Thirty years in Madagascar

by Thomas T. Matthews

As I have already said, the war in the south of the island, and the visit of the queen and court to the Bètsilèo country, greatly affected the attendance at church for a time; but on Her Majesty’s return to the capital the tide turned, and the churches were soon as full as ever. Immoralities also declined; we had fewer scandals and fewer cases of church discipline than we had ever had. A Christian public opinion gradually grew in the district; sin began to hide its head, and people to become ashamed of what they had formerly gloried in. As the result of God’s blessing on our efforts to spread the Gospel, real religion took root in the hearts of our people. Several who had been suspended from church fellowship, under the influence of the Spirit of God professed sincere sorrow for their sin, and showed great anxiety to be received back into the church, and to be numbered again among God’s people.

One man in particular, who had fallen into sin, and that too in spite of all our warnings and advice, was brought to repentance by repeated strokes of affliction, and the death of one dear one after another, and of his companions in sin. For a time he only rebelled more and more beneath the rod, but at last he came to himself and said: ‘Well, it’s no use going on like this; for this is God dealing with me for my sins, and there is nothing to be gained by going on fighting against God, and the white man’s advice.’ He came to us and professed sincere penitence, and was received back into church fellowship, a sadder and a wiser man.

We got out the first edition of the Malagasy Bible, at the cost of one shilling, in 1873; and the whole consignment of 6,000 copies was sold in six weeks, and 10,000 could have been sold, had they been there. There were many most touching incidents connected with the sale of those Bibles; but it would take up too much space to tell more than one.

A man went to one of our missionaries one day, and asked for a Bible on credit, as he was afraid the Bibles would be all gone before he could get a shilling, promising to pay for it the following Friday. My friend said, ‘No, I can’t give credit, bring the shilling and you shall have the Bible.’ The man went away, looking sad; but he returned after a little, bringing a shilling and demanded a Bible. He was asked, ‘Why did you want a Bible on credit, when you had a shilling to buy one?’ ‘I had not a shilling, sir,’ he replied. ‘Where then did you get this shilling?’ he was asked. ‘I went to the market,’ he answered, ‘and sold my garment, and for it I got a shilling!’

Our general Bible-class at Fìhàonana on Sabbath afternoon for old and young, instead of the afternoon service, proved a great success. Of course we had a deal of hymn-singing, for a number of new hymns had been published, set to very lively tunes—hymns and tunes were mostly adaptations from Messrs. Moody and Sankey’s book—and that of itself was a great source of attraction. But we had also Bible reading, exposition, and catechizing, and I believe that much of the more intelligent attention I began to get on the Sabbaths, when I preached at Fìhàonana, was due to the teaching and catechizing of the Sabbath afternoon class.

Our people at Fìhàonana were very excited over the building of our model station church—the Martyr Memorial Church, at the home of the martyrs. The old persecuting queen—Rànavàlona I—made a great mistake for us when she took the Christian converts from Vònizòngo, and made martyrs of them in the capital. If she had only been content to make martyrs of all of them—as she did of some of them—at their own native villages, we should have got the memorial churches for them in Vònizòngo, instead of their being erected in the capital for congregations that had no connexion whatsoever with the martyrs. Some of them were not formed until after the reopening of the mission in 1862. They got these fine memorial churches, built of block granite, without a penny of cost, while the district from which the martyrs came had to get its own as best it could. Still, after a deal of work and effort we got a church built, which was a comfort to the community, an ornament to the countryside, and, above all, worthy of the home of the martyrs. This repaid us for all our toil and sacrifice.

I had some of my local preachers, deacons, and members taught bricklaying, while our manse was being built, so that we might be independent of the bricklayers of the capital for the building of our new church, when we were able to have one. They gladly and generously built the walls for one-fourth of the regular pay for bricklaying, to keep down the cost of building. The congregation at Fìhàonana raised £20, equivalent to £100 to them, while the churches of the district raised £3 2s. 6d., equivalent to £15 12s. 6d., to help us. These may seem small sums, but they were really large for the people to raise at that time. The members and adherents at Fìhàonana made 100,000 bricks for nothing.

We had no forced labour, such as there was at the building of some other station churches, under the sway of the ‘Palace Church Evangelists.’ We had agreed not to ask the old chief to help us, as we knew that it would only mean his calling his clansmen, and setting them and their slaves to making bricks for us. We were determined we should not have that, and so we left all to the voluntary efforts of those really interested in the church. The old chief did not like our way of getting the church built, as it gave him no prominent place in the work, as chief, and he accordingly took umbrage, and stood aside for a time; but when he saw that the work went on without him, he came forward and made offer of his services, and really did a good deal to help us, poor old man. I say ‘poor old man,’ because I felt for him. He was a member of the church, he was so before we knew him; but I fear he was not a member of Christ. Yet he knew the truth, and I believe it often troubled him, and he dared not do the things he had formerly done. He was a son of the first convert to Christianity in Vònizòngo, and hence was a brother of Ràmitràha the martyr. He had been a pupil of the first missionaries, along with Razàka, but had lapsed and drifted.

Our work was interrupted for a time, first, by the protracted committee meetings, and the missionary conference at the capital, from which we did not return until the middle of February, and then, by the serious amount of affliction through which we were called upon to pass. My wife and children were ill together for about three months; she so seriously ill, that she was brought to the brink of the grave; but God in His goodness spared her to her children and me. The anxieties, and the nursing, proved too much for me, weakened as I then was by my attempts to overtake all the work of the two districts, which had been committed to my care, and so, just as they recovered I was laid aside for a time from full work. While unfit for full duty, I dashed off some 800 pages of letters to friends at home, asking for help for the building of our new church, and by that means was able to raise £150!

On our return to our station, I began regular classes for pastors and local preachers at four centres—two in the northern portion of the district, and two in the southern. To these I went once a fortnight, going to one north and one south every week. My wife was able to go with me to these centres, and have sewing-classes with the women and girls. Travelling as I now did on horseback, she was able to have my former bearers. At all the four centres she had large and most interesting classes, of about fifty women and girls. She had also her sewing-class at Fìhàonana twice a week. We found, however, that we had in our zeal attempted too much. My wife suffered for it afterwards. A journey of twelve miles twice a week under a tropical sun—trying even in the cold season—in addition to domestic duties, and all the other work of the week at a mission station, proved too much for her, and no wonder.