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,—
“Jéso mpamónjy, mpiándry tokóa,
Ampiveréno hanárak ’Anáo.
Ondry mania, manáry ny sóa,
’Aza avéla hiál ’amináo.
“Varivaríana, sálasaláina,