once read out to them; this part of the business is often postponed from day to day, so that they are sometimes kept away from their homes for weeks. On such occasions many die of hunger and misery, from having taken an insufficient supply of rice; money they have none, and must therefore seek to sustain life as best they may with roots and herbs. Their destruction seems to be the object of the queen; for she hates all the people who are not of her own race, and her greatest desire would seem to be to annihilate them all at one blow.
So far as the cultivation of the land is concerned, there are people enough in Bourbon and the Mauritius who would be glad enough to lay out large plantations. A few even have tried it, clearing great tracts of land and planting sugar-canes. But they met with the greatest difficulties; for, as the land every where belonged to the queen, or to one or other of the nobles, the new-comers were obliged to propitiate the owners by presents of money to obtain permission to carry on their operations. Besides this, the governmentdemanded ten per cent. on their profits, and, in spite of all the heavy sacrifices, they were not much better off than the natives; for the peculiar judicial institutions of Madagascar allowed the owner to break off the contract at any moment, and drive away the planter.
Some preferred to make a treaty with the queen herself, her majesty therein engaging to provide the ground, the laborers, wood, iron, in a word, every thing necessary to a plantation; the planter, on his part, undertaking to set the work in motion, and to find provisions for the hands; while the produce was to be divided equally between the contracting parties. The queen entered into several contracts of this kind, but never kept to them. In King Radama’s time, the land, they told me, had been more populous; under the rule of the present queen, not only have innumerable towns sunk down to a few scattered huts, but others have altogether vanished. Spots were often pointed out to us where fine villages had once stood.
We passed the night at Manambotre. At a little distance from this village we passed a place where great blocks of rock lay scattered here and there. Their appearance in this place astonished me not a little, as the soil consisted every where of vegetable earth on which not the smallest stone was to be found. Mr. Lambert had two oxen killed this evening for the benefit of our bearers. They were dragged out in front of our hut by ropes passed round their horns; then several men armed with knives crept up from behind, and cut the sinews of the poor creatures hind legs, so that they sank down powerless, and could be dispatched without danger. As I have already remarked, they are not flayed, but the skin is roasted with the meat; nay, the natives even prefer it to the flesh, because the greater portion of fat adheres to it.
The oxen are fine large animals, and very tame; they are of the buffalo kind.
May 23. To-day the bad roads began. I did not feelafraid of them, for, in many of my journeyings—for instance, in Iceland, when I ascended the Hecla; also in Kurdistan, in Sumatra, and other countries—I have seen far worse; but my companions seemed horrified at the sight. They were certainly far from good, I must allow. The land is here more than wave-like in form: it consists of a succession of lofty hills sufficiently steep, and so closely packed together that barely a few hundred yards of level land are left between. Instead of winding along by the foot of these hills, the roads go straight up and down each of them. The soil, too, a rich loam, becomes as smooth and slippery as ice, from the rain, and there are, moreover, innumerable holes made by the cattle, thousands of oxen being driven this way from the interior.
Our bearers won my unfeigned admiration; indeed, surprising strength and skill are required to carry heavy loads along such roads. The bearers, whose duty it was to transport my little meagre figure, were the most lucky. I felt almost inclined to be angry with them, for they trotted with me, up hill and down dale, as if I had been no weight at all, and that was not quite the case. And when the ground happened to be somewhat level, they almost ran, although I tried in vain to induce them, by all kinds of deprecating signs, to moderate their ardor; for the long, quick strides they made were as disagreeable as the trot of a heavy horse. The hills were covered with rich grass; some also were clothed with plants. Among the latter there was much bamboo, with delicate clusters of leaves of a light green color, and of a luxuriant freshness I had never seen elsewhere. Like shade alternating with light in a picture, the bright bamboo stood near the Kafia palm, with its feathery dark leaves fifteen feet long. This palm is a very valuable tree to the natives, who plait their rabanetas with the fibres of its leaves—those coarse mats which I have mentioned in my account of Tamatavé.
Of the water-palm I saw some splendid specimens. Thistree flourishes here, in the interior of the country, much better than on the sea-coast. I remember to have read in some works of travels that this palm only occurs in situations where water is scarce, and that it is called water-palm, and also traveler’s palm, because a small quantity of water collects between each leaf and the stem, to the great delectation of the thirst-tormented wayfarer. The natives here assert, on the contrary, that this palm only flourishes in a damp soil, and that water is always to be found in its neighborhood. Unluckily, I had no opportunity of investigating the subject, so as to judge of the truth of these reports; but I hope the time will come when botanists will roam at pleasure through this great island, and settle, not only this, but many other doubtful questions in geography and natural history.
The sago-palm is another variety that flourishes greatly in Madagascar. Strangely enough, the natives dislike its pith, although they are in general any thing but squeamish in their diet, for they devour not only herbs and roots, but insects and worms likewise.
The time passed very quickly to-day, for from every hill and mountain a fresh view opened before us more beautiful than the last. But the population became thinner and thinner; in the whole day’s journey we only passed by a few very insignificant villages.
This night we stopped at a village called Ambatoarana. The arrival of Mr. Lambert had been every where announced, and as it was known that he stood high in favor with the queen, the inhabitants of the village received him with the greatest demonstrations of respect, and vied with each other to propitiate the influential man. Here, too, the judge came at once to call upon us, and in the name of the community presented to Mr. Lambert a couple of oxen, besides a great quantity of rice and poultry. Mr. Lambert accepted these presents, but gave others of far greater value in return.
Celebration of the National Feast.—Song and Dance.—Beforona.—The elevated Plateau of Ankay.—The Territory of Emir.—Solemn Reception.—Ambatomango.—The Sikidy.—The Triumphal Procession.—Arrival in Tananariva.
Celebration of the National Feast.—Song and Dance.—Beforona.—The elevated Plateau of Ankay.—The Territory of Emir.—Solemn Reception.—Ambatomango.—The Sikidy.—The Triumphal Procession.—Arrival in Tananariva.
May24th. It had not rained for four-and-twenty hours, and, consequently, we found the roads in somewhat better condition than yesterday. The hills we encountered were also less high and steep.
We generally divided our day’s journey into two parts. At daybreak we started, and marched for three or four hours; then we stopped to breakfast on rice and poultry, frequently diversified by wild birds of some kind, often black parrots, and other beautiful specimens which Mr. Lambert shot on our way. After a rest of about two hours we set out to accomplish the second portion of our day’s march, which generally about equaled the first in length.
To-day, however, we contented ourselves with getting through the first stage, for it was the day for celebrating the great national feast. The queen had no doubt taken her auspicious new-year’s bath this morning. Mr. Lambert would not rob his bearers of the pleasure of participating in the enjoyments of the day; so, at ten o’clock in the morning, we halted in the village of Ampatsiba.
The first business was to slaughter the oxen. The rule of the feast, which enjoins that as many shall be slain as are sufficient for the day and the seven following, was not strictly carried out, for the weight of meat would have been too great for the men to carry; but five of the finest animalswere offered up as a sacrifice to the day; for Mr. Lambert entertained not only our people, but the whole village. In the evening four or five hundred people assembled—men, women, and children—in front of our huts; and, to complete the enjoyment of the feast, Mr. Lambert had their favorite drink,besa-besa, served out to them. This beverage, which seemed to me the reverse of agreeable, is made from the juice of the sugar-cane mixed with water, and the bitter bark of afatraina. The water is first poured on the cane-juice, and when the mixture ferments, the bark is added, and a second fermentation takes place.
The festal character of the day, assisted perhaps by the besa-besa, put the little community in such good spirits that they volunteered an exhibition of their songs and dances, which were all equally stupid and uninteresting.
Some of the girls beat a little stick with all their might against a thick piece of bamboo; others sang, or rather howled, at the top of their voices: the noise was horrible. Then, two of the ebony beauties danced; that is, they moved slowly to and fro on a small space of ground, half lifted their arms, and turned their hands, first outward, and then toward their sides. Now, one of the men approached to exhibit his capabilities as a dancer. He was, most likely, the “lion” of the village. He tripped to and fro much in the style of his charming predecessors, only in rather more energetic fashion. Whenever he approached any of the women or girls, he was not deterred by our presence from making very expressive gestures, which were received by the assembled company with shouts of laughter and obstreperous applause; but the same thing is done at the public balls in Paris.
On this occasion I saw that the natives do not smoke tobacco, but take it in the form of snuff. The pinch is not inhaled through the nose, but inserted in the mouth. Both men and women enjoy their tobacco in this way.
In asserting that the “queen’s bath” was the only feast celebrated in Madagascar, I was right to this extent, that the aforesaid solemnity is the only occasion of universal rejoicing. The natives, however, practice the custom of circumcising their children, and these occasions are celebrated with much rejoicing. The ceremony takes place in the larger villages designated for the purpose by government, and to these places the parents have to bring their children at a certain period of the year. The happy fathers invite their relations and friends to the solemnity, and recreate themselves with song and dance, eating and drinking as long as their stores of beef, rice, and besa-besa hold out.
May 25th. After yesterday’s jollification, our bearers had hard work to-day. The hills were very steep, and far loftier than the former ones, averaging from five to seven hundred feet in height. Fortunately it had not rained, and on the dry earth climbing was not so very difficult a matter.
All the hills and mountains are here covered with virgin forests; but I looked in vain for the thick, lofty trees I had been accustomed to see in the wilds of Sumatra and Borneo, and even of America. The greatest trunks were scarcely four feet in diameter, and not more than a hundred in height. There was likewise no great profusion of flowering trees, orchidaceæ, and climbing plants; and the only remarkable feature in these forests seemed to be the large and varied genera of ferns, in which Madagascar rivals the Mauritius. I was informed that in the neighborhood of the roads all the great trees had already been cut down, but that in the depths of the forests splendid specimens might be met with, and that flowers, climbing plants, and orchidaceæ likewise abound in those solitudes.
From the summits of a few of the higher hills we had to climb we enjoyed glorious views of quite a peculiar kind. Never yet have I seen so great an expanse of land as this, consisting entirely of hills, lofty mountains, and narrow valleys and gorges, with not a single plain between. Twice we could descry the sea in the far distance.
This region must be admirably adapted for the cultivation of coffee; for it is well known that the coffee-tree grows best on the sides of steep hills. The land here is said, moreover, to be well adapted for pasture, especially for sheep. In future times flourishing plantations will perhaps arise here, adding life and variety to the glorious landscape. To-day, alas! all around is an unpeopled desert; hardly a miserable hut to be seen here and there half hidden in the verdant screen.
We slept in a village called Beforona.
May 26. Our journey to-day has been a repetition of yesterday’s march, with the single additional incident that we met a drove of oxen in a steep, hollow way. It was fearful to see how the creatures clambered about. Almost at every step they slipped, and I expected every moment they would come tumbling down upon us. With difficulty we found a place where we could stand, pressing against the bank till they had gone by.
Rather late in the afternoon we arrived at our station for the night—a very little village with a very long name—Alamajootra.
May 27. The hills to-day were less lofty and steep, the gorges and valleys somewhat broader, and the roads better. A few miles from our station for the night, on the only high hill we had to cross on this day’s march, the wooded region suddenly came to an end, and a charming landscape lay before us. In the foreground, extending in wavy lines, extending north and south, rose a chain of hills, which we could overlook from our high post of observation; and behind these lay the beautiful elevated plateau Ankay, at least fifteen miles broad (and of much greater length still) from north to south. Toward the east, in the background, two low ranges of mountains rose up against the horizon.
Our station for the night was a village called Maramaya.
May 28. We came to the elevated plateau Ankay, on which we found tolerable roads, so that our journey now proceeded rapidly. On the other hand, we lost a great deal of time in crossing the River Mangor. There was nothing to be had in the way of boats but a few hollowed trunks of trees, each of which would scarcely hold three or four people; thus several hours were consumed in ferrying over our numerous train and multifarious baggage. The rivers which I have as yet seen in Madagascar, including the Mangor, are very broad at certain spots, but they have no depth; the largest of them would not be navigable for a craft of fifty tons. They are very well filled, but, unfortunately, there are many more caymans in these rivers than fishes.
We crossed the low mountain ridge of Efody, and then the way wound onward through pleasant little valleys to the village of Ambodinangano, where we passed the night.
Near many villages I had noticed great upright stones, always placed at some miles’ distance from the village. Some of these, I was told, were funeral monuments; the rest were to mark the spots where the weekly markets are held. It would really seem as if the inhabitants of Madagascar were determined to do every thing differently from other nations, and so, instead of having their markets in the villages, they hold them in lonely desert places miles away from every human dwelling.
May 29. To-day my traveling companions were fully justified in complaining of the roads, which were so bad that, in spite of my enlarged experience in this particular, I was compelled to acknowledge that I had seldom seen any thing to equal them. But the chief problem was how to cross the second little mountain chain of Efody, the sides of which are exceedingly steep. Even my bearers seemed to-day to feel that my frame was decidedly composed of mundane materials, and not of air. Right wearily did theydrag me up over the steep heights, resting for a few moments, from time to time, to take breath and gather new strength.
After scaling this ridge we came into the territory of Emir, the native region of the Hovas, in the midst of which the capital of the island is situated.
The territory of Emir consists of a lofty, splendid, elevated plateau, nearly four thousand feet above the level of the sea. Many isolated hills rise up from this plain; we pass no more forests, and, as the capital is approached, some amount of cultivation, in the shape of rice-fields, begins to appear. Where there were no rice-fields, the ground was covered with the short bitter grass of which I had noticed so much in Sumatra. Unfortunately, it is entirely useless, as the cattle will not eat it.
The district of Emir did not appear to be very populous; even in the neighborhood of the rice-fields I looked in vain for villages—perhaps they were hidden behind the hills.
In the few villages we passed I noticed that the houses were not built like those at Tamatavé, and in the wooded regions through which we had passed, of bamboo or timber, but of earth and clay. They are also loftier and more roomy, and have exceedingly high roofs, thatched very neatly with a sedgy grass that grows here in abundance beside all the rivers. But the internal arrangement is just the same. The house generally contains only one room; in very few is a small portion walled off by a partition of matting. Furniture is entirely wanting. The majority of the inhabitants of Madagascar possess nothing of the kind beyond a few straw mats with which they cover the bare floor, and a few pots of iron or clay wherein to cook rice. Nowhere did I see beds, or even wooden chests in which clothing or other articles could be kept. Certainly they do not feel the want of either of these conveniences, for theysleep on the floor, and their wardrobe generally consists of a single simbu, which they draw over their head at night. The most luxurious among them go so far as to cover themselves with one of the straw mats of their own plaiting. Nowhere else have I found such an entire want of all the comforts of life, except among the Indians of Oregon Territory, in North America.
Some of the little villages, and a few separate houses also, are surrounded with ramparts of earth, a custom originating in the times when the country was divided among a multitude of small tribes who were continually at war with one another. It has already been mentioned that the two great chiefs, Dianampoiene and Radama, put an end to these feuds by reducing most of the tribes beneath their dominion. A few miles from the village of Ambatomango, our resting-place for this evening, a great procession of men came to meet us, accompanied by military music. This was a kind of deputation sent by Prince Rakoto, the son of Queen Ranavola, and heir-apparent to the throne, to receive Mr. Lambert, and assure him of the prince’s respect and affection. The deputation consisted of twelve adherents of the prince, a number of officers and soldiers, and a complete troop of female singers.
The “adherents” of Rakoto, forty in number, are young noblemen who love and honor this prince so much that they have bound themselves by an oath to defend him in every danger to the last man. They all live near him, and in his expeditions he is always surrounded by at least half a dozen of these faithful followers, although he has no need of such a guard, as he is said to be much beloved by all the people, commons and nobles alike.
Mr. Lambert was received by this deputation with the honors usually accorded to a prince of the blood royal, a distinction which has never yet been shown to any of the high nobles, much less to a white man.
As often as our procession passed by a village, the whole community turned out to see the strangers. Many attached themselves to the train, so that it grew as it went, like an avalanche. The good people might well be astonished to see white men received with such honor, for the like had never been witnessed before.
In the village of Ambatomango, Mr. Lambert was surprised by a mark of affection on the part of Prince Rakoto. We found the prince’s only son, a little boy five years old, waiting for us. Prevented by the illness of the queen from coming himself to meet Mr. Lambert at Ambatomango, he had sent his child, which Mr. Lambert had adopted during his first stay at Tananariva.
The custom of adopting children prevails widely in Madagascar; in most cases this is done by the adopter for the sake of possessing a child, but in others it arises from the fact that the father of the child wishes to give the man who adopts it a striking proof of his friendship. The adoption is announced to the government, which, in a written document, accords to the second father full authority over the child. The infant receives the name of the adopted parent, is admitted into his family, and possesses every right enjoyed by his own children.
Prince Rakoto had conceived such an affection for Mr. Lambert upon their first becoming acquainted, that he wished to give him a striking proof of his respect and friendship, and thus offered him his best treasure—his only child. Mr. Lambert adopted the infant, but did not avail himself of all the rights his position gave him; the child received his name, but was left in the care of its own father.
This child is not by birth a prince, his mother being a slave. Her name is Mary; but she is not, as her name would imply, a Christian. I am told she is very intelligent and good-natured, but, nevertheless, of a firm character. The prince loves her exceedingly, and, in order to have hercontinually about his person, he has nominally married her to one of his faithful followers.
Till late at night, a good deal of jollity was kept up in our camp. A great feast was prepared, of which we partook in native fashion, seated on the ground; on the other hand, toasts were drunk in true European fashion, and the healths of all imaginable people proposed. Merry music and loud shouts of rejoicing accompanied every fresh toast.
The choir of female singers sent by Prince Rakoto to do honor to our arrival consisted of twenty girls, who crouched down in a corner of the room, and tortured our ears with their harsh, grating voices. They screamed and howled just like the women and girls in the village where we celebrated the feast of the queen’s bath. They had a man with them, as a leader or teacher, but he wore a woman’s garb, and that of a European too; as the features of the two races vary very little, their beauty or ugliness being much the same, I should not have suspected this comical figure to be a man if the fact had not been mentioned by Mr. Lambert.
May 30th. This morning a deputation of villagers came to invite Mr. Lambert to a bull-fight which they proposed to give in his honor. After getting through the important business of breakfast, we proceeded to the scene of action, but found the preparations for the promised spectacle in a very backward state. It was evident that some time would be required for their completion. We thanked the people for their offer, but thought it best to take the will for the deed. We particularly wished to get to the capital, still a good half-day’s journey distant, as quickly as possible—the more so, as the Sikidy, or oracle, had designated the present day as a fortunate one for our entry into Tananariva, and the queen wished that Mr. Lambert should not let the auspicious moment go by.
Throughout Madagascar, but particularly at court, it iscustomary to consult the Sikidy oracle on every occasion, great and small. It is done in the following manner: A certain number of beans and small stones are mixed together, and from the figures they form, the people learned in the art of divination predict the favorable or unfavorable result of an undertaking. Of such oracle-interpreters or augurs there are more than twelve appointed at court, and in the most trifling matter the queen is accustomed to consult them. So devoted a believer in the Sikidy is she, that she in many things entirely sacrifices her own will, and is thus the greatest slave in the country she governs so despotically. If, for instance, she wishes to make an excursion any where, the oracle must decide on what day and at what hour this can be done. She will put on no garment and partake of no dish till the Sikidy has spoken, and the oracle must even decide from what spring the water she drinks is to be taken.
A few years ago a universal custom prevailed of asking the Sikidy, when a child was born, if the hour of its birth was fortunate. If an answer in the negative was returned, the poor baby was laid in the middle of one of the roads along which the great herds of oxen were driven. If the animals passed carefully by the child without injuring it, the bad magic influence of the oracle was considered to be broken, and the child was carried back in triumph to its father’s house. Few were, however, fortunate enough to go through this dangerous ordeal unscathed; the majority of the infants were killed. The parents who were unwilling to submit their children to such a test turned them adrift, especially if they were girls, and took no more trouble about them. The queen has forbidden both the ordeal and the exposure; and this is, perhaps, the only humane law she has passed during her whole life.
All travelers who wish to come to the capital must apply to the queen for permission, and halt at least a day’s journey from the city to receive the verdict of the Sikidy, which determines on what day and at what hour they may make their entry. Day and hour must be kept with the greatest strictness; and if the traveler should fall ill in the interim, and find it impossible to present himself at the gates of the city at the appointed time, he must send a new embassy to the queen, and await a second decision of the Sikidy, whereby he loses some days, and may be detained for weeks.
In this respect we were very fortunate. The Sikidy was obliging enough not to keep us waiting a single day, and designated that day as a fortunate one on which, according to the arrangements already made for our journey, we could reach the capital.
I vehemently suspect that the curiosity of the queen had some influence on the speech of the oracle. The good lady was naturally impatient to be put in possession of all the treasures which she knew Mr. Lambert had brought for her.
Our journey to-day seemed like a triumphal progress. In the van marched the military band; then came many officers, some of them of very high rank; next we came, surrounded by the adherents of the prince; the female singing choir, with a number of soldiers and people, bringing up the rear. As was the case yesterday, old and young came thronging round in every village through which we passed. All were desirous of seeing the long-expected strangers; many, too, joined the procession, and accompanied us for miles.
Our way wound onward through the beautiful elevated plain of Emir. How splendid an appearance would this glorious tract of land make if it were properly cultivated and populated! There are certainly many more fields and villages to be seen here than in the other districts through which our way had as yet led us, but very few could compare with this in fruitfulness of soil and fortunate position.A peculiar charm is imparted to this plain by the numerous hills intersecting it in all directions, the majority rising quite isolated and unconnected with any of the rest. There is no lack of water; for, although no great rivers are seen, there are numerous small streams and ponds.
About forty years ago, the whole plateau of Emir was covered, they say, with forests; but now, for an area of about thirty square miles, it is so treeless that only the rich people use wood, procured from a distance by their slaves, as fuel. The poorer people make shift with a kind of short prairie grass, with which hills and plains are thickly covered, and which gives a fierce but not a very lasting flame. Fortunately, the people only require fire for preparing their food, and can dispense with fuel for their rooms, though in winter the thermometer falls to three or four degrees, and sometimes even to 1° Réaumur; but the houses are built with clay walls of tolerable thickness, and the roofs are thickly covered with long grass, and so the houses are sufficiently warm, in spite of the cold out of doors.
The roads were now exceedingly good, and our bearers ran jauntily on, as if they had nothing to carry. From afar we could see Tananariva, the capital of the country, situated almost in the midst of the plain, on one of the highest hills, and early in the afternoon we came to the suburbs, by which the city itself is surrounded on all sides.
These suburbs were at first villages; increasing gradually in size, they have at last been united into a whole. The majority of the houses are built of earth or clay; but those which belong to the city must be constructed of planks, or at least of bamboo. I found all the houses here greater and more roomy than the dwellings of the villagers; also much cleaner and better kept. The roofs are very high and steep, and have long poles reared at each end by way of ornament. Here I again noticed that many separate houses, and in other instances three or four attached, were surrounded by low ramparts of earth, for no other apparent purpose than to separate the court-yards from the neighboring tenements. The streets and squares are all very irregularly built: the houses are not placed in rows, but stand about in groups, some at the foot of the hill, and others on its shelving sides. The royal palace stands on the summit. The portion of the suburbs through which we passed was, to my great astonishment, kept very clean, and this cleanliness was not confined to the streets and public places, but extended to the court-yards. The only places that showed signs of neglect were the narrow lanes between the walls of earth.
I was astonished at the number of lightning conductors that every where appeared still more than by the general aspect of cleanliness; each large house seemed provided with one. They were introduced by Mr. Laborde, a Frenchman, who had lived for many years at Tananariva, and whose adventurous history Mr. Marius told me during our journey. I shall soon have to introduce my readers to this extraordinary man.
I was told that there is, perhaps, no place in the whole world where thunder-storms rage so fearfully, and where the lightning strikes so frequently as is the case here. At Tananariva about three hundred people are stated to be killed by lightning annually, and last year the number is said to have risen to four hundred. In one house a single flash killed ten persons. These fearful storms take place chiefly from the beginning of March to the middle of April.
In the mean time we had arrived at the city gate, before which we found a guard of soldiers drawn up with crossed muskets, who refused, in the most polite manner possible, to let us pass. It appears to be the custom at this court to surround every thing with a kind of halo of despotism. Although every stranger who wishes to come to the capital is obliged to obtain permission from the queen, and she is therefore informed of the intended journey long before itscommencement—the traveler is moreover obliged to send on a messenger when he has arrived within a day or two’s march of the capital, and to receive the report of the Sikidy as to the day on which he may make his entry—he is again obliged to halt at the city gate to announce his arrival to the queen, and petition for admittance. If her majesty happens to be in a bad humor, she often lets the poor stranger stand waiting some hours for her answer, exposed to the broiling summer heat or to the pouring rain.
We were so far favored as to obtain leave to enter the town after waiting only half an hour.
The interior of the town looks much like one of the suburbs, with this difference, that, in compliance with the law I have mentioned, all the houses are built of planks or of bamboo.
We proceeded to the house of Mr. Laborde, a very warm friend of Mr. Lambert’s, and who is also a great protector of every European that arrives at Tananariva.