CHAPTER XI
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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.
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