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.
May 24th. 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 animals were 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 they drag 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
they sleep 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 her
continually 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 is customary 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 its commencement--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.