Banquets in Madagascar.—A Kabar at Court.—The Sentence.—Our Banishment.—Departure from Tananariva.—Military Escort.—Observations on the People.—Arrival in Tamatavé.—Departure from Madagascar.—A false Alarm.—Arrival in the Mauritius.—Conclusion.
Banquets in Madagascar.—A Kabar at Court.—The Sentence.—Our Banishment.—Departure from Tananariva.—Military Escort.—Observations on the People.—Arrival in Tamatavé.—Departure from Madagascar.—A false Alarm.—Arrival in the Mauritius.—Conclusion.
July11. Yesterday evening an old woman was denounced to the authorities as a Christian. She was seized immediately, and this morning—my pen almost refuses to record the cruel torture to which the unhappy creature was subjected—they dragged her to the market-place, and her backbone was sawn asunder.
But a thousand horrors like these will not move the powers of Europe to come to the rescue of this unhappy people. In one respect, civilized and uncivilized governments are strangely alike; both are swayed only by political considerations, and humanity does not enter into their calculations.
July 12. This morning, I am sorry to say, six Christians were seized in a hut at a village not far from the city. The soldiers had already searched the hut, and were ready to depart, when one of them heard a cough. A new search was at once begun, and in a great hole dug in the earth, and covered over with straw, the poor victims were discovered. What astonished me most in this episode was, that the other inhabitants of the village, who were not Christians, did not betray the concealed ones, although they must have had intelligence of the last kabar, threatening death to all who kept Christians concealed, favored their flight, or neglected to assist in their capture. I should not have thought so much generosity existed among this people. Unfortunately, it met with a bad reward. The commanding officer cared nothing for the magnanimity of the action; he kept strictly to his instructions, and caused not only the six Christians, but the whole population of the village—men, women, and children—to be bound and dragged to the capital.
I fear there will be horrible scenes of blood. The poor people may all be executed, for it will be presumed that they were aware of their neighbors’ hiding-place. From the queen they have certainly no mercy to expect, for she has death-sentences carried out with the utmost rigor; indeed, no instance is known in which she has pardoned any one condemned to lose his life.
Prince Rakoto sent us word to-day that the queen intended giving a great banquet to Mr. Lambert, to which all the other Europeans would of course be invited. What is the meaning of this? For more than a week we have been treated like state prisoners, and now all at once we are to have this distinction! Are our prospects brightening, or is it a trap? I fear the latter.
We were no ways rejoiced at this news, for even if the invitation does not conceal some treacherous design, we have a drearily irksome ordeal to go through. The more the queen wishes to honor the guest whom she invites to a banquet, the more tremendous is the banquet placed before him, and the greater is the number of hours he is compelled to pass at table; for the duration of time is considered an element in the distinction. When Mr. Lambert came to Tananariva for the first time, the queen gave a banquet in honor of him. It consisted of several hundreds of dishes, materials for which had been collected from every part of the island. The rarest dainties (of course for Madagascar palates) were served up, including land-and water-beetles, the latter being considered particularly delicious; locusts, silk-worms, and other insects. The banquet lasted morethan twenty-four hours, during the greater part of which period the assembled guests were employed in consuming the various dainties. Of course Mr. Lambert could not remain so long at table, and, with the queen’s permission, rose from time to time; but he was obliged to remain present till all was over.
Even while we were on the best terms with the queen we had looked forward to such an invitation with great apprehension; how much more dismayed ought we not to feel under present circumstances, when this banquet may prove our death-meal! But, if the queen chooses to show us this honor, we must accept it, for if it has been settled that we are to die, we have no chance of escaping our fate.
July 13. This woman is said never to have been seen in such continued ill-humor, in such fits of rage, as she has exhibited for the last eight or ten days. That augurs ill for us, but is far more unfortunate for the poor Christians, whom she causes to be pursued with a more furious zeal than she has shown since her accession. Almost every day kabars are held in the bazars of the city and in those of the neighboring villages, in which the people are exhorted to denounce the Christians; and they are told the queen is certain that, all the misfortunes which have befallen the country are solely attributable to this sect, and that she shall not rest until the last Christian has been exterminated.
What an inestimable mercy was it for those poor persecuted people that the register of their names fell into the hands of Prince Rakoto, who destroyed it! had this not been the case, there would have been executions without number. It is now hoped that, in spite of the queen’s rage, and of all her commands and exhortations, not more than perhaps forty or fifty victims will be sacrificed. Many of the great men of the kingdom and many of the royal officials are Christians in secret, and try to assist the escape of their brethren in every possible way. We have beenassured that, of the two hundred Christians who were captured some days ago, and also among the villagers who were brought yesterday to the city in a body, by far the greater number have escaped.
July 16. We have just received intelligence of a very great kabar held yesterday in the queen’s palace. It lasted six hours, and the discussion is reported to have been very stormy. This kabar concerned us Europeans, and the question of our fate was debated. According to the usual way of the world, nearly all our friends began to fall away from us from the moment when they saw that our cause was lost; and, in order to divert suspicion from themselves, the majority insisted more vehemently on our condemnation than even our enemies. That we deserved to be punished with death was soon unanimously resolved, but the method by which we were to be dispatched to the next world gave rise to much discussion and debate. Some voted for a public execution in the market-place, others for a nocturnal attack on our house, and others, again, for an invitation to the before-mentioned banquet, at which we were to be poisoned, or murdered at a given signal.
The queen was undecided between these various proposals, but would certainly have accepted one of them had not Prince Rakoto been our protecting spirit. He spoke with the greatest energy against the sentence of death, warned the queen not to let her anger lead her astray, and expressed his conviction that the European powers would certainly not allow the execution of six such important (?) persons as we were to pass unpunished. The prince is said never to have spoken with such warmth and energy to the queen as on this occasion.
We received all this intelligence partly, as I have stated, through confidential slaves of the prince, partly from the few friends who, contrary to expectation, have remained true to us.
July 17. Our captivity had already lasted thirteen long days—for thirteen long days we had lived in the most trying suspense as to our impending fate, expecting every moment to hear some fatal news, and alarmed day and night at every slight noise. It was a terrible time.
This morning I was sitting at my writing-table; I had just put down my pen, and was thinking that, after the last kabar, the queen must at least have come to some decision, when suddenly I heard an unusual stir in the court-yard. I was hastily quitting my room, the windows of which were in the opposite direction, to see what was the matter, when Mr. Laborde came to meet me with the announcement that a great kabar was being held in the court-yard, and that we Europeans were summoned to be present thereat.
We went accordingly, and found more than a hundred persons—judges, nobles, and officers—sitting in a large half circle on benches and chairs, and some on the ground; behind them stood a number of soldiers. One of the officers received us, and made us sit down opposite the judges. These judges were shrouded in long simbus; their glances rested gloomily and gravely upon us, and for a considerable time there was deep silence. I confess to having felt somewhat alarmed, and whispered to Mr. Laborde, “I think our last hour has come!” His reply was, “I am prepared for every thing.”
At length one of the ministers or judges rose, and in sepulchral tones, embellished with a multitude of high-sounding epithets, he spoke somewhat to the following effect, telling us:
“The people had heard that we were Republicans, and that we had come to Madagascar with the intention of introducing a similar form of government here; that we intended to overturn the throne of their beloved ruler, to give the people equal rights with the nobility, and to abolishslavery; also, that we had had several interviews with the Christians, a sect equally obnoxious to the queen and the people, and had exhorted them to hold fast to their faith, and to expect speedy succor. These treasonable proceedings,” he continued, “had so greatly exasperated the natives against us, that the queen had been compelled to treat us as prisoners as a protection against the popular indignation. The whole population of Tananariva was clamoring for our death; but as the queen had never yet deprived a white person of life, she would abstain in this instance also, though the crimes we had committed could fully have justified her in such a course; in her magnanimity and mercy she had accordingly decided to limit our punishment to perpetual banishment from her territories.
“Mr. Lambert, Mr. Marius, the two other Europeans who lived at Mr. Laborde’s, and myself, were accordingly to depart from the city within an hour. Mr. Laborde might remain twenty-four hours longer; and, in consideration of his former services, he was to be allowed to take away all his property that was not fixed, with the exception of his slaves. These, with his houses, estates, etc., were to revert to the queen, by whose bounty they had been bestowed on him. With regard to his son, inasmuch as the youth was a native by the mother’s side, and might be supposed, on account of his tender years, to have taken no part in the conspiracy, it should be optional with him either to remain in the island or to quit it with us.
“The queen would allow us, and Mr. Laborde also, as many bearers as we required to carry us and our property, and, as a measure of precaution, she would cause us to be escorted by a company of soldiers, consisting of fifty privates, twenty officers, and a commandant. Mr. Laborde would have a similar escort, and was commanded to keep at least one day’s journey in our rear.”
In spite of our critical position, we could hardly refrainfrom laughing at this oration. All at once the people were made out to be important—the poor people who were groaning in bondage like Russian serfs or the slaves of the United States; now all at once we found the poor people influencing the royal will, and invested with the right, not only of expressing a wish, but even of uttering threats! The orator, however, did not seem at all familiar with the word people, frequently substituting for it that of “queen,” by mistake, in the course of his speech.
Of course we were not allowed to say a single word in our own defense or justification, nor, indeed, did we think of such a thing; for we were very glad to escape so easily, and could hardly understand this unexpected magnanimity on her majesty’s part. Alas! we neither knew nor suspected what sufferings lay before us.
At the close of the kabar Mr. Lambert received back the presents which had been carried away a few days before; but not all of them, as we could see at the first glance. I fancy, however, that the missing articles had not been detained by the queen, but by the officers and grandees. Prince Rakoto kept nearly the whole of his share, sending back only a few trifles, as it seemed, in nominal acquiescence to the queen’s wishes.
All the officers and nobles among whom Mr. Lambert had distributed presents were ordered to bring them back; but the considerable sums of money they had received from the visitor, and of which the queen knew nothing, remained in their possession.
Within an hour we were not only to get our baggage in order, and make the necessary preparations for our journey in the way of laying in provisions, but likewise to pack up all the valuable articles returned to Mr. Lambert. How to do this was the question. Most of the chests had been broken to pieces; for, after the queen had so solemnly fetched away the presents, who would have thought of their being sent back?
We were really in a very serious dilemma; but there was no help for it. So Mr. Lambert looked out the costliest articles in all haste, and we threw pell-mell into our traveling trunks whatever we could cram in, and pressed a few of the least battered of the chests into the service; thus in a few hours we were ready to start. Fortunately for us, the officers, soldiers, and bearers did not interpret the queen’s commands so literally as we should have done. They set about their preparations deliberately enough, and the rest of the day passed without our seeing any thing more of them. We did not set out on our journey till the next morning; and this delay gave Mr. Lambert an opportunity of packing up many more of the returned presents.
July 18. With a truly heartfelt joy I turned my back upon a place where I had suffered so much, and in which I heard of nothing all day long but of poisonings and executions. This very morning, for example, a few hours before our departure, ten Christians were put to death, with the most frightful tortures. During their passage from the prison to the market-place, the soldiers continually thrust at them with their spears; and when they arrived at the place of execution, they were almost stoned to death before their tormentors mercifully cut off the victims’ heads. I am told that the poor creatures behaved with great fortitude, and continued to sing hymns till they died.
On our way through the city we had to pass the market-place, and encountered this terrible spectacle as a parting scene. Involuntarily the thought arose within me that the magnanimity of so cruel and cunning a woman could not be greatly depended on, and that perhaps the people might have received secret orders to fall upon us and stone us to death. But such was not the case. The natives came flocking round in crowds to see us, and many even accompanied us a long distance from curiosity, but no one offered to molest or insult us in any way.
Our progress from the capital to Tamatavé was one of the most disagreeable and toilsome journeys I had ever made; never, in all my various wanderings, had I endured any thing like such suffering. The queen had not dared to have us publicly executed, but we soon discovered her object to be that we should perish on our journey from the capital. Mr. Lambert and I were suffering severely from fever. It was very dangerous for us to stay long in the low-lying lands, where we were inhaling deleterious gases, and highly important that we should travel to Tamatavé as quickly as possible, and embark without delay for the Mauritius, in quest of a better climate, proper nursing, and, above all, of medical assistance; for there is no physician to be found at Tananariva, or elsewhere in Madagascar, where every person doctors himself as best he can. But we were not allowed to proceed as we wished. The queen had issued her orders in a very different spirit; and, instead of accomplishing the journey in eight days, the time usually occupied, we were made to linger fifty-three days, nearly eight weeks, on the road. In the most pestiferous regions we were left in wretched huts for one or two weeks at a time; and frequently, when we suffered from violent attacks of fever, our escort dragged us from our miserable couches, and we had to continue our journey whether the day was fine or rainy.
At Befora, one of the most unhealthy places on the whole line of march—a squalid little village, so entirely surrounded by morasses that it was impossible to advance fifty paces on firm ground—we were detained eighteen entire days. Mr. Lambert endeavored by all conceivable means to induce the commandant to accelerate our progress, and even, I believe, offered him a considerable sum of money, but all his efforts were vain. The queen’s orders had probably been so distinct and peremptory that the officer dared not evade them in any way.
The huts in which we were lodged were generally in such a wretched condition that they scarcely afforded shelter from the weather. Wind and rain came rushing in every direction through the broken roofs and the three half-decayed walls. To increase my sufferings, I had not even the necessary bedding; and my warm clothes, in which I might have wrapped myself at night, were stolen during our first day’s march. I had not, like my companions, two or three servants, who could take care of my things; unfortunately, I was master and servant both in one, and in my weak state I found it impossible to attend to any thing. Whenever we came to our resting-places I threw myself on my couch, and was often unable to rise for days together. And what a couch it was! a thin mat, a hard pillow, with my traveling cloak for a coverlet. One of the missionaries afterward gave me one of his own pillows. During the whole fifty-three days I did not change my clothes once, for my most earnest entreaties were powerless to move the commandant to assign me a separate place where I might dress and undress. We were thrust all together into the same hut, however small it might be. My sufferings were beyond description during the last three weeks, when I was unable even to raise myself from my bed and totter a few paces.
Every illness is trying; but the Madagascar fever is, perhaps, one of the most malignant of all diseases, and in my opinion it is far more formidable than the yellow fever or the cholera. In the two last-named diseases the patient’s sufferings are certainly more violent, but a few days decide the question of death or recovery, while, on the other hand, this horrible fever hangs about those it attacks month after month. Violent pains are felt in the lower parts of the body, frequent vomitings ensue, with total loss of appetite, and such weakness that the sufferer can hardly move hand or foot. At last a feeling of entire apathy supervenes, fromwhich the sick person is unable to rouse himself by even the strongest exertion of his will. I, who had been accustomed from my earliest childhood to employment and activity, was now best pleased when I could lie stretched for days on my couch, sunk in a kind of trance, and wholly indifferent to what was going on around me. This apathy, moreover, is not peculiar to persons of my age when attacked by this illness, but is felt by the strongest men in the prime of life; and it continues to plague the patient, as do also the pains in the body, long after the fever itself has left him.
In the village of Eranomaro we met a French physician from the island of Bourbon who had made an agreement with the queen and some of the nobles to come to Tananariva for a few months every two years, bringing with him some necessary medicaments. Mr. Lambert and I wished to consult this gentleman on the subject of our fever, and to procure some medicine from him. I specially stood in need of his help, for I was in far worse health than Mr. Lambert, who only had attacks of fever once a fortnight, while in my case they recurred every third or fourth day. The commandant refused to allow us to go and see the physician, or to request him to visit us, declaring that he had been imperatively commanded by the queen herself not to let us hold communication with any one on our way, and least of all with a European. This strictness, as we afterward learned, was confined to ourselves, and was purposely intended to cut us off from any assistance. Mr. Laborde, who traveled a few days’ journey in the rear of our party, was much more leniently treated, and was allowed, on meeting the physician, to spend a whole evening in his company.
Though the journey from Tananariva to Tamatavé lasted long enough in all conscience, I had scant opportunity of seeing any thing of the manners and customs of the people,being hampered as much by my illness as by the strict surveillance under which we were placed. What cursory observations I could make showed me that the natives possess some very bad qualities. They are excessively idle, very frequently intoxicate themselves, chatter continually, and seem to be entirely destitute of natural modesty.
Thus our soldiers, who received neither provisions nor pay, and who often suffered the greatest privations, would, I think, have died of hunger rather than endeavor to earn any thing by any slight service. At first I pitied the poor fellows, and bought rice and sweet potatoes for them now and then, or made them a little present of money. When we came to the forest region, where beautiful insects and snails were to be found in abundance, I requested the men to procure me some specimens, offering to pay for them in rice or money. My promises were unheeded; not one of these people could I induce to comply. They would rather crouch in any corner and suffer hunger than subject themselves to the least exertion. This was not only the case among the soldiers; the natives generally—men, women, and children—were all alike lazy. During my first stay at Tamatavé, before visiting the capital, I had wished to take three or four persons into monthly pay, and send them out into the woods to collect specimens of insects, and offered four times the wages they usually receive, promising a farther reward whenever they brought me any thing really fine; but not a soul responded to my appeal. Just as vainly did I display to the women and children my store of handsome large glass beads, rings, bracelets, and similar treasures. They were delighted with the articles, and would have been glad to possess them, but only if I would give them away unconditionally. Never have I met with such thoroughly indolent people. In nearly every country I visited during my travels, and even among the quite uncivilized inhabitants of Borneo and Sumatra, the nativesoften helped me, of their own accord, when they saw me searching for shells and insects, or snails; and if I rewarded them with a trifling gift, they brought me more than I could carry away. I thus often made valuable collections; and here, in this unexplored country, where there must be an abundance of insect life, I unfortunately found it impossible to obtain any thing like a respectable show. The few specimens I possess I have been obliged, almost without exception, to collect for myself.
Drunkenness prevails throughout every district of Madagascar, with the exception of the Emir territory, where some of the severe laws of Dianampoiene, the founder of the Malagasey monarchy, are still observed; among which there is one prohibiting the sale of ardent spirits, under pain of death, and commanding the summary execution of every drunkard. In this last-named district the people seem much more steady, orderly, and respectable than in the others, where intemperance goes unpunished. The favorite drink of the natives is the before-mentioned besa-besa, prepared from the juice of the sugar-cane. In almost every village drunkards of both sexes are seen reeling about even in the daytime; and late at night we often heard music and singing, loud voices and laughter, and not unfrequently quarreling and fighting.
Judged by this apparently continual state of hilarity, the people here would seem to be the happiest on earth; but the condition of the poor creatures is that of slaves and bondmen, and, like true serfs, they seek in the pleasures of intoxication forgetfulness of their bondage and misery.
Greatly as the Hovas and Malagaseys are addicted to drink, they are, I think, still more fond of chattering. They seem unable to hold their peace for two minutes together; and instead of saying their say quietly and peaceably, they talk with such haste and eagerness, that it would seem they thought the day too short for the interchange of their ideas.Those who are not speaking keep up an almost continual laugh, so that I often asked to be informed of the subject of their conversation, thinking that something very witty and amusing was going on. But every time I was assured that I was mistaken; their talking was of the most trivial and sometimes of the most untranslatable kind, and they repeated the same things a dozen times within the hour.
An instance of the peculiar garrulousness of these people came under my own notice. Once, at Tananariva, I sent a messenger upon some errand, and noticed that he immediately sought for a companion. On my announcing that I would pay one messenger, but not two, my Mercury assured me I need not give his comrade any thing, but added that he could not think of accomplishing his journey on a long and solitary road without having some one to converse with, and that he should therefore give his companion a share of the fee.
Our bearers were no exception to the general rule. They chattered and laughed without a moment’s pause, so that my poor sick head sometimes fairly reeled. At first I fondly fancied, when we came to a steep hill, that the exertion would make them pause. Vain hope! they panted and groaned, but they never left off talking.
I have spoken of the impudence and shamelessness of these people; but my pen refuses to record the scenes I witnessed on this doleful journey. We were looked upon as state prisoners, and accordingly treated with less respect and consideration than we had received during our progress to the capital; and the natives who escorted us showed themselves without disguise in all their natural viciousness. Frequently I did not know which way to look; and my companions often pronounced me fortunate in my ignorance of the native language.
At length, on the 12th of September, we arrived at Tamatavé; and we two fever-patients, Mr. Lambert and I, hadnot done Queen Ranavola the favor of dying, after all. It was really almost a miracle that we escaped with our lives, and I, for my part, never expected that my weak, exhausted frame could have endured the compulsory long delays in unwholesome regions, the cruel usage, and the continual succession of various hardships to which we had been subjected.
Neither Mr. Lambert nor I could obtain permission to stay in Mademoiselle Julie’s house. We were taken to a little hut, and were there guarded with the same strictness that had been exhibited on the whole route. The commander of the escort announced to us that we were to quit the island by the first ship that sailed for the Mauritius, and that he had received orders to prevent us from holding communication with any person in Tamatavé, and to accompany us with his soldiers till we had fairly embarked.
I must say for the commandant and his officers that they fulfilled to the very letter the orders the queen had given them; and if her majesty of Madagascar should ever think of establishing an order of knighthood, as she may probably some day do, they deserve to be Grand Crosses, every one.
Queen Ranavola will probably take another view of the case, and these zealous servants will, I fancy, be very ungraciously received when they return with the unwelcome news that Mr. Lambert and I have quitted Madagascar alive. I am sorry for her disappointment, but am selfish enough to think it is better that it has happened so, after all.
We were fortunate enough to be detained only three days at Tamatavé. On the 16th of September a ship was ready to sail for the Mauritius, and we were then obliged to tear ourselves from our amiable escort and this hospitable country. I shed no parting tear on the occasion—my heart felt light as I stepped on board; and it was with intense satisfaction that I saw the boat containing the commandant and his men paddling back to the shore. Nevertheless, I do not regret having undertaken this journey, and shall do so the less if I am fortunate enough to regain my health.
In Madagascar I saw and heard more marvelous things than had come under my notice in any other country; and if little can be said to the advantage of the people, it must be remembered that, under the cruel, insensate rule of Queen Ranavola, and in the entire absence of instruction in religion and morality, no great expectations can reasonably be formed. If Madagascar should once obtain a well-ordered, civilized government, and should be visited by missionaries who, instead of busying themselves with political intrigues, would devote their energies to imparting the Christian religion, in its true sense, to the people, a happy and flourishing kingdom may be founded in this beautiful land: the materials of prosperity are certainly not wanting.
Of our return journey to the Mauritius I have little to tell. Our vessel, the brig “Castro,” Captain Schneider, was about as slow a sailer as thequondamman-of-war which had borne us from the Mauritius to Tamatavé about five months ago; and as the wind was not very favorable to us, six days were consumed in the passage; but, in the enjoyment of our newly-attained freedom, they fled blithely away.
At nine o’clock in the evening of the 22d of September we arrived in the Mauritian waters, when an accident of a highly dangerous character occurred, which might have cost us all our lives, to the great satisfaction, no doubt, in such an event, of Queen Ranavola. The night being dark and cloudy, the captain determined to cast anchor, and to have the ship taken into harbor next morning by a steam-tug. Every preparation had been made, and they were just about to let go the anchor, when the rudder struck withsuch violence against a rock that it was shattered into atoms. The crash of the broken beams and planks was so great that it seemed as though the whole vessel were going to pieces. I was already in bed, and started up in alarm to see what could be the matter, when I heard the shout of the second officer, “Come up this moment, Madame Pfeiffer, if you want to be saved; the ship is broken in two, and sinking.”
I threw my cloak round me and hurried on deck. The kind officer, Mr. St. Ange, helped me into one of the boats, and told me to sit still, and I should be quite safe. On a closer inspection, it happily turned out that the ship had not even sprung a leak, and that the whole damage was limited to the loss of the rudder and the fright we had endured.
The anchors were lowered, and we went quietly to bed. Next morning the bright sunshine woke us, signals were hoisted, and a steam-tug came puffing out to tow us into the welcome harbor of the Mauritius.
My friends here were very much surprised to see me again. It appeared that the most exaggerated reports had been received from Tamatavé of the unfortunate issue of our undertaking. Some people gave out that Queen Ranavola had caused all the Europeans in Tananariva to be executed; others declared that the sentence of death had only been carried out on Mr. Lambert, and that the rest, including myself, had been sold as slaves; while another party maintained that we had been banished from the country, and murdered on the journey by command of the queen.
I was happily enabled to give a very practical denial to these reports; but the danger was not yet quite past. A few days after my arrival, the moral and physical sufferings I had undergone, added to the peculiar effects of the fever, brought on such a severe illness that the doctors were long doubtful about my recovery, and I should certainly havedied but for the kind and active sympathy of the Moon family.
Mr. Moon, a medical man and apothecary, lives in a very retired manner, with his amiable wife, on a sugar-plantation in Vacoa. I had, my readers will remember, spent a few very happy days with this family before my departure for Madagascar. As soon as Mr. Moon heard that I had returned from my journey, and was very ill, he came to the capital to take me to his house, where I arrived almost in a dying state. To his, and to Dr. A. Perrot’s scientific skill, and to the unceasing care bestowed upon me in his house, I have to ascribe my recovery; and it chanced that exactly on my sixtieth birthday, the 9th of October, 1860, I was pronounced out of danger.
May God reward Dr. Moon and his wife, and Dr. Perrot, for all they did for me, a total stranger as I was to them!
Here the diary of Madame Ida Pfeiffer ends. Unhappily, the hopes expressed in its last lines were delusive. The danger was not past; and though the attacks of the fever left her for longer or shorter periods, they always returned, and she never entirely recovered her health and strength. Her stay in the Mauritius was prolonged through several months; and the letters written by her during this period to her sons show that she had made various plans for new voyages, none of which were destined to be carried into effect.
Thus, in a letter dated the 16th of December, 1857, she wrote:
“My sufferings from fever, and especially from its effects, have been great, and are not yet quite past; but I hope that a sea-voyage will completely set me up. I can not go to Europe at this season of the year. I should have tocontend against cold and bad weather, and am not sure if I could do so in my present state of health. To wait here for better weather would not do, as the air of this island does not agree with me, so I shall probably proceed to Australia.”
In another letter, of the 13th of January, she says:
“I hope this is the last letter I shall date from the Mauritius. I shall really be very glad to bid farewell to this island; but the parting from the Moon and Kerr families will be very, very bitter. If these excellent people had not taken care of me as they did, I should certainly have perished here. No daughter could tend her mother with greater solicitude than Mrs. Moon evinced toward me; and, indeed, all the members of both families have vied with each other in doing me all kinds of service. My dear sons, store up these names in your memory; and if chance should ever bring you together with any one belonging to either of these households, look upon them as brothers, and esteem yourselves happy if you can do any thing for them.
“For the last three weeks my health has been improving day by day; the fever seems at last about to quit me entirely; I can sleep now, and my appetite is returning.
“A few days ago I made the acquaintance of a young German botanist here, Mr. Herbst. He resides at Rio de Janeiro, and has been sent by the Brazilian government to the Mauritius and the Ile de Bourbon to collect sugar-cane plants, to improve the species cultivated in the Brazils. He is to take a whole cargo home with him, and hopes to arrive in Rio de Janeiro in May. I almost intended to accompany him; but, as I do not know if you will be there at that date, it will perhaps be better to make the voyage to Australia first. I have met with a very good opportunity of going to Sydney, and shall start in a few days; the sea-voyage, and the bracing air in Australia, where I shall arrive at the best season of the year, late in autumn, will, Ihope, set the seal on my recovery, and entirely re-establish my health.”
Only two days later, in a letter dated the 1st of March, she thus wrote:
“I was compelled suddenly to give up my project on account of the detestable Madagascar fever, which persists in returning, and weakens me very much. I was ready to embark for Australia, and had sent the greater part of my effects on board, when I was seized with a fresh attack. I had my chest landed from the ship, and intend to start on the 8th with the packet for London, where I shall, however, only stay a short time, for it is my wish to get to my own home as fast as possible.”
At length she quitted the Mauritius. During the tedious passage she experienced no attack of fever, and at the beginning of the month of June arrived in London, where she, however, only remained a few weeks. From London she betook herself to Hamburg; but there, too, she could not find rest; and in the month of July she went to Berlin, on the invitation of her friend, the wife of Privy Councilor Weisz, in whose house she was nursed with the tenderest care.
Her brothers sent urgent letters, begging her to come home to her native Vienna, and Madame Maria Reyer, the wife of her brother, Cæsar Reyer, wished to proceed to Berlin for the express purpose of fetching her. But she positively declined this proposal. Although her strength was waning from day to day, she seems to have considered her illness as only temporary, and in this belief she wrote to her brother, expressing a hope that she should soon recover, or at least be in a better condition for traveling, and promised them to come to Vienna.
Still she seemed to yearn secretly for home; and when week after week elapsed without bringing any improvement in her health, she had herself conveyed to the residence of a friend, Baroness Stem, who lived on an estate in the neighborhood of Cracow.
Her illness unhappily increased, and at last, abandoning the hope of a speedy recovery, she consented to be removed to Vienna. Her sister-in-law came for her; and sad indeed was the meeting with her affectionate friend and relative, who found her in such a weak condition as to despair of the possibility of proceeding to Vienna. But as the physician declared that she might undertake the journey, and the sick lady herself showed the greatest anxiety to behold her home once more, she was taken with the greatest care, in a separate railway carriage, to Vienna, to the house of her brother, Charles Reyer, where she arrived in September.
Here several medical consultations were held upon her case, to which her brother summoned the most distinguished physicians of the capital. One and all pronounced that she was suffering from cancer in the liver—a consequence probably of the Madagascar fever; that the disease had deranged and was destroying the internal organs, and that her malady was incurable.
Her native air seemed to do her good; for a few weeks she suffered but little pain, and new hope awoke within her; she even spoke of undertaking short journeys, and visiting her friends in Grätz, Trieste, and other places. But this restlessness was probably only a symptom of her disease, for her strength gave way more and more; violent pains came on, which continued almost without intermission during the last four weeks of her life, and frequently she sank into delirium.
She was most affectionately tended and nursed in her brother’s house, under the especial supervision of her sister-in-law, whose affection for her was so great as to keep her continually by the sufferer’s bedside; and a few days before her death she had the happiness to embrace her eldestson, who lived in Steyermark, and hastened to Vienna upon the first intelligence of his mother’s serious illness.
During the last days of her life opiates were administered to lessen her sufferings, and in the night between the 27th and 28th of October she expired peacefully, and apparently without pain.
Her funeral took place on the 30th of the same month. Besides a very numerous gathering of relations and personal friends, many scientific notabilities and other distinguished inhabitants of Vienna followed her to the grave. Peace be to her ashes!
Let me be permitted herewith to offer my warmest, my most heartfelt thanks to you, dear Aunt Maria Reyer, and to you, dear Uncle Charles Reyer, for all you did for my mother. Unhappily, I was not privileged to hear her last words or to receive her parting glance, for I was far away when the sad news was brought me. Through you both, I at least enjoy the consolation of knowing that my poor mother had every care and attention shown to her, and that she heard friendly and beloved voices around her bed to the last.
To our other relations, and the numerous friends who showed her such true, such delicate kindness, and particularly to Mr. and Mrs. Moon, in the Mauritius, I return my most hearty thanks. Let them be assured that their names will ever live in my memory with the remembrance of my beloved mother.
Oscar Pfeiffer.
THE END.
Mr. Motley, the American historian of the United Netherlands—we owe him English homage.—London Times.
“As interesting as a romance, and as reliable as a proposition of Euclid.”
History ofThe United Netherlands.
FROM THE DEATH OF WILLIAM THE SILENT TO THE SYNOD OF DORT. WITH A FULL VIEW OF THE ENGLISH-DUTCH STRUGGLE AGAINST SPAIN, AND OF THE ORIGIN AND DESTRUCTION OF THE SPANISH ARMADA.
ByJOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY, LL.D., D.C.L., Corresponding Member of the Institute of France, Author of “The Rise of the Dutch Republic.”
With Portraits and Map.
2 vols. 8vo, Muslin, $4 00; Sheep, $4 50; Half Calf, $6 00.
Critical Notices.
His living and truthful picture of events.—Quarterly Review(London), Jan., 1861.
Fertile as the present age has been in historical works of the highest merit, none of them can be ranked above these volumes in the grand qualities of interest, accuracy, and truth.—Edinburgh Quarterly Review, Jan., 1861.
This noble work.—Westminster Review(London).
One of the most fascinating as well as important histories of the century.—Cor. N. Y. Evening Post.
The careful study of these volumes will infallibly afford a feast both rich and rare.—Baltimore Republican.
Already takes a rank among standard works of history.—London Critic.
Mr. Motley’s prose epic.—London Spectator.
Its pages are pregnant with instruction.—London Literary Gazette.
We may profit by almost every page of his narrative. All the topics which agitate us now are more or less vividly presented in the History of the United Netherlands.—New York Times.
Bears on every page marks of the same vigorous mind that produced “The Rise of the Dutch Republic;” but the new work is riper, mellower, and though equally racy of the soil, softer flavored. The inspiring idea which breathes through Mr. Motley’s histories and colors the whole texture of his narrative, is the grandeur of that memorable struggle in the 16th century by which the human mind broke the thraldom of religious intolerance and achieved its independence.—The World, N. Y.
The name of Motley now stands in the very front rank of living historians. HisDutch Republictook the world by surprise; but the favorable verdict then given is now only the more deliberately confirmed on the publication of the continued story under the title of theHistory of the United Netherlands. All the nerve, and power, and substance of juicy life are there, lending a charm to every page.—Church Journal, N. Y.
Motley, indeed, has produced a prose epic, and his fighting scenes are as real, spirited, and life-like as the combats in the Iliad.—The Press(Phila.).
His history is as interesting as a romance, and as reliable as a proposition of Euclid. Clio never had a more faithful disciple. We advise every reader whose means will permit to become the owner of these fascinating volumes, assuring him that he will never regret the investment.—Christian Intelligencer, N. Y.
Published by HARPER & BROTHERS,Franklin Square, New York.
☛Harper & Brotherswill send the above Work by Mail, postage pre-paid (for any distance in the United States under 3000 miles), on receipt of the Money.
“They do honor to American Literature, and would do honor to the Literature of any Country in the World.”
THE RISE OFTHE DUTCH REPUBLIC.A history.
ByJOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY.