Twelve months in Madagascar

On the 8th of September 1869, a religious revolution took place in Madagascar. The priests and diviners of the idol Kelimaláza came to the Queen, and urged that, like her predecessors, she should again take the idol into her palace, and place her whole kingdom under its protection. The Queen had, from the commencement of her reign, eighteen months before, taken her stand as a Christian; and in the previous February, in the presence of her people, had been baptized as a Christian. Her husband, the Prime Minister, and an influential body of nobles and officers, had adopted the same faith: and Christianity was making great strides among her subjects generally. The keepers of the three national idols had in consequence been deposed from their position as keepers of the ruler’s conscience, as directors of lucky and unlucky days, and as instigators of the persecutions, from which the land had suffered great harm. They had also been deprived of their special privileges. They were no longer Andríans, entitled to the scarlet umbrella, exempt from the jurisdiction of the ordinary Courts, and having the power of life and death over their own clan; they were simply Hovas, and were bound to render to their sovereign that feudal service, to which all other members of the tribe were subject. All this was trying enough. Men, who have long enjoyed exclusive privileges at others’ expense, are usually dissatisfied when their vested interests are set aside without compensation. And when, in the month of June, the Queen laid the foundation of her Chapel Royal, and summoned these priestly families to do their share in building it, they made a last desperate attempt to recover their former position. They came to the Queen and urged her to place the land under the idols once more.

The occasion was felt to be an important one. There was a hurried consultation. A large number of officers was summoned; and a discussion commenced among them as to how the difficulty should be met. A happy suggestion offered by one of them, that the idols should be burned, was heartily approved by all. Due authority was given by the Queen, and several officers were at once dispatched on horseback to the village where the chief idol was kept. Arrived at the idol-house, the leader went in and brought the idol out, “Whose idol is this?” he asked of the bystanders. “It belongs to the Queen,” was their reply. “If this idol be mine,” saith Ránaválo-manjáka, “I need it not: let it be burned.” And burned it was, with all its trappings, to their consternation and grief. The other royal idols shared the same fate.

The event produced a profound sensation throughout the country. By the theory and the practice of Malagasy public life, the Queen had a perfect right to decide as she had done. But her subjects were not behind their sovereign. Public opinion had been rapidly ripening on the subject, and there was no hesitation as to the course that should be followed. The next day, all over Imérina, the private idols of villages and families were also brought forth: bundles of clothes and charms, round which the superstitious fears of many generations had clustered, were committed to the flames; and soon a little heap of ashes was all that remained of the outward symbols of a faith that had been held by the Malagasy races since their first fathers landed on the island. The revolt from the system was complete. From all quarters came the inquiry, “Whom does the Queen worship? How is that worship conducted? What are we to do?” From all quarters was heard the request, “Send us teachers: send us books.” Chapels were hastily erected all over the province, even in remote villages. And the resources of the native Churches, of the English Mission, and of the Mission Press, were taxed to the utmost to supply the nation’s wants.

Profound as was the sensation produced by the burning of the idols abroad, it was not less deeply felt at home. The greatness of the event was discerned: its spiritual significance was instantly appreciated. No such event had occurred in the history of Christendom before: no such multitude of willing men and women had ever knocked for admission at the Church’s door in a single year. It was the fruit of the long and painful persecution of twenty-eight years. It was the fruit of the faithfulness of the martyrs, dead and living, upon whose sufferings and fidelity all Christendom had looked with sympathy. It was the answer to the thousands of prayers which those sufferings had called forth.

The case was thoroughly appreciated. A few enthusiasts might talk of Madagascar as christianized, and think it needed Christian help no longer. But the Committees of Missionary Societies, the men who have been dealing with the practical life of heathen nations for many years, and have been studying the many problems involved in their redemption, were not likely to make that mistake. A new born child is not the educated, thoughtful, self-denying man, he some day may be. With his birth and growth the trials and responsibilities of parents begin. Many a missionary has found that his work in instructing the heathen was as nothing, compared with the labour, anxiety and trial, which fell to his lot, when he began to gather converts around him, and by God’s help endeavoured to train them to holiness and trust, while “the world, the flesh, and the devil” were drawing them back again to evil. With the thankfulness and congratulations which this great change inspired in the friends of the Imerina Mission, it was felt that new duties of a most serious kind devolved upon them; and the Directors of the London Missionary Society, who had maintained that mission and had aided the Malagasy Churches for more than fifty years, determined without delay to enlarge the mission by all the agencies which the crisis called for. Large sums of money were contributed almost unasked; and within the five years that have since elapsed twenty English missionaries have been added to the staff previously labouring in the island. It was resolved to commence new stations, and to enlarge and strengthen the Theological and Normal Schools; to increase and stimulate general education; and to make the Press more efficient. Other Christian missions, working in cordial co-operation with the London Missionary Society, were enlarged at the same time.

Nothing could be more desirable than that these increased agencies should be carefully applied so as to produce the largest amount of good. Especially was it felt to be important that every English missionary, expected to be a fountain of wisdom and of spiritual power to the simple people around him, should be located in a position that would call forth all his strength, and give to his abilities and influence the widest scope. As time went on it seemed increasingly difficult to secure these important ends. Much as we heard from abroad, and much as we wrote to Madagascar from London, it grew more plain that no amount of correspondence would suffice to convey to us and to them all the information as to details which it was desirable for each side to know; especially when that correspondence was frequently interrupted and delayed by its transit through one of the most inefficient mail-services known to the civilised world, the service between Bourbon and Madagascar. The conviction grew that nothing would suffice for the accomplishment of our purpose, nothing would supply all missing links and make co-operation complete, but that two or three Directors of the Society should proceed to the island, and that the missionaries and these Directors, as “friends in council,” should together shape the new scheme, which the enlarged mission imperatively required. It was felt to be an additional advantage that, by visiting the island, the members of such a deputation would have an opportunity of meeting the native pastors and native churches, and of assuring them both of the warm affection in which they were still held by their old friends, and of the gladness with which they would still be aided in their new and pressing wants. The Rev. John Pillans of Camberwell, a Director of the Society, and myself were honoured with the appointment; and after several impressive services, in which we were affectionately commended to the divine protection, and the divine blessing was sought on our expedition, we set out on our journey. Mrs. Pillans also accompanied us.

A pleasant day between Paris and Lyons, followed by a hot and weary night, brought us to Marseilles, our port of embarkation. Marseilles is now a great city, with six hundred thousand inhabitants; and its new streets, in solidity, breadth, and grandeur, compare favourably with those of Paris. The trade passing through the city is enormous. Its new quay and harbour are crowded with steamers, which connect it by commercial ties with all the ports of the Mediterranean and the Black Sea, and which in recent years have extended their lines to India, China, and Japan; while, conspicuous to all eyes, on its rocky hill, stands the church of Notre Dame de la Garde, the shrine at which the sailors of Marseilles have registered their vows and paid their thanks, from the day when, two thousand five hundred years ago, the Greek colonists of Phocæa founded the city of Massilia, and erected their first temple. Perhaps no shrine in Europe can boast of such a long and unbroken line of worshippers.

Our steamer was the Amazone, of the fleet of the Messageries Maritimes, a noble vessel of 2000 tons, bound for Shanghai and carrying the Eastern mails. We found her accommodations excellent; large cabins, a good table, attentive servants, an obliging captain, efficient officers, and a most muscular crew. What a mixture of nations we found among our fellow-passengers! There were Spaniards, French, Portuguese, English, Italians, and Japanese. Our Japanese companions were members of the Commission which had been visiting the Vienna Exhibition.

We started from the jetty punctually at ten, on the morning of the 6th of July. With a smooth sea and clear sky we passed rapidly through the Straits of Bonifacio, and were unexpectedly gratified by a brief visit to the city and bay of Naples. What painter can do full justice to the delicate hues of sea and sky at that fair spot? The harbour of Hong Kong and the bay of New York are, in their finest aspects and under the purest skies, truly beautiful; but there is a perfection of loveliness in the sheen of the air, the play of the colours, and the transparent clearness of the Bay of Naples that nothing can surpass. Leaving Naples at nine in the morning, at sunset we were close to Stromboli, with its cindery cone; and at midnight, with six men at the wheel, the Amazone passed steadily through the swirling currents of the Straits of Messina, under a magnificent moon. The long line of lights in the town of Messina, the dark rocks of the Italian coast, with Reggio at their feet; the firing of the gun, the burning of the blue lights, and the brilliant night made up a charming scene. We saw Candia in its entire length, with Mount Ida and its line of rugged hills; passed close to Gozo, the little island of Clauda, where the apostle Paul and his companions fell into the hurricane; and at sunrise on Saturday, six days from Marseilles, anchored at Port Said, the entrance to the Suez Canal.

There came on board at Naples a number of gentlemen in whom we felt considerable interest, and who proved agreeable companions. They were silk merchants from various cities of Italy, engaged in the endeavour to restore the Italian silk-trade, which has in recent years been almost ruined by disease among the worms. They make an annual voyage to Japan, and bring back with them enormous quantities of the best silkworms’ eggs. These are stowed in a special compartment of the vessel, iced to keep them cool, and a heavy freight is paid for the accommodation. Our new passengers were a tall, manly body of men; many of them had the unmistakeable Roman face and features; and when one saw them at dinner, enlivening the tedium of the seven courses with the hearty laugh and witty repartee, one felt that classical life was coming home very freshly, and could realise it more distinctly than before.

We were charmed with the Suez Canal. It is a great work, simply but effectually done. We saw the powerful dredgers busily engaged in maintaining its depth; we passed steadily through it without a hitch; we saw with interest the little stations; the white town of Ismailia, with its water-works and railway station; the two bitter lakes, no longer dry; the cuttings through low hills of limestone and gypsum; and at length entered the green Bay of Suez at its southern end. Anchored between the “Fountains of Moses” on the eastern shore, and the “Rock of Deliverance” on the west, we witnessed one of the most golden sunsets I have seen in the Eastern world. This easy passage from the Red Sea to the Mediterranean has revolutionised the carrying trade of the East. The great fleets of sailing ships which in former years rounded the Cape with the silk and tea of China, with the indigo and jute, the sugar and tea, the silk and cotton of India, the Ariel and Taeping, the Hotspur, and Renown, and City of Calcutta, and their companions, of which the mercantile world was justly proud, have passed away, and have given place to lines of steamers which swarm in every port of the Indian seas, and which at small expense bring home their precious cargoes without hindrance through the simple green lane of the Suez Canal. There is, however, one drawback to the satisfaction with which the new arrangement is carried out,—the fee paid for the passage. The “little bill” presented to the Amazone for its seventeen hours’ work amounted to £1400!

The Red Sea is proverbially hot in June, July, and August, and we found it hot indeed. For five days the thermometer ranged between eighty-seven degrees at night and ninety-eight degrees by day; but the heat was tempered by pleasant winds; and no one seemed distressed by it, except those who drank large quantities of claret and water to keep them cool. Under circumstances peculiarly favourable, our noble steamer pressed forward with perfect steadiness, and after a run of four days and a half from Suez, anchored on Friday morning in Aden harbour.

The general verdict of Indian visitors respecting Aden, is that it is a “horrid hole.” Certainly the scenery is not brilliant, it is deficient in verdure; and in the middle of the year, with wild west winds, the thermometer stands nearer one hundred degrees than ninety degrees. Nevertheless Aden has an interest of its own; and associations of deep interest cluster around it. The peninsula of Aden, which cuts off from the sea a wide landlocked harbour is formed by an immense volcano, a mile wide in the interior and having huge walls and buttresses of cindery lava all around it. It is a weird-looking place; but it has for many ages been a helper to the commerce of the world. An outpost of India, well governed, it has long been the protector of the overland trade and a good coaling station. Its importance has increased with the opening of the Canal; and at times several steamers call every day for water, ice, and coal. Beyond this Aden was, next to Zanzibar, the principal station of the most ancient commerce of the world. The Phenicians knew and used it before the days of Hiram. The fleets of Solomon called there on their way to Cochin and Malabar, whence, after their three years’ voyage, they bore to Judea “the ivory, ebony, apes, and peacocks” described by their Indian names in the sacred records. To Solomon are attributed the cutting and completion of the great water tanks, which were rediscovered, cleansed, and enlarged by the government of India only eight years ago. From Aden went forth whole fleets of Phenician vessels, to the coasts of India and Africa; and in the middle ages it was one great stay of the eastern trade from which Europe had been entirely cut off.

After a three days’ delay in Aden, on board the Dupleix, the corresponding steamer to which we had been transferred, we again started for a fortnight’s voyage down the Indian Ocean to Mauritius. The Gulf of Aden we found hot but quiet; but the moment we passed the great limestone promontory of Cape Gardafui, though the thermometer fell fifteen degrees, we ran into a rough sea, which completely upset us all. For three days Mr. Pillans and I scarcely appeared on deck. To lie still and listless was most pleasant; we ate nothing, drank nothing, except water, and did nothing. But at the end of three days we grew accustomed to the motion, and life went on quietly as before. Mrs. Pillans suffered far more than we. The season of the south-west monsoon is well known in all the eastern seas, for its strong winds and wild waters. It is singular that the wind blows hardest near the African coast; no vessels going down that coast can face it with advantage; the steamers therefore shape their course far out in the direction of Ceylon, and bend round toward the south, when the wind and sea fall lighter. In this way we crossed the line, skirted the Calvados reef, made acquaintance with the south-east trade wind, and in due time anchored at Port St. Denis, in the Island of Bourbon. Here we received a hundred and forty-five passengers, who were going over to Mauritius to see the races. We had a very rough night, and they were all violently ill; the appearance of many next morning was pitiable, and looking at the results, I doubt not many would ask whether the “game” was worth the “candle” paid for it. The next morning we reached Port Louis.

I cannot dwell on our little visit to the Mauritius; the island is well known and has only recently been well described. We found many friends and received the kindest hospitality and help at their hands. We travelled along the railways; saw the charming bits of scenery with which this volcanic island abounds; and visited the Pamplemousse Gardens, in which I found many old Indian friends. The fan palm and the betel-nut, the talipot of Ceylon, the poinsettia, the Ponciana regia, and the Bouganvillier creeper were represented by fine specimens. More pleasant still was it to visit the market, full of the Indian grains and vegetables; to handle once more dàl and rice; to see the huge melons, the cucumbers and tomatoes, of which the people of India are so fond; and to talk Hindustani to the coolies and traders, while asking of their welfare and the whereabouts of their Indian homes. Most pleasant of all was it, to meet on the Sunday a little congregation of Indians at the station of the Church Missionary Society, and preach to them in Bengali, the tongue with which I had been most familiar during the years of my Indian life. The week passed rapidly away; and as one of the regular “liners” was about to cross to Madagascar, we prepared to take our passage in her.

The vessels which regularly run between Port Louis and Tamatave are termed “bullockers.” They bring from Madagascar the rice, hides, and india-rubber, which are usual articles of trade: but their principal freight is live bullocks, intended to supply the meat market of Mauritius, and the quarter of a million coolies who purchase their supplies therein. I had often heard of these bullockers, and read about them. I remembered the story of the amiable captain, who having quarrelled with Mr. Ellis’s orchids, directed his boy to pour over them a kettle of boiling water. My colleague and myself visited two of these vessels, in the harbour of Port Louis, and found them an interesting study. The absence of all paint, the rusty iron work, the damaged rigging, the rotten steering-gear, and the filthy cabins, fully justified the warnings of our friends against accepting a passage in them, even if accompanied by a handsome remuneration. One of them had its living freight on board, and we were witnesses to the astonishment and indignation with which the dumb creatures, after their long confinement, found themselves suddenly dropped into the water and compelled to swim ashore for their lives. To style a ship like this “a horrid hole,” is not really disrespectful. To say that as an abode for human beings, it is a disgrace to civilisation, is mild and moderate language compared with the facts. The bullock trade must be the Botany Bay or the Cayenne of the shipping world; and on the vessels employed in it no Committee of inquiry need sit long.

In a bullocker we must go: but happily the vessel about to sail was one of the safest of her class; and the owners and officers endeavoured to make us comfortable. Had they had time to paint the saloon and cabin, they would probably have been of some definite colour: at all events the boy assured us that he had washed them out; but over their condition in general, and that of the cabin-table in particular, let us draw the veil of silence. We managed well, as Englishmen can do anywhere. Captain Gilman was kindness itself; a smart sailor, a genial companion, and a most attentive nurse to the sick, he did his best to render our passage safe and pleasant. With a fair wind and moderate sea, the little barque sped on her way over the six hundred miles of water; and sixty-nine hours after leaving Port Louis, on Thursday, August 14th, we anchored behind the reef at Tamatave.

We received a hearty welcome from both English and native friends, who had heard of our coming, and were soon provided with a comfortable home. The native officers in charge of the Custom-House were most courteous and attentive on the subject of our baggage; and early on the following day it was cleared and under our command. Within twenty-four hours, more than half of it, not required for our own journey, was on its way to the capital; and we had leisure to attend to a few matters of importance, which it was well for us to examine. For this promptitude we were largely indebted to the agents of the Society, Messrs. Procter & Co., who assisted us in every way.

Much has been written about Tamatave, almost the only safe and sheltered port on the east coast of Madagascar. Every traveller describes it: it is the place at which he receives his first impressions, and makes his first acquaintance with the Malagasy people. I will therefore pass over it briefly, as we saw in it nothing new.

Tamatave is built on a long spit of sand, four hundred yards wide, which joins the main land to a fine coral reef off the coast. The reef is long and massive; and the wild sea, driven onward by the strong trade winds, was bursting over it in great creamy waves and clouds of spray. In the centre of the reef is a somewhat narrow opening, which would render entrance and exit difficult, were it not that shifts of wind and breezes from the land, as well as from the sea, give friendly assistance to those who bring their vessels to the port. Once in, a ship finds a complete shelter in the curved bay which the reef and the sand combine to form. The town presents to the eye nothing striking or beautiful. Approaching it from the sea, a long line of misty hills is seen in the background, throwing forward many spurs and lower ridges into the narrow plain. The shore is fringed with wood and brush, conspicuous in which are seen a few mangoe trees and some fine specimens of the pandanus; while along the line the feathery fronds of the cocoanut tree stand clear against the sky.

The town contains six hundred houses, and about three thousand people. It is nearly square in shape, with its south end rounded by the beach: the streets run parallel to the sea. The common houses of the people are mean and frail, formed from light wood or bamboo; and thatched and panelled with the stalks, bark, and leaves of the traveller’s tree, which is abundant in the neighbouring hills. The principal street is near the shore, and has on both sides, but especially on the east, the houses of English and French residents, including the handsome new house of Mr. Pakenham, the English Consul. The gardens (or “compounds,” as they are termed in India) of these houses are large; and several of them extend to the sea. At the north end of the town, beyond a sandy plain covered with pandanus trees, is the Battery or native fort. It consists of a double wall and stockade, with low arched gateways, and encloses the house of the Governor and dwellings of some kind for the officers and garrison around him. The place is in a most dilapidated condition; and should the garrison ever be besieged, it is to be hoped they will fire no guns in their defence, since the firing will bring down the entire place about their ears. The native town has no shops. Indeed, shops are an institution unknown in Madagascar. In Tamatave as elsewhere, an open market is held, which contains a number of stalls or benches made of clay. On these are laid the various articles exposed for sale. The food sold in the market includes rice of several kinds, manioc root (a coarse tapioca, very nourishing, and a favourite food with every one); potatoes; and pieces of beef. The fruits were coarse but plentiful, including cocoa-nuts, pine-apples, plantains and bananas, melons and oranges. The cattle are a frisky race, and as a rule, appear to enjoy the excitement of a market-day as much as the population. Sanitation is unknown in Madagascar; and mud-pools, heaps of decaying leaves, and refuse generally, rotting in the heated air, have much to do with the fevers and other diseases which are so abundant among the people of the coast districts.

We spent four pleasant days in Tamatave. We paid our respects to the Governor, Rainifiringa, and received a hearty welcome from him and his officers. He speaks English tolerably well, and talked to us much about his visit to England in 1864, when he was sent as envoy to explain the views of his Government respecting the English and French treaties. He invited us to dine with him on the following day, when we met several members of his family, and spent a most agreeable afternoon. We visited also the English Consul, Mr. Pakenham, and had much interesting conversation with him on matters connected with the progress of the island. On every hand, we met with courtesy and kindness. The French Vice-Consul kindly provided us with a house for ourselves and our numerous packages. And the twenty Hindu and Parsi traders, who have found their way from India, were glad to welcome one who could talk to them in their own tongue about the home and land which they long to see again. Special presents were sent to us both from the Churches of Tamatave, and from the Governor, of geese and turkeys, fowls and eggs, as provisions for our stay.

Our most pleasant day in Tamatave was the Sunday, when, for the first time, we worshipped with the native Churches, of which we had heard so much, and to which Christian people in England are bound by so many ties. At eight o’clock we all went to the large church inside the battery, called Ambátomásina. It was a simple building of posts, panelled and roofed with leaves and stalks of the traveller’s tree; the roof was open, and the walls were lined with fine mats. We joined the Governor and the pastor, Andriantian, outside the church, and were invited to sit at the upper end. We found some five hundred people assembled. The women were seated on the floor to the right, and in the immediate centre; the men were on the left, and in the centre far away. A raised platform was provided for the preachers, on which stood a table, covered with a white cloth, and holding the Bible and hymn-book. There was also a white canopy above.

The form of worship followed by the Malagasy Churches connected with the London Missionary Society, resembles that which prevails among the Congregationalists, Presbyterians, and Wesleyans in England and America. It is based upon free preaching and free prayer. But the form is not identical with that of any one of these denominations; the singing, reading, prayer, and preaching are so varied in their order and extent, as to make it differ from all three. The form is Malagasy; it has become national and universal, and the people are much attached to it.

The first hour of the service, from eight to nine, was spent chiefly in singing hymns. In their tunes we recognised many old English friends, lengthened, shortened, twisted, and interpolated with grace notes, which rendered their identity somewhat doubtful. “Vesper” was one of these. And now we heard, for the first time, a hymn which is more popular than any other among the Christians of Madagascar. It stands No. 46 in the usual hymn-book. It was the composition of the late Rev. R. G. Hartley, and dwells in happy terms and in most musical rhythm upon the great theme of Jesus, the good Shepherd. The measure is anapestic; and when Mr. Richardson happily married it to a lively English tune, “Hail to the brightness,” &c., it so perfectly hit the Malagasy ear and Malagasy taste, that it went through the entire range of the Malagasy Churches in a few weeks. The people sing with great taste and feeling; their voices are sweet and clear, and the whole tone of their music is so plaintive and full of tenderness, that on this, as on many other occasions, it brought tears into my eyes. Even an English reader can discern the music of the following lines. The words are pronounced like Italian,—

These hymns concluded, one of the officers read the Scriptures, and offered prayer. After another hymn, I gave them an address, which was interpreted by the Governor. Mr. Pillans followed in the same way. After another hymn and prayer, the pastor, Andriantian, delivered an earnest address, and concluded the service in the usual way. In the afternoon, we attended the service in the other chapel of Tamatave, and were kindly assisted by Mr. Samuel Procter.

The two congregations in Tamatave number eight hundred persons, and are composed, to a large extent, of the Hova families, which have come from the interior of the island on public duty. They have able pastors and preachers among them, and they are bound by many ties to the Christian Churches of Imerina. There are eighteen other congregations (of smaller size) in the low country, or at the road stations in the forest, and the whole include more than two thousand persons, young and old. During our stay in Tamatave, the two Churches, through their pastors, pressed earnestly upon us and on the Directors of the society, a request that they might have an English missionary. They need help: the smaller congregations need it even more than the larger; the station is an important one. The local population of Betsimasáraka have scarcely been touched by the gospel, have scarcely sent a child to school. Nevertheless, mere outposts cannot be conveniently supplied with English missionaries until the main positions have been occupied. The Madagascar Mission must be studied and planted as a whole. If ultimately it be decided that no English missionary can be spared, the Churches in the capital ought to give to Tamatave one of the best pastors at their command.

There is a special reason calling for the exercise of the best moral and religious influences upon the population of these sea-board towns, the fearful prevalence of drink. When the trade was made free by the half-mad king who ruled in Madagascar twelve years ago, and all custom-house duties were abolished, Mauritius rum was poured into the low country in large quantities, and the natives acquired a liking for it. Mr. Ellis describes some terrible scenes which he saw or heard of. Under Queen Rásohérina, the usual duty of ten per cent. was re-imposed, and it is continued under the present queen; but, under such a light duty, the trade flourishes. One English firm in the Mauritius imports into Madagascar thousands of barrels of the hateful stuff every year, and their stores are full of them. We saw the rum-barrels lying in dozens on the beach, and saw them rolled along the chief street of Tamatave at all hours of the day. In the stores of the petty Creole traders, and even in the Hindu houses, the barrel stood on tap. As a consequence, scenes of rioting, degradation, and drunkenness are common; and all the towns along the coast are infected by the same temptations, and the same evil example. When will the strong races of England and America learn that to debauch and ruin these young nations is a crime against humanity: that to place these strong temptations before ignorant, uncivilised tribes, with whom it is impossible to comprehend and forecast their dire consequences, is to ensure for them an immediate degradation, and to close the door against the future entrance of truth, and light, and virtue?

The Hova government of Madagascar disapprove the importation, and would gladly place it under heavy restrictions, if not stop it altogether; but their hold over the coast tribes is limited, and they fear a collision with the French on the subject. But one thing they did for several years, and, I believe, they do it still. As with cloth and Manchester goods, so with these rum barrels,—the duty is paid in kind. Every tenth barrel landed is handed over to the Custom-house, but the authorities will not handle the evil thing; they will not commute it for a money payment, and so the rum is poured upon the sands. I call that noble. While the civilised Englishman pours his flood of drink into the country, the simple, inexperienced native prince stands silently by, unable to resist, but resolutely refusing to soil his hands with the unhallowed gain. Ought not Christian Churches and Christian governments to help them in their difficulties? At the least, they should be empowered to impose repressive duties. Better would it be if spirits of all kinds were prohibited altogether. There are classes in the world for whom a Maine Law is just the right thing. Parents impose a Maine Law upon their children while under tutelage; why should not the simple tribes of the earth,—the Indian, the Tahitian, the Malagasy, while they remain simple,—be protected by the great nations from the dangers into which the love of drink must surely lead them?

Tamatave is the principal seat of the export trade of Madagascar. That trade is by no means great, though it is steadily on the increase. The trade in bullocks has always been considerable, since it was re-opened in 1854. In recent years it is in hides, bees’-wax, india-rubber, gum, tallow, and oil seeds that the increase has taken place. Many of these articles are brought from the interior; and the wages paid to bearers have, in consequence, greatly risen during the last four years. Large numbers of natives are employed in the forests collecting these articles for the English and American traders. A portion of the trade goes to England and America direct, but the greater part passes through the Mauritius. And it is because the bullocks form so large an item in the traffic, and large vessels are available a short distance off, to which other articles may be transferred, that the export trade clings so firmly to Tamatave on the east coast, and so many difficulties are found in re-opening the old line of export on the north-west of Madagascar at Mojangá. The native produce is paid for in Manchester goods,—“lambas” made in Lancashire looms, in crockery, pottery, iron vessels, knives, and tools. A part is paid for in rum. For another portion there is a large annual import of the French and Belgian five-franc pieces, which form the current “dollar” of the country. In 1863-4, the entire export and import trade amounted together to L. 100,000. In 1873 it stood thus—

East Coast of Madagascar, its Character and Population—Supplies needed by a Traveller to the Capital—Our Journey—Inland Lagoons—Park-like Scenery—Andevoranto—Ascend the Iharoka—“See the conquering Hero comes”—The Pass of Tániakóva—The Sorrows of the old Slave-system—System of our Journey—The great Ridge west of Befórona—Scenery of the Forest—The Plain of Ankay—The great Ridge of Angavo and its Forest—The Eastern Valleys of Imerina—Our Arrival and Reception—Population of the East Coast scanty—First Visits—The City empty—Why—Description of Antananarivo—Origin, Name, and Growth of the City—Interest of the Native Churches in our Visit.