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.