CHAPTER II.
FIRST EXPERIENCES OF MADAGASCAR AND ITS PEOPLE.
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.
CHAPTER II.
FIRST EXPERIENCES OF MADAGASCAR AND ITS PEOPLE.
The east coast of Madagascar, the first portion of the island usually seen by English and French travellers, possesses few attractions. It consists of an undulating plain, which is, in general, twenty miles broad. Along its western side the hills rise as a fine background to a very simple picture; first in long, low banks of clay, rounded and worn by streams; then in a mighty wall, covered with forest, which stretches away north and south as far as the eye can reach. Behind these noble hills, with their precipitous passes, lie the central provinces of the island, held by the ruling races, and by the largest portion of the population. These hills, and the ring of empty land which they bear upon their shoulders, are the defence of the interior tribes against foreign aggression. French colonists and adventurers of former generations tried in vain to hold forts upon the coast, and to establish a title to a permanent possession of some of its districts; but the lack of population, the constant fevers, and the consequent drain upon their own resources, rendered that hold feeble: and when at length the interior tribes had grown strong, and, under Radáma and his father, had become united under one authority, it was an easy task for them to march down to the east coast, and sweep away all opposition to the establishment of a single government, by which all the population should be headed and controlled.
The northern districts of the east coast beyond Tamatave are thinly peopled. Within twenty miles are the towns of Tintingy, Foule Point, and Fenoarivo, all of moderate size. In the fertile bottoms, abundance of rice is grown, and the cattle are numerous around the lower hills. Coal is said to exist near the head of Antongil Bay, though its extent and its quality are not known. Beyond this point the forest comes down to the coast; and north of 17° lat. S. there exist only forests, and a few good harbours. In the forest and beyond it, even on the east coast, all through Vohimáry, the population is Sakaláva, and has been derived from the west side of the island. The line of the east coast, from St. Mary’s southward, is very straight. As a rule, for three miles and more inland, it consists of a bed of sand, thrown up from the sea by the rough surf, and by the strong south-east winds; hence the absence of harbours, the open roadsteads, and the danger and delay which occur in communicating with the shore. On the other hand, the sandy deposit has closed the mouths of the numerous streams running from the hills, has caused the accumulation of water in pleasant lakes and lagoons, and has provided means for a system of inland navigation four hundred miles long, greatly surpassing in convenience and safety the coast transit on the open sea. Some day, the existing barriers to this navigation will be removed, the schemes of Radáma will be revived, and this fine line of inland canals will be rendered complete. The outlay required cannot be very great.
The traveller who would pass from the coast of Madagascar into the interior, in order to visit the capital, should be prepared for one thing,—that the conveniences and comforts of his journey must be provided by himself. He will find on the way no hotels, no furnished rooms for resting, eating, or sleeping; he will find no beds and no chairs, no crockery, no teapot, no knives and forks, no linen, and no spoons; he can buy neither tea, nor coffee, nor milk, neither salt nor sugar, neither butter nor bread; all these things he must provide for himself, and he had better purchase them in London before he starts. My colleague and I knew these facts beforehand; my correspondence with the missionaries had long rendered me familiar with the details and experiences of their many journeys; and to be forewarned was to be forearmed. We took with us, therefore, to Madagascar strong portable beds, with their bedding complete, portable chairs, a canteen, with plates and cups of enamelled iron, and spoons and knives that would not spoil by rough usage. We carried our tea and coffee, cocoa and sugar, our milk (in tins), and butter and bread (from Tamatave). We also had with us two small tents. We lightened our camp by sending forward our heavy baggage, and the stores not needed on the journey, under the charge of separate men. So provided, we enjoyed a very interesting and pleasant journey.
We left Tamatave on Tuesday, August 19, and for two days kept southward along the coast, with the purpose of reaching Andevoranto, where the road to the capital turns off into the interior. Our three palankeens required twenty-two men, and our baggage had twenty-six. I need not dwell at any length on our journey, for it has often been described by Mr. Ellis, by Mr. Sibree, and several of the missionaries; by Captain Oliver, and other military men. Its features have been carefully detailed, its stopping-stations are well known; and the experiences of one traveller, rough, serious, or amusing, have generally proved to be those of every other.
There is no road, properly so called, along the coast; we just followed a path, more or less broad, over the grassy glades, through patches of wood, or across the bare sand. Cocoanuts, plantains, a few palms, the fir, and the pandanus, were the usual trees,—familiar friends to me of years gone by,—but many trees were quite new. Passing through the village of Hivondro, we crossed the river, which here cuts through the sand-belt, and flows into the sea. Traversing fine, open glades, the bordering banks of which were beautifully curved, we came out upon the beach, and, for a long way, toiled over the dunes, or trode the firm, wet sand, upon which, with ceaseless roar, the long waves poured out their hissing foam. The coast was lined with the filao, a fir-tree closely resembling the casuarina, which grows well in Bengal, where it is known as the Sumatra fir. The filao is, however, native to Madagascar; its feathery hair hangs gracefully over its gnarled and knotted branches, and, with the strong winds, makes pleasant music. Fine clumps of these graceful trees continued all the way. Here and there the ferns appeared with strong fronds, and the leaves and branches of the pandanus were of great length.