The first day we only traveled seven miles, and passed the night at Antandroroko, the estate of Mademoiselle Julie’s younger son. Here things looked very differently from the appearance they had presented on the day when I came alone. I am far from being vain enough to suppose that I should have been received like Mr. Lambert, the powerful friend of the queen; but the difference need not have been quite so glaring. To-day every thing was done in European style, and the table was hardly large enough to hold the dishes piled together upon it.
But so it is all the world over—rich people find friendly faces every where, and are received with every mark of good-will and respect; but when the poorer guest arrives, the mask is taken off; and whoever travels as I do, gets to know human nature as it is, and the verdict can very seldom be given in its favor. How different from my description of this country would an account be from the pen of Mr. Lambert! What encomiums might he not pass on the hospitality of the people who often received me with frigid, uncourteous welcome! I fancy it was only to the consideration with which Mr. Lambert treated me that I owed the boon of a musquito-net, which was actually provided for my bed on this occasion.
May 20th. To-day we traveled the whole day long on lakes and rivers. The largest of the former was the Nosive Lake, which is about eleven miles long by five broad. The Nossmasay and Rassaby are almost of equal extent. As we approached a small island in the last of these lakes, our boat’s company suddenly began to yell and execrate with all their might. I thought some accident had happened, but Mr. Marius gave me the following explanation of the affair:
Many years ago a marvel of female beauty is said to have dwelt near this lake, but her life was the reverse of virtuous. This Messalina of Madagascar attained great fame, and considered herself greatly flattered thereby. She died young, and, in order to keep her memory green in future days, she besought her numerous admirers, on her death-bed, that she might be buried on this little island, and furthermore expressed a wish that all who passed by should roar and swear as loudly as they could, in remembrance of her.
Her admirers complied with her wish, and gradually the custom became universal.
The other lakes which we had to traverse were very small, and so were the rivers. A great loss of time was occasioned by the fact that very few of these silent highways communicated with one another. Between almost every lake and stream and its neighbor lay a little tract of dry land, from a hundred to a thousand paces in length, so that our boats were continually being unloaded and carried over. This was a hard day’s work for our people; but, at any rate, they had the satisfaction of being well fed on their journey. Mr. Lambert had quite a paternal care for their comfort, and there was always fresh meat and rice in abundance.
Our way lay near the sea-coast, and we constantly heard the sound of the breakers. The land was flat and monotonous, but the rich vegetation gave it a cheerful appearance; in our progress we noticed some very flourishing plantations, and water-palms in abundance.
Our quarters for the night were fixed in the village of Vovong, in a house belonging to the government. On the way from Tamatavé to the capital there are houses of this description in many villages, and these houses are open to all travelers. The interior is spread with clean mats, which the inhabitants are bound to furnish; they are also responsible for the repairing the houses, and keeping them in proper condition.
May 21. To-day our journey was again on the waters: first, a short distance on the River Monsa; then our bearers had to carry the boat for at least half a mile, after which we embarked again on a little stream, very narrow, and so overshadowed by small trees, bushes, and aquatic plants that we could often scarcely force the boat through. This journey reminded me of similar trips in Singapore and Borneo, with this difference, that in the latter places our way lay through virgin forests of gigantic trees. After a few miles we came to a broader stream, of peculiarly transparent and limpid water, in which every object was reflected with a clearness and brilliancy I had never before seen.
In these lower lands, and, with few exceptions, along the whole coast of Madagascar, the climate is very unhealthy, and dangerous fevers are prevalent. The chief reason for this probably is, that the land lies deep, and the rivers are choked up with sand at their mouths. In the rainy season the water pours unchecked over the plains, forming swamps and morasses, the exhalations from which, in the hot months from November till the end of April, produce a malignant miasma. Even the natives who live in the healthy districts, in the interior of the island, are just as liable to its effects as the Europeans themselves, when they come to the unhealthy lowlands in the hot season. Of the Europeans, I saw a few in Tamatavé who were attacked every summer by the fever, though they had lived there for three or four years.