CHAPTER IV.
RETURN TO THE CAPITAL.
Return of the Queen and Military Expeditions—Thunderstorm—Public entry into the City and reception by the People—Uniforms and ceremonies on the occasion—Reason and Course of the War—Our Interview with the Queen—Address from the Directors—Rest in the City—Home at Análakély—Visits to the Institutions in the City—Worship with the Native Churches—Festival of the Fandróana—Visit to Country Missions in Imerina—Importance of these Stations—Vonizongo—The District: its spirited people: their high principle: many of them Martyrs—Position of an English Missionary in these Districts—Ambohimanga—Journey thither across country—A Royal City: its sturdy people: places around it—Ambátovóry: its beauty—Ambatomena and its People—Our return to Antanánarivo.
CHAPTER IV.
RETURN TO THE CAPITAL.
We had just reached the city, and were beginning to rest after our weary journey, when we were quickly followed by the Queen’s Camp, and by the two military expeditions which had been absent in the south-west. All parties were anxious to be safely housed before the rainy season set in. All had observed those premonitions of its approach, which in every country the unscientific seem to read so strangely. And all were anxious that full advantage should be taken of the earliest showers to dig and sow the rice fields. The camp arrived not a moment too soon. The tents had only just been pitched on the plain of Imáhamásina, on Tuesday, October 28th, when at sunset a violent thunderstorm broke over the city, with a perfect deluge of rain. The system of drainage in force in Antanánarivo is truly scientific, and is at the same time severely simple. The water seeks the lowest level, and is allowed to run just where it likes. All the outlets in the centre of the city on its west side converge on the Imáhamásina plain. The camp therefore not only received its fair share of the deluge from above, but became the bed of countless streams below. The entire place was speedily under water. Her Majesty the Queen was safely provided for on the top of the dining-table. But boxes, bedding, dresses, guns, cartridges, were speedily afloat, and the plight of the new arrivals was pitiable in the extreme.
On Thursday, October 30th, the Queen made her public entry into the city: and the people gave her a most hearty welcome. The Queen is exceedingly fond of her subjects, is truly interested in their welfare; and her people yield her a simple but sincere affection in return. The day was therefore a happy one on all sides: and the whole city shared in the joy. The place of reception was Andohálo, a triangular space, on the crest of the city-hill, a little north of the palace. Near the centre of the green is the sacred stone, on which the sovereign stands. The sides of the triangle slope upwards; are partially cut or worn into terraces; and are bordered and overlooked by high houses, gardens and walls. These places afford opportunity for a large number of spectators to dispose themselves conveniently for any public gathering, such as a coronation or the enactment of laws. They were therefore crowded to-day with people of all ages, especially by women and children: it is said that sixty thousand persons were present, and the coup d’œil was most effective. White predominated in the dresses worn: but blue and scarlet, mauve and purple, were present in abundance: and under a sky of brilliant blue, with a sheen in the clear, sharp air, to which our own sombre country is a stranger, the glancing of the light and the play of colour were truly beautiful.
The inner boundaries of the assembly were, as usual in other countries, kept by soldiers. The city guard were all in white and in native dress. But the troops who had accompanied the Queen to the Betsileo were in uniform. As at Fianárantsoa, there marched in not only the ordinary soldiers with Brown Bess as their weapon, but men with the red coats of the English infantry, with trousers having pink and white stripes, or with red knickerbockers; and the young men in rifle green, armed with the Snider rifle. The Armstrong gun, by many degrees the latest “infant” of the artillery community, was brought up with care: and was duly fired. The majority of the men are no doubt militia, and their weapons are ancient and rarely used. Good powder is precious in Madagascar: and the country people have immense faith in an empty gun. Nevertheless, one feels a deep regret that the Malagasy government should keep so many soldiers in arms: and should think so much of military matters.
To me the most interesting element in the military spectacle was this. There stood before us, in groups, at the upper end of the assembly, some five hundred men, wearing the uniforms of Field-Marshals, Generals, Colonels and Sergeant-Majors; in coats of cloth or green velvet, and even long-haired railway rug, covered with gold lace, with high braided collars, and in many instances with epaulets. The larger proportion of them were men in years, holding “honours” and still ranking as officers, though practically “on the retired list.” Some of the uniforms must have been imported in the days of Radáma, and some were of the pattern, both of coat and facings, which we see in Hogarth’s sketches of military life. These were “the ancient men” of the community, the cautious, conservative class, of settled habits, who are afraid of change, and whose influence acts as a powerful break upon those wiser men, who would wish to promote real improvements in the social and public life of the community. Their influence, we hear, has greatly diminished in recent years: the strength and prosperity which are manifestly springing from healthy changes have silenced their opposition; and it is quietly dying out.