TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Footnote anchors are denoted by [number], and the footnotes have been placed at the end of each chapter.
Some minor changes to the text are noted at the [end of the book.] These are indicated by a dashed blue underline.
Old Village Gateway with Circular Stone
The stone is levered into position closing the opening. A deep fosse or ditch surrounding the village completes its fortification. The man in front is carrying two packages secured to a pole in the usual manner of the country
A NATURALIST
IN MADAGASCAR
A Record of Observation Experiences and
Impressions made during a period of over Fifty Years’
Intimate Association with the Natives and Study of the
Animal & Vegetable Life of the Island
BY
JAMES SIBREE, F.R.G.S.
Membre de l’Academie Malgache
AUTHOR OF “THE GREAT AFRICAN ISLAND,” “MADAGASCAR ORNITHOLOGY,”
&c., &c., &c.
WITH 52 ILLUSTRATIONS & 3 MAPS
PHILADELPHIA
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
LONDON: SEELEY, SERVICE & CO. LTD.
1915
Dedicated
WITH MUCH AFFECTION TO
MY DEAR WIFE
MY CONSTANT COMPANION IN MADAGASCAR
AND FAITHFUL HELPER IN ALL
MY WORK FOR FORTY-
FOUR YEARS
PREFACE
THE title of this book may perhaps be considered by some as too ambitious, and may provoke comparison with others somewhat similar in name, but with whose distinguished authors I have no claim at all to compete.
I have no tales to tell of hair-breadth escapes from savage beasts, no shooting of “big game,” no stalking of elephant or rhinoceros, of “hippo” or giraffe. We have indeed no big game in Madagascar. The most dangerous sport in its woods is hunting the wild boar; the largest carnivore to be met with is the fierce little fòsa, and the crocodile is the most dangerous reptile.
But I ask the courteous reader to wander with me into the wonderful and mysterious forests, and to observe the gentle lemurs in their home, as they leap from tree to tree, or take refuge in the thickets of bamboo; to come out in the dusk and watch the aye-aye as he stealthily glides along the branches, obtaining his insect food under the bark of the trees; to listen to the song of numerous birds, and to note their habits and curious ways; to hear the legends and folk-tales in which the Malagasy have preserved the wisdom of their ancestors with regard to the feathered denizens of the woods and plains, and to admire the luxuriant vegetation of the forests, and the trees and plants, the ferns and flowers, and even the grasses, which are to be found in every part of the island.
I invite those who may read these pages to look with me at the little rodents and insect-eaters which abound in and near the woods; to mark the changing chameleons which are found here in such variety; to watch the insects which gambol in the sunshine, or hide in the long grass, or sport on the streams. If such unexciting pleasures as these can interest my readers, I can promise that there is in Madagascar enough and to spare to delight the eye and to charm the imagination.
I confess that I am one of those who take much more delight in silently watching the birds and their pretty ways in some quiet nook in the woods, than in shooting them to add a specimen to a museum; and that I feel somewhat of a pang in catching even a butterfly, and would much rather observe its lovely colours in life, as it unfolds them to the sunshine, than study it impaled on a pin in a cabinet. No doubt collections are necessary, but I have never cared to make them myself.
Nothing is here recorded but facts which have come under my own observation or as related by friends and others whose authority is unquestionable. And while my main object is to convey a vivid and true impression of the animal and vegetable life of Madagascar, I have also given many sketches of what is curious and interesting in the habits and customs of the Malagasy people, among whom I have travelled repeatedly, and with whom I have lived for many years. I have no pretensions to be a scientific naturalist or botanist, I have only been a careful observer of the beautiful and wonderful things that I have seen and I have constantly noted down what many others have observed, and have here included information which they have given in the following pages.
I have long wished that someone far more competent than myself would write a popular book upon the natural history and botany of this great island; but as I have not yet heard of any such, I venture with some diffidence to add this book to the large amount of literature already existing about Madagascar, but none of it exactly filling this place. For many years I edited, together with my late friend and colleague, the Rev. R. Baron, the numbers of The Antanànarìvo Annual, a publication which was “a record of information on the topography and natural productions of Madagascar, and the customs, traditions, language and religious beliefs of its people,” and for which I was always on the look-out for facts of all kinds bearing on the above-mentioned subjects. But as this magazine was not known to the general public, and was confined to a very limited circle of readers, I have not hesitated to draw freely on the contents of its twenty-four numbers, as I am confident that a great deal of the information there contained is worthy of a much wider circulation than it had in the pages of the Annual.
Finally, as preachers say, although this book is written by a missionary, it is not “a missionary book”; not, certainly, because I undervalue missionary work, in which, after nearly fifty years’ acquaintance with it, and taking an active part in it, I believe with all my heart and soul, but because that aspect of Madagascar has already been so fully treated. Books written by the Revs. W. Ellis, Dr Mullens, Mr Prout, Dr Matthews, Mr Houlder, myself and others, give all that is necessary to understand the wonderful history of Christianity in this island. Despite what globe-trotting critics may say, as well as colonists who seem to consider that all coloured peoples may be exploited for their own benefit, mission work, apart from its simply obeying the last commands of our Lord, is the great civilising, educational and benevolent influence in the world, deny it who can! But in this book I want to show that Madagascar is full of interest in other directions, and that the wonderful things that live and grow here are hardly less worthy of study than those events which have attracted the attention of Christian and benevolent people for nearly a hundred years past.
The author thanks very sincerely his friends, Mr John Parrett, Monsieur Henri Noyer, and Razaka, for their freely accorded permission to reproduce many photographs taken by them and used to illustrate this book. And his grateful thanks are also due to his old friend, the Rev. J. Peill, for the care he has taken in going through the proof sheets, especially in seeing that all Madagascar words are correctly given.
Two or three chapters of this book cover, to some extent, the same ground as those treated of in another book on Madagascar by the author, published some years ago by Mr Fisher Unwin. The author here acknowledges, with many thanks, Mr Fisher Unwin’s kindness in giving full permission to produce these, which are, however, rewritten and largely added to.
J. S.
NOTE.—Throughout this book Malagasy words are accented on the syllables which should be emphasised, and if it is borne in mind that the vowels a, e and i have as nearly as possible the same sound as in French or Italian, and that o is exactly like our English o in do, to and move, and that the consonants do not differ much in sound from those in English, except that g is always hard, s always a sibilant and not like z, and j is like dj there will be no difficulty in pronouncing Malagasy words with a fair amount of accuracy.
CONTENTS
| CHAPTER I | |
| PAGE | |
| INTRODUCTORY | [17] |
| Natural History of the Island—Still Little Known—Roads and Railway—We travel by Old-Fashioned Modes—Great Size and Extent of Madagascar | |
| CHAPTER II | |
| TAMATAVE AND FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF THE COUNTRY | [20] |
| “The Bullocker”—Landing at Tamatave—Meet with New Friends—Landing our Luggage—Bullocks and Bullock Ships—Native Houses—Strange Articles of Food—A Bed on a Counter—First Ride in a Filanjàna—Atthe Fort—The Governor and his “Get-Up”—A Rough-and-Ready Canteen | |
| CHAPTER III | |
| FROM COAST TO CAPITAL: ALONG THE SEASHORE | [27] |
| Travelling in Madagascar—Absence of Roads—“General Forest and General Fever”—Pleasures and Penalties of Travel—Start for the Interior—My Private Carriage—Night at Hivòndrona—Native Canoes—GiganticArums—Crows and Egrets—Malagasy Cattle—Curious Crabs—Shells of the Shore—Coast Lagoons—Lovely Scenery—Pandanus and Tangèna Trees—Pumice from Krakatoa—Sea and River Fishes—Prawns and Sharks—Hospitable Natives—Trees,Fruits and Flowers—“The Churchyard of Foreigners”—Unpleasant Style of Cemetery—“The Hole of Serpents”—Killing a Boa-constrictor—The White-fronted Lemur—Andòvorànto—How the Aye-Aye was caught—What he is like—And where he lives—A Damp Journey | |
| CHAPTER IV | |
| FROM COAST TO CAPITAL: ANDÒVORÀNTO TO MID-FOREST | [48] |
| A Canoe Voyage—Crocodiles and their Ways—River Scenery—Traveller’s Tree—Which is also “The Builder’s Tree”—Maròmby—Coffee Plantation—Orange Grove—We stick in the Mud—Difficulties of Road—Rànomafànaand its Hot Springs—Lace-leaf Plant—Native Granaries—Endurance of Bearers—Native Traders—Appearance of the People—Native Music and Instruments—Bamboos—Ampàsimbé—Cloth Weaving—Native Looms—Rofìa-palms—“A Nightwith the Rats”—Hard Travelling—Béfòrona—The Two Forest Belts—The Highest Mountains—Forest of Alamazaotra—Villages on Route—The Blow-Gun | |
| CHAPTER V | |
| FROM COAST TO CAPITAL: ALAMAZAOTRA TO ANTANÀNARÌVO | [63] |
| “Weeping-place of Bullocks”—“Great Princess” Rock—Grandeur of the Vegetation—Scarcity of Flowers—Orchids, Bamboos, and Pendent Lichens—Apparent Paucity of Animal Life—Remarkable Fauna of Madagascar—GeologicalTheories thereon—Lemurs—The Ankay Plain—An Ancient Lake—Mòramànga—River Mangòro—Grand Prospect from Ifòdy—The Tàkatra and Its Nest—Hova Houses—Insect Life—Angàvo Rock—Upper Forest—Treeless Aspect of Imèrina—GraniteRocks—Ambàtomànga—And its big House—Grass Burning—First View of Capital—Its Size and Situation—Hova Villages—A Cloud of Locusts—Reach Antanànarìvo | |
| CHAPTER VI | |
| THE CHANGING MONTHS IN IMÈRINA: CLIMATE, VEGETATION AND LIVING CREATURES OF THE INTERIOR | [75] |
| The Seasons in Madagascar—Their Significant Names—Prospect from Summit of Antanànarìvo—Great Rice-plain—An Inundation of the Same—Springtime: September and October—Rice-planting and Rice-fields—Trees andFoliage—Common Fruits—“Burning the Downs”—Birds—Hawks and Kestrels—Summer: November to February—Thunderstorms and Tropical Rains—Lightning and its Freaks—Effects of Rain on Roads—Rainfall—Hail—Magnificent Lightning Effects—Malagasy New Year | |
| CHAPTER VII | |
| SPRING AND SUMMER | [90] |
| Native Calendar—Conspicuous Flowers—Aloes and Agaves—Uniformity of Length of Days—Native Words and Phrases for Divisions of Time—And for Natural Phenomena—Hova Houses—Wooden and Clay—Their Arrangement—AndFurniture—“The Sacred Corner”—Solitary Wasps—Their Victims—The Cell-builders—The Burrowers—Wild Flowers | |
| CHAPTER VIII | |
| THE CHANGING MONTHS IN IMÈRINA: CLIMATE, VEGETATION, AND LIVING CREATURES OF THE INTERIOR | [103] |
| Autumn: March and April—Rice Harvest—The Cardinal-Bird—The Egret and the Crow—Harvest Thanksgiving Services—Rice, the Malagasy Staff of Life—Queer “Relishes to Rice”—Fish—Water-beetles—A Dangerous Adventurewith One—Dragonflies—Useful Sedges and Rushes—Mist Effects on Winter Mornings—Spiders’ Webs—The “Fosse-Crosser” Spider—Silk from it—Silk-worm Moths—And Other Moths—The “King” Butterfly—Grasshoppers and Insect Life on theGrass—The Dog-Locust—Gigantic Earthworms—Winter: May to August—Winter the Dry Season | |
| CHAPTER IX | |
| AUTUMN AND WINTER | [116] |
| Old Towns—Ancient and Modern Tombs—Memorial Stones—Great Markets—Imèrina Villages—Their Elaborate Defences—Native Houses—Houses of Nobles—Hova Children—Their Dress and Games—Village Churches—And Schools—ASchool Examination—Aspects of Nightly Sky Epidemics in Cold Season—Vegetation | |
| CHAPTER X | |
| AT THE FOREST SANATORIUM | [127] |
| A Holiday at Ankèramadìnika—The Upper Forest Belt—The Flora of Madagascar—Troubles and Joys of a Collector—A Silken Bag—Ants and their Nests—In Trees and Burrows—Caterpillars and Winter Sleep—Butterflies’Eggs—Snakes, Lizards and Chameleons—An Arboreal Lizard—Effects of Terror—Some Extraordinary Chameleons—The River-Hog—Sun-birds | |
| CHAPTER XI | |
| FOREST SCENES | [140] |
| Forest Scenes and Sounds—The Goat-sucker—Owls—Flowers and Berries—Palms and other Trees—The Bamboo-palm—Climbing Plants—Mosses, Lichens and Fungi—Their Beautiful Colours—Honey—The Madagascar Bee—Its Habitsand its Enemies—Forest People—The Bétròsy Tribe—A Wild-Man-of-the-Woods—A Cyclone in the Forest—A Night of Peril | |
| CHAPTER XII | |
| RAMBLES IN THE UPPER FOREST | [150] |
| Forest Parts—Lost in the Woods—Native Proverbs and Dread of the Forest—Waterfalls—A Brilliant Frog—Frogs and their Croaking—A Nest-building Frog—Protective Resemblances and Mimicry—Beetles—BrilliantBugs—Memorial Mounds—Iron Smelting—Feather Bellows—Depths of the Ravines—Forest Leeches—Ferns—Dyes, Gums and Resins—Candle-nut Tree—Medicinal Trees and Plants—Useful Timber Trees—Superstitions about the Forest—MarvellousCreatures—The Ball Insect—Millipedes and Centipedes—Scorpions | |
| CHAPTER XIII | |
| FAUNA | [162] |
| The Red-spot Spider—Various and Curious Spiders—Protective Resemblances among them—Trap-door Spiders—The Centetidæ—Malagasy Hedgehogs—The Lemurs—The Propitheques—The Red Lemur—Pensile Weaver-bird—TheBee-eater—The Coua Cuckoos—The Glory and Mystery of the Forests—A Night in the Forest | |
| CHAPTER XIV | |
| ROUND ANTSIHÀNAKA | [173] |
| Object of the Journey—My Companions—The Antsihànaka Province—Origin of the People—Anjozòrobé—“Travellers’ Bungalow”—A Sunday there—“Our Black Chaplain”—The “Stone Gateway”—Ankay Plain—Ants andSerpents—Hair-dressing and Ornaments—Tòaka Drinking—Rice Culture—Fragrant Grasses—The Glory of the Grass—Their Height—Capital of the Province—We interview the Governor—Flowers of Oratory—The Market—Fruitsand Fertility—A Circuit of the Province—Burial Memorials—Herds of Oxen—Horns as Symbols—Malagasy Use of Oxen—A Sihànaka House—Mats and Mat-making—Water-fowl—Their Immense Numbers—Teal and Ducks—The Fen Country—PhysicalFeatures of Antsihànaka—The Great Plain—Ampàrafàravòla—Hymn-singing—Sihànaka Bearers—“Wild-Hog’s Spear” Grass—Dinner with the Lieutenant-Governor—“How is the Gun?”—Volcanic Action—Awkward Bridges—Fighting anOx—Occupations of the People—Cattle-tending—Rice Culture—Fishing—Buds | |
| CHAPTER XV | |
| LAKE SCENERY | [193] |
| The Alaotra Lake—Lake Scenery—A Damp Resting-place—Shortened Oratory—We cross the Lake—An Ancient and Immense Lake—The Crocodile—Mythical Water-creatures—A Pleasant Meeting—“Manypoles” Village—ASihànaka Funeral—Treatment of Widows—A Village in the Swamp—Unlucky Days and Taboos—Madagascar Grasses—We turn Homewards | |
| CHAPTER XVI | |
| LAKE ITÀSY | [208] |
| Old Volcanoes—Lake Itàsy—Distant Views of it—Legends as to its Formation—Flamingoes—Water-hens—Jacanas—Other Birds—Antsìrabé—Hot Springs—Extinct Hippopotami—Gigantic Birds—Enormous Eggs | |
| CHAPTER XVII | |
| VOLCANIC DISTRICT | [215] |
| Crater Lake of Andraikìba—Crater Lake of Trìtrìva—Colour of Water—Remarkable Appearance of Lake—Legends about it—Its Depth—View from Crater Walls—Ankàratra Mountain—Lava Outflows—An UndergroundRiver—Extinct Lemuroid Animals—Graveyard of an Ancient Fauna—The Palæontology—And Geology of Madagascar—Volcanic Phenomena—The Madagascar Volcanic Belt—Earthquakes—A Glimpse of the Past Animal Life of the Island | |
| CHAPTER XVIII | |
| SOUTHWARDS TO BÉTSILÉO AND THE SOUTH-EAST COAST | [228] |
| Why I went South—How to secure your Bearers—The Old Style of Travelling—Route to Fianàrantsòa—Scenery—Elaborate Rice Culture—Bétsiléo Ornament and Art—Burial Memorials—We leave for the Unknown—ABridal Obligation—Mountains and Rocks—Parakeets and Parrots—A Dangerous Bridge—Ant-hills—The Malagasy Hades—Brotherhood by Blood—Bétsiléo Houses—“The Travelling Foreigners in their Tent”—A Tanàla Forest—Waterfalls—ATanàla House—Female Adornment | |
| CHAPTER XIX | |
| IVÒHITRÒSA | [246] |
| Ivòhitròsa—Native Dress—a Grand Waterfall—Wild Raspberries—The Ring-tailed Lemur—The Mouse-Lemur—A Heathen Congregation—Unlucky Days—Month Names—The Zàhitra Raft—A Village Belle and her“Get-up”—The Cardamom Plant—Beads, Charms and Arms—Bamboos and Pandanus—A Forest Altar—Rafts and Canoes—Crocodiles—Their Bird Friends—Ordeal by Crocodile—Elegant Coiffure—A Curious Congregation—Ambòhipèno Fort—Wereach the Sea—Gigantic Arums—Sea-shells—Pulpit Decoration—Butterflies—Protective Structure in a Certain Species—An Arab Colony—Arabic Manuscripts—Frigate-birds and Tropic-birds—Other Sea-birds | |
| CHAPTER XX | |
| AMONG THE SOUTH-EASTERN PEOPLES | [257] |
| Hova Conquest of and Cruelties to the Coast Tribes—The Traveller’s Tree and its Fruits—A Hova Fort—Ball Head-dressing—Rice-fields—Volcanic Phenomena—Vòavòntaka Fruit—A Well-dunged Village—Waterfrom the Traveller’s Tree—We are stopped on our Way—A Native Distillery—Taisàka Mat Clothing—Bark Cloth—Native Houses and their Arrangement—Secondary Rocks—Ankàrana Fort—A Hospitable Reception—A Noisy Feast—“AFine Old Malagasy Gentleman”—A Hearty “Set-Off”—Primitive Spoons and Dishes—Burial Memorials | |
| CHAPTER XXI | |
| THE SOUTH-EASTERN PEOPLES | [270] |
| A Built Boat—In the Bush—A Canoe Voyage—Canoe Songs—The Angræcum Orchids—Pandanus and Atàfa Trees—Coast Lagoons—A Native Dance—A Wheeled Vehicle—Lost in the Woods—A Fatiguing Sunday—Dolphinsand Whales—Forest Scenery—A Tanàla Funeral—Silence of the Woods—The Sound of the Cicada—Mammalian Life—Hedgehogs and Rats—Why are Birds comparatively so few?—Insect Life in the Forest—A Stick-Insect—ProtectiveResemblances—The Curious Broad-bill Bird—Minute Animal Life in a River Plant—Ambòhimànga in the Forest—A Tanàla Chieftainess—River-fording and Craft—We reach the Interior Highland—Bétsiléo Tombs—Return to Antanànarìvo | |
| CHAPTER XXII | |
| TO SÀKALÀVA LAND AND THE NORTH-WEST | [285] |
| North-West Route to the Coast—River Embankments—Mission Stations—A Lady Bricklayer—In a Fosse with the Cattle—An Airy Church on a Stormy Night—A Strange Chameleon—The “Short” Mosquitoes—Ant-hills andSerpents—A Sacred Tree—Andrìba Hill and Fort—An Evening Bath and a Hasty Breakfast—Parakeets, Hoopoes, and Bee-eaters—The Ikòpa Valley—Granite Boulders—Mèvatanàna: a Birdcage Town—We form an Exhibition for the Natives—OurCanoes—Crocodiles—Shrikes and Fly-catchers—Tamarind-trees—Camping Out—The “Agy” Stinging Creeper—River Scenery—Fan-palms—Scaly Reptiles and Beautiful Birds—Fruit-eating and Other Bats—Secondary Rocks—Sparse Population—TheSàkalàva Tribes—A Vile-smelling Tree | |
| CHAPTER XXIII | |
| TO THE NORTH-WEST COAST | [301] |
| Tortoises—Gigantic Tortoises of Aldabra Island—Park-like Scenery—The Fierce Little Fòsa—Small Carnivora—Beautiful Woods—“Many Crocodiles” Town—A Curious Pulpit—A Hot Night—A Voyage in a Dhow—Close Quarterson its Deck—An Arab Dhow and its Rig—Bèmbatòka Bay—Mojangà—An Arab and Indian Town—An Ancient Arab Colony—Baobab-trees—Valuable Timber Trees—The Fishing Eagle—Turtles and Turtle-catching—Herons—The North-West Coast—A FishingFish—Oysters and Octopus—Nòsibé and Old Volcanoes—Our Last Glimpses of Madagascar | |
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
| Old Village Gateway with Circular Stone | [Frontispiece] |
| FACING PAGE | |
| On the Coast Lagoons | [28] |
| A Forest Road | [32] |
| Low-class Girl fetching Water | [50] |
| A Sihànaka Woman playing the Vahiha | [50] |
| Bétsimisàraka Women | [58] |
| Hova Women weaving | [58] |
| Family Tomb of the late Prime Minister, Antanànarìvo | [66] |
| Royal Tombs, Antanànarìvo | [66] |
| Earthenware Pottery | [76] |
| Digging up Rice-fields | [76] |
| Pounding and winnowing Rice | [78] |
| Hova Middle-class Family at a Meal | [78] |
| Rocks near Ambàtovòry | [92] |
| Typical Hova House in the Ancient Style | [96] |
| On the Coast Lagoons | [106] |
| Transplanting Rice | [112] |
| Hova Tombs | [118] |
| Friday Market at Antanànarìvo | [120] |
| Ancient Village Gateway | [124] |
| A Forest Village | [134] |
| Chameleons | [136] |
| Anàlamazàotra | [146] |
| Memorial Carved Posts and Ox Horns | [156] |
| Blacksmith at Work | [156] |
| On the Coast Lagoons | [166] |
| Some Curious Madagascar Spiders | [168] |
| Sihànaka Men | [176] |
| Forest Village | [176] |
| A Wayside Market | [180] |
| Water-carriers | [218] |
| Hide-bearers resting by the Roadside | [230] |
| Bétsiléo Tombs | [230] |
| Memorial Stone | [234] |
| Types of Carved Ornamentation in Houses | [236] |
| ” ” ” | [238] |
| Group of Tanàla Girls in Full Dress | [242] |
| Tanàla Girls singing and clapping Hands | [242] |
| Tanàla Spearmen | [248] |
| Coiffures | [250] |
| A Forest River | [252] |
| Tree Ferns | [260] |
| Traveller’s Trees | [260] |
| A Malagasy Orchid | [272] |
| Malagasy Men dancing | [274] |
| Woman of the Antànkàrana Tribe | [278] |
| Woman of the Antanòsy Tribe | [278] |
| The Fòsa | [302] |
| Malagasy Oxen | [302] |
| MAPS | |
| Physical Sketch Map of Madagascar | [16] |
| Ethnographical Sketch Maps of Madagascar | [17] |
| General Map of Madagascar | [314] |
PHYSICAL SKETCH-MAP OF MADAGASCAR
showing lines of Forest, and limits of high land of Interior exceeding 2500 feet above Sea-level
ETHNOGRAPHICAL SKETCH-MAP OF MADAGASCAR
A NATURALIST IN
MADAGASCAR
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTORY
THE great African island of Madagascar has become well known to Europeans during the last half-century, and especially since the year 1895, when it was made a colony of France. During that fifty years many books—the majority of these in the French language—have been written about the island and its people; what was formerly an almost unknown country has been traversed by Europeans in all directions; its physical geography is now clearly understood; since the French occupation it has been scientifically surveyed, and a considerable part of the interior has been laid down with almost as much detail as an English ordnance map. But although very much information has been collected with regard to the country, the people, the geology, and the animal and vegetable productions of Madagascar, there has hitherto been no attempt, at least in the English language, to collect these many scattered notices of the Malagasy fauna and flora, and to present them to the public in a readable form.
In several volumes of a monumental work that has been in progress for many years past, written and edited by M. Alfred Grandidier,[1] the natural history and the botany of the island are being exhaustively described in scientific fashion; but these great quartos are in the French language, while their costly character renders them unknown books to the general reader. It is the object of the following pages to describe, in as familiar and popular a fashion as may be, many of the most interesting facts connected with the exceptional animal life of Madagascar, and with its forestal and other vegetable productions. During nearly fifty years’ connection with this country the writer has travelled over it in many directions, and while his chief time and energies have of course been given to missionary effort, he has always taken a deep interest in the living creatures which inhabit the island, as well as in its luxuriant flora, and has always been collecting information about them. The facts thus obtained are embodied in the following pages.
ROADS AND TRAVELLING
It is probably well known to most readers of this book that a railway now connects Tamatave, the chief port of the east coast, with Antanànarìvo, the capital, which is about a third of the way across the island. So that the journey from the coast to the interior, which, up to the year 1899, used to take from eight to ten days, can now be accomplished in one day. Besides this, good roads now traverse the country in several directions, so that wheeled vehicles can be used; and on some of these a service of motor cars keeps up regular communication with many of the chief towns and the capital.
But we shall not, in these pages, have much to do with these modern innovations, for a railway in Madagascar is very much like a railway in Europe. Our journeys will mostly be taken by the old-fashioned native conveyance, the filanjàna or light palanquin, carried by four stout and trusty native bearers. We shall thus not be whirled through the most interesting portion of our route, catching only a momentary glimpse of many a beautiful scene. We can get down and walk, whenever we like, to observe bird or beast or insect, to gather flower or fern or lichen or moss, or to take a rock specimen, things utterly impracticable either by railway or motor car, and not very easy to do in any wheeled conveyance. Our object will be, not to get through the journey as fast as possible, but to observe all that is worth notice during the journey. We shall therefore, in this style of travel, not stay in modern hotels, but in native houses, notwithstanding their drawbacks and discomforts; and thus we shall see the Malagasy as they are, and as their ancestors have been for generations gone by, almost untouched by European influence, and so be able to observe their manners and customs, and learn something of their ideas, their superstitions, their folk-lore, and the many other ways in which they differ from ourselves.
EXTENT OF THE ISLAND
Let us, however, first try to get a clear notion about this great island, and to realise how large a country it is. Take a fair-sized map of Madagascar, and we see that it rises like some huge sea-monster from the waters of the Indian Ocean; or, to use another comparison, how its outline is very like the sole—the left-hand one—of a human foot. As we usually look at the island in connection with a map of Africa, it appears as a mere appendage to the great “Dark Continent”; and it is difficult to believe that it is really a thousand miles long, and more than three hundred miles broad, with an area of two hundred and thirty thousand square miles, thus exceeding that of France, Belgium and Holland all put together.[2] Before the year 1871 all maps of Madagascar, as regards its interior, were pure guesswork. A great backbone of mountains was shown, with branches on either side, like a huge centipede. But it is now clear that, instead of these fancy pictures, there is an extensive elevated region occupying about two-thirds of the island to the east and north, leaving a wide stretch of low country to the west and south; and as the watershed is much nearer the east than the west of the island, almost all the chief rivers flow, not into the Indian Ocean, but into the Mozambique Channel. When we add that a belt of dense forest runs all along the east side of Madagascar, and is continued, with many breaks, along the western side, and that scores of extinct volcanoes are found in several districts of the interior, we shall have said all that is necessary at present as to the physical geography. Many more details of this, as well as of the geology, will come under our notice as we travel through the country in various directions.
[1] Histoire Physique, Naturelle et Politique de Madagascar, publiée par Alfred Grandidier, Paris, à l’Imprimerie Nationale; in fifty-two volumes, quarto.
[2] I have often been astonished and amused by the notions some English people have about Madagascar. One gentleman asked me if it was not somewhere in Russia!—and a very intelligent lady once said to me: “I suppose it is about as large as the Isle of Wight!”
CHAPTER II
TAMATAVE AND FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF THE COUNTRY
IT was on a bright morning in September, 1863, that I first came in sight of Madagascar. In those days there was no service of steamers, either of the “Castle” or the “Messageries Maritimes” lines, touching at any Madagascar port, and the passage from Mauritius had to be made in what were termed “bullockers.” These vessels were small brigs or schooners which had been condemned for ordinary traffic, but were still considered good enough to convey from two to three hundred oxen from Tamatave to Port Louis or Réunion. It need hardly be said that the accommodation on board these ships was of the roughest, and the food was of the least appetising kind. A diet of cabbage, beans and pumpkin led one of my friends to describe the menu of the bullocker as “the green, the brown, and the yellow.” Happily, the voyage to Madagascar was usually not very long, and in my case we had a quick and pleasant passage of three days only; but I hardly hoped that daylight on Wednesday morning would reveal the country on which my thoughts had been centred for several weeks past; so it was with a strange feeling of excitement that soon after daybreak I heard the captain calling to me down the hatchway: “We are in sight of land!” Not many minutes elapsed before I was on deck and looking with eager eyes upon the island in which eventually most of my life was to be spent. We were about five miles from the shore, running under easy sail to the northward, until the breeze from the sea should set in and enable us to enter the harbour of Tamatave.
TAMATAVE AND FIRST IMPRESSIONS
There was no very striking feature in the scene—no towering volcanic peaks, as at Mauritius and Aden, yet it was not without beauty. A long line of blue mountains in the distance, covered with clouds; a comparatively level plain extending from the hills to the sea, green and fertile with cotton and sugar and rice plantations; while the shore was fringed with the tall trunks and feathery crowns of the cocoanut-palms which rose among the low houses of the village of Tamatave. These, together with the coral reefs forming the harbour, over which the great waves thundered and foamed—all formed a picture thoroughly tropical, reminding me of views of islands in the South Pacific.
The harbour of Tamatave is protected by a coral reef, which has openings to the sea both north and south, the latter being the principal entrance; it is somewhat difficult of access, and the ribs and framework of wrecked vessels are (or perhaps rather were) very frequently seen on the reef. The captain had told me that sometimes many hours and even days were spent in attempting to enter, and that it would probably be noon before we should anchor. I therefore went below to prepare for landing, but in less than an hour was startled to hear by the thunder of the waves on the reef and the shouts of the seamen reducing sail that we were already entering the harbour. The wind had proved unexpectedly favourable, and in a few more minutes the cable was rattling through the hawsehole, the anchor was dropped, and we swung round at our moorings.
There were several vessels in the harbour. Close to us was H.M.’s steamer Gorgon, and, farther away, two or three French men-of-war, among them the Hermione frigate, bearing the flag of Commodore Dupré, their naval commandant in the Indian Ocean, as well as plenipotentiary for the French Government in the disputes then pending concerning the Lambert Treaty. I was relieved to find that everything seemed peaceful and quiet at Tamatave, and that the long white flag bearing the name of Queen Ràsohèrina, in scarlet letters, still floated from the fort at the southern end of the town. I had been told at Port Louis that things were very unsettled in Madagascar, and that I should probably find Tamatave being bombarded by the French; but it is unnecessary to refer further to what is now ancient history, or to touch upon political matters, which lie quite outside the main purpose of this book.
Tamatave, as a village, has not a very inviting appearance from the sea, and man’s handiwork had certainly not added much to the beauty of the landscape. Had it not been for the luxuriant vegetation of the pandanus, palms, and other tropical productions, nothing could have been less interesting than the native town, which possessed at that time few European residences and no buildings erected for religious worship.[3] Canoes, formed out of the trunk of a single tree, soon came off to our ship, but I was glad to dispense with the services of these unsafe-looking craft, and to accept a seat in the captain’s boat. Half-an-hour after anchoring we were rowing towards the beach, and in a few minutes I leaped upon the sand, with a thankful heart that I had been permitted to tread the shores of Madagascar.
Proceeding up the main street—a sandy road bordered by enclosures containing the stores of a few European traders—we came to the house of the British Vice-Consul. Here I found Mr Samuel Procter, who was subsequently the head for many years of one of the chief trading houses in the island, and also Mr F. Plant, a gentleman employed by the authorities of the British Museum to collect specimens of natural history in the then almost unknown country. From them I learned that a missionary party which had preceded me from Mauritius had left only two days previously for the capital, and that Mr Plant had kindly undertaken to accompany me on the journey for the greater part of the distance to Antanànarìvo. At first we thought of setting off on that same evening, so as to overtake our friends, but finding that this would involve much fatigue, we finally decided to wait for two or three days and take more time to prepare for the novel experiences of a Madagascar journey. In a little while I was domiciled at Mr Procter’s store, where I was hospitably entertained during my stay in Tamatave.
The afternoon of my first day on shore was occupied in seeing after the landing of my baggage. This was no easy or pleasant task; the long rolling swell from the ocean made the transfer of large wooden cases from the vessel to the canoes a matter requiring considerable dexterity. More than once I expected to be swamped, and that through the rolling of the ship the packages would be deposited at the bottom of the harbour. It was therefore with great satisfaction that I saw all my property landed safely on the beach.
THE BULLOCKER
Although Tamatave has always been the chief port on the east coast of Madagascar, there were, for many years after my arrival there, no facilities for landing or shipping goods. The bullocks, which formed the staple export, were swum off to the ships, tied by their horns to the sides of large canoes, and then slung on board by tackles from the yard-arm. From the shouting and cries of the native drovers, the struggles of the oxen, and their starting back from the water, it was often a very exciting scene. A number of these bullockers were always passing between the eastern ports of Madagascar and the islands of Mauritius and Réunion, and kept the markets of these places supplied with beef at moderate rates. The vessels generally ceased running for about four months in the early part of the year, when hurricanes are prevalent in the Indian Ocean; and it may easily be supposed that the passenger accommodation on board these ships was not of the first order. However, compared with the discomforts and, often, the danger and long delays endured by some, I had not much to complain of in my first voyage to Madagascar. It had, at least, the negative merit of not lasting long, and I had not then the presence of nearly three hundred oxen as fellow-passengers for about a fortnight, as on my voyage homewards, when I had also a severe attack of malarial fever.
The native houses of Tamatave, like those of the other coast villages, were of very slight construction, being formed of a framework of wood and bamboo, filled in with leaves of the pandanus and the traveller’s tree. In a few of these some attempts at neatness were observable, the walls being lined with coarse cloth made of the fibre of rofìa-palm leaves, and the floor covered with well-made mats of papyrus. But the general aspect of the native quarter of the town was filthy and repulsive; heaps of putrefying refuse exhaled odours which warned one to get away as soon as possible. In almost every other house a large rum-barrel, ready tapped, showed what an unrestricted trade was doing to demoralise the people.
I could not help noticing the strange articles of food exposed for sale in the little market of the Bétsimisàraka quarter. Great heaps of brown locusts seemed anything but inviting, nor were the numbers of minute fresh-water shrimps much more tempting in appearance. With these, however, were plentiful supplies of manioc root, rice of several kinds, potatoes and many other vegetables, the brilliant scarlet pods of different spices, and many varieties of fruit—pine-apples, bananas, melons, peaches, citrons and oranges. Beef was cheap as well as good, and there was a lean kind of mutton, but it was much like goat-flesh. Great quantities of poultry are reared in the interior and are brought down to the coast for sale to the ships trading at the ports.
NATIVE HOUSES
The houses of the Malagasy officials and the principal foreign traders were substantially built of wooden framework, with walls and floors of planking and thatched with the large leaves of the traveller’s tree. No stone can be procured near Tamatave, nor can bricks be made there, as the soil is almost entirely sand; the town itself is indeed built on a peninsula, a sand-bank thrown up by the sea, under the shelter of the coral reefs which form the harbour. The house where I was staying consisted of a single long room, with the roof open to the ridge; a small sleeping apartment was formed at one corner by a partition of rofìa cloth. There was no window, but light and air were admitted by large doors, which were always open during the day. A few folds of Manchester cottons, to serve as mattress, and a roll of the same for a pillow, laid on Mr Procter’s counter, formed a luxurious bed after the discomforts of a bullock vessel. All around us, in the native houses, singing and rude music, with drumming and clapping of hands, were kept up far into the night; and these sounds, as well as the regular beating of the waves all round the harbour, and the excitement of the new and strange scenes of the past day, kept me from sleep until the small hours of the morning.
The following day I went to make a visit to the Governor of Tamatave, as a new arrival in the country. My host accompanied me, as I was of course quite unable to talk Malagasy. As this was a visit of ceremony, it was not considered proper to walk, so we went by the usual conveyance of the country, the filanjàna. This word means anything by which articles or persons are carried on the shoulder, and is usually translated “palanquin,” but the filanjàna is a very different thing from the little portable room which is used in India. In our case it was a large easy-chair, attached to two poles, and carried by four stout men, or màromìta, as they are called. They carried us at a quick trot; but this novel experience struck me—I can hardly now understand why—as irresistibly ludicrous, and I could not restrain my laughter at the comical figure—as it then seemed to me—that we presented, especially when I thought of the sensation we should make in the streets of an English town.
The motion was not unpleasant, as the men keep step together. Every few minutes they change the poles from one shoulder to the other, lifting them over their heads without any slackening of speed.
THE GOVERNOR
A few minutes brought us to the fort, at the southern end of the town; this was a circular structure of stone, with walls about twenty feet high, which were pierced with openings for about a dozen cannon. We had to wait for a few minutes until the Governor was informed of our arrival, and thus had time to think of the scene this fort presented not twenty years before that time, when the heads of many English and French sailors were fixed on poles around the fort. These ghastly objects were relics of those who were killed in an attack made upon Tamatave in 1845, by a combined English and French force, to redress some grievances of the foreign traders. But we need not be too hard on the Malagasy when we remember that, not a hundred years before that time, we in England followed the same delectable custom, and adorned Temple Bar and other places with the heads of traitors.
Presently we were informed that the Governor was ready to receive us. Passing through the low covered way cut through the wall, we came into the open interior space of the fort. The Governor’s house, a long low wooden structure, was opposite to us; while, on the right, he was seated under the shade of a large tree, with a number of his officers and attendants squatting around him. They were mostly dressed in a mixture of European and native costume—viz. a shirt and trousers, over which were thrown the folds of the native làmba, an oblong piece of calico or print, wrapped round the body, with one end thrown over the left shoulder. Neat straw hats of native manufacture completed their costume. The Governor, whose name was Andrìamandròso, was dressed in English fashion, with black silk “top hat” and worked-wool slippers. He had a very European-looking face, dark olive complexion, and was an andrìana—that is, one of a clan or tribe of the native nobility. He did not speak English, but through Mr Procter we exchanged a few compliments and inquiries. I assured him of the interest the people of England took in Madagascar, and their wish to see the country advancing. Presently wine was brought, and after drinking to the Governor’s health we took our leave. The Hova government maintained, until the French conquest, a garrison of from two to three hundred men at Tamatave. These troops had their quarters close to the fort, in a number of houses placed in rows and enclosed in a large square or ròva, formed of strong wooden palisades, with gateways.
A ROUGH AND READY CANTEEN
The following day was occupied in making preparations for the journey, purchasing a few of the most necessary articles of crockery, etc., and unpacking my canteen. This latter was a handsome teak box, and fitted up most neatly with plates, dishes, knives and forks, etc. But Mr Plant said that both the box and most of its contents were far too good to be exposed to the rough usage they would undergo on the journey; so I took out some of the things and repacked the box in its wooden case. Subsequent experience showed the wisdom of this advice, and that it was a mistake to use too expensive articles for such travelling as that in Madagascar, or to have to spend much time in getting out and putting in again everything in its proper corner. Upon reaching the halting-place after a fatiguing journey of several hours, it is a great convenience to get at one’s belongings with the least possible amount of exertion; and when starting before sunrise in the mornings, it is not less pleasant to be able to dispense with an elaborate fitting of things into a canteen. By my friend’s advice, I therefore bought a three-legged iron pot for cooking fowls, some common plates, and a tin coffee-pot, which also served as a teapot when divested of its percolator. These things were stowed away in a mat bag, which proved the most convenient form of canteen possible for such a journey The contents were quickly put in, and as readily got out when wanted; and, thus provided, we felt prepared to explore Madagascar from north to south, quite independent of inns and innkeepers, chambermaids and waiters, had such members of society existed in this primitive country.
[3] It is perhaps hardly necessary to say that for some years past Tamatave has been a very different place from what is described above. Many handsome buildings—offices, banks, shops, hotels and government offices—have been erected; the town is lighted at night by electricity; piers have been constructed; and in the suburbs shady walks and roads are bordered by comfortable villa residences and their luxuriant gardens.
CHAPTER III
FROM COAST TO CAPITAL: ALONG THE SEASHORE
TRAVELLING in Madagascar fifty years ago, and indeed for many years after that date, differed considerably from what we have any experience of in Europe. It was not until the year 1901 that a railway was commenced from the east coast to the interior, and it is only a few months ago that direct communication by rail has been completed between Tamatave and Antanànarìvo. But until the French occupation, in 1895, a road, in our sense of the word, did not exist in the island; and all kinds of merchandise brought from the coast to the interior, or taken between other places, were carried for great distances on men’s shoulders. There were but three modes of conveyance—viz. one’s own legs, the làkana or canoe, and the filanjàna or palanquin. We intended to make use of all these means of getting over the ground (and water); but by far the greater part of the journey of two hundred and twenty miles would be performed in the filanjàna, carried on the sinewy shoulders of our bearers or màromìta. This was the conveyance of the country (and it is still used a good deal); for during the first thirty years and more of my residence in Madagascar there was not a single wheeled vehicle of any kind to be seen in the interior, nor did even a wheelbarrow come under my observation during that time.
This want of our European means of conveyance arose from the fact that no wheeled vehicles could have been used owing to the condition of the tracks then leading from one part of the country to another. The lightest carriage or the strongest waggon would have been equally impracticable in parts of the forest where the path was almost lost in the dense undergrowth, and where the trees barely left room for a palanquin to pass. Nor could any team take a vehicle up and down some of the tremendous gorges, by tracks which sometimes wind like a corkscrew amidst rocks and twisted roots of trees, sometimes climb broad surfaces of slippery basalt, where a false step would send bearers and palanquin together into steep ravines far below, and again are lost in sloughs of adhesive clay, in which the bearers at times sink to the waist, and when the traveller has to leap from the back of one man to another to reach firm standing-ground. Shaky bridges of primitive construction, often consisting of but a single tree trunk, were frequently the only means of crossing the streams; while more often they had to be forded, one of the men going cautiously in advance to test the depth of the water. It occasionally happened that this pioneer suddenly disappeared, affording us and his companions a good deal of merriment at his expense. At times I have had to cross rivers when the water came up to the necks of the bearers, the shorter men having to jump up to get breath, while they had to hold the palanquin high up at arm’s-length to keep me out of the water.
GENERAL FOREST AND GENERAL FEVER
It was often asked: Why do not the native government improve the roads? The neglect to do so was intentional on their part, for it was evident to everyone who travelled along the route from Tamatave to the capital that the track might have been very much improved at a comparatively small expense. The Malagasy shrewdly considered that the difficulty of the route to the interior would be a formidable obstacle to an invasion by a European power, and so they deliberately allowed the path to remain as rugged as it is by nature. The first Radàma is reported to have said, when told of the military genius of foreign soldiers, that he had two officers in his service, “General Hàzo,” and “General Tàzo” (that is, “Forest and Fever”), whom he would match against any European commander. Subsequent events so far justified his opinion that the French invasion of the interior in 1895 did not follow the east forest road, but the far easier route from the north-west coast. The old road through the double belt of forests would have presented formidable obstacles to the passage of disciplined troops, and at many points it might have been successfully contested by a small body of good marksmen, well acquainted with the localities.
On the Coast Lagoons
Large dug-out canoes, propelled by paddles on each side, one man to each paddle
PLEASURES AND DISCOMFORTS
It may be gathered from what has been already said that travelling in Madagascar in the old times had not a little of adventure and novelty connected with it. Provided the weather was moderately fine, there was enough of freshness and often of amusing incident to render the journey not unenjoyable, especially if travelling in a party; and even to a solitary traveller there is such a variety of scenery, and so many and beautiful forms of vegetation, to arrest the attention, that it was by no means monotonous. Of course there must be a capacity for “roughing it,” and for turning the very discomforts into sources of amusement. We must not be too much disturbed at a superabundance of fleas or mosquitoes in the houses, nor be frightened out of sleep by the scampering of rats around and occasionally even upon us. It sometimes happens, too, that a centipede or a scorpion has to be dislodged from under the mats upon which we are about to lay our mattresses, but, after all, a moderate amount of caution will prevent us taking much harm.
It must be confessed, however, that if the weather prove unfavourable the discomforts are great, and it requires a resolute effort to look at the bright side of things. To travel for several hours in the rain, with the bearers slipping about in the stiff adhesive clay—now sinking to the knees in a slough in the hollows, and then painfully toiling up the rugged ascents—with a chance of being benighted in the middle of the forest, were not enjoyable incidents in the journey. Added to this, occasionally the bearers of baggage and bedding and food would be far behind, and sometimes would not turn up at all, leaving us to go supperless, not to bed, but to do as well as we could on a dirty mat. But, after all said and done, I can look back on many journeys with great pleasure; and my wife and I have even said to each other at the end, “It has been like a prolonged picnic.” And by travelling at the proper time of the year—for we never used, if possible, to take long journeys in the rainy season—and with ordinary care in arranging the different stages, there was often no more discomfort than that inseparable from the unavoidable fatigue.
Soon after breakfast on the morning of the 3rd October the yard of Mr Procter’s house was filled with the bearers waiting to take their packages, and, as more came than were actually required, there was a good deal of noise and confusion until all the loads had been apportioned. Most of my màromìta were strong and active young men, spare and lithe of limb, and proved to possess great powers of endurance. The loads they carried were not very heavy, but it was astonishing to see with what steady patience they bore them hour after hour under a burning sun, and up and down paths in the forest, where their progress was often but a scrambling from one foothold to another. Two men would take a load of between eighty and ninety pounds, slung on a bamboo, between them; and this was the most economical way of taking goods, for, on account of the difficulty of the paths, four men found it more fatiguing to carry in one package a weight which, divided into two, could easily be borne by two sets of bearers.
MY PALANQUIN
Eight of the strongest and most active young men, accustomed to work together, were selected to carry my palanquin, and took it in two sets of four each, carrying alternately. Most of the articles of my baggage were carried by two men; but my two large flat wooden cases, containing drawing boards, paper and instruments, required four men each. All baggage was carried by the same men throughout the journey, without any relay or change, except shifting the pole from one shoulder to the other; but my palanquin, as already said, had a double set. The personal bearers, therefore, naturally travel quicker than those carrying the baggage, and we generally arrived at the halting-places an hour or more before the others came up. The hollow of the bamboos to which boxes and cases were slung served for carrying salt, spoons, and various little properties of the bearers, and sometimes small articles of European make for selling at the capital. The men were, and still are, very expert in packing and securing goods committed to their charge. Prints, calicoes and similar materials were often covered with pandanus leaves and so made impervious to the wet; and even sugar and salt were carried in the same way without damage.
As the conveyance of myself and my baggage required more than thirty men, and Mr Plant took a dozen in addition, it was some time before everything was arranged, and there was a good deal of contention as to getting the lightest and most convenient packages to carry. We had hoped to start early in the forenoon, but it was after one o’clock when we sent off the last cases and I stepped into my filanjàna to commence the novel experience of a journey in Madagascar. We formed quite a large party as we set off from Tamatave and turned southwards into the open country. The rear was brought up by a bearer of some intelligence and experience, who only carried a spear, and was to act as captain over the rest and look out accommodation for us in the villages, etc. He had also to see after the whole of the luggage, and take care that everyone had his proper load and came up to time.
THE FILANJÀNA
My filanjàna was a different kind of thing from the chair in which I had gone to visit the Governor. It was of the same description as that commonly used by Malagasy ladies—made of an oblong framework of light wood, filled in with a plaited material formed of strips of sheepskin, and carried on poles, which were the midrib of the enormous leaves of the rofìa-palm. In this I sat, legs stretched out at full length, a piece of board fixed as a rest for the back, and the whole made fairly comfortable by means of cushions and rugs. There was plenty of space for extra wraps, waterproof coat, telescope, books, etc. When ladies travel any distance in this kind of filanjàna a hood of rofìa cloth is fixed so as to draw over the head and to protect them from the sun and rain. In my case, a stout umbrella served instead, and a piece of waterproof cloth protected me fairly well from the little rain that fell on the journey. (I may add here that this was the first, and the last, journey I ever took in this kind of filanjàna.) The late Dr Mullens, who also travelled up in a similar way in 1873, said it reminded him of a picture in Punch, of a heavy swell driving himself in a very small basket carriage, and being remarked on by a street arab to his companion thus: “Hallo, Bill, here’s a cove a-driving hisself home from the wash.” My companion’s filanjàna was a much simpler contrivance than mine, and consisted merely of two light poles held together by iron bars, and with a piece of untanned hide nailed to them for a seat. It was much more conveniently carried in the forest than my larger and more cumbrous conveyance. It may be added that certainly one was sometimes danced about “like a pea in a frying-pan” in this rude machine; and it was not long before a much more comfortable style of filanjàna was adopted, with leather-covered back and arms, padded as well as the seat, and with foot-rest, and leather or cloth bags strapped to the side for carrying books and other small articles.
It was a fine warm day when we set off, the temperature not being higher than that of ordinary summer weather in England. Our course lay due south, at no great distance from the sea, the roar of whose waves we could hear distinctly all through the first stage of the journey. In proceeding from Tamatave to Antanànarìvo the road did not (and still does not, by railway) lead immediately into the interior, but follows the coast for about fifty miles southward. Upon reaching Andòvorànto, we had to leave the sea and strike westward into the heart of the island, ascending the river Ihàroka for nearly twenty miles before climbing the line of mountains which form the edge of the interior highland, and crossing the great forest.
VEGETABLE AND ANIMAL LIFE
We soon left Tamatave behind us and got out into the open country, a portion of the plain which extends for about thirty miles between the foothills and the sea. Our men took us this first day’s journey of nine or ten miles at a quick walk or trot for the whole way, without any apparent fatigue. The road—which was a mere footpath, or rather several footpaths, over a grassy undulating plain—was bounded on one side by trees, and on the other by low bushes and shrubs. Besides the cocoanut-palms and the broad-leaved bananas, which were not here very numerous, the most striking trees to a foreigner were the agave, with long spear-shaped prickly leaves, on a high trunk, and another very similar in form, but without any stem, both of which might be counted by thousands. Nearer the sea was an almost unbroken line of pandanus, which is one of the most characteristic features of the coast vegetation. I also noticed numbers of orchids on the trees, of two or three species of Angræcum, but just past the flowering; a smaller orchid, also with pure white flowers, was very abundant.
A Forest Road
Two bearers carrying an empty palanquin, and one with luggage. There is the usual forest vegetation
A NATIVE HOME
I had enough to engage my attention with these new forms of vegetation, as well as in noticing the birds, and the many butterflies and other insects which crossed our path every moment, until we arrived at Hivòndrona, a large straggling village on a broad river of the same name, which here unites with other streams and flows into the sea. Among the many birds to be seen were flocks of small green and white paroquets, green pigeons, scarlet cardinal-birds, and occasionally beautiful little sun-birds (Nectarinidæ) with metallic colours of green, brown and yellow. We had intended to go farther, but finding that, owing to our late starting, we should not reach another village before dark, we decided to stay of Hivòndrona for the night. A house at most of the villages on the road to the capital was provided for travellers, who took possession at once, without paying anything for its use. The house here, which was somewhat better than at most of the other places, consisted, like all the dwellings in this part of the country, of a framework of poles, thatched with the leaves of the traveller’s tree, and the walls filled in with a kind of lathing made of the stalks of the same leaves. The walls and floor were both covered with matting, made from the fibre of leaves of the rofìa palm. In one corner was the fireplace, merely a yard and a half square of sand and earth, with half-a-dozen large stones for supporting the cooking utensils. As in most native houses, the smoke made its way out through the thatch.
Our men soon came up with the baggage and proceeded to get out kitchen apparatus, make a fire, and put on pots and pans; and in a short time beef, fowls and soup were being prepared. Meanwhile Mr Plant and I walked down to the seashore and then into the village, to call upon a creole trader, who was the only European resident in the place. We brought him back with us, and found dinner all ready on our return to the house. My largest case of drawing boards formed, when turned upside down and laid on other boxes, an excellent table; we sat round on other packages, and found that one of our bearers, who officiated as cook, was capable of preparing a very fair meal; and although the surroundings were decidedly primitive, we enjoyed it all the more from its novelty. After our visitor had left us we prepared to sleep; three or four boxes, with a rug and my clothes-bag, formed a comfortable bed for myself, while Mr Plant lay on the floor, but found certain minute occupants of the house so very active that his sleep was considerably disturbed.
GIGANTIC ARUMS
Next morning we were up long before daybreak, and after a cup of coffee started a little before six o’clock. We walked down to the river, which had to be crossed and descended for some distance, and embarked with our baggage in seven canoes. These canoes, like those at Tamatave, are somewhat rude contrivances, and are hollowed out of a single tree. They are of various lengths, from ten to thirty or forty feet, the largest being about four feet in breadth and depth. There is no keel, so that they are rather apt to capsize unless carefully handled and loaded. At each end is a kind of projecting beak, pierced with a hole for attaching a mooring-rope. From the smoothness of the sides, and the great length compared with the beam, they can be propelled at considerable speed with far less exertion than is required to move a boat of European build. Instead of oars, paddles shaped like a wooden shovel are employed, and these are dug into the water, the rower squatting in the canoe and facing the bows; the paddle is held vertically, a reverse motion being given to the handle. We went a couple of miles down the stream, which here unites with others, so that several islands are formed, all the banks being covered with luxuriant vegetation. Conspicuous amongst this, and growing in the shallow water close to the banks, were great numbers of a gigantic arum endemic in Madagascar (Typhonodorum lindleyanum), and growing to the height sometimes of twelve or fifteen feet, and possessing a large white spathe of more than a foot in length, enclosing a golden-yellow pistil, or what looks like one. The leaves are most handsome and are about a yard long. After about twenty minutes’ paddling we landed, and, when all our little fleet had arrived, mounted our palanquins, and set off through a narrow path in the woods. The morning air, even on this tropical coast, was quite keen, making an overcoat necessary before the sun got up.
Our road for some miles lay along cleared forest, with stumps of trees and charred trunks, white and black, in every direction. It is believed that the white ants are responsible for this destruction of the trees. We saw numbers of a large crow (Corvus scapulatus), not entirely black, like our English species, but with a broad white ring round the neck and a pure white breast, giving them quite a clerical air. This bird, called goàika by the Malagasy—evidently an imitation of his harsh croak—is larger than a magpie, and his dark plumage is glossy bluish-black. He is very common everywhere in the island, being often seen in large numbers, especially near the markets, where he picks up a living from the refuse and the scattered rice. He is a bold and rather impudent bird, and will often attack the smaller hawks. There were also numbers of the white egret (Ardea bubulcus) or vòrom-pòtsy (i.e. “white bird”), also called vòron-tìan-òmby (i.e. “bird liked by cattle”), from their following the herds to feed upon the ticks which torment them. One may often see these egrets perched on the back of the oxen and thus clearing them from their enemies. Wherever the animals were feeding, these birds might be seen in numbers proportionate to those of the cattle. This egret has the purest white plumage, with a pale yellow plume or crest, and is a most elegant and graceful bird.
The oxen of Madagascar have very long horns, and a large hump between the shoulders. In other respects their appearance does not differ from the European kinds, and the quality and flavour of the flesh is not much inferior to English beef. The hump, which consists of a marrow-like fat, is considered a great delicacy by the Malagasy, and when salted and eaten cold is a very acceptable dish. When the animal is in poor condition the hump is much diminished in size, being, like that of the camel in similar circumstances, apparently absorbed into the system. It then droops partly over the shoulders. These Malagasy oxen have doubtless been brought at a rather remote period from Africa; their native name, òmby, is practically the same as the Swahili ngombe.
CURIOUS CRABS
We reached Trànomàro (“many houses”) at half-past nine, and there breakfasted. My bearers proved to be a set of most merry, good-tempered, willing fellows. As soon as they got near the halting-places they would set off at a quick run, and with shouts and cries carry me into the village in grand style, making quite a commotion in the place. Leaving again at noon, in a few minutes we came down to the sea, the path being close to the waves which were rolling in from the broad expanse of the Indian Ocean. I was amused by the hundreds of little red crabs, about three inches long, taking their morning bath or watching at the mouth of their holes, down which they dived instantaneously at our approach. One or more species of the Madagascar crabs has one of its pincers enormously enlarged, so that it is about the same size as the carapace, while the other claw is quite rudimentary. This great arm the little creature carries held up in a ludicrous, threatening manner, as if defying all enemies. I was disappointed in not seeing shells of any size or beauty on the sands. The only ones I then observed which differed from those found on our own shores were a small bivalve of a bluish-purple hue, and an almost transparent whorled shell, resembling the volute of an Ionic capital, but so fragile that it was difficult to find a perfect specimen.
SEA SHELLS
But although that portion of the shore did not yield much of conchological interest, there are many parts of the coasts of Madagascar which produce some of the most beautifully marked species of the genus Conus (Conus tessellatus and C. nobilis, if I am not mistaken, are Madagascar species), while large handsome species of the Triton (T. variegatum) are also found. These latter are often employed instead of church bells to call the congregations together, as well as to summon the people to hear Government orders. A hole is pierced on the side of the shell, and it requires some dexterity to blow it; but the sound is deep and sonorous and can be heard at a considerable distance. The circular tops of the cone shells are ground down to a thin plate and extensively used by the Sàkalàva and other tribes as a face ornament, being fixed by a cord on the forehead or the temples. They are called félana. I have also picked up specimens, farther south, of Cypræa (C. madagascariensis), a well-known handsome shell, as well as of Oliva, Mitra, Cassis, and others (C. madagascariensis). The finest examples are, however, I believe, only to be got by dredging near the shore.
After some time we left the shore and proceeded through the woods, skirting one of those lagoons which run parallel with the coast nearly all the way from Tamatave to Andòvorànto. A good recent map of Madagascar will show that on this coast, for about three hundred miles south of Hivòndrona, there is a nearly continuous line of lakes and lagoons. They vary in distance from the sea from a hundred yards to a couple of miles; and in many places they look like a very straight river or a broad canal, while frequently they extend inland, spreading out into extensive sheets of water, two or three miles across. This peculiar formation is probably owing, in part at least, to slight changes of level in the land, so that the inner banks of the lagoons were possibly an old shore-line. But this chain of lagoons and lakes is no doubt chiefly due to east coast rivers being continually blocked up at their outlets by bars of sand, driven up by the prevailing south-east trade-wind and the southerly currents. So that the river waters are forced back into the lagoons until the pressure is so great that a breach is made, and the fresh water rushes through into the sea. On account of these sand-bars, hardly any east coast river can be entered by ships. The rivers, in fact, flow for the most of the time, not into the sea, but into the lagoons. These are not perfectly continuous, although out of that three hundred miles there are only about thirty miles where there are breaks in their continuity and where canoes have to be hauled for a few hundred yards, or for a mile or two, on the dry land separating them.
It will at once occur to anyone travelling along this coast, as we did, that an uninterrupted waterway might be formed by cutting a few short canals to connect the separate lagoons, and so bring the coast towns into communication with Tamatave. That enlightened monarch, Radàma I. (1810-1828), did see this, and several thousand men were at one time employed in connecting the lagoons nearest Tamatave; but this work was interrupted by his death and never resumed by his successors. But soon after the French conquest the work was again taken in hand; canals were excavated, connecting all the lakes and lagoons between Tamatave and Andòvorànto; and for about twelve years a service of small steamers took passengers and goods between Hivòndrona and Brickaville, where, until quite recently, the railway commenced. Since the line of rails has now been completed direct to Tamatave, this waterway will not be of the same use, at least for passenger traffic.
COAST SCENERY
The scenery of this coast is of a very varied and beautiful nature, and the combinations of wood and water present a series of pictures which constantly recalled some of the loveliest landscapes that English river and lake scenery can present. Our route ran for most of the way between the lagoons and the sea, among the woods. On the one hand we had frequent glimpses through the trees of sheets of smooth water fringed by tropical vegetation, and on the other hand were the tumbling and foaming waves of the ever-restless sea. In many places islands studded the surface of the lakes, and I noticed thousands of a species of pandanus, with large aerial roots, spreading out as if to anchor it firmly against floods and violent currents. In the woods were the gum-copal tree and many kinds of palms with slender graceful stems and crowns of feathery leaves. The climbing plants were abundant, forming ropes of various thicknesses, crossing from tree to tree and binding all together in inextricable confusion, creeping on the ground, mounting to the tree-tops and sometimes hanging in coils like huge serpents. Great masses of hart’s-tongue fern occurred in the forks of the branches, and wherever a tree trunk crossed over our path it was covered with orchids.
A POISON TREE
Among other trees I recognised the celebrated tangèna, from which was obtained the poison used in Madagascar from a remote period as an ordeal. The tangèna is about the size of an ordinary apple-tree, and, could it be naturalised in England, would make a beautiful addition to our ornamental plantations. The leaves are peculiarly grouped together in clusters and are somewhat like those of the horse-chestnut. The poison was procured from the kernel of the fruit, and until the reign of Radàma II. (1861) was used with fatal effect for the trial of accused persons, and caused the death of thousands of people, mostly innocent, every year during the reign of the cruel Rànavàlona I.
We arrived at Andrànokòditra, a small village with a dozen houses, early in the afternoon. From our house there was a lovely view of the broad lake with its woods and islands, while the sea was only two or three hundred yards’ distance in the rear. Wild ducks and geese of several kinds were here very plentiful, but my friend was not very successful with his gun, as a canoe was necessary to reach the islands where they chiefly make their haunts. After our evening meal Mr Plant slung his hammock to the framework of our hut, and happily did not come to grief, as occasionally happened. I was somewhat disturbed by the cockroaches, which persisted in dropping from the roof upon and around me. There was no remedy, however, except to forget the annoyance in sleep.
I may here notice that when travelling along this coast a few years later (in August 1883) the sands were everywhere almost covered with pieces of pumice, varying from lumps as big as one’s head to pieces as small as a walnut. They were rounded by the action of the waves, and on some of the larger pieces oysters, serpulæ and corals had begun to form. This pumice had no doubt been brought by the ocean currents, as well as by the winds, both setting to the west, from the Straits of Sunda, where they were ejected by the tremendous eruption of Krakatoa, off the west coast of Java, during the previous May. This fact supplies not only an interesting illustration of the distances to which volcanic products may be carried by ocean currents, but also throws light upon the way in which the ancestors of the Malagasy came across the three thousand miles of sea which separate Madagascar from Malaysia. It is easy to understand how, in prehistoric times, single prahus, or even a small fleet of them, were occasionally driven westward by a hurricane, and that the westerly current aided in this, until at length these vessels were stranded or gained shelter on the coast of Madagascar, stretching north and south, as it does, for a thousand miles. From what I have been told, the pumice was found, if not everywhere on the east coast, at any rate over a considerable extent of it.
VARIETY OF FISH
We were up soon after four o’clock on the following morning, and started while it was still twilight. After going a short distance through the woods we came again to the seashore, and proceeded for some miles close to the waves, which broke repeatedly over our bearers’ feet as they tramped on the firm wet sand. For a considerable distance there was only a low bank of sand between the salt water of the ocean and the fresh water of the lake. In many places the opposite shore showed good sections of the strata, apparently a red sandstone, with a good deal of quartz rock. We left the sea again and went on through the woods, a sharp shower coming on as we entered them. We did not notice any fish in the lagoons, but I was afterwards informed by a correspondent, Mr J. G. Connorton, who lived for several years at Mànanjàra, and paid much attention to natural history, that there is a great variety of fish, crustaceans and mulluscs in the lagoons and rivers, as well as in the sea. He kindly sent me a list of about one hundred and twenty of these, together with many interesting particulars as to their habits and appearance, etc. From this account I will give a few extracts:
ZÒMPONA
“Ambàtovàzana, a sea-fish which comes also into the entrance of the rivers; it has silvery scales and yellow fins. In both upper and lower jaws are four rows of teeth very like pebbles; these are for crushing crabs, its usual food. Its name is derived from its peculiarly shaped teeth (vàto, stone; vàzana, molar teeth). Botàla, a small sea and river fish; it is covered all over with rough prickles. These fish inflate their bodies by filling their stomachs with air as soon as they are taken out of the water; if replaced in the water suddenly, out goes the air, and they are off like a flash. It is probably Tetrodon fàhaka. Hìntana, a river-fish, with purple colouring and darker purple stripes from back to belly. It is generally found among weeds, and has four long spines, one on the dorsal fin, two just behind the gills, and one close under the tail. These spines are very poisonous, and anyone pricked by them suffers great pain for several hours, the parts near the wound swelling enormously. I have not, however, heard of the wound ever proving fatal. Horìta, a small species of octopus found clinging to the rocks. The Malagasy esteem them highly, but I found them gluey and sticky in the mouth, as well as rank in flavour. Tòfoka, a sea and river fish, probably Mugil borbonicus. It has a habit of jumping out of the water, and if chased by a shark it swims at the surface with great rapidity, making enormous leaps into the air every now and then and often doubling upon the enemy. Perhaps the best of the many edible fish is the Zòmpona, a kind of mullet, only feeding on soft substances such as weeds. It is silvery in colour, with large scales, and is probably the best-known fish on the east coast. When fresh from the sea, its tail and fins have a yellowish tinge, and it is then splendid eating; but if this tinging is lost it shows that the fish has been for some time in fresh water, and the flesh has a muddy flavour. It varies in size from nine to thirty inches long. The coast people are very fond of zòmpona; and when a person is dying and is so far gone that the case is a hopeless one, some outsider is almost sure to say, ‘He (or she) won’t get zòmpona again.’”
I can confirm my correspondent’s statements as to the excellence of the last-named fish, having frequently eaten it when on the coast. He also mentions several kinds of prawns and shrimps; some of these are large and make an excellent curry. One species of prawn, called Oronkosìa, is long and slender, with immense antennæ, often a foot in length. One species of shrimp has one large claw, like the crab already mentioned, the other being hardly at all developed. Several species of shark are seen off this coast, among them that extraordinary-looking fish, the hammer-headed shark (Zygæna malleus), which I have never seen in Madagascar waters, but have noticed with great interest in South African harbours. “The saw-fish (Pristis sp.), called by the natives Vavàno, sometimes comes into the rivers in search of food. One was caught in the river Mànanjàra which measured fourteen feet from tip of saw to end of tail; the saw alone was three feet six inches in length, seven inches broad at base, and four inches at tip. The flesh is coarse eating, but the liver is very palatable.”
I may remark here that we seldom stopped, either at midday or in the evening, at any village without a visit from the headman of the place and his family, who always carried some present. Fowls, rice, potatoes, eggs and honey were constantly brought to us, preceded by a speech in which the names and honours of the Queen were recited, and compliments to us on our visiting their village. The Malagasy are a most hospitable people, always courteous and polite to strangers; and my first experience of them on this journey was confirmed in numberless instances in travelling in other parts of the country.
DELIGHTFUL SCENERY
Leaving Vavòny, where we had our morning repast, between eleven and twelve o’clock, we went on again through the woods along the shores of the lake, which here spreads out into broad sheets of water, two or three miles wide. The scenery was delightful, both shores being thickly wooded, reminding me in some places of the Wye, in others of the lake at Longleat, and in narrow parts of Studley Park. Our road for miles resembled a footpath through a nobleman’s park in England: clumps of trees, shrubberies, and short smooth turf, all united to complete the resemblance. These all seemed more like the work of some expert landscape gardener than merely the natural growth. In some parts, where the more distinctly tropical vegetation—pandanus, cacti and palms—were not seen, the illusion was complete. In many places we saw many sago palms (Cycas thouarsii), a tree much less in height than the majority of the palms and not exceeding twelve or fourteen feet, but with the same long pinnate leaves characteristic of so many of the Palmaceæ.
One of the most conspicuous trees on this coast, especially as seen from the sea, is the Filào (Casuarina equisetifolia), a tall larch or fir-like tree, often called, from the colour of its wood, “the beefwood tree.” Like the firs, its leaves are fine filaments, and the wind passing through these produces a peculiar gentle sighing noise. Very plentiful, too, is a much smaller tree bearing a perfectly globular-shaped fruit as large as a good-sized orange, but having a hard shell which requires a smart blow to crack. It contains a greyish pulp, and a number of large black seeds; and although by no means equal to an orange in taste, its acid flavour was refreshing enough where one was thirsty and heated with the midday sun. A friend of mine remarks: “As they are rather more difficult to eat in a cleanly and dainty fashion than ripe mangoes, we smeared ourselves pretty considerably in the process.” While the pulp is edible, the seeds are poisonous, and we need not wonder at that when we find that the tree is closely allied to the Strychnos nux-vomica. Its native name is Vòavòntaka (Brehmia spinosa); vòa is the general word for “fruit,” and enters into the composition of more than two hundred Malagasy names of trees, plants and fruits. A species of Hibiscus is widely spread along the coast, and yields a valuable fibre. The natives say that its flowers are yellow in the morning and red in the evening. Other noticeable flowering shrubs here are a species of Stephanotis, with lovely large white flowers, and an Ipomæa, which straggles far and wide on the sand of the seashore. Along the sides of the lagoons and marshes in scattered places may be found the curious pitcher-plant (Nepenthes madagascariensis); this is a shrub about four feet high, whose jug-shaped pitchers, four to five inches in length, contain abundant water and numerous insects. Gum-copal is obtained from a tree (Trachylobium verrucosa) growing on this coast; and india-rubber from several plants (Landolphia madagascariensis and L. gummifera), creepers as well as trees.
MOSQUITOES
Notwithstanding the beauty of this part of the country, it is very unhealthy for foreigners. The rivers, as we have seen, all communicate with the lagoons, and during the rainy season great quantities of decaying matter are brought down from the forests. The large extent of marsh and stagnant water in the lakes breed millions of mosquitoes, and so give rise to the dreaded malarial fever. The earlier accounts of the French and Portuguese settlements on the coast of Madagascar represent this as a frightful scourge, sweeping off a large proportion of the soldiers and settlers at their forts. From this, the Isle Ste Marie was called the “Grave of the French,” and “the Churchyard” and “Dead Island” of the Dutch. But the use of quinine and modern precautions against mosquito bites have done much to mitigate the attacks of fever, and since the draining of the marshes near Tamatave the town is said to be fairly healthy.
The Bétsimisàraka inhabitants of this coast are accustomed to place their dead in rude coffins hollowed out of the trunk of a tree and covered with a roof-shaped lid. But these are not buried, but are placed on the ground in little groups, in a sheltered grove of trees. In the case of wealthy people, the coffins are put on a kind of trestle, and sometimes are protected from the rain by having a shed fixed over them. This custom, it may be imagined, is not, for the living, a pleasant mode of disposing of the departed, and the presence of these little cemeteries may often be deduced from the effluvium, even if they are not seen. During the dry season one constantly meets with groups of people carrying up the remains of their relatives, Hova who have died on the coast, in order that they may be buried in their ancestral tombs. Sometimes we have had our midday meal, or have stopped for the night, in houses against whose outer walls these wrapped-up corpses, fastened to long poles for carriage, have been leaning. At one place where we stayed the people were making cakes for the funeral feast, and in pounding the rice for these the women made a special rhythmical beat of their pestles on the top of the rice mortar, as well as on the meal in the hollow of the mortar.
SNAKES
But to return to our journey. At about two o’clock we had to cross the lake, but as there was only one small canoe, it took more than two hours to get all our baggage and men over. We therefore strolled into the woods, finding plenty to interest us in examining the orchids, ferns, and other plants, most of them new to me. We captured a new and splendid spider, new to my companion, who had made entomology his special study. We were amused by the little land-crabs, with their curious stalked eyes, folding down into a case, when not raised to look about them. There were also many beautifully marked lizards, as well as other interesting living creatures in these tropical woods. The ferry was close to a village bearing the name of Andàvaka-mènaràna—that is, “hole of serpents.” Notwithstanding this ominous appellation, we were not startled from our path by even a solitary reptile, although a cave not far distant is said to be a lurking-place for numbers of these creatures. But on a subsequent journey along this coast I saw a large and handsome brown serpent on the grass close to the path. I got down, not to kill it, but to examine its beautiful markings and graceful movements; but on getting near it, which was not easy to do, as its movements were so rapid, it turned and faced me in a menacing fashion. Happily, although there are many species of serpents in Madagascar, not one is a venomous kind—that is, their bite is not fatal. At the same time there are some kinds which will bite severely if attacked. Later on, I saw another much smaller snake, of a bright green colour, on the trunk of a tree; doubtless its tints were protective. The larger one I saw is called Màndotra, and was from three to four feet long; another species found on the coast is called Màntangòra, and is a foot or more longer.
A BOA
While on the subject of serpents, I will add here some particulars my friend, Mr Houlder, gives of yet another of these reptiles seen on this east coast, but farther north. This kind is called Akòma (Pelophilus madagascariensis), and appears to be a species of boa, killing fowls, rats and other creatures first by crushing them, and then covering them with saliva before swallowing. At a village he stayed in, my friend found the people much excited about a large serpent seen in their neighbourhood. Sending out his men to find it, “at last the creature was seen. Yes, there he was, a villainous-looking monster, apparently asleep, coiled up among the bushes with his great flat head in the middle of the circle. The gun was loaded with several pistol bullets. Luckily it was, perhaps, for the duck-shot sent into him at the next discharge only just penetrated his thick scaly skin. Advancing to within a couple of yards or so, I raised the gun. Bang! Away went the onlookers for their lives. Peering through the smoke which was slowly moving away, I could just see the head coming towards me. Enough, I bolted too. This caused a second stampede. But it was a groundless alarm. I looked back, and saw that the poor creature was incapable of doing serious injury. His back was hopelessly broken. No other shot was necessary.” Mr Houlder did not get the serpent to his house without difficulty, owing to the terror of the bearers even when it was dead. “It was a medium-sized specimen, about nine feet long and as thick round the middle as the calf of a man’s leg. On each side of its body was a long yellow, black, and reddish chain-like marking on a brown ground; and near the extremity of its tail were two abortive claws. Muscular motion did not cease until long after it was dead.”
LEMURS
Although we did not see any lemurs in the coast woods, one species at least is, or, at least, was, sometimes met with—viz. the white-fronted lemur (Lemur mongos, var. albifrons). Several specimens of this kind have been brought to England from time to time, and have been kept in the Regent’s Park Zoological Gardens from as long ago as 1830; so that their appearance and habits are as well known to English people as to the Malagasy themselves. Their habits are simple enough. They often exhibit great vivacity, and are much given to leaping from one object to another, in which they are aided by the pad-like structure of the soles of their four hands. They are very good-natured and tame and full of fun while still young, but become cross and vicious when old. We shall, however, see and hear more of the lemurs when we come into the denser forests.
A little before dusk we arrived at Andòvorànto, a large village situated at the mouth of the river Ihàroka, and formerly the capital of the Bétsimisàraka tribe, before they were reduced to subjection by the Hova. This place would be the natural port of the capital, but for the bar of sand at the entrance of the river. Were it not for this obstruction, ships and steamers could come up into the interior for many miles. The house in which we stayed here was quite a large one, divided into three rooms, the walls covered with rofìa matting, and actually possessing windows (but, of course, without glass) and doors. All the places where we had stayed previously had no windows, and a mat hung over the entrance supplied the place of a door.
While our dinner was being prepared we walked down to the sea and along the river banks, hoping to find some natural history specimens. During our walk Mr Plant related to me his success in obtaining a specimen of that remarkable creature, the aye-aye, an animal peculiar to Madagascar, and of which, at that time, only one or two specimens had reached Europe. The example he secured was sent to England in spirits, and from it, I believe, Sir Richard Owen prepared his monograph, giving full details and drawings, life size, showing its remarkable structure. The animal, although apparently not scarce, is difficult to obtain, as it comes out from its retreat only at night; besides which, the forest people have a superstitious fear of it, so that even a large reward is often insufficient to induce them to attempt its capture.
THE AYE-AYE
The aye-aye is included among the four-handed animals, but it is very unlike the monkeys, having a smaller brain and much less intelligence; and from its powerful teeth it was at first thought to be a link between them and the rodentia, or gnawing animals. Its structure presents some of the most interesting illustrations of typical forms, being modified to serve special ends that any animal organisation can exemplify. The food of the aye-aye consists of a wood-boring larvæ, which tunnels into the wood of certain trees. To obtain these, the animal is furnished with most powerful chisel-shaped incisor teeth, with which it cuts away the outer bark. As, however, the grub retreats to the end of its hole, one of the fingers of the aye-aye’s hands is slightly lengthened, but much diminished in thickness, and is finished with a hook-like claw. Thus provided, the finger is used as a probe, inserted in the tunnel, and the dainty morsel drawn forth from its hiding-place. There are also other modifications, all tending to the more perfect accomplishment of the purposes of its creation: the eyes being very large to see in the night, the ears widely expanded to catch the faint sound of the grub at work, and the thumbs of the feet largely developed so as to enable the animal to take a firm hold of the tree while using its teeth.
Since then, living specimens of the aye-aye have been sent to Europe, and careful observations were made for several months on the habits of one in the Regent’s Park Gardens; and other information has been obtained as to the animal as observed in its native forests by intelligent natives. The creature somewhat resembles a large cat in size, being about three feet in total length, of which its large bushy tail forms quite half. Its colour is dark brown, the throat being yellowish-grey; a somewhat silvery look is given to the fur in certain lights by many whitish hairs on the back. The probe finger is used as a scoop when the aye-aye drinks; it is carried so rapidly from the water to the mouth that the liquid seems to pass in a continual stream. A remarkable fact has been pointed out in the structure of the lower jaw—namely, that the two sides are only joined together by a strong ligament, and do not, as in other animals, form one connected circle of bone. This accounts for the prodigious power of gnawing that the aye-aye possesses. It was seen to cut through a strip of tin-plate nailed to the door of its cage.
The aye-aye constructs true nests, about two and a half feet in diameter, which are found on trees in the dense parts of the forest. Near the coast these are composed of rolled-up leaves of the traveller’s tree, and are lined with twigs and dry leaves. The opening of the nest is at the side, and a small white insect called andaitra, probably the larva of some beetle, forms the animal’s chief food. It is said to be very savage, and strikes rapidly with its hands. The coast people believe it to be an embodiment of their forefathers, and so will not touch it, much less do it an injury; and if they attempted to entrap it, they think they would surely die in consequence; and their superstition extends even to its nest.
The aye-aye is one of the many instances which the animal life of Madagascar presents of isolation from other forms. It remains the only species of its genus, and, like many of the peculiar birds of the island, is one of the many proofs that Madagascar has for long ages been separated from Africa; so that while allied forms have become extinct on the continent, here, protected from the competition of stronger animals, many birds, mammals and insects have been preserved, and so this island is a kind of museum of ancient and elsewhere unknown forms of life.
CHAPTER IV
FROM COAST TO CAPITAL: ANDÒVORÀNTO TO MID-FOREST
IT rained heavily during the night of Tuesday and nearly until daybreak, so it was half-past six o’clock before we were able to leave Andòvorànto. Hitherto we had followed the seashore southwards; now we were to start westwards into the interior. After an immense deal of shouting and some quarrelling on the part of our bearers, who seemed to think it necessary for everyone to give his opinion at the same moment, we pushed off in six large canoes and paddled away up the river Ihàroka. For several miles the stream is upwards of a mile in width. It was a fine calm morning after a stormy night, and as we glided rapidly over the broad smooth expanse of water, and turned our canoe’s prow towards the interior mountains, I began really to feel that I was on my way to the capital.
After half-an-hour we came to a point where the river is a junction of three streams, the one we took being about half the width of the main current. We passed many canoes and overtook others; some of these were filled with rice and other produce, and had but a single rower; he sat generally at the stern and gave a few strokes with the paddle on each side of the canoe alternately, so as to keep the craft in a fairly straight course through the water. Other canoes were filled with what was evidently a family party, going together to some market held in one of the neighbouring villages. Our men seemed to enjoy the exercise of paddling, which was a change from bearing our palanquins and baggage on their shoulders, and they took us up the stream at a great speed. More than once, indeed, I wished they had been less vigorous, for they commenced racing with the other crews, making me not a little apprehensive of being upset. It would not have mattered much to them, as they swam fearlessly and had nothing to lose; but it would have been unpleasant and dangerous for us, even apart from the risk of crocodiles, which abound in most of the rivers of Madagascar.
CROCODILES
These reptiles are so numerous in many parts as to be a great pest; they often carry off sheep and cattle, and not unfrequently women and children who incautiously go into or even near the water. The Malagasy, however, have a superstitious dread of these monsters, which prevents them from attempting to kill them. They rather try to propitiate the creature by prayers and offerings thrown into the water, and by acknowledging its supremacy in its own element. At Itàsy, a lake fifty miles west of the capital, the people believe that if a crocodile be killed a human life will, within a very short time, be exacted by the animal’s brother reptiles, as an atonement for his death. Two or three French travellers once shot a crocodile in this lake, and such was the people’s consternation and dread of the consequences that their visitors found it expedient to quit the neighbourhood as quickly as possible. The eggs of the crocodile are collected and sold for food in the markets, and are said to be perfectly good, but I confess I never brought myself to test their merits.
We kept near the banks of the river, and so were able to examine and admire the luxuriant vegetation with which they were covered. In many places the bamboo is conspicuous, with its long-jointed, tapering stem, and its whorls of minute leaves, of a light delicate green; but it is small here compared with what we afterwards saw in the main forest. Plantations of sugar-cane and manioc were mingled with banana-trees, palms, pandanus and other trees, many not unlike English forms. Numbers of great water-lilies with blue flowers were growing in the shallow water, and convolvuli, as well as numerous other flowers of new kinds and colours, everywhere met the eye. The shores were flat at first, but became more hilly, and the scenery more varied, as we proceeded.
THE TRAVELLER’S TREE
As we sailed up the river the traveller’s tree (Ravenala madagascariensis) became very plentiful, and soon gave quite a peculiar character to the landscape. This remarkable and beautiful tree belongs to the order which includes the plantains and bananas, although in some points its structure resembles the palm rather than the plantain. It is immediately recognised by its graceful crown of broad green leaves, which grow at the top of its trunk in the form of an immense fan. The leaves are from twenty to thirty in number, and are from eight to ten feet long by a foot and a half broad. They very closely resemble those of the banana, and when unbroken by the wind have a very striking and beautiful appearance. The name of “traveller’s tree” is given on account of its affording at all times a supply of cool pure water upon piercing the base of the leaf-stalk with a spear or pointed stick. This supply is owing to the broad surface of the leaves, which condenses the moisture of the atmosphere, and from which the water trickles down into the hollow, where the leaf-stalks join the stem. Each of these forms a little reservoir, in which water may always be found. The leaves, as are also those of the banana, are used to beat the thatched roofs in case of fire, on account of the amount of water which they contain.
The name of “builder’s tree” might be given to it with equal or greater propriety, for it is as useful to the coast people as the cocoanut-palm is to the South Sea islanders. The leaves are used for thatching, and the long leaf-stems fastened together form the filling-in of the framework for the walls and partitions; the bark is beaten out flat and forms the flooring; while the trunk supplies timber for the framing. Quantities of the fresh leaves are used every day and take the place of plates and dishes; and at the New Year’s festival the jàka, or meat eaten at that time, was always served up, together with rice, upon pieces of the leaves of this tree or of the banana; and a kind of spoon or ladle was, and is still, formed, made by twisting up part of a leaf and tying it with the tendrils of some climbing plant. The tree ranges from the sea-coast to the height of about fifteen hundred feet, after which it begins rapidly to disappear. At an elevation of about a thousand feet it is extremely abundant, much more so, in fact, than any other tree, and is the one striking and peculiar feature in the vegetation. It is not found so much in the forests as on the hillsides in the open country; it has some half-dozen or more different names among the various tribes on the eastern side of the island.
Low-class Girl Fetching Water
On her head is the sìny, in her hand the zìnga
A Sihànaka Woman Playing the Valìha
The strings are cut out of the bamboo, with calabash bridges
Our canoe voyage was nearly twenty miles in length, the last two or three up a narrow creek not above twenty or thirty feet in width. In one of the narrowest parts of the stream we were stopped by a tree which had fallen across the creek, just above the surface of the water. With some trouble and difficulty the canoes were each hoisted over the obstruction, the luggage being shifted from one to another. Some friends who came up about five months afterwards told me that the tree was still there. Probably it had caused a stoppage hundreds of times, yet no one dreamed of taking the little extra trouble necessary to remove it altogether from the passage. It was just the same in the forest: when a tree fell across the path, there it lay for months until it rotted away. Palanquins had to be hoisted over it, or with difficulty pushed beneath it, but it was never removed until nature helped in the work. It was no one’s business to cut it up, or to take it out of the way; there were no “turnpike trusts,” and the native government never gave themselves any concern about the matter.
COFFEE AND ORANGES
We were glad to land at Maròmby at ten o’clock, for rain came on, and before we were well housed it poured down heavily for some time. Here we got as dessert, after breakfast, a quantity of wild raspberries, which, while not equal in flavour to the English kind, are very sweet and refreshing. Close to the house where we stayed for our meal was a coffee plantation; the shrubs grow to a height of seven or eight feet, and have dark glossy leaves, with a handsome white flower. The small scarlet fruit, in which the seed—what we term the “berry”—is enclosed, contains a sweetish juice. The coffee plant thrives in most parts of the island, and its produce probably will become an important part of its exports.
Near the house were also a number of orange-trees, and here I had the gratification of seeing an orange grove with the trees laden with thousands of the golden-hued fruit. We were allowed to take as many as we liked, and as the day was hot and sultry we were not slow to avail ourselves of the permission. Perhaps there are few more beautiful sights than an orange grove when the fruit is ripe on the trees. The “golden apples” of the Hesperides must surely have been the produce of an orange plantation.
The rain ceased after a time, but we did not get off until past two o’clock, for our men became rather obstinate, and evidently wanted to stay at Maròmby for the rest of the day. This we were not at all disposed to allow. At last we started, and in a few minutes had a specimen of the adventures that were in store for us in passing through the forest. In attempting to ford a stream, one of my men suddenly sank nearly to his waist in a thick yellow mud. It was by the barest chance that I was not turned over into the water; however, after some scrambling from one man’s shoulder to another, I managed to reach dry land. There was a shaky, rickety bridge a little higher up the stream, and by this I contrived to get across.
DIFFICULT TRAVELLING
We now struck right into the hills, up and down, down and up, for nearly four hours. The road was a mere footpath, and sometimes not even that, but the bed of a torrent made by the heavy rains. It wound sometimes round the hills and sometimes straight up them, and then down into the valleys at inclinations difficult enough to get along without anything to carry but oneself, but, with heavy loads, requiring immense exertion. My palanquin described all kinds of angles; sometimes I was resting nearly on my head, and presently almost on my feet. When winding round the hills we were continually in places where a false step of my bearers might have sent us tumbling down sixty or seventy, and sometimes a hundred, feet into the valley below. A dozen times or so we had to cross streams foaming over rocks and stones, to scramble down to which, and out again, were feats requiring no ordinary dexterity. Again and again I expected to be tumbled over into the water or down the rocks, the path being often steeper than the roof of a house. Several times I got out and walked up and down the hills in order to relieve the men; but I afterwards found that I need not have troubled myself, as they easily carried me up much steeper ascents. Some of these scenes were exceedingly beautiful and, with the rushing, foaming waters, overhung with palms, ferns, plantains and bamboos, made scores of scenes in which a landscape artist would have delighted.
In passing along I was struck with the peculiar outline of the hills; they are mostly rounded cones or mamelle-shaped, not connected together in chains, but detached, so it appeared that road-making would be very difficult and would have to be very circuitous. In almost every sheltered hollow were clumps of the traveller’s tree, together with palms and bamboos. The hills increased in height as we advanced, while beyond them all in the far distance we could see the line of the mountains forming the edge of the central highland, and covered with dense forest in every part. The scene, but for the tropical trees, resembled the Lancashire and West Riding scenery, along the Todmorden valley. As far as I could make out, the hills appeared to be mostly of bright clay, interspersed with quartz. Great black masses of gneiss rock crop out on the sides of many of them in most curious, fantastic shapes.
HOT STREAMS
On the east coast and for some way westward there is no distinct rainy season, as in the interior of Madagascar; it rains more or less all through the year. The temperature did not exceed that of warm summer days in England, with cool mornings and evenings. We reached Rànomafàna as it was getting dusk, my lads bringing me in, as usual, at a smart trot, after doing fifteen or sixteen miles in less than four hours. The name of this village means “hot waters,” and is derived from some hot springs which bubble up in a small stream not far from the houses. The water close to this spot is too hot to touch with the hand or foot; but as it mingles with the cold river water it soon becomes tepid, and I found that in wading in the stream I could have any degree of heat or cold as I chose. Many people come to bathe in these hot waters, and find benefit in certain complaints.
At this place I procured specimens of that remarkable vegetable production, the lace-leaf plant, or water yam (Ouvirandra fenestralis). The existence of this plant had long been known to botanists, but it was introduced into Europe by the Rev. W. Ellis after his first visit to Madagascar (1853-1854); and from plants brought by him to England it was propagated, and specimens were sent to many of the chief botanical collections, as well as to Kew, Chiswick and the Crystal Palace. I knew of this plant being abundant in some of the streams on the east side of the island, and I therefore described it as well as I could to one of my bearers. A little time after our arrival at the village he brought me three or four plants, together with the roots, and in one case with the flower also attached. The leaves were from six to eight inches long and an inch and a half wide; but I afterwards found at Mauritius that they grew to more than double this size in the Royal Gardens at Pamplemousses.
THE LACE PLANT
As the name implies, the leaf is like a piece of lace-work, or, more strictly speaking, like a skeleton leaf, the spaces between the veining being open. The veining is something like that of a lily leaf, the longitudinal fibre running through the whole length, and crossed at very regular intervals by the transverse veins, which are of thread-like fineness. The specific name, fenestralis (“windowed”), conveys this idea of a regular arrangement of structure. The leaf-stalk varies in length with the depth of the water, always keeping a little below the surface. Each plant has ten or a dozen leaves branching from the root, which in the specimens brought to me resembled a small potato. It can be eaten, as its taste is like the farinaceous yam, common to most tropical countries; and from this likeness the generic name, ouvirandra, is derived—ouvy or òvy being the native word for yam. The plant grows in running water and thrives best in warm situations. The flower grows on a long stalk and rises a little above the surface of the water; it is of a pinkish colour, dividing into two curved hairy tufts. Few objects can be imagined more beautiful or interesting for cultivating in an aquarium than this lace-leaf plant, which Sir W. J. Hooker termed “one of the most curious of nature’s vegetable productions.” It is an endogenous plant, included in the order Juncaginaceæ, to which the arrow-grasses and the rushes belong; it is found not only in the eastern region, but occurs in streams near the upper belt of forest in the interior. It is said to be very tenacious of life, retaining its vitality even if the stream where it grows is dried up; the leaves in their various stages of growth pass through a gradation of colour, from a pale yellow to a dark olive-green. When full grown, its dark green leaves form the limit of a circle two or three feet in diameter.
Taking a walk round the village before it was dark, I noticed several houses raised on posts five or six feet above the ground. At the top of each post, just under the floor, was a projecting circle of wood a foot or more in diameter and polished very smooth. I found that these buildings were granaries, and were raised in this way to protect the rice from rats, which are a great annoyance in most parts of the country. The smooth ring of wood effectually prevented them from getting any farther than the top of the upright posts. The ladder for getting up to these granaries is a very primitive contrivance; it consists merely of a round pole with notches cut in the upper side to prevent the foot from slipping. On a subsequent visit to Madagascar my wife and I had to use one of these tràno àmbo (“raised houses”), as they are called, as a bedroom, and very clean and comfortable we found it, free from all insect plagues; the floor was of plaited bamboo, springy to walk on, although the getting up to it or down from it was a somewhat difficult feat.
OUR BEARERS
We were astir early on the Wednesday morning and left our quarters at six o’clock. It was a beautiful morning as we commenced our journey and began to mount hills and descend valleys and cross streams as before—with this difference, that the hills became higher and steeper, and the paths more difficult. How our men managed to carry themselves up and down, to say nothing of the heavy loads on their shoulders, puzzled me, but they did their work apparently without much fatigue. I noticed that many of those who carried heavy loads had the flesh and muscles on the shoulders thickened into a sort of pad, caused, I suppose, from the constant weight and friction of their burdens. When carrying they wore but little clothing, merely the salàka or loin-cloth, and sometimes a sleeveless jacket of hempen cloth or other coarse material. In the cool mornings they generally wore over the shoulders the làmba[4] of rofìa, or of hemp cloth; but during the rest of the day this was bound tightly round the waist, or thrown upon the palanquin. The two sets of four bearers used to take the work in “spells” of a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes at a time; when the others relieved them they did not stop, but those taking the poles of the palanquin would stoop under and take it on their shoulders with hardly any jerk, even when running at full speed. Occasionally one set would take the duty for an hour or more, while if going fast, or on very difficult ground, they relieved each other very frequently. Every three or four minutes they changed the load from one shoulder to another, the leaders lifting the pole over their heads.
In proceeding on our journey we met great numbers of men bringing poultry, manioc, potatoes, rice, and other produce from the interior to the coast. These articles are mostly brought to Tamatave and other ports, so that the ships trading to these places are supplied with abundance of provisions at a very moderate rate. The poultry were enclosed in large open panniers or baskets made of strips of bamboo plaited together and slung at each end of a bamboo or a pole of light wood. We also overtook many men taking European goods up to the capital—quantities of cheap and gaudily painted crockery, iron cooking-pots, and a variety of other articles. Many also carried salt, and others the same open wicker baskets in which fowls are brought down, but now containing quantities of the fibre of the rofìa palm. This is taken up into the interior to be manufactured into cloth. Sometimes these men were met singly, or two or three together, but more often they travelled in companies of ten, twenty or thirty. Occasionally we met a Hova officer in a palanquin borne by his slaves, and often with his wife and other members of his family, also in palanquins, with female slaves attending them and running at a good pace to keep up with the men.
In one day we often saw a great variety of face and colour, and met representatives of several of the different tribes which people the island; and these differ considerably in colour and features. Among the faces we saw, although there were few that could be called handsome, judging by a European standard, there was yet a large proportion of good heads, with high, well-formed foreheads, and a general look of quickness and intelligence. The impression given was certainly not that of a race low in mental organisation or capabilities.
NATIVE MUSIC
At Ambàtoharànana, where we breakfasted, we were favoured with a little native music while our meal was being prepared. The instrument consisted of a piece of bamboo about four feet long, with parts of the strong outer fibre detached and strained over small pieces of pumpkin shell like the bridge of a violin. With this simple contrivance the performer produced a soft plaintive kind of music, not unlike the tones of a guitar. This instrument is called a valìha, and is played by the fingers. A simpler and ruder musical effect is obtained by a kind of bow of wood, with two or three strings, and to which, at one end, the half of a large gourd is fixed to give resonance; this is called lokàngam-bòatàvo (vòatàvo, pumpkin), but its sound is poor and monotonous.
Although the paths we traversed were most difficult, the scenery was singularly delightful. There are few more beautiful forms in tropical vegetation than the bamboo, which unites the most perfect symmetry and bright colour, and in some places a particular species[5] gave quite a special character to the scenery. The long elastic stems, thirty or forty feet in length, three inches or more in diameter at the base, and tapering to a fine point, were curving over the path in every direction, and with their feathery whorls of leaves, yellowish-green in colour, growing from every joint, were a constant delight to the eye. Sometimes a whole valley seemed filled with bamboos; while in others the rofìa palm and the tree-ferns were the prevailing forms.
RICHES OF THE COUNTRY
Our midday journey this day was a continual ascent, until we were evidently at a considerable elevation above the sea. From one ridge we had a most extensive prospect and could see the Indian Ocean fifty or sixty miles behind us, while before us was a yet higher chain of hills, dark with dense woods of the main line of forest. As we rode along, I could not but observe the capabilities of the country and its vast powers of production, were it brought extensively under cultivation. The country is rich also in mineral wealth—iron, gold, copper, and other metals, as well as graphite and probably also petroleum.
We came this day into a belt of tree-ferns, some of large size, with their great graceful fronds arranged horizontally in a circle round the top of the trunk. There were also numbers of pine-apples growing wild, with the magnificent scarlet flowers just developing into fruit. We descended to, crossed, and for some time went along a beautiful river, resembling in many parts the Dove at Dovedale, and in others the Wharfe at Bolton. The view from the top of an immense hill of the river winding far below was most charming. The paths by which we ascended and descended would have astonished us in England, but by this time a moderately level and smooth path had become an object of surprise. In some places there was only a narrow passage between rocks overhung with vegetation, most picturesque, but most difficult to travel by.
WEAVING
We got in early in the afternoon to Ampàsimbé, a rather large village. While waiting for dinner we watched the women at the opposite house preparing the material from which they make the rofìa cloths, called rabannas in Mauritius. It is the inner fibre of the long glass-like leaves of the rofìa-palm.[6] The cuticle on each side is peeled off, leaving a thin straw-coloured fibrous substance, which is divided by a sort of comb into different widths, according to the fineness or otherwise of the material to be made. The fibre is very strong and is the common substitute for string in Madagascar. In other villages we saw the women weaving the cloth with most rude and primitive looms, consisting merely of four pieces of wood fixed in the mud floor of the house, and a framework of two or three pieces of bamboo. The material they make, however, is a good, strong-looking article, with stripes of various colours and patterns woven into the stuff, and is extensively used by the poorer classes. With the same simple loom the Hova women make many kinds of woven stuffs; of hemp, cotton, rofìa fibre, and of this last, mingled with silk or cotton, very pretty and useful cloth of a straw colour, being made in this way. Of the strong native silk they also weave very handsome làmbas of bright and varied colours and patterns, such as used to be worn on all festive occasions by the higher classes, as well as the more sombre dark red làmbas which are used by all classes for wrapping the dead.
Bétsimisàraka Women
They are standing on a native mat outside a wooden house
Hova Woman Weaving
The article is a silk làmba on a native loom
We had now reached a part of the country where the rofìa palm was the most prominent object in the vegetation, not on the hills, however, like the traveller’s tree, but chiefly in the valleys, where there is plenty of moisture. This palm grows very abundantly and can easily be distinguished from the other trees of its order. The trunk has a rough and rugged surface, and this reaches the height of twenty to thirty feet; but the leaves are its most striking feature; they are magnificent plumes, of enormous length, quite as long as the trunk itself. The midrib of these leaves has a very strong but light structure, some four to five inches wide at the base, and on this account it is largely used for ladders, for palanquin poles, for roofing, and indeed for anything needing lightness as well as strength. On these midribs are set a great number of grass-like pinnate fronds, from which, as already noticed, string and fibre are prepared for weaving. Great clusters of seeds (or fruits?), which are enclosed in a shiny brown skin, hang down from the top of the trunk. These are used for boxes to enclose small articles, as jewellery, etc. At one part of our journey the only road was through an extensive sheet of water, through which rose hundreds of rofìas, like the interior of some great temple, a most peculiar and beautiful sight, the great fronds above us quite shutting out the sunshine and making a green twilight below them.
A PLAGUE OF RATS
If we had been disposed to copy the titles of some popular evening entertainments, the nights preceding this Wednesday’s one might have been termed: “A Night with the Fleas,” and “A Night with the Mosquitoes,” but this was emphatically “A Night with the Rats.” We saw and heard them racing round the eaves of the house before we lay down, but as soon as the light was put out they descended and began to rattle about our pots and pans in search of food. We got up and fired a pistol among them, and this appeared for a time to scare them away; but later on their attentions became so personal that we were obliged to light a candle and keep it burning on the floor all night. After this we had comparative quiet, but before lighting the candle they had been scampering over my companion in his hammock and over myself as I lay on the floor.
Thursday’s journey, although shorter than that of most days, was perhaps the most difficult of all, especially the morning division of it—hills steeper than ever, and, if possible, rougher footpaths, so that we were often obliged to get down and walk, making the journey very fatiguing. For nearly three hours we were passing through dense forest, and in some places the path was really frightful. I do not wonder that a small company of soldiers brought up in the early years of the century by Captain Le Sage laid themselves down in despair at the difficulties of the roads they had to traverse. I found along the roadside several varieties of those beautiful-leaved plants, veined with scarlet and buff, which were so much cultivated in England about that time. Ferns of all kinds were very abundant, from the minutest species to the great tree-fern.
Our afternoon’s journey took us for some distance along a beautiful river which foamed and roared over the rocks in its course, and which we forded repeatedly. The path was most picturesque, but very fatiguing; in many places the track could hardly be distinguished at all from the dense rank growth of plants and long grass. We arrived at Béfòrona at one o’clock and fully intended to have proceeded another stage, as it was so early in the afternoon, but we found our men so exhausted that we were obliged to stay there for the rest of the day.
FOREST REGIONS
Here it may be noted that we had now entered some way into the lower and wider of the two belts of dense forest which extend for several hundred miles along the eastern side of Madagascar, and cover the mountains which form the great ramparts of the highland of the interior. There is continuous forest from nearly the north of the island to almost the southern extremity; its greatest width is about fifty miles, north of Antongil Bay; but to the south of the Antsihànaka province it divides into two. Of these two belts, the upper one, which clothes the edge of the highland, is the narrowest, being not much above ten or twelve miles across, but the lower belt is from twice to three times that breadth. On the western side of Madagascar there is no such continuous line of forest; there are, it is true, many extensive portions covered with wood, but in many places the vegetation consists more of scattered clumps of trees; while in the south-west, which is the driest part of the island, the prevailing trees and shrubs are euphorbia, and are spiny in character. Mr Baron reckoned that an area of nearly thirty thousand square miles of the whole surface is forest-covered country. We shall have other opportunities of examining these extensive forest regions, so all we need say further at present about them is, that no one with any eye for the beautiful and wonderful can pass through them without astonishment and delight. The variety and luxuriance of the foliage, the great height of many of the trees, the countless creeping and climbing plants that cover their trunks and branches, the multitude of lianas that bind everything together in a maze of cordage and ropes, the flowers which sometimes cover whole trees with a mass of colour, crimson, or golden, or purple—all these make a journey through these Madagascar forests a new pleasure and lead one to exclaim: “O Lord, how manifold are Thy works!”
We were now also ascending towards the central highland of the interior, which lies at an elevation of from five to six thousand feet above the sea-level. Above this general elevation, which, however, is broken up by lesser hills and mountains in all directions, so that there is no level country except what have been the beds of ancient lakes, now dried up, the highest mountains do not rise to great altitudes. The massif of Ankàratra, which forms the south-western boundary of Imèrina, the home of the Hova tribe, does not quite reach nine thousand feet in height above the sea. Until quite recently the summits of Ankàratra were always supposed to be the highest points of the island, but it has lately been discovered that there is a mountain called Ambòro, about eighty miles from the northernmost point, which is still higher, being nine thousand four hundred feet above sea-level. On my return to the coast in 1867 I found how much less difficult the journey from Antanànarìvo to Andòvorànto was than that in the opposite direction, owing, of course, to our descending nearly five thousand feet instead of ascending the same.
BÉFÒRONA
Béfòrona is situated in an almost circular valley, with a river running through it and surrounded by forest-covered hills. The village, like most in this part of the country, has the houses arranged in a square. Their floors are generally raised a foot or two above the surface of the ground, and are formed of bark, beaten out flat and laid on bamboos. The framing and roof are made of poles or bamboo, filled in with the stalks of the traveller’s tree, and thatched with leaves of the same tree. In the centre of these village squares was a flagstaff, and in others a pole with the skulls and horns of bullocks fixed to it. These are mostly memorials of the festivities connected with the last observance of the circumcision ceremonies, which are very important events with all the Malagasy tribes. We had a visit from the wife of the chief of the village, who brought us a present of fowls and rice.
A BLOW-GUN
After resting a while we strolled along one of the streams with our guns, to try to obtain specimens of some of the birds peculiar to the neighbourhood. On our way back we observed some boys using an instrument called tsìrika, with which they were able to kill small birds. It consists of a long and straight palm stem, taken from a small and beautiful palm with a stem resembling a bamboo. A small arrow, tipped with an iron point, is inserted and is discharged by blowing at the larger end. About three inches of the end has wool to fill up the aperture and prevent any windage. They use this blow-gun with great precision and can strike a mark at a considerable distance. A very similar weapon, but with poisoned arrows, is used by the Indians of South America in the countries bordering the Amazon and its tributaries.
[4] Làmba is the Malagasy word for cloth generally, but it has also a specific use as applied to the chief article of native dress.
[5] Raphia ruffia.
[6] This rofìa fibre has of late years been largely used in England for tying up plants; but dealers in it persist in calling it “rofìa grass,” which is certainly not a correct name.
Lace Plant
CHAPTER V
FROM COAST TO CAPITAL: ALAMAZAOTRA TO ANTANÀNARÌVO
ON the Friday morning we left Béfòrona soon after five o’clock and for nearly four hours were passing through the forest, here known as that of Alamazaotra, over the highest hills and the most difficult paths we had yet seen. Certainly this day’s journey was the most fatiguing of any on the whole route, so that when we reached our halting-place I was thoroughly exhausted and glad to throw myself on the floor and sleep for an hour or more. At one part of the road there is a long slope of clay, known as “Fitomanìanòmby,” or “weeping-place of the bullocks,” so called from the labour and difficulty with which the poor animals mount the steep ascent on their way down to the coast. In coming down this and similar places the utmost care was necessary on the part of the bearers; but they were very surefooted and patient and took every precaution to carry their burden safely. In ascending we often required the help of all eight men to drag the palanquin up to the top. The villages in the heart of these vast woods are few and far between. Our halting-place for breakfast consisted merely of three or four woodcutters’ huts in a few square yards of cleared ground.
Our afternoon’s work was much the same as that of the morning. In many places the rain had made a perfect slough of thick mud, and our men had hard work to get through. I could not cease to wonder how my heavy luggage was brought along. For a considerable distance our way lay along a most romantic-looking stream, whose course was broken by great masses and shelves of rock, reminding me of Welsh river scenery. Often in the higher parts of the road, where the rivers down in the gorges were hidden by the dense masses of wood, we could hear the roar of waters in the otherwise profound stillness of the forest. At the chief pass in this chain of hills we passed a tremendous cliff of rock, which rises sheer out of the valley to a height (so it has been ascertained) of nearly two thousand feet, certainly one of the grandest natural objects I had ever seen. This stupendous mass is called Andrìambàvibé, “Great Princess”; the large trees on the summit looked like mere bushes seen from below.
LUXURIANT FOLIAGE
Notwithstanding the fatigue of the journey, it was impossible not to be struck with admiration and delight at the grandeur of the vegetation. The profusion and luxuriance of vegetable life were very extraordinary. There appeared to be few trees of great girth of trunk, but their height was considerable, especially in the valleys. High over all the other trees shot up the tall trunks of many varieties of palms, with their graceful crowns of feathery leaves. A dense undergrowth of shrubs, tree-ferns, and dwarf palms made in many places quite a green twilight; while overhead the branches were interlaced and bound together by countless creeping and climbing plants, whose rope-like tendrils crossed in all directions and made a labyrinth which it was impossible to pass through. Occasionally we came across large trees in flower, giving a glorious mass of colour. With these exceptions, however, flowers were comparatively few; and during subsequent journeys I have found that it is true in Madagascar what Dr Alfred R. Wallace has pointed out as characteristic of all tropical countries—viz. that in the tropics are not to be found great masses of floral colour. For these one must go to the temperate zones; foliage, overpowering in its luxuriance and endless variety, is indeed to be found in the tropics, but not the large extent of colour given by heather, buttercups, primroses, or a field of poppies in England.
The orchids, however, were very abundant. Wherever a fallen tree hung across the path, there they found a lodging-place, and beautified the decaying trunks with their exquisite waxy flowers of pink and white. Although what has just been said of wild flowers is true on the whole, there were a considerable number to be seen, if carefully looked for. My bearers soon perceived how interested I was in observing their novel and curious forms, and brought to me all the different varieties they could find, so that in the evening my palanquin contained a collection of flowers and plants gathered during the day. I managed to dry a few, but the greater part had to be thrown away, as I had no means of preserving them to take up to the capital.
In some parts of the woods the different species of bamboo give quite a distinct character to the vistas. Some of them shoot up in one long slender jointed stem, with fringes of delicate leaves, and hang over the paths like enormous whips. Another kind, a climbing species, with stems no thicker than a quill, clothes the lower trees with a dense mantle of pale green drapery. As we got into the higher and cooler parts of the forest, numbers of the trees had long pendent masses of feathery grey lichen, a species of Usnea, giving them quite a venerable appearance, and reminding me of the opening lines of Longfellow’s “Evangeline”:
“This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of old, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.”
ANIMAL LIFE IN THE FOREST
Although the vegetation was most luxuriant, I was surprised and somewhat disappointed by the stillness of the forest, and the few signs of animal life and the rarity of the song of birds. It is true that at certain seasons the notes of many songsters may be heard, and that in certain places the cries of different species of lemur resound through the woods. Still, on the whole, I had imagined that a tropical forest would be much more visibly full of life. Subsequent experience and research showed me that there is a considerable variety and number of living creatures in these forests, but they have to be looked for, and when found they are full of interest, as we shall see. It may be noticed, too, that both bird and insect life are more evident in the outskirts of the woods and in the occasional openings among the trees than in the densest forest, all living things delighting in sunlight.
From what has been already said it will be seen that the flora of Madagascar presents many new and striking forms of vegetable life; but its fauna is still more noteworthy, for it presents one of the strangest anomalies in the geographical distribution of animals. This zoological peculiarity consists as much, or more, in what is wanting, as in what is present. Separated from Africa by a channel not three hundred miles broad at one point, we should have supposed that Madagascar would partake to a great extent of the same characteristics, as regards animal life, as the neighbouring continent. But it is really remarkably different. There is a strange absence of the larger species of mammalia, and this statement applies not only to the forests but to all parts of the island, the bare highlands of the interior and the extensive lower plains of the west and the south.
ABSENCE OF LARGE ANIMALS
First of all, the large carnivora are all wanting; there are no lions, leopards, tigers, panthers, or hyenas. The large thick-skinned animals, so plentiful in the rivers and forests of Africa, have no representatives in Madagascar; no elephant browses in the woods, no rhinoceros or hippopotamus lazily gambols in the streams, although there was a small species of the last-named pachyderm which was living during the latest quaternary epoch. The numerous species of fleet-footed animals—antelope, gazelle, deer, and giraffe, zebra and quagga—which scour the African plains are entirely absent; and the ox, the sheep, the goat, the horse and the ass have all been introduced, the three former from Africa and the others from Europe. The order of mammalia most developed here is the quadrumana, but this, again, is represented by but a single division, the lemurs and their allies, which are the most characteristic animals of the island. There are no true monkeys, baboons, or apes, nor do the gorilla or chimpanzee put in an appearance. The lemurs are very distinct from all these and are pretty creatures, bearing little resemblance to the half-human, grotesque appearance of many of the quadrumanous animals, or to the savage character of the larger apes and baboons. They vary in size from that of a large monkey to species not larger than a rat. They are mostly gentle in disposition, and some kinds are tame enough to be kept about the house as pets.
Family Tomb of the Late Prime Minister, Antanànarìvo
The tomb is under the upper open arcade
Royal Tombs in the Courtyard of the Palace, Antanànarìvo
On the right is that of Radàma I, on the left that of Ràsohèriva
MADAGASCAR AND AFRICA
It is probable that the mammalia of Madagascar are now fairly well known, although a few of the smallest species may still await discovery; and the following summary may be here given of their divisions and numbers—excluding the bats, of which there are seventeen species, ninety species of terrestrial mammals have been classified and described, and of the following orders:—Lemuroida, thirty-nine species; Carnivora, almost all being civets and quite small animals, ten species; Insectivora, including shrews and small creatures resembling hedgehogs, twenty-four species; Rodentia, rats and mice, sixteen species; and Ungulata, one or two species of river-hog. It will be seen that about two-fifths of the mammalian fauna belong to the lemurs, and that with very few exceptions, all the others are small and inconspicuous animals; many, however, are of exceptional interest, as we shall see. From a consideration of the facts regarding the mammals, as well as those of the other forms of animal life found here—birds, reptiles and insects—the following conclusions may be drawn: First, Madagascar was anciently joined to Africa, receiving its fauna from the continent, whose animal life was then much like that of Madagascar at the present time; but it had also certain connections at an early geological epoch with Asia and even with South America, as there are undoubted affinities between its fauna and those of these distant regions. Secondly, this African connection of Madagascar existed before the abundant animal life of the continent entered it from the north, and when Africa was a great continental island—that is, its central and southern portions, and separated from Europe and Asia by a shallow sea, now the Sahara Desert. The upheaval of that sea-bottom was probably to some extent contemporaneous with the subsidence of the land which is now the Mozambique Channel. Thirdly, Madagascar must have remained for a long period separated from every other part of the globe; and while the western and southern portions have been repeatedly submerged, the highland interior, of palæozoic rocks, is very ancient land, and much of its fauna is also antique in its character.
But to leave this zoological dissertation and return to our journey. I have not mentioned that more than once we saw small companies of lemurs high over our heads, leaping with wonderful agility from branch to branch, and uttering their peculiar cry. These cries could often be heard when the animals were not seen, and sounded almost like the cry of children; and to myself there was always something pleasant in it, as that of living creatures rejoicing in their freedom in these boundless forests.
THE BED OF A GREAT LAKE
On Saturday morning I wished Mr Plant good-bye and set off, leaving him at the village, which he was to make his head-quarters for some time while collecting natural history specimens in the forest. The road was not nearly so difficult as on the previous day, so that I had no need to alight from the palanquin all the way to Ampàsimpòtsy, where I stayed to breakfast. The hills were much more moderate in height, with a good deal of open clearing, although the forest still continued on either hand, but not in those dense masses of wood through which we had passed the last three or four days. Leaving our halting-place at noon, we gradually got clear of the woods, and early in the afternoon ascended a very high hill, from which we could see a great distance both westward and eastward. Behind us were the hills and valleys covered with forest through which we had travelled, while in front stretched a great undulating plain, bare and almost without a tree, except in a few places, where there were large circular patches of wood. This was the plain of Ankay, which separates the two belts of forest, and is the home of the Bezànozàno tribe. Beyond this again, ten or twelve miles away, was the upper forest, clothing the slopes and summits of the edge of the interior highland. Careful examination of this region has shown that it was formerly the bed of a great lake, from two to three hundred miles long, extending from the present Lake Alaotra, farther north, and is its gradually diminishing remnant. Subsequent action of water has, however, so cut up its former level that it now presents a very uneven surface.
It was dull travelling alone after the pleasant companionship of a fellow-traveller; and in making arrangements for meals, etc., I felt how perfectly helpless a man is when he cannot speak so as to be understood. I was a barbarian to my men, and they were barbarians to me; for my stock of Malagasy words was very limited, and probably almost unintelligible as to pronunciation, so that I was at a complete standstill for nearly everything I wanted to say. We reached Mòramànga, a rather large village, at the commencement of the plain, soon after three in the afternoon and there halted for the rest of the day. This place was a military post of the Hova government, and on passing through passports were examined by the officer in charge.
Next morning we were stirring early and left Mòramànga while it was yet dusk. There was a thick mist, and my men were shivering with the cold, for we were now two thousand nine hundred feet above the sea, and their scanty clothing was but a poor protection. For an hour or two we saw little except for a few yards around us; but as the sun rose the fog rolled up like a vast curtain, revealing the line of the Ifòdy and Angàvo hills straight before us; the slopes were partly covered with trees, but a good deal of their surface was brown and bare. In the deepest of the many valleys which cut the surface of the Ankay plain runs a beautiful and rapid river, the Mangòro, about one hundred and fifty feet wide where we crossed it in canoes. This is the longest river of the east coast, and would make a fine means of access to the interior, were its course not interrupted by rapids and cataracts at many points.
Soon after crossing the river we commenced the ascent of Ifòdy, a very steep and difficult path, for an hour or more; but as we mounted higher and higher a glorious prospect gradually revealed itself. Looking back after we had reached the summit, there was the Mòramànga plain, bounded by the distant forest stretching away north and south, until lost in the dim distance, while below us the Mangòro could be seen in a wavy blue line in the Ankay plain. Before us, to the left, was a lovely valley, fertile and green with rice-fields, watered by the Valàla river and shut in by the Angàvo range of mountains, while on the right was a confused mass of hills, looking like a mighty sea which had suddenly been hardened and fixed in its tossings.
AN EXTRAORDINARY NEST
There was much more evidence of cultivation as we proceeded, the valleys being occupied by rice-fields, which were kept covered with a few inches of water by careful irrigation. Among the bird population of Madagascar there are some eighteen species of herons and storks which are seen in the marshes and rice-fields. One of the most noticeable of these is the Tàkatra or tufted umber, a long-legged stork with a large plume or crest. It builds an extraordinarily large nest, which is visible at a considerable distance and might be taken at first sight for half-a-load of hay. It is usually placed on the fork of a large tree, and is composed of sticks and grass, plastered inside with a thick lining of mud. It is from four and a half to six feet in diameter, dome-shaped, with a lateral entrance, and is divided into three chambers, in one of which its two large eggs are laid. The entrance is by a narrow tunnel and is always placed so as to be difficult of access, though the nest itself may be quite easy to approach. From this conspicuous nest, and the sedate way in which the tàkatra marches about seeking for its food, many native superstitions have gathered about the bird, one of which is that those who destroy its nest will become lepers. If the sovereign’s path was crossed by a tàkatra, it was considered unlucky to proceed, and the royal procession had to retrace its steps. Many native proverbs also refer to this bird. There are also two other species of stork, one of which is always found together with other shore birds; it lives in companies of from six to twelve individuals at river-mouths, feeding on crustacea and mulluscs, from which habit comes its name of Famàkiakòra or “shell-breaker.”
THE HOVAS
We were now nearing the country of the Hovas, and could see an evident difference in the appearance of the inhabitants. They were lighter in colour and had longer and straighter hair than the coast tribes. But owing to the fashion, at that time, of both sexes wearing their hair done up in a number of knots, and from the apparent absence of whisker or beard, I was sometimes puzzled to know at first sight whether the people we passed were men or women; and there was little difference in dress, the làmba being worn by both. Not only were the people different in appearance to those we had mostly seen, but the dwellings also had a much more civilised look. Several of the houses at Ambòdinangàvo were of the true Hova type, with high-pitched roofs, made of strong timber framing and filled in, for the walls, with thick upright planking, instead of the slight bamboos and leaves of the coast and forest houses. Some had boarded floors and had a room in the roof; and the crossed rafters at the gables were carried up for two or three feet above the ridge. The house in which I stayed had a much more comfortable appearance than any I had been in before, having two rooms on the ground floor, the walls covered with matting, and there were actually chairs! a luxury I had not experienced since leaving Tamatave. I felt that I was getting near civilisation again.
While dinner was preparing I strolled out into a ravine near the house and was struck with the beauty and variety of the insects, as indeed I had been in many parts of the journey. There were butterflies of gorgeous hues, dragonflies, crimson, blue and dull gold in colour, grasshoppers with scarlet wings, and the very spiders with gold and silver markings. Some species of these latter were of great size; we saw hundreds of them in their large geometric webs stretching over the paths as we came along.
A COMBINATION OF BEAUTY
On Monday morning, 12th October, we left the village before sunrise and immediately began the ascent of Angàvo, which rises from fifteen hundred to sixteen hundred feet above the valley. It is an enormous mass of granite, capped with clay, the summit being scarped and fortified with earthworks; it is, however, not a detached mountain rising from a plain on every side, but rather a vast natural bastion or outwork of a higher level of country. There was a gorgeous sunrise, which covered the greater part of the sky with a crimson light, unlike anything I had ever seen before. Then for another hour or two we were passing through the upper belt of forest, here very narrow, being only ten or twelve miles across, but as dense and as beautiful as the lower and wider belt. And it was just as difficult to travel through as the other forest, descending into the gorge of the Mandràka river and then scaling the steep ascents. One place especially, where we crossed the stream, was a perfect combination of beauty—rushing waters, luxuriant foliage of fern and palm and bamboo—and hundreds of large blue and black papilio butterflies hovering over the river.
At eight o’clock we reached Ankèramadìnika, a village close to the last ascent of the forest, and waited for a few minutes while my bearers bought manioc root at the little market. The people crowded round me, bringing various articles of food for sale—sweet potatoes, honeycomb, and wild raspberries. We had now left behind us the forest region and were on the bare open uplands of Imèrina, the air being clear and keen. The hills were less steep and more rounded, reminding me of some parts of the English chalk downs, and there was hardly a tree to be seen. In several places the granite or gneiss takes a dome-like form; and in others the same rock formed the highest points. For many miles I could see them rising high over every other hill; one of these, on the southern side of a huge mountain called Angàvokèly, was like a titanic castle; another, which is divided into three and called Tèlomiràhavàvy (“Three Sisters”), was like a vast church.
AMBÀTOMÀNGA
There were signs of approaching the capital in the number of villages which came in sight. The country also was much more cultivated, chiefly, however, in the valleys, where the bright green patches of the newly sown rice gave a refreshing contrast to the bare and brown appearance of the hills and downs, now parched and dry after five or six months without rain. In many places great black patches showed where the dry grass had been set on fire. This is done shortly before the rains come on, and the rank hay-like grass is succeeded by a crop of fine short herbage suitable for pasture. About noon we caught sight of the large village of Ambàtomànga, then two or three miles distant. This place had an important and picturesque appearance, being considerably larger than any town on the road. Over a number of smaller dwellings one large house rose conspicuous, with its lofty high-pitched roof and double verandah. Close to the village is a lofty mass of blue gneiss rock, about a couple of hundred feet in height, and crowned by a stone tomb and other buildings, giving it the air of a fortification. Passing through a large weekly market, where hundreds of people were buying and selling, we at length entered the last station on the road to Antanànarìvo.
Ambàtomànga had quite the appearance of a fortified town, having walls of clay surrounding it, and deep fosses outside them. I stopped at the large house which I had noticed at first, and found it a well-finished timber structure, with venetian shutters and framed doors, quite a contrast to the mere sheds in which I had slept for ten nights past. It was divided into three rooms on the ground floor, with walls, floor and ceiling all well planed and finished. The owner, a fine-looking man and a native noble, gave me a welcome in a little broken English; but his knowledge of European tongues was apparently confined to half-a-dozen short phrases, for he repeatedly said, “Thank you, sir,” giving me a hearty shake of the hand at the same time, as if he thought that was the proper formula to be observed. A little before dusk I walked out with him to the fort-like tomb on the top of the rock. In the light of the setting sun the red clay hills gave back the warm rays with an intensity of colour that was remarkable. The tomb at the top is a large stone structure, well worked, with an open balustrade and bold mouldings. Walking round the house after dusk, I saw a lurid glare in the sky on all sides, and then found it was produced by the grass burning on the hills and downs, which showed in lines of fire for many miles in all directions.
FIRST VIEW OF THE CAPITAL
Early on Tuesday morning, with a glad heart I took my seat in my palanquin, rejoiced to think that this was the last stage in my long journey. About three-quarters of an hour after leaving Ambàtomànga we caught our first sight of the capital, still twelve or fourteen miles distant, and I could not but be struck by its size and fine situation, a much larger city than I had expected, built on the summit and slopes of a lofty rocky hill some two miles long from north to south, which was covered with dark-looking houses. In the centre stood conspicuous the great bulk of the chief palace and its smaller neighbour, their arched verandahs and steep roofs, all painted white, and shining in the morning sun, towering over every other object. It was a memorable moment to me, as I thought of what had happened in Antanànarìvo within the last quarter-century, and that my work was to raise lasting memorials to the brave Malagasy who had suffered and died for their faith.
On we went over the long rolling moor-like hills, losing sight of the city every now and then, and presently coming in view of it again as we mounted the ridges; and every half-hour brought out more of the details of the place and revealed its masses of dark houses, clustered on the slopes of the rocky hill. Several streams we crossed by means of stone arched bridges, and I was struck by the number of villages to be seen in every direction, many of them enclosed in high walls made of red clay, laid with care in regular courses and apparently hard and durable. The houses were all built of the same material, and many of them were enclosed in circular and others in square courtyards with gateways. Many of the villages were surrounded with deep fosses, sometimes two and even three yards deep, now generally filled with bananas, peach and other fruit trees, and some with walls and stone gateways, giving one the impression that there must have formerly been much internal warfare to need such elaborate defences. This indeed was the case before Imèrina was governed by one sovereign, about a hundred years ago.
LOCUSTS
Within a mile or two of the city we passed for a quarter of an hour through a perfect cloud of locusts, which covered the ground and filled the air. At a distance these insects appeared like a low-lying cloud of dust; and when near to one, and seen in certain directions, the sun shining on their wings gave them almost the appearance of a snow shower. I began to realise one of the plagues of Egypt. Many varieties of locust are common in Madagascar, and occasionally they do great damage to the crops. The Malagasy, however, make use of them for food, and when a cloud of them appears, men, women and children are all out catching them; and for a few days afterwards great brown heaps of them are to be seen at all the little wayside shops. They are said to taste something like shrimps, without any insides; but I must confess I never brought myself to taste them, for they are anything but inviting in appearance.
At length I was carried into a compound near the foot of the city hill, and after some delay was met by one of the L.M.S. missionaries and conducted by a most difficult and breakneck path up into the triangular central space called Andohàlo. At the north-eastern corner of this space was the dispensary and dwelling of our good medical missionary, Dr Davidson, from whom and Mrs Davidson I received a hearty welcome, and in a short time also from the rest of the missionary brethren. With a glad and thankful heart I found myself in the capital of Madagascar, with cheerful anticipations of being able to do something in the service of Him who had protected me thus far, and of helping in various ways the Malagasy people.
CHAPTER VI
THE CHANGING MONTHS IN IMÈRINA: CLIMATE, VEGETATION AND LIVING CREATURES OF THE INTERIOR
MY object in these chapters is to describe, as vividly as I am able, the varied aspects of the different months throughout the year in this central province of Imèrina, as they present themselves to anyone who lives in the capital city of Antanànarìvo, and is frequently travelling in the country around it. I want to show the variety of nature during the changing seasons, as the result of the heat or cold, and of the moisture or drought of the climate. And it must be remembered that although this central province of Madagascar is by several degrees well within the tropics, our climate for some months of the year is by no means the “tropical” one supposed in our ordinary English use of that word. On these interior highlands, from three to five thousand feet above the sea-level, the south-easterly winds blow from June to August with a keenness and force which it needs thick clothing to withstand, and makes a wood fire during the long evenings a very pleasant addition to the comforts of home life.
The seasons in the central regions of the island are practically only two: the hot and rainy period, from the beginning of November to the end of April; and the cool and dry period, during the other months, from May to October. The Malagasy are, however, accustomed to speak of four seasons of their year—viz. the Lòhataona—i.e. “head of the year”—during September and October, when the planting of the early rice is going on, and a few showers give promise of the coming rains; the Fàhavàratra—i.e. “thunder-time”—when severe storms of thunder and lightning are frequent, with heavy downpours of rain, from the early part of November to the end of February or into March; the Fàraràno—i.e. “last rains”—from the beginning of March and through April; and lastly, the Rinìnina—i.e. “time of bareness”—when the grass becomes dry and withered, from June to August.
Taking therefore the seasons in order, from the beginning, not of January, which gives no natural division of the year, but from the early part of September, when the blossoms of the trees speak of the “good time coming” of renewed verdure, I shall note down, in their succession, the varying aspects of the country, in climate, vegetation, and culture of the soil, as well as the animal life, throughout the changing year.
“THE HEART OF IMÈRINA”
Before, however, proceeding to do this, it may give greater distinctness to the mental picture I want to draw for those who have never been in Madagascar, if I try to describe in a few words the appearance of this central province of the island, especially of that portion of it which is in the neighbourhood of the capital. From the usually pure and clear air of this elevated region, which is not defiled by the smoke of chimneys, nor often thickened by the mists of the lowlands, one can see for extraordinary distances, and hills and rocks twenty or thirty miles away stand out more sharp and distinct than they would usually do in England at only four or five miles’ distance.
Let us go up to the highest point of the long rocky ridge on and around which Antanànarìvo is built, from which we can “view the landscape o’er,” and try and gain a clear notion of this “heart of Imèrina,” as it is often called by the Malagasy. The city hill reaches the greatest elevation at a point called Ambòhimitsímbina—i.e. “Hill of regarding”—which is seven hundred feet above the general level of the rice-plains around it. From this “coign of vantage” there is of course a very extensive view in every direction, and we see at once that the surrounding country is very mountainous. East and south there is little but hills of all shapes and sizes to be seen, except along the valleys of the river Ikòpa and its tributaries, which come from the edge of the upper forest, thirty miles or so away to the east. To the north the country is more undulating, but at ten or twelve miles away high hills and moors close in the view, some of the hills rising into mountains. The country is everywhere in these directions, except in the river valleys, covered with red soil of various shades of colour, through which the granite and gneiss foundations protrude at almost every elevated point in huge boulder-like rocks, and form the summits of every hill and mountain, often in dome-shaped or boss-like masses, and in some like titanic castles and towers.
Earthenware Pottery
Making cooking utensils and pitchers (Sìny)
Digging Up Rice-fields
Notice the long-handled and long-bladed native spade, the handle serving as a lever to turn over the clods
There is little foliage to be seen except on the top of some of the hills where the ancient towns and villages are built, and in such places a circle of old àviàvy trees and an occasional amòntana tree give a pleasant relief to the prevailing red and ochre tints of the soil, and, in the cold and dry season, to the russet and grey hues of the dry grass on the bare hills and downs. The largest mass of green is at the old capital, Ambòhimànga, eleven miles away to the north, where the steep sides of the hill are still covered with a remnant of the original forest, which formerly was doubtless much more extensive in this part of the central province. In the deep fosses which surround old villages there is also often a considerable amount of foliage, as well as in the hollows and along the streams. But it must be confessed that a large extent of Imèrina, in common with the rest of the interior, consists of bare rounded down-like hills, very uninteresting in character; although towards sunset, in the slanting rays, these hills have a softness of outline in their curves which has a decided element of beauty not to be ignored.
THE GRANARY OF ANTANÀNARÌVO
To the west, from north to south, the prospect is very extensive. To the south-west there rises by very gradual slopes, at some thirty-five miles’ distance, the mass of Ankàratra, its three or four highest peaks reaching an elevation of nearly nine thousand feet above the sea, and about half that height above the general level of the country. But even at such a distance the summits usually stand out sharp and clear against the sky. Due west and north-west is a considerable extent of comparatively level country, beyond which mountains fifty miles away are distinctly seen on the horizon. In the foreground, stretching away many miles, is the great rice-plain of Bétsimitàtatra, from which numbers of low red hills, most of them with villages, rise like islands out of a green sea where the rice is growing. Along the plain the river Ikòpa can be seen, winding its way northwards to join the Bétsibòka; the united streams, with many tributaries, flowing into the sea through the Bay of Bèmbatòka. This great plain, “the granary of Antanànarìvo,” was formerly an immense marsh, and earlier still an extensive lake with numerous bays among the surrounding hills; but since the embanking of the river by some of the early kings of Imèrina, it has become the finest rice-plain of the island and, with its connected valleys, furnishes the bulk of the food of the people of the central province.
DAMAGE BY STORMS
The embankments require, of course, constant attention during the rainy season, when the river is swollen by the heavy rains; and during the time of the native regime, an unusually wet season would cause them to give way, so that the rice-fields were flooded. At such times the whole population would be called out to help in stopping the breaches, and I remember one occasion, a Sunday, when we had no afternoon service, and with others of my brother missionaries I spent several hours in carrying sods and stones, together with our people. Another such calamity occurred in January 1893; for on the night of Saturday, the 28th, and the following day, there was an unusually heavy storm, doing immense damage, destroying hundreds of houses and village churches, and breaking the river banks, so that in a day or two hundreds of thousands of acres of the great rice-plain were under water, three or four feet deep. In some parts it was difficult to trace the river banks; it was “water, water everywhere,” and scores of low hills were again turned into islands, cut off from all communication, except by canoe, with the world around them. If one could have forgotten the terrible loss to the people of their crops of rice just ready to be cut, it was a most beautiful scene, and reminded one that in ancient times this great plain was always a lake, when many now extinct animals, reptiles and gigantic birds found a home in it and on its shores. For centuries the heavy rains—probably far heavier then than now, from the greater extent of forest—went on filling up the valleys with the rich black and blue loam; gradually the lake became less and less deep; slowly the river cut out its bed; and then man came on the scene, and the old native kings aided nature by embanking the river; the marshes became rice-fields and supplied with food the present large population which lives all around it.
From this elevated point at least a hundred small towns and villages can be recognised, many of them marked by the tiled roof, and often the tower, of the village church, which shines out distinctly amid the brown thatched roofs of most of the houses. This view from the summit of the capital is certainly an unrivalled one, in Madagascar at least, for its variety and extent, as well as for the human interest of its different parts, as shown by the large population, the great area of cultivated land, the embanked rivers, and the streams and water-channels for irrigation seen in every direction.
Pounding and Winnowing Rice
A palanquin bearer is in the doorway
A Hova Middle-class Family at a Meal
Rice is the staple food, with a meat or vegetable relish
Springtime: September and October.—With the early days of September we may usually say that springtime in Imèrina fairly sets in, and that the year in its natural aspects properly commences. By a true instinct, arising doubtless from long observation of the change of the seasons, the Malagasy call this time Lòhataona—i.e. “the head, or beginning, of the year”—when nature seems to awake from the comparative deadness of the cold and dry winter months, during which the country has looked bare and uninviting, but now begins again to give promise of fertility and verdure. The keen cold winds and drizzly showers of the past few weeks give place to warmer air and clearer skies, and although usually there is but little rain during September, the deciduous trees begin to put forth their leaves, and flower-buds appear as heralds of the fuller display of vegetable life which will be seen after the rains have fallen.
RICE-FIELDS
The great rice-plain to the west of Antanànarìvo still looks, during the early days of the Lòhataona, bare and brown; but, if we examine the prospect more closely, we shall see that in various places, where the plain borders the low rising grounds on which the villages are built, there are bright patches of vivid green. These are the kètsa grounds or smaller rice-fields, where the rice is first sown thick and broadcast, and where it grows for a month or two before being planted out in the larger fields, which are divided from each other by a low bank of earth, a few inches broad and only a foot or two in height.
As the season advances, the people everywhere begin to be busy digging up their rice-fields, both large and small, the clods being piled up in heaps and rows in order to give the soil the benefit of exposure to the sun and air. All this work is done by the native long-handled and long and narrow bladed spade, driven into the ground by the weight of the handle, as the Malagasy wear no shoes and so could not drive down the spade by the foot, in European fashion, while the plough is still an unknown implement to them. The water-courses, by which water is brought to every rice-plot, are now being repaired in all directions. The chief supply of water is from the springs found at the head of almost every valley, which is carefully led by channels cut and embanked round the curves of the hillsides, being often taken thus for a considerable distance from its source. Eventually this little canal resolves itself into a small stream traversing the valley, from which smaller channels convey the water to every field, so as to moisten the clods after they have been dug over.
THE WATER-SUPPLY
The water-supply for the great Bétsimitàtatra plain is derived from the Ikòpa river and its many tributaries. Canals tap these rivers at various points, in order to irrigate the fields at lower levels farther down their course. A large quantity of water is thus diverted from the rivers during September and October, so that the smaller streams are almost dry, and even the Ikòpa and its affluents, good-sized rivers at other times of the year, then become shallow and easily fordable.
Before the end of October a large extent of the great plain, especially to the north and north-west, is completely planted with rice; and a green level, looking like one vast lawn, stretches away for many miles in this direction, without any break or visible divisions. This green is the vàry alòha, or “former rice,” the first crop, which will become ripe in the month of January, or early in February. Smaller expanses of bright green appear in other directions also, especially along the courses of the rivers, but a considerable extent of the plain directly to the west of the capital is still russet-brown in colour, and will not be planted until a month or two later. From this will come the later rice-crop, the (vàry) vàky ambiàty, which is planted in November or December and becomes fit for cutting about April. This latter crop is so called because the flowering of the ambiàty (Vernonia appendiculata) shrub, about November, gives notice to the people that planting-time has come. This shrub is very conspicuous about this time of the year from its masses of white—slightly tinged with purple—flowers.
The kètsa grounds are covered before sowing with a layer of wood and straw ashes, so that they have quite a black appearance. Before this, however, the clods have been broken up and worked by the spade into a soft mud, with an inch or two of water over all, and on this the grain is sown broadcast, springing up in two or three weeks’ time and looking like a brilliant emerald carpet.
There are usually a few heavy showers about the end of September or the early part of October, which are called rànonòrana màmpisàra-taona—i.e. “rain dividing the year”; but occasionally no rain falls until the rainy season regularly commences, so it is dry and dusty everywhere, the ground cracks, and everything seems thirsting for moisture. The heat increases as the sun gets more vertical, although the nights are pleasantly cool. Yet notwithstanding the dry soil the trees begin to blossom. Most conspicuous among them is the Cape lilac (Melia azederach), a tree introduced from South Africa about eighty or ninety years ago by the first L.M.S. missionaries, and now thoroughly naturalised in the interior of Madagascar. It grows to be a good-sized tree, and many hundreds of them are to be seen in and around Antanànarìvo, making the place gay with their profusion of pale greyish-lilac flowers, and fragrant with their strong perfume.
ORCHARDS
There are many large orchards in Imèrina, planted chiefly with mango-trees and presenting a refreshing mass of evergreen all the year round. But at this time, when looking from a little distance, the green of the leaves is largely mingled with a tinting of reddish-brown, caused by masses of flowers, in spikes, chiefly in the upper part of the trees. Later on the purplish tint of the new leaves gives another shade of colour. The produce of these trees is an excellent fruit; and there are three or four varieties of it, one kind, “the stone mango,” being more globular in shape; another, “the satin-mango,” being smaller, like a large plum, with a delicate flavour and scent. Another most widely grown fruit is the peach, which is more used cooked than eaten raw; and others are the bìbàsy or loquat, the quince, the rose-apple, the orange, and the ròtra, a good-sized tree with a profusion of small black pear-shaped fruits, somewhat astringent when eaten raw, but excellent for cooking and for preserves. The vine also is largely cultivated, chiefly a black variety; while bananas and plantains and pine-apples are to be had all the year through.
The low banks of earth which form the boundary walls of plantations are largely planted with a species of Euphorbia, of which there are two varieties, one with brilliant scarlet bracts and the other of pale yellow tint, the leaves appearing on the prickly stems later on.
As the season advances the people burn the grass over the hillsides and open moors, as we saw at Ambàtomànga when coming up the country. There can be no doubt that to this practice is largely attributable the bare and treeless appearance of the central provinces. The young trees which would spring up, especially in the hollows and sheltered places, have no chance against the yearly fires which sweep over the country, and the little vegetation which has held its own is constantly liable to be lessened as time goes on. Sometimes a dozen fires, long curving lines of flame, may be seen at once in different directions, and these give a strangely picturesque appearance to the nights of springtime in Imèrina.
BIRDS
The weather often becomes very hot and sultry before the rains come on, and the usually bright clear skies and pure atmosphere of other months are exchanged for thick oppressive days, when the distant hills disappear altogether, and the nearer ones seem quite distant in the dense haze. This is probably due, to a great extent, to the grass-burning just described, and also to the frequent burning of the forest away to the east. As the weather gets warmer a few birds come up from the wooded regions of the country, and wherever there is a small patch of wood the oft-repeated cry of the Kankàfotra, the Madagascar cuckoo, may be heard, much resembling the syllables “kow-kow, kow-kow-koo.”
And here we must notice more fully the birds to be seen in Imèrina. They are few compared with those in the warmer and forest regions, and are mostly of powerful flight, principally birds of prey, swifts, swallows and water-birds. The two coast regions—east and west—are, on the contrary, well peopled with birds of all sorts, and while the greater part of these inhabit indifferently one or the other region, there are a certain number which have their habitat almost exclusively in one region only, and give it its special characteristics. There are also some which keep to a still more limited area, not going beyond a very restricted range. As far as is at present known, two hundred and ten species of birds have been found in Madagascar; and the very special character of its avi-fauna may be seen from the fact that it includes forty-one genera and a hundred and twenty-four species, which are all peculiar to the island.
RAPACIOUS BIRDS
The rapacious birds of the country comprise twenty-two species, the majority being hawks, kites and buzzards, with several owls and two eagles. The most common bird of this order is the Papàngo or Egyptian kite, a large hawk found all over the island. It may be seen every day flying gracefully along in search of lizards and snakes, and the mice, rats and small birds which form its chief food, and continually swooping down upon its prey. When the long dry grass is being burned on the downs the papàngo may be noticed sweeping backwards and forwards close to the edge of the blazing grass, so as to pick up the smaller creatures escaping the advancing flames, or those which have been overtaken by them and killed. I have occasionally observed hundreds of these birds in the neighbourhood of Ambòhimànga, describing great circles, at an immense height, and have wondered how such large numbers could obtain food. This kite is the dread of the country-dwelling Malagasy, for it swoops down on their chickens and is only scared away by their loud cries and execrations. From these habits comes one of its provincial names, Tsimalàho—i.e. “the one who does not ask,” but takes without saying “by your leave.” It is constantly seen in company with the white-necked crows, and, like them, feeds near the villages, especially near where the oxen are killed.
Another very widely spread rapacious bird is the little lively and noisy Hìtsikìtsika or kestrel, which is found in or about every village, often perched on the gable “horns” of the houses, or even on the extreme point of the lightning conductors. It is by no means shy, and one can sometimes approach it quite closely and see its bright fearless eyes, before it darts away. It is fond of the same resting-place and, after a noisy chatter with its mate, takes a sweeping flight for a few hundred yards and returns to its former condition. Several native proverbs refer to the kestrel’s quick restless flight and its frequent habit of hovering aloft, poised almost motionless, or with an occasional quivering of the wings, which, in Malagasy idiom, is called “dancing,” for the native dances consist as much in a graceful motion of the hands as in that of the feet. Among some tribes, or families, the kestrel is a tabooed bird and it is crime to kill it.
HAWKS
Another hawk worth noticing, although much less common than the two previously mentioned ones, is the lesser falcon, a small but very courageous bird, which has long attracted the attention of the Malagasy for its swiftness. The native name, Vòromahèry, or “Powerful bird,” is also that of the tribe of Hova Malagasy who inhabit the capital and its near neighbourhood, and this falcon also was adopted as a crest or emblem by the native government, and its figure was engraved on their official seals. Its flight is extremely rapid, more like that of an arrow than that of a bird.