| Feet. | |
| Mánambónináhitra | 150 |
| Ránomafána | 145 |
| Ambátoerána | 595 |
| Ampásimbé | 1055 |
| Crest of Ridge | 2030 |
| Mározévo | 1385 |
| Béfórona | 1650 |
| Anévo | 2920 |
| Top of this Terrace, Ambóasáry | 3470 |
| ’Alamazáotra | 3130 |
| Ampásimfótsy | 2830 |
| Lip of the Ridge, east of Ankáy | 3460 |
| Móramánga, and Plain of Ankáy | 3100 |
| Ambódinangávo | 3000 |
| Angávo Pass | 4210 |
| Do. Inner Cliff, and Ankéramadinika | 4620 |
| Ambátovóry | 4770 |
Antanánarivo.
| Royal Palace | 4790 |
| Fáravóhitra | 4540 |
| Análakély | 4280 |
| Imáhamásina | 4200 |
| Plain of Imerina | 4000 |
Looking back upon this first experience of the country and people of Madagascar, I was profoundly impressed with the emptiness of the land. And the more I have thought the matter over, and the more I have seen of the island, the more thoroughly has that first impression been confirmed. There were people, indeed, in the capital and around it; there was nothing to gainsay here, or since we had passed into Imerina. But Ankay, how thinly peopled! While from Moramanga eastward, there are almost no villages at all, except the stopping-stations, till within twenty miles of the sea. The Betsimisāraka province between the hills and the sea we saw to be very narrow in itself, and the large villages to be very few. The story of Radáma’s conquest implies the same thing; the Hova contests have been few and easy; and no places were the scene of conflict but those whose names are well known in our own day. All travellers north and south of Tamatave and Andevoránto say the same. Along the east coast as far south as Mánanzára, there are now fourteen towns, each containing one hundred houses or more. The total number of houses in these towns amount to 2,400; which should contain a population of 12,000 people. The little villages dot the country; but they do not go far inland, and their inhabitants are few. This is but natural in a country where a cluster of a hundred houses is called a town. After careful consideration I doubt whether the entire population of the east coast from Diego Bay to Cape St. Mary’s, exceeds 150,000 people. And the majority of these are scattered in handfuls over the country, so that we can scarcely get at them. Our native friends in Tamatave, when pleading with us for an English missionary, showed us by facts and figures, that in the twenty congregations on the coast connecting themselves with the Christians of Imerina, there were altogether only two thousand people, and of these there are eight hundred in Tamatave.
We spent eleven days in the capital before travelling further, and found a multitude of things to interest us. I may not stop to describe them. I cannot dwell upon our first service in the Memorial Church at Ambátonakánga; on the prayer meetings held in the houses of the missionaries; on the numerous visitors, English and native, who called to see us; on our visits to various parts of the city,—the churches, the palace, the market, the places where the martyrs fell; the places where the earliest labours of the mission were carried on; or on our first sight of the schools maintained at the present time. We had often read of these things; it was now most pleasant to see them. I had often endeavoured to picture them to my mind, but I now found misapprehensions to correct, and a multitude of details to fill in. In most things the city came up to my expectations; in certain respects it fell short of them.
One thing was quite unexpected by us both. We found that the city was empty, and that the activity and stir we looked for in the capital of the country had disappeared. Two military expeditions had left the capital in June for the Sakaláva districts, below the hills on the south-west, in order to punish a series of cattle robberies which had been for some time perpetrated by the tribes in that quarter. They were headed by two of the chief officers of the government, the chief Secretary of State and his son; some four thousand five hundred soldiers had accompanied them, drawn from all parts of the country, as also a numerous body of aides-de-camp and personal followers usually resident in the city. Besides sending these expeditions against her enemies, the Queen had gone with a larger body of her people on a friendly visit to the Betsileo Province. She was accompanied by several thousand soldiers, and by a large number of the principal members of the Government, who had taken with them their children and the family servants and slaves. There were at least sixteen thousand people in the camp; some thought that there were more. The result was that the city seemed empty; the churches were empty; half the preachers were drawn off from the congregations in the province; the schoolmasters had left their schools; the best children were absent with their parents. Society was greatly disorganised. Ordinary pursuits were interrupted; artisans, workmen, labourers had disappeared; thousands of bearers were following the camp; and Imérina generally was taking holiday.
In its usual condition Antananarivo is a large place. There is no place like it in the island. Dr. Davidson, who has carefully looked into the matter, thinks that it contains a population of seventy or eighty thousand persons. My experience of Indian cities long since led me to reckon that a compact native town, a mile square, contains about eighty thousand inhabitants. Now the dwellings of Antananarivo, carefully examined, will be found to cover that amount of space, and I think with Dr. Davidson that that is the number of the population. The city is built upon a high and prominent hill, having three elevated points. The hill is nearly two miles long, but it does not stand perfectly alone. Its eastern side is a curved line, but on the west it has two projecting hills, firmly attached by connecting ridges. Between these projections is the plain of Imáhamásina, “the place of consecration,” where at times the sovereigns of Imerina have been crowned. On the northern projection is the great suburb of Isotry, and the Zoma market-place. The northern continuation of the city-hill proper is the suburb of Faravohitra; and between these two, in the valley below, are the plain and village of Análakely. At the point where the two sides of the valley meet, and the suburban hill joins the main hill, is Ambátonakánga. Sloping upwards to the main hill is a rocky road, Ambátovináky, on the side of which is the Norwegian Church, and at the top of which is Imarivolanitra, “the town in the sky.” Passing this, the traveller comes to the open plain of Andohalo, a piece of level ground on the crest of the hill, where the laws are usually promulgated. Farther still, he reaches the highest point of the city, on which, in a most commanding position, and visible to the whole country, stands the rova or palace. At the southern end of the hill is Ambohipotsy, “white town,” so named from the white cliffs with which the suburb terminates. Viewed from the east, the whole side of this lofty hill is seen to be studded with houses on a series of platforms or terraces cut into the hill-side. In the centre and at the south end, they are packed closely together; toward the north, on the slope of Faravohitra they are less numerous and regular. On its west side Ambohipotsy is very crowded, and the hill is not only very steep, but is covered with enormous boulders. On the slope at Andohalo the houses are also closely set; and between these two places are the steep cliffs of Ampamarínana, a hundred and fifty feet high, over which the martyrs were thrown. To me the most regular and picturesque portion of the city is the west face of the Faravohitra hill, which overhangs the valley and plain of Análakely. It is well planted with trees, amongst which the Cape lilacs are numerous. Conspicuous on the crest of the hill is the Memorial Church, while farther south is a line of neat dwelling-houses, belonging to the Friends’ Mission.
The name of the city is said by Mr. Ellis to mean “the thousand towns,” and to indicate the sense of importance attached by patriotic Malagasy to the size and beauty of their capital. But this is a mistake. Native gentlemen explain its meaning thus: When the founder of the city in its present form took possession of the hill, with a view to erect upon it the capital of his new and wider kingdom, he brought from Alasora, his previous residence, a large body of selected soldiers and colonists, whom he settled on the west side of the hill; and he called his capital “the town of the thousand.” This practice of artificially building up cities by a transferred population has been common in the East, and the Malagasy word arívo, “thousand,” is connected with it. Thus the principal town or capital of Imámo is called Arívonimámo. The capital of tha district south of the Ankárat mountains is called Arívo, though known generally by the name of Betafo. The chief town of one of the Ibára tribes is Benarivo. At the outset the town of Antananarivo was of moderate size. But as the kingdom grew, and under Impoinimerina and his son Radáma attained strength and importance, the number of officers increased, their immediate dependants multiplied, the army became more numerous, and all the trades connected with an active population naturally extended with them. Large portions of the hill, however, remained unoccupied; and it is during the last twelve years, with the new life which has been infused into the kingdom, that the open spaces have rapidly been filled. Ten years ago, Faravohitra was a bare and empty suburb; it is now being rapidly covered with houses; and large villages a mile beyond it, like Ankádifótsy and Manjákaráy, have grown populous likewise.
I need not pause here to describe the houses of the Malagasy or their habits and condition generally. We saw little of these things during the few days of our first visit; while they became familiar to us at a later period when the city was once more full, and we spent several months among its people. We now took a general view of things, and especially visited those places and buildings which are peculiarly identified with the religious history and progress of the people. Living in the midst of the English community, it was a great pleasure to make close acquaintance with our missionary brethren, in their homes as well as in their work; to hear of their plans, to join in worship with their congregations, and visit their schools.
Our intercourse with the native brethren also was very pleasant. Many of the principal pastors were absent: but others who remained manifested a sincere interest in our visit, and expressed in warm terms their affection to the Society, from whose early labours in the island they had obtained their first knowledge of Christian truth. Malagasy affection always takes a practical and hospitable form. Both at Tamatave and at the stopping-stations on our way up-country, the churches and the authorities had offered us little presents of fowls, turkeys, eggs, and rice, suitable for travellers on a journey. Here also they did the same, and in token of their union the churches joined together and made their gift substantial. The missionaries were of opinion, from the manner in which our visit was being regarded by our converts, that it would be productive of benefits of many kinds. Before we left the island, that opinion was amply justified. It was plain that great good had been done by it. In a quiet, unostentatious way it was seen that the affection of the Malagasy churches for their English friends “over the sea,” and their confidence in their help, had grown very strong; and that they were resolved to maintain an unwavering attachment to those who, in the dark days had faithfully stood by them.