CHAPTER XI

PROGRESS ALL ALONG THE LINE

‘The earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as

the waters cover the sea.’--ISAIAH xi. 9.

The schools occupied much of my time and attention. I was convinced

that in no other way could I better serve the objects of the mission

in Madagascar. The foundation for something higher than the three R’s

was laid. The minds of the children were stored with the knowledge

of Him ‘Whom to know is life eternal.’ Some warm-hearted friends of

missions seemed to suspect that we gave too much time and attention

to our schools, and not enough to what they called ‘the preaching of

the Gospel.’ They forgot that preaching is not the only means by which

a knowledge of the Gospel may be imparted. Real ‘evangelistic work’

may be done to greater advantage in the village school than on the

village green. The value which we assign to teaching is the result of

experience. The means we had were not the best, but they were all that

we had, and we made the best of them.

I did not like school work; I had had no special training for it.

I preferred preaching and Bible-class work; but it was not a case

of choice but of necessity. The schools had to be founded, worked,

and kept at their best; they were the hope of the country and of

Christianity in it. Of the adults, who had grown up in ignorance,

superstition, and sin, I confess I had not all the hope I would have

liked to have had of their becoming ‘new creatures in Christ Jesus’;

but of the children I had every hope. In them we had an approach to

virgin soil on which to sow the ‘good seed of the Kingdom.’ As has been

said, ‘Men must be formed to the practice of the elementary virtues of

Christianity before it is possible for them to recognize the beauty of

holiness, and the nobleness and eternal obligation of righteousness.’

In point of returns for labour, we obtained the speediest and most

satisfactory from the schools. At least one-half of our congregations

were heathen, or semi-heathen; and while we were glad to get them

within sound of the Gospel, we knew that many of them attended church

only from fear of the queen--a mistaken fear. The ‘fear of God’ had

little to do with it. The sight that used to gladden my heart most,

when I preached at my own station, was the 200 children sitting there

in front of me. They answered the questions put to them with a fervour

and eagerness which did one’s heart good. They led the singing. Their

voices made the church ring with the songs of salvation. They were the

most attentive listeners to the sermon, and their eyes sparkled with an

intelligence of which their poor parents knew nothing, and never would

know: they were too old to learn, even if they wished to, which many of

them did not. From the schools of the first missionaries came some of

the foremost of the martyrs, and the best and most devoted pastors in

the country. The truth learned by those men in the schools of former

times sank into their hearts, and in due season brought forth fruit,

before and conspicuously during the ‘killing times.’ Our schools were

not merely secular institutions, they were essentially religious.

Our Quarterly Meeting became a source of strength to the churches.

When the ritualists tried to gain a footing in the district, it was

only the vigorous measures adopted by the Quarterly Meeting that saved

one of the best of our churches from being ruined. The pastor who had

invited them was an ignorant man, who had caused more trouble than all

the other pastors of the district; but he was the petty chief of that

village. He had been appointed to be the chief pastor of the church

before we settled at Fìhàonana. Being the chief of the village, many

of the members were afraid to take action against him. They appealed

to the Quarterly Meeting for help. The case was taken up very warmly;

Razàka and other two of the chief pastors were appointed to visit the

church on the following Sabbath, suspend the pastor from office and

membership, and appoint the second pastor in his place.

On the following Tuesday, when the would-be ‘successors of the

Apostles’ arrived to do what the Apostle Paul carefully avoided,

‘lest he should build upon another man’s foundation,’ they found

that their quondam friend, who had promised to hand over the church

and congregation to them, was no longer a member of that church, and

therefore had no power to carry out his promise. Knowing the man as I

did, and how such things were managed, I strongly suspect that he felt

certain in his own mind, even if he had no positive promise, that his

services would be handsomely recognized. Happily the whole affair was

frustrated by the prompt action of the Quarterly Meeting.

Our girls’ school at Fìhàonana gave us no small trouble for a time; the

parents kept taking away their daughters of tender age to marry them,

and prevent their attendance at school. Had this been done by heathen

and semi-heathen parents only, we should not have been so surprised;

but it was also done by parents of whom we expected better things,

and I had to censure them severely for their conduct. My wife did her

best for the schools, though she was hindered by scarcity of material

for the sewing-classes, and the state of her own health. She was laid

low several times with fever, and had to play the part of nurse to her

household in their troubles. These seasons of sickness and anxiety, in

addition to my daily burden of anxiety about all the churches, were

often trying. Our people were kind at such seasons. They were grateful

for all we had been able to do for them in their own seasons of trial.

Indeed, the longer we were with them, the more we loved them, and, I

believe, the more we were beloved by them.

About this time our good Christian queen set all the Mozambique slaves

free. In her proclamation she said:--‘Now, the kingdom having been

given by God to me, I declare that I will put a stop to these evils;

for I am a sovereign _tsy tìa vèzovèzo_ (who dislikes disturbance,

or quarrelsomeness). Therefore I decree, that I set free all

Mozambiques in my kingdom to be _ambàniàndro_ (subjects), whether

those newly introduced or those who have been here for a long time.

‘And if there are any who will not obey this edict, but still hold the

Mozambiques as slaves, I shall count such as criminals, and the penalty

of the laws shall be enforced upon them.

‘And I also decree, that whoever has traded in Mozambiques can no

longer make any legal claim in respect of such transactions. And if

this decree of mine is perverted by any one to deceive the wise or

incite the simple, and so cause disturbance in my kingdom, then,

whoever he may be, I will hold him guilty, and condemn him to death;

for I am a sovereign that will not deceive.’

We all had a most merciful and marvellous preservation on the evening

of Sabbath, December 2, when our house was struck by lightning, during

the most terrific thunderstorm that had been known or heard of by the

oldest inhabitant. It had been intensely hot and oppressive during the

previous fortnight, but especially so that Sabbath. It seemed that such

heat must soon lead to something. Towards sunset the clouds gathered,

the sky grew dark--sure signs of the approaching storm. As we sat at

tea, I heard the first mutterings of the thunder in the north-west and

remarked: ‘There’s relief coming at last.’ After dark, as the storm

drew nearer, the roll of the thunder became louder, and the flashing

of the lightning more awful. As the hours of the evening passed, the

storm seemed to be gathering strength for a final outburst. We heard

the roaring of the wind increase, until it had the force of a tornado.

The rain fell in torrents, and vivid and yet more vivid flashes of

lightning were followed by louder and louder rolls of thunder. It led

one to think of Him Who is ‘a hiding-place from the wind, and a covert

from the tempest.’

At a quarter past nine a blinding sheet of lambent flame enveloped

the house. For an instant the whole yard seemed to be flooded with

living fire. This was followed by a terrific explosion in one of the

lower rooms. There was a lightning-conductor twelve feet high on the

centre of the roof; but the lightning, as was afterwards discovered, in

striking the rod had melted the silver from it, and glancing from the

rod to the gable, had gone down the chimney of the lower room, where

it exploded. The ceiling at the south-west corner was torn down, the

floor of the bedroom above, right under the baby’s cot--from which she

had just been lifted--was blown up. The current then went up the wall

of the room to a copper bell-wire. It ran along this wire, along two

sides of the roof of the room, the roof of the lobby, two sides of the

roof of the children’s bedroom, and then down the wire in the corner of

the room, broke the bell, ploughed its way down the wall over the inner

door of the kitchen, which it smashed, through the doorway and the

kitchen, escaping finally by the outer door, after knocking the cook

down on its way, and burning him severely!

My wife, baby, and nurse were in the bedroom, and their escape from

death was marvellous. The baby had wakened a few minutes before the

explosion, screaming so piercingly that my wife--who had gone to

bed--had to rise, lift it from its cot, and try to quieten it. She rang

for the nurse to prepare its food. She took a step forward, to take the

milk from the girl, and to that step, humanly speaking, she owed her

own life and that of the child; for just at that instant the house was

struck, the explosion took place, and the spot from which she had just

stepped was blown up, the flooring being thrown over her head, a piece

of one of the boards falling on the head of the nurse and cutting it

open!

Sitting in the room adjoining, I knew the house had been struck, but

thought the noise of the explosion was caused by the falling of one

of the gables. A deathlike silence followed, and then the screams of

my wife betokened her fright, and her agony of fear for the other

children. We found them, however, to our unspeakable relief, all

safe, and sleeping so soundly that not even the terrific explosion

had wakened them. And although the electric current had gone down the

copper wire in the corner of their bedroom, within a few inches of our

eldest daughter’s head, not a hair of her head had been harmed.

We had a very interesting case, which I shall relate, as showing how

the truth was working its way into the hearts of some of our young

people. It was that of a young and very poor petty chief. Although a

chief, he had not felt that he was degrading himself--as many would

have done--by working for me in various ways. At first he learned to

make bricks, then he carried wood while the manse was building. I had

noticed that he was among the most diligent of all who worked for me.

After the building was finished, he was asked to come to school, and,

although much older than the majority there, such was the progress

made, that he was several times sent out as a teacher. I had often

observed him in church paying marked attention to the preaching, and

I hoped the truth was finding its way to his heart. He called one day

to ask for a copy of the Catechumen’s Catechism, and to tell me that

he wished to become a candidate for baptism and church membership.

I examined him on three occasions, had several most interesting

conversations with him and had every reason to be satisfied, and

recommended him for church fellowship.

A few weeks after he called again, and said that since he had joined

the church, he had been very much exercised in mind as to what he ought

to do to advance its interests. He desired work to be assigned him. He

also wished to attend my classes, and to go out as a local preacher on

the Sabbath. He became a most regular attendant and went out almost

every Sabbath preaching. I afterwards gave him some months of private

instruction, and sent him up to the Institution at the capital. After

four years’ training he returned to Vònizòngo, took up the work of an

evangelist, and has done splendid work for twenty years.

From the returns for the year ending 1878 I find that £89 11_s._ 9_d._

was raised in the district for church purposes, and £41 18_s._ 2_d._

for the salaries of teachers; in all, £131 9_s._ 11_d._, equivalent to

£657 9_s._ 7_d._ The contributions of the entire district for 1868 had

only reached the very modest sum of £2 8_s._ 6_d._ When we settled at

Fìhàonana in 1871, Razàka handed £1 10_s._ 0_d._ to me to keep for the

church, that being the sum in hand from the church-door collections,

less expenses, for the previous nine years! During our nine years at

Fìhàonana, our small station church of some ninety members, a third of

whom were slaves, raised upwards of £150, while £700 was raised by the

other small churches of the district, equivalent to the people to £750

and £3,500 respectively of our money[30].

The work kept steadily advancing, year after year, and our people made

quiet but distinct progress in Christian knowledge and in Christian

character. The darkness of their former state gave way before the light

of the Gospel, and our hearts were gladdened by seeing results from our

former labours. For a time our work suffered interruption from a severe

epidemic of malarial fever in the central provinces, which resulted in

a large death-rate. We ourselves also suffered severely. In consequence

of this epidemic, my medical work was greatly increased, but my

ordinary labours among the churches, schools, and Bible-classes were

much interfered with, and almost all teaching was suspended for a time.

For about four months every year--from February to June, known as the

fever season--malarial fever, diarrhoea, and dysentery were prevalent

in Vònizòngo. This being a great rice district, the harvest season and

just after it, April and May, were generally the worst for fever, &c.;

but the year 1878 was exceptionally severe. Strange to say, however,

those portions of the district which formerly had suffered most from

this scourge had only a slight visitation, while those which had been

comparatively safe hitherto suffered most on this occasion. In our

neighbourhood the attack was severe. All over the central provinces

about forty per cent. of those who were seized died. About two hundred

fatal cases occurred in connexion with our station.

It must be borne in mind, however, that the majority of those who were

attacked received no proper medical treatment. Of those who could and

would receive medicine, the great majority recovered; in fact, very few

cases proved fatal. In the more distant and less enlightened villages

hardly a person could be found ready to give up the native nostrums

and risk trying proper remedies, hence the excessive mortality. Simple

medicines and proper nursing were almost all that were needed; but

hundreds of poor ignorant people would not take proper medicines, even

when offered to them for nothing.

There was a range of hills, about two miles to the west of our house,

on the opposite side of an extensive rice valley. The people in the

villages along the foot of that range suffered severely during the

epidemic. Razàka and some of the deacons went to visit them when the

epidemic was at its worst. They found the poor creatures in a miserable

condition, five, six, and even eight lying in a single hut, prostrated

with fever, and in several cases with the corpses of children which no

one had been able to bury. And yet hardly one in ten could be persuaded

at first to give up the native nostrums, and accept the medicines we

had sent them. In some cases they even denied they were ill, lest my

messengers should give them quinine, while some were so ill that they

could hardly articulate.

I asked Razàka the reason of such repugnance to the proper remedies,

and he replied: ‘Simply ignorance, foolishness, and superstition.’

While some few refused the quinine as being too bitter, and others

because they were afraid it might bewitch them, the majority declined

to take it because it was too powerful! They said they knew very well

that the white man’s medicine would cure them, for it was powerful;

but it would not only cure them, it would also quite destroy all the

virtue of their own medicine. If once they took white man’s medicine,

nothing except white man’s medicine would ever cure them again. They

had a white man and medicine now, they said, but as they did not know

how long they might have either, they preferred keeping to their own

_òdy_, on which they could fall back in their time of need. They

did not seemingly take death into account.

As we could not stand aside while these ignorant creatures committed

suicide, and practically murdered their children in their folly,

bottles of quinine mixture were prepared, and Razàka and the deacons

were sent to the villagers and were told: ‘If they won’t take the

medicine willingly, pour it down their throats.’ They did so, with the

result that the poor creatures were cured, and fell fairly in love

with the _òdi-tàzo_ (charm for the fever). They would not take it

even for nothing that year; but, the following year, bought £11 worth

of quinine during the four months of the fever season!

The Malagasy regarded all disease as the result of witchcraft, and so

all medicine was _fànafòdy_, that which takes off or removes the

_òdy_ (witch charm). Our medicine was therefore regarded as the

most powerful _òdy_, which not only cured the patient, but also

conquered and destroyed the virtue of all other and weaker _òdy_.

This reluctance is still met with in the darker parts of the island.

The people came to call quinine _òdi-tàzo_, the charm for the

fever; a wash for the eyes, _òdi-màso_, a charm for the eyes; and

a cough mixture, _òdi-kòhaka_, a charm for the cough.

During the time that the epidemic was at its worst, 12 ounces of

quinine were disposed of in six months, and we lost only one patient

by death in our village. Thus a victory was gained for our medicines

and mode of treatment of the sick, while a heavy blow was dealt at the

native nostrums and absurd methods of treatment.

Many of these poor sufferers were in a state of delirium. This the

Malagasy know as _miàrahàba ny akòho_, i. e. saluting the fowls.

The Malagasy are very polite. If they meet a superior, or if he enters

their hut, he is saluted with: _Tsàra và tòmpokò è?_ i. e. ‘Is it

well with you, my lord?’ While lying ill with fever, the fowls would

find their way into their huts, and hearing the pattering of their feet

on the mats, the sick would imagine, in their delirium, that these

fowls were their superiors come to visit them, and would salute in the

usual way: ‘Is it well with you, my lord?’ Hence one in bad fever

delirium was said to be saluting the fowls.

The state of emaciation in which some were brought to us was terrible.

Their faces wore a hue between green and grey; the white of the eyes

was a greenish yellow, and imparted a hideous aspect to them. The

spleen was generally very much enlarged. They were brought in all

states and conditions, and sorely taxed my limited medical knowledge,

as they taxed my sympathies. Poor miserable slaves--more like skeletons

encased in leather than human beings--came begging for quinine. They

had no money to buy it, nor would their masters give them any; but I

could not refuse them medicine.

My wife and I both suffered severely from the fever, which left us very

limp and shattered in health; but we felt thankful that our children

escaped as they did. As soon as we were able to travel, we went to the

hills for a month, which braced us up again.

During my absence the ritualists made another attempt to get a footing

in the district; but they failed. By throwing the burden of keeping

the teachers they wished to send out of the district upon the natives

themselves, I so put them on their mettle that they were more anxious

than even I was to keep them at a distance.

After the epidemic of fever, we had a slight visitation of small-pox.

Of course the majority of the people were very foolish over

vaccination. Great numbers of them would neither be vaccinated, nor

allow their children to be so. Still, we did manage to vaccinate a

fair number of children, and more adults than at any former time. Only

a few could be persuaded to bring back their children, that others

might be vaccinated from them, or the lymph be taken off. I taught

a few of the more intelligent pastors, local preachers, and teachers

how to vaccinate and supplied them with lymph, and so we had most

of the people in our own immediate neighbourhood vaccinated one way

or another. I was very anxious to get that done, as four of our own

children had not been vaccinated, and I had no lymph with which to do

them until I obtained some from England. Yet though we had vaccinated

all in the villages near us, it was not such a protection as it ought

to have been, as the garments of those who died of small-pox were in

many cases sold in the public market!

The natives had rather a rough and ready way of vaccinating. They made

three small cuts on the left arm with a piece of glass--generally a

piece of a broken bottle--put in the lymph, closed the cuts, and then

put on a small plaster of boiled rice to keep the edges together. Some

of my cases did not ‘take,’ but I think all theirs did.

Our fine new school-house was finished and opened at the end of the

year. We had most successful opening services, at which the queen’s

representative was present. He also handed the prizes to the 336 who

had distinguished themselves in the examinations.

The congregations all over the district continued to keep up well;

most of the churches were well filled at the Sabbath services. The

attendance at these services was not in every case due to fervent piety

or the desire for instruction. Many only desired to stand well with the

local chiefs and the authorities. Still, whatever their motives may

have been, it was well that they were there; for while they were in

church they were at least out of the way of much temptation to evil,

and they heard the Word of God, which was blessed to many who were led

to see themselves as sinners, and to seek Him Who came to seek and to

save the lost.

The congregations made most marked progress during that year in the

grace of generosity to the cause of God, and for the support of the

school teachers. The previous year, the twelve small churches under the

charge of the trained evangelist had raised their share of his salary

for the year--£4 16_s._--in advance, the first time that such a

thing had been done; but during that year the unprecedented sum of £30,

equal to them to £150, was raised in the district _a whole year in

advance_, to pay the people’s share of the salaries of six trained

teachers settled among them, and four evangelists about to be settled.

Such a thing had never been done before in the history of the island.

We felt very pleased and thankful for what we had been able to teach

the people to do; the more so, as we had the satisfaction of knowing

that we were not only the first, but up till then, at least, the only

missionaries in the island who had been able to persuade the Malagasy

to raise such a very large sum a whole year in advance in order to pay

their share of the salaries of their teachers and evangelists.

Now and then in some quarters there were signs below the surface of

remnants of heathenism and semi-heathenism. We had some displays of

this nature during the epidemic, when many were panic-stricken. We

had one sad sample during that year of the heathenism still remaining

brought to light by the death of the young wife of one of our trained

teachers. Her parents, although they attended the village church

occasionally, were evidently heathens at heart. Her father was a

retired Hova governor, reputed to be rich. He made a great funeral

feast, for which a number of oxen, sheep, and pigs were killed.

The corpse of his daughter was rolled in thirty-four silk _làmbas_

(plaids), while all the best and most expensive dresses and ornaments,

&c., belonging to herself and her mother, were placed in the family

tomb along with the corpse. Money to the amount of £2 4_s._, equivalent

to £11, was put into her grave-clothes for expenses in the other world,

while £3, equivalent to £15, was paid to the so-called musicians who

made day and night hideous by their discordant noises from the time of

her death to that of her burial, to keep the bad spirits at a distance,

and little wonder if they did! In all, £83 2_s._ 9_d._, equivalent to

£415 13_s._ 9_d._, was worse than wasted over the funeral of that poor

girl by her heathen parents.

In my long journeys in Madagascar, I always suffered from the heat--a

sort of mild form of something of the nature of heat-apoplexy I should

suppose--and hence in our journeys from our station to the capital

or back, we always started very early in the morning, generally at

four, often at two o’clock, so as to get to the journey’s end before

the hottest and most exhausting part of the day--about three in the

afternoon. Though generally suffering from headache by the time I got

in, a night’s rest as a rule set me right again.

Twice had that long weary journey home from the capital to be

undertaken by moonlight. I got a lady’s palanquin--a long oblong box

made of strips of sheepskin fastened to two long poles--and lay down in

it with a rug over me to protect me from the dews of the night, covered

my face with my helmet, and tried to sleep, but not with much success.

I arrived at home suffering from very severe headache, which lasted

for the following four days. A night’s rest was enough to free me

from headache from exposure to sunlight, but it took four days to do

so from that of exposure to moonlight. I could not understand this

at first, nor till the text came into my mind: ‘_The sun shall not

smite thee by day, nor the moon by night._’ The moon smites, in some

senses, more severely than the sun, and the effects remain longer.

Of course if the effects of the rays of the sun reach the point of

sunstroke, the result is far worse than anything the moon can do.

Thirty years in Madagascar · 第 11 / 18 章