Thirty years in Madagascar

by Thomas T. Matthews

In the meantime, when the order for Her Majesty’s banishment was made known to the members of her household, there was great consternation; but some of them recognized the inevitable, kept their heads, and began making preparations for the journey. As the hour fixed for departure drew near, and the queen still remained obdurate and refused to move, the officer informed her that, ready or not ready, when the hour came she would be put into her palanquin; and this was what had to be done.

Rànavàlona III was committed to the care of another officer and carried away into exile. Thus the queen was hurried out of her capital during the darkness of midnight to a life of exile. And why? What had she done to deserve such treatment? Nothing whatever; absolutely nothing, except that she was the lawful sovereign of an island, which the French coveted and determined to appropriate. For notwithstanding that it was in a great measure through her own folly that her kingdom was lost (in following traitorous advice, and refusing to follow the counsel of her husband, the prime minister, or to give him a free hand); yet she had a passionate love for her fatherland, as most Malagasy have, and would rather have lived in poverty and obscurity there, than anywhere else in the world. Poor queen! hers has been a hard fate. Like Pomare, the late Queen of Tahiti, she was robbed of her lovely island home, treated as a captive, and will in all likelihood die an exile.

The murder of Pasteurs Escande and Minault was a great shock both to the European and the native communities. Pasteur Escande had been nine months in the capital with us, and had greatly endeared himself to all. Pasteur Minault had not been six weeks in the island. He had been appointed local president of the Paris Mission in Fianàrantsòa in the Bètsilèo country, and Pasteur Escande was accompanying him south to see the mission there, and get him properly settled. After this M. Escande was to return to France, and to his own work in Senegal; for he had only come out to Madagascar as a temporary substitute. He had seen and known more than any other European of the persecution of the Protestants at the hands of the Jesuits, knew more about the wholesale shooting of Protestant pastors than any one else, and had saved more from being shot than all the rest of the community. He was about to return to France, and intended to make known there what had been going on. It looks as though some were determined to prevent this at any cost.

THE LAST QUEEN OF MADAGASCAR.

It was reported in Europe at the time, that Pasteurs Escande and Minault had been murdered by fàhavàlo (enemies), and this was quite true. But the enemies were not the so-called rebels, or brigands, ordinary fàhavàlo. Among the seven men tried, found guilty, and shot for this murder, there were only two known bad characters, who had been among those who had murdered the Johnsons. The other five were Malagasy officials—a village governor, his secretary, a village schoolmaster, and two other officials. The schoolmaster had actually received them into his hut in the village, had spread clean mats for them, had procured white rice for them, and had then gone off to inform the others, who were in waiting a little south of the village, of their arrival. In the European community there was little doubt as to who compassed their removal, and among the natives there was none whatever. Strange to say, some of the Malagasy knew that certain Europeans were to be killed that day, although few probably knew who they were. That some of them did know is perfectly certain.

The two pasteurs were murdered on a Friday afternoon, at a place some sixty miles from Antanànarìvo. The news did not reach the capital till the Sabbath morning. On the Friday afternoon, about six o’clock, a native called at the house of Dr. B., and asked Miss A., who was in charge of it, if Dr. and Mrs. B. were among the Europeans that were to be killed that day. Miss A. was horrified at the question; asked the man what Europeans were to be killed, and where. But he could not tell; he only knew from others that there were Europeans to be killed somewhere to the south that day, and, knowing that Dr. and Mrs. B. had gone south, he wanted to know if they were safe.

How did that man come to know that there were Europeans to be killed in the south that day? It was quite impossible that he could have heard of their murder an hour and a half after it took place, some sixty miles away. He himself belonged to the Norwegian Mission, and hence his anxiety to know if Dr. and Mrs. B. were safe. It was afterwards found out that he had relatives and friends who were factotums in another mission. A Jesuit priest near Betàfo told his people the Sabbath before that troublers were coming to that part of the country, but God would meet them and stop them! How did he know that, and why did he mention it?

After their murder Pasteurs Escande and Minault were blamed by the French état major for not having asked for an escort; but they did ask for one, and were informed that there was no need for one, as there were no fàhavàlo (rebels) in that part of the country. This indeed was quite true. It came out at the trial that the murderers had surrounded the hut in which the two pasteurs had slept the previous night, but as it was not known whether they had firearms, they were not attacked.

I had a long talk with Pasteur Escande’s horse-boy after their murder, and from what he told me I felt quite convinced that if either of them had possessed firearms, even if they had never used them, their lives would have been saved. He told me that they were fired at several times by the murderers with old flint-locks—old Malagasy government guns. They were such bad shots that they could not hit the horse even at a hundred yards! The bearers threw down Pasteur Minault’s palanquin at the first shot, and bolted, as they knew the Europeans had no firearms. The murderers drew nearer, and kept on firing. At last Pasteur Minault was hit and fell, and when these ruffians saw they had no firearms, they rushed on them and dispatched them with their knives. The horse-boy caught Pasteur Escande’s horse—he had dismounted when he saw his friend fall, and gone to his assistance—mounted, galloped off, and gave the alarm.