THIRTY YEARS IN MADAGASCAR

OXFORD

HORACE HART, PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY

THE REV. T. T. MATTHEWS.

THIRTY YEARS IN
MADAGASCAR

BY THE REV. T. T. MATTHEWS

OF THE LONDON MISSIONARY SOCIETY

WITH
SIXTY-TWO ILLUSTRATIONS
FROM PHOTOGRAPHS
AND SKETCHES

SECOND EDITION

LONDON
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY

4 BOUVERIE STREET AND 65 ST. PAUL’S CHURCHYARD
1904

PREFACE

For the facts of the historical introduction I am mainly indebted to the writings of earlier writers and missionaries, and to unpublished native accounts of the earlier years of the mission and of the persecutions; for mine would have been almost impossible had it not been for the labours of those other workers in the same field, and for the native sources I have mentioned. Without such knowledge as this introduction gives no correct conception can be formed of Madagascar and the Malagasy, of the work done for and among them, the present condition and future prospects of the people, and of the future of Christian work in the island.

I have been also indebted to a long course of reading on mission work at large, and on the work in Madagascar in particular. Much of this has become so mingled with my own thoughts that I cannot now possibly trace all the sources of it; but I have tried, as far as I could, to make acknowledgement of all the sources of information to which I have been indebted, and special acknowledgement of those more recent sources of information not alluded to in any other book on Madagascar. There are many things in this book derived from native sources that have not been utilized before.

Believing that ‘a plain tale speeds best being plainly told,’ I have tried to tell my story in plain and pointed language, and I hope I have also been able to tell it graphically enough to make it interesting. My great difficulty has been condensation; very often paragraphs have had to be reduced to sentences, and chapters to paragraphs.

One who has spent thirty years in the hard, and often very weary, work of a missionary in Central Madagascar—not to mention the arduous and exhausting duties of deputation work while on furlough—with all the duties, difficulties, and anxieties involved in the superintendence of large districts, with their numerous village congregations and schools, could hardly be expected to have much spare time to devote to the cultivation of the graces of literature or an elegant style. I have tried to tell my story in a warm-hearted way, being anxious only that my meaning should be clearly expressed, whatever might be its verbal guise. I have never been able to understand why, without flippancy or irreverence, religious topics may not be treated at times ‘with innocent playfulness and lightsome kindly humour.’ Why, too, should the humorous side, and even humorous examples, be almost entirely left out of records of foreign mission work? Such incidents sometimes help to relieve the shadows by the glints of sunshine, and for this reason I have ventured to describe the bright, and even humorous, as well as the dark side of missionary work. I have tried to set forth the joy and humour as well as the care, the sunshine as well as the shadow.

John Ruskin says: ‘A man should think long before he invites his neighbours to listen to his sayings on any subject whatever.’ As I have been thinking on the subject of missions for forty years, and have been engaged in mission work for thirty, if my thoughts are not fairly mature on the subject now, and my mind made up on most points in relation to missions and mission work, they are never likely to be. At the same time, when an unknown writer asks the attention of the Christian public upon such an important theme as foreign missions, he is at least expected to show that he has such a thorough and practical acquaintance with them as fairly entitles him to a hearing. I hope the following pages will prove my claim to this consideration. If they help to create interest in the great cause of foreign missions in some quarters, and to deepen it in others, I shall feel well repaid for all the trouble the preparation of them has cost me.

I am deeply indebted to friends for their valuable help and advice, and render them my very hearty and sincere thanks.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

MAP OF MADAGASCAR.

THIRTY YEARS IN MADAGASCAR

CHAPTER I
A LAND OF DARKNESS

‘He brought them out of darkness.’—Psalm cvii. 14.

Madagascar is the third largest island in the world, about 1,000 miles long, by 375 at its widest part, with an average breadth of about 250 miles. It has an area of about 230,000 square miles, so that it is almost four times the size of England and Wales, or two and a half times that of Great Britain and Ireland, or seven times the size of Scotland!

This important island is situated in the Indian Ocean, and separated from the east coast of Africa by the Mozambique Channel, which is some 250 miles broad. It lies between latitude 12° 2’ to 25° 18’ south of the line, and longitude 44° to 50° east of Greenwich, about 550 miles to the north-west of the island of Mauritius—the far-famed ‘key of the Indian Ocean’—some 950 miles to the north-east of Port Natal, and 750 to the south-east of Zanzibar.

‘Although visited by Europeans only within the last 400 years, Madagascar has been known to the Arabs for many centuries, probably a thousand years at least, and also, although perhaps not for so long a time, to the Indian traders of Cutch and Bombay.’ Moreover, some of the great classical writers of Greece and Rome, such as Aristotle, Pliny (the elder), and Ptolemy, seem to have heard of Madagascar; though until a few years ago this had escaped notice, owing to the fact that the island was known to them by different names.

There is perhaps some ground for supposing that the Jews may have known of Madagascar, and that the sailors of Solomon, in their voyages in the ‘ships of Tarshish,’ may have visited that island. ‘Ages before the Arabian intercourse with Madagascar, it is highly probable that the bold Phoenician traders’ ventured as far to the south, or at least obtained information about this great island.

The fact that the Ophir of Scripture, from which came the famous ‘gold,’ is now believed by most high authorities to have been on the east coast of Africa, renders it highly probable that these ‘ships of Tarshish,’ with Solomon’s sailors on board, may have visited Madagascar. If so, it is easy to account for the close resemblance between certain Malagasy and Jewish customs, such as the scape-goat and the sprinkling of blood, or rather their practice of soaking a piece of bulrush in the blood of the bullock killed at the annual festival of the Fàndròana, i. e. ‘the bath,’ and placing it above the lintel of the door of the hut for its sanctification and protection from evil influences. The killing of a bullock at the annual festival of the Fàndròana seems to suggest some slight connexion with the Jewish sacrifice of a bullock on the day of Atonement. Quarrels were made up, and binding engagements entered into, over the body of a slain animal. The Jewish forms of marriage, the practice of levirate marriage, the Jewish law as to bankruptcy, under which the bankrupt and his wife and family were sold into slavery for the behoof of his creditors—there is a Malagasy proverb which says: ‘Pretentious, like a slave of Hova parentage’—and other usages seem all to point in the direction of Jewish influences.

There are fifteen different tribes in Madagascar, but the Hova tribe—that occupies the central province of Imèrina, Ankòva (the land of the Hova)—was for about a century the dominant one. The Hovas were not the aborigines of Central Madagascar; these were a tribe or people called the Vazìmba, who were dislodged by the ancestors of the Hovas, and who have been extinct for ages. In their heathen state the Hovas worshipped at the tombs of the Vazìmba, and offered sacrifices to their shades to propitiate them, as they believed they could harm them or do them good. The Hovas might be called the Anglo-Saxons of Madagascar, a race of foreigners who entered the island 1,000, perhaps 2,000, years ago, and who, strange to say, belong to the Malay portion of the human family, and are thus allied to the South Sea Islanders.

How the ancestors of the Hovas came to Madagascar is a mystery, as the nearest point from which it is believed they could have come is the neighbourhood of Singapore, upwards of 3,000 miles away. Hova tradition states that their forefathers landed on the north-east coast of the island, fought their way gradually up into the interior, and finally took possession of the central province of Imèrina. That is probably as near the truth as will ever be discovered.

‘About the seventh century, the Arabs of Mecca took possession of the Comoro Islands, lying to the north-west of Madagascar, and extended their commerce all over the coasts of that great island; and it was to a marked extent their language, civilization, and religion which for centuries dominated the north-west of the island. The great Arab geographer Edresi, who lived in A.D. 1099, has left among his writings a description of Madagascar, which he calls Zaledi. The same author refers to the emigration of Chinese and Malays, who settled in Madagascar at an epoch which unfortunately cannot now be precisely determined, but which at least is not so very remote; these were probably the ancestors of the Hovas.’

Madagascar was first made known to modern Europe by the celebrated Venetian traveller Marco Polo, in the thirteenth century. He, however, had never seen or visited the island, but had heard during his travels in Asia various accounts of it under the name of Magaster, or Madagascar. He devotes a chapter of his most interesting book of travels to a description of the island; but he seems to have confounded it with Magadoxo on the adjoining coast of Africa, as much of what he relates is evidently confused with accounts of the districts on the mainland of Africa, and of the island of Zanzibar, since he says that ivory is one of its chief products, and that it contained elephants, camels, giraffes, panthers, lions, and other animals which never existed in Madagascar. The ‘rock’ or ‘rukh,’ a gigantic bird which he describes, is in all probability the aepyornis, the original of the huge bird of Sinbad the Sailor, long deemed fabulous. The aepyornis, now extinct, was a struthious bird allied to the New Zealand moa. It produced an egg which would fill a gentleman’s silk hat.

It was not until the beginning of the sixteenth century that any European set foot on Madagascar. Towards the end of the fifteenth century the adventurous Portuguese navigators, Bartholomew Diaz and Vasco da Gama, reached the southernmost point of Africa, and rounded the Cape of Good Hope, thus discovering the sea route to India and the far East. On the Mozambique coast da Gama found numbers of Arabs trading with India, and well acquainted with the island of Madagascar. In A.D. 1505, King Manoel of Portugal sent out a fleet to the Indies, under the command of Don Francisco de Almeida, who in the following year sent back to Portugal eight ships laden with spices. On their way they discovered, on February 1, A.D. 1506, the east coast of Madagascar. Joas Gomez d’Abrew discovered the west coast of the island in the same year, on August 10, St. Laurence’s Day, from which circumstance it was called the Island of St. Laurence, a name which it retained for more than a hundred years.

During the early times of French intercourse with Madagascar, in the reign of Henry IV, it was known as the île Dauphiné; this name was never accepted by other nations. There is, however, every reason for believing that the name Madagascar is not a native name, but one given to the island by foreigners. ‘Nòsindàmbo’ (the isle of wild hogs) was a name sometimes given to Madagascar; but when the Malagasy themselves spoke of the whole island, they usually called it Izao rehètra izao, or Izao tontòlo izao (the universe). The Malagasy, like many other islanders, probably thought that their island home, if not the whole universe, was certainly the most important part of it, and that the Arabs and other foreigners came from some insignificant spots across the sea. Another name used by the Malagasy for their island is Ny anìvon’ny rìaka (what is in the midst of the floods), a name that might be fairly applied to most islands. This name, it is said, was engraved on the huge solid silver coffin of Radàma I, the King of Madagascar, or rather King of the Hovas. On it he was called Tòmpon’ny anìvon’ny rìaka (Lord of what is in the midst of the floods).

As might be expected, the accounts given of Madagascar by early voyagers and writers are full of glowing and extravagant language as to the fertility and natural wealth of the island. Although these are certainly very great, they have been much exaggerated.

The earliest known English book on Madagascar was written by Walter Hammond, surgeon, and published in 1640. The same author published another book in 1643, dedicated to the Hon. John Bond, Governor and Captain-General of the island of Madagascar; but who this Hon. John Bond was, or what right he had to that title, no one seems to know. In the latter part of the seventeenth century a book on Madagascar was published by a Richard Boothby, merchant in London. From the preface of his book we learn that two years before its publication there had been a project to found an English colony, or plantation, as it was called in those days, in Madagascar.

Doubtless there were many who mourned over the failure of this project, just as there are many, and the writer among them, who regret that the British flag does not wave over Madagascar to-day. Such a state of matters, they think, would be better for the world at large, and for Madagascar in particular. In their opinion the British flag, like the American, represents justice, mercy, and equal rights to all men of whatever clime or colour. This cannot be said to the same extent for all symbols of dominion. British and American statesmen seem still to have a belief—even although at times it may suffer partial eclipse—that ‘Righteousness exalteth a nation; whereas sin is a reproach to any people.’ Nations, civilized or uncivilized, cannot permanently be governed by falsehood and chicanery.

Until 1810 Madagascar seems to have been almost lost sight of by European nations. In that year the islands of Mauritius and Bourbon, or Réunion, were captured from the French by the British, under Sir Ralph Abercromby. When the peace of 1814 was arranged, the island of Réunion was restored to France; but the island of Mauritius remained in the possession of Great Britain. Shortly afterwards a proclamation was issued by Sir Robert Farquhar, then Governor of the lately acquired colony of Mauritius, taking possession of the island of Madagascar as one of the dependencies of Mauritius. This proceeding, prompted by the belief that Madagascar was such a dependency, was discovered to be a mistake, and all claim to the island was given up.

The slave trade was at that time in full operation in Madagascar. Malagasy slaves supplied the islands of Mauritius and Bourbon, while shiploads were conveyed to North and South America, and even to the West Indies. Slaves could be bought on the coast of Madagascar in those days at from six to twelve pounds, and sold at from thirty to sixty pounds for a man, and at from forty to eighty pounds for a woman; and hence the trade proved a very tempting one to many. It reflects lasting honour on the British nation that no sooner had Madagascar come, to some extent, under the influence of Great Britain, through her possession of Mauritius, than a series of efforts were put forth to annihilate this vile traffic in human flesh. The attitude of British officers, consuls, and other officials towards man-stealing has ever been most uncompromising. Not even their bitterest enemies have ever dared to accuse them of selling the protection of their country’s flag to Arab slavers. And it was due, in the first instance, to the exertions of Sir Robert Farquhar, the able and humane Governor of Mauritius, that the slave trade with Madagascar was abolished.

At the close of the year 1816 Sir Robert Farquhar sent Captain Le Sage on a mission to Madagascar, to induce Radàma I to send two of his younger brothers to Mauritius to receive an English education. They were sent, and placed under the care of Mr. Hastie, the governor’s private secretary, who afterwards took them back to Madagascar; and ultimately became himself the first British Agent to that island, and one of its best and noblest friends, a friend who has never been forgotten, notwithstanding all that has taken place in recent years. A most favourable impression was made on the mind of Radàma I by the way in which his brothers and he had been treated by Sir Robert Farquhar and the British.

Advantage was taken of this impression, and Mr. Hastie had instructions to negotiate a treaty with Radàma I for the abolition of the slave trade. This he ultimately accomplished by promising an annual subsidy from the British government of some two thousand pounds; and a present of flint-locks and soldiers’ old clothes for the king’s army. No act of Radàma’s life shed such lustre on his reign, or will be remembered with so much gratitude, as his abolition of the slave trade. Sir Robert Farquhar, however, contemplated not merely the civilization of Madagascar, but also its evangelization. With this in view, he wrote to the Directors of the London Missionary Society suggesting Madagascar as a field for missionary enterprise, and giving them every encouragement to enter upon it.

At one of the earliest meetings of the Directors of the Society in 1796 the subject of a mission to Madagascar was taken up; and when the subsequently famous Dr. Vanderkemp left England in 1796 for South Africa, he had instructions to do all in his power to further the commencement of missionary operations among the Malagasy. The propriety of his paying a visit to the island to learn all he could for the guidance of the Directors was suggested. In 1813 Dr. Milne, whose name was destined to be so honourably connected with China, was also instructed to procure in Mauritius, on his way to China, all available information regarding the contemplated sphere of labour.

But it was not until 1818 that the first two London Missionary Society missionaries left our shores for Madagascar. In November of that year the Rev. D. Jones with his wife and child landed at Tàmatàve, and in January, 1819, the Rev. T. Bevan with his wife and child arrived, only to find that Mrs. Jones and her child were already dead of fever, while Mr. Jones lay very dangerously ill with it. Mr. Bevan at this seems to have lost heart. His child died on January 20, he himself on the 31st, and his wife on February 3. Thus within a few weeks of landing on the coast of Madagascar, five of the mission party of six had passed away, and the sole survivor was at the gates of death! They did not then know, what we know now, the proper season for landing on the coast of Madagascar. They landed just at the beginning of the fever season, and having no quinine they were but imperfectly equipped for fighting so dire a foe as Malagasy fever.

When able to travel, Mr. Jones returned to Mauritius to recruit his strength, and in September, 1820, he returned to Madagascar, along with Mr. Hastie, the first British Agent appointed to the court of Radàma I. The king received them very kindly, and when he understood the object of Mr. Jones’s coming, he sent a letter to the Directors of the London Missionary Society, in which he said: ‘I request you to send me, if convenient, as many missionaries as you may deem proper, together with their families, if they desire it, provided you send skilful artisans, to make my people workmen as well as good Christians.’

Accordingly between 1820 and 1828 the Directors of the London Missionary Society sent fourteen missionaries to Madagascar—six ordained men and eight missionary artisans. Among the latter were a carpenter, a blacksmith, a tanner, a cotton-spinner, and a printer. Thus almost all that the Malagasy know to-day of the arts and industries of civilized life, in addition to the knowledge of ‘the way of Salvation,’ they owe to the missionaries of the London Missionary Society. The best of the Malagasy people have always been grateful to the Society for all it has done through its agents for their temporal and spiritual welfare.

Recently, however, another and a very different version of Malagasy history has been produced. It begins by casting reflections upon our work in Madagascar. We are told that the British missionaries have never done anything for the Malagasy, except to teach them to sing a few hymns and make hypocrites of them! We are seriously asked to believe that the Malagasy owe all their knowledge of civilization, and of the various arts and handicrafts of civilization, to a French sailor, who was wrecked on the coast of the island, found his way up to the capital, and there became the very intimate friend (or more, as some French writers maintain) of Rànavàlona I, the persecuting queen. Voltaire is credited with saying that he could ‘write history a great deal better without facts than with them.’ This ‘New Version of Malagasy History’ fully conforms to his ideal—the facts are lacking. This ‘old man of the sea’ is a myth like his prototype.

Whatever else they may have done, it cannot be denied that the British missionaries were the first to reduce the language to writing. When the missionaries arrived in Madagascar the people had no written language. The king had four Arabic secretaries, and, but for the advent of the missionaries, in all probability the characters used in the language of Madagascar would have been Arabic, which of course would have made the acquisition of the language much more difficult to foreigners than it is. When the king saw the Roman characters, he said: ‘Yes, I like these better, they are simpler, we’ll have these.’ And so the character in which the language of Madagascar was to be written and printed was settled by the despotic word of the king under the influence of the missionaries.

When the language was mastered, and reduced to writing, the first task the missionaries undertook was the translation of the Scriptures. Here lies the radical distinction between Protestant and Roman Catholic missionaries. The former always give the people as soon as possible the Word of God in their own tongue; the latter never give it. There have been Roman Catholic missionaries in various parts of Madagascar since 1641; but they have never yet translated the Scriptures into Malagasy, and are not likely to do so. When the missionaries had translated and printed the Gospel of St. Matthew they sent up a copy to the king. It was read to him by one of his young noblemen whom the missionaries had taught to read. The king did not seem particularly interested in the Gospel until the account of the Crucifixion was reached, when he asked: ‘Crucifixion, what is that?’ It was explained to him. ‘Ah!’ he said, ‘that’s a capital mode of punishment; I will have all my criminals crucified for the future. Call the head-carpenter.’ He was called, and ordered to prepare a number of crosses. I was very intimate for fourteen years with a Malagasy native pastor who had seen some of those crosses. During the dark and terrible times of persecution, tyranny, and cruelty under the rule of Rànavàlona I, some criminals, it is said, were really crucified.

When there was an addition to his family, Radàma I used to proclaim an Andro-tsì-màty—a day of general and unrestrained licentiousness. The whole country, and the capital in particular, was turned into a pandemonium of bestiality. Similar licence attended the great gatherings for the ceremony of circumcision. Mr. Hastie, the British Agent, compelled Radàma to put a stop to these orgies. He threatened, if another were proclaimed, to publish the proclamation in every gazette in Europe, and thus expose and hold him and his court and people up to the execration of Christendom. This had the intended effect. The king was always anxious to stand well with the nations of Europe; but when his wife came to the throne, she, being herself a shameless and outrageously licentious woman, restored these hideous customs.

Some years ago a missionary on the Congo stated in Regions Beyond that moral purity was quite unknown where he was labouring. A girl morally pure over ten years of age could not be found. It was the same in Madagascar, and is the same there to-day among the tribes that have not yet been reached by Christianity. Heathenism presents an indescribable state of things, and yet it never was so bad in Madagascar as in some other lands. A missionary from Old Calabar declared some years ago that in the sphere where he laboured he did not know a woman either in the Church or out of it who, in the days of heathenism, had not murdered from two to ten of her own children. The dark places of the earth are not only the habitations of cruelty, but of every unutterable abomination.

Radàma I was an extraordinary man. He has been called the ‘Peter the Great’ of Madagascar, and from some points of view perhaps he deserved the title. Some called him the ‘Noble Savage’; but he hardly deserved the epithet of ‘noble,’ for he was ruthless and cruel. At his first interview with Mr. Hastie and Mr. Jones he seems to have been so pleased with them that he invited them back to dine with him next day. They accordingly went to the palace, and while they were seated at table a slave bringing in a tureen stumbled and spilt a little soup on it. Radàma turned and looked at one of the officers who stood behind him, and the latter left the room. When Mr. Hastie and Mr. Jones quitted the presence of the king, they saw the headless body of the poor slave lying in the yard. He had had his head struck off for insulting the king by spilling soup on the table in the presence of the sovereign and his guests! On another occasion, in 1826, the king went down to the port of Tàmatàve to see a British man-of-war. While at Tàmatàve he sent a slave up to the capital with a message, giving him six days to go up and return. It is still regarded as a hard journey either to go up to the capital or to come down in six days. This poor slave must have run every hour of those nights and days; and yet because he did not return on the evening of the sixth day, but the morning of the seventh, he was killed! Terrible as such things are, they are mild compared with some of the enormities perpetrated in heathen countries.

Radàma died in 1828, a victim to his own vices. Rabòdo, his wife, or rather one of his wives, for he had twelve, by the aid of a number of officials, who were most of them opposed to Christianity and to the changes introduced by Radàma I, had herself proclaimed queen as Rànavàlona I. She soon made her position secure by murdering all the lawful heirs to the throne. Radàma had designated Rakòtobè, his nephew, the eldest son of his eldest sister, as his successor. He was a young man of intelligence who had been trained by the missionaries in their schools. He and his father and mother were put to death, as were also a number of the more enlightened officials. Andrìamihàja, a young Malagasy nobleman who had been a very great favourite with the queen, and had been mainly instrumental in placing her on the throne, and who was believed to be the father of her child, the future Radàma II, soon fell under her displeasure and was murdered. He had been considerably attracted towards Christianity, and at the time when his executioners reached his house he was reading the recently translated New Testament.

The original plan had been to banish all Europeans at once; but on the ground that they were useful in the work of education and civilization, he had secured their continuance for a time in the island, and had also aided and encouraged the work of the artisan missionaries. The queen sent to the missionaries to say that she did not mean to interfere with them or their work, as she was no less anxious than her late husband that the people should learn to be ‘wise and clever.’ The missionaries therefore thus continued to labour, and such great progress was made that they and their converts very soon got into trouble.

Rànavàlona I was an able, unscrupulous woman. Her subjects regarded her with terror. She combined the worst vices of barbarism with the externals of semi-civilization. Brutal amusements and shameless licentiousness were conspicuous at her court. Her extravagance was great, yet her subjects condoned this, and even her acts of cruelty, on account of her extraordinary capacity for government. She had her rice picked by her maids of honour, grain by grain, so that no atom of quartz or stone might be found in it. If a single particle of grit reached Her Majesty’s tooth, it cost the offending maid of honour her life.

‘Among those who had gained a slight knowledge of the doctrines of Christianity before the missionaries were expelled in 1836 was Rainitsìandàvaka, in some respects a remarkable man. He was then a middle-aged man, of extra sanguine temperament. He did not belong to the congregation of Ambàtonakànga. He had never been baptized, but he had conversed with some of the church members and with some of the missionaries. After a time he began to make a stir in and around his own village in the north, teaching the people that Jesus Christ was to return to the earth, when all men would be blessed and perhaps never die; that there would be no more slavery, for all men would then be free; that there would be no more war, and that cannons, guns, and spears would be buried. Even spades might be buried then, for the earth would bring forth its fruits without labour. The idols, he said, were not divinities, but only guardians.

‘He and his followers formed themselves into a procession, and went up to the capital to tell the queen the glorious news. The queen appointed some of her officers to hear his story. They returned and reported it to Her Majesty. She sent back to ask him if she, the Queen of Madagascar, and the Mozambique slave would be equal in those days? “Yes,” he replied. When this was told the queen she ordered the prophet and his chief followers to be put into empty rice-pits, boiling water to be poured over them, and the pits to be covered up[1].’

Such is heathenism! Missionaries are sometimes charged with a tendency to give only the bright side of things without much reference to the other. The charge is unjust. Common decency forbids more than a suggestion of what heathenism implies. The missionaries are the ‘messengers of the churches,’ whose task it is to make the darkness light, and their narratives must necessarily bear upon the results of their labours. By God’s good help and blessing, what has been done in Central Madagascar, in the islands of the South Seas, in New Guinea, in Central Africa, in Manchuria, in Livingstonia, and in other parts of the mission field, can be told; while that which the Gospel has supplanted may well be left to be the unspeakable hardship of those who have to face it in the name of their Lord, and of our common Christianity and civilization.

A famous missionary once attempted to tell his experiences as to heathenism, and got himself into trouble for his pains. Missionaries give their hearers credit for Christian common sense, and for the knowledge that there is a dark and dreadful side to missionary work, such as to justify the sacrifices of the churches and their agents in undertaking it. One significant fact may be mentioned here. While there was a name for every beast, and bird, and blade of grass, and tree, and stone, and creeping thing, there was not in the language of Madagascar a word for moral purity. Such a thing had no existence until the people received the Gospel, and learned from it to value the things that are pure, lovely, and of good report.

MALAGASY HAIR-DRESSING.

A HEATHEN WAR-DANCE.

In 1823 the work of translating the Scriptures into Malagasy was begun, and in 1824 Radàma I gave the missionaries permission to preach the Gospel in the vernacular. The natives were not a little amazed to hear a European declaring to them with fluency in their own tongue the wonderful works of God. The mission made very rapid progress for a few years. There were about a hundred schools established in the provinces of Imèrina and Vònizòngo, and some four thousand children gathered into them. These schools were not centres where a large amount of secular and a small amount of religious education was given; they were also preaching stations, visited periodically by the missionaries, where the Gospel was preached and the Scriptures were explained. The truth thus found entrance into many benighted souls, laying hold of them in a way that nothing had ever done before, proving that it was still the power of God unto salvation unto every one that believeth. Many had grown weary of their old heathenism, and were feeling after God, if haply they might find Him.

The people had often spoken of Andrìamànitra[2] Andrìanànahàry (God the Creator) as existing, and the people had been told in their proverbs, with which all were familiar, that ‘God looks from on high and sees what is hidden’; that they were ‘Not to think of the silent valley’ (that is, as a place in which it was safe to commit sin); ‘for God is over our head.’ They were told that ‘God loves not evil’; and also that ‘It is better to be condemned by man than to be condemned by God’; and again that ‘The waywardness of man is controlled by God; for it is He Who alone commands.’

In their proverbs God was also acknowledged as ‘the Giver to every one of life.’ This confession is found in the ordinary phrase used in saluting the parents of a newly born child, which was, ‘Salutation! God has given you an heir’; while His greatness is declared in another proverb which says, ‘Do not say God is fully comprehended by me.’ He was recognized as the rewarder both of good and evil; and hence their proverb, ‘God, for Whom the hasty won’t wait, shall be waited for by me.’ God’s omniscience was recognized in the proverb, ‘There is nothing unknown to God, but He intentionally bows down His head’ (that is, so as not to see); a rather remarkable parallel to the Apostle Paul’s words, ‘The times of ignorance, therefore, God overlooked.’ One proverb says, ‘Let not the simple or foolish one be defrauded, God is to be feared’; while another tells that, ‘The first death may be endured, but the second death is unbearable.’

In the Malagasy proverbs and folk-lore you have some few of the ‘fossilized remains of former beliefs’; and in these the people were told something of God and goodness, of right and wrong, while hints were given of a life beyond the grave, where good men would be rewarded and wicked men punished.

These, however, were but ragged remnants of former beliefs, which, while they might be enough to show that God had not left Himself without witness, had lost most of their meaning for the people, and almost all their power over them. They were in no way guided by the fear of God in their daily life and conduct. God was not in all their thoughts, for He was a name and nothing more to the vast majority of the people.

The Malagasy were under the baneful sway of the most degrading superstitions. Hence polygamy, infanticide, trial by the poison ordeal, and all the attendant horrors of heathenism were everywhere rampant. The people were goaded on to commit the most cruel and heartless crimes against their nearest and dearest by the Mpanàndro (the astrologers), or the Mpìsikìdy (the workers of the oracle), and the Òmbiàsy (the diviners or witch-doctors). They and theirs were harmed or made ill, as they thought, by the Mpàmosàvy (the wizards or witches). They thought that all disease arose from bewitchery, and hence medicine was known as Fànafòdy, i. e. that which removes or takes off the Òdy, the charm or witchery. The far-famed Òdi-mahèry (powerful-charm) for which Vònizòngo, my own district during my first term of ten years in Madagascar, was once so famous, was mainly composed of the same ingredients as the witches’ broth in Macbeth—the leg of a frog, the tongue of a dog, the leg of a lizard, the head of a toad, and such like. The great poet says that ‘One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,’ and the same may be said of the touch of superstition.

The people had been sunk for ages in ignorance, and formed a counterpart to the heathen world which the Apostle Paul describes as ‘having the understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that was in them, because of the hardening of their heart. Being past feeling, they gave themselves over unto lasciviousness, to work all uncleanness with greediness.’ This made them mere playthings in the hands of the ‘astrologers,’ ‘workers of the oracle,’ and ‘diviners’; for without their assistance they regarded themselves as completely at the mercy of the much feared Mpàmosàvy (the wizards or witches).

Everything—marriages, business, journeys—could be happy or successful only if undertaken on an auspicious day, and hence the proper authorities had to be paid to find out the lucky days. If a child was born on an unlucky day, or during the unlucky month of Àlakàosy, it had to be put to death, otherwise it was believed it would grow up to be a curse to its parents and its country. Of a child born on one of the so-called unlucky days, or during the so-called unlucky month, the diviner would at once say: ‘This child must die, or it will grow up to be a curse to the country, Mànana vìntan-dràtsy ìzy (it has a bad destiny hanging over it).’

There were different ways of putting these unfortunate innocents to death. If they were born during the unlucky month, they were placed in the evening at the gateway of the village, to be trampled to death by the cattle as they were being driven into the village for the night. If the gods inspired the cattle to step over the infant, its life was generally, though not always, spared. The Malagasy are very fond of their children—the parents would kneel by the pathway, the father on the one side, the mother on the other, pleading, with strong crying and tears, that the gods would spare their little one. Sometimes the cattle, with more sense than the people, when they came up to the babe, would sniff at it and step over it, and thus its life might be spared. This was the case, it is said, with Rainilàiàrivòny, the late prime minister of Madagascar, who was born during the unlucky month. It was not so often that male children were exposed in this way, some excuse was usually found by the ‘diviners’; but as a rule the female children were thus exposed. Twins, whether male or female, were always put to death.

A child was not always spared even when the cattle had stepped over it. The diviner would sometimes say: ‘A mistake has been made; this child is not to die in that way, but by the Ahòhoka.’ Water was poured into a large wooden platter, called a sahàfa. The child was taken, turned over, and its face held in the water until the poor innocent was suffocated. Some diviners were more exacting than others. Instead of effecting death by suffocation, they would cause a round hole to be dug in the ground, in which the child was placed, and covered with earth up to the waist; boiling water was then poured over it until death relieved the poor child of its torments, after which the pit was filled up with earth and pounded over. Thus thousands upon thousands of children fell victims to this superstition, and do so still in those parts of the island unreached by the benign influence of the Gospel of Christ. Members of my own congregation at Fìhàonana, Vònizòngo, had seen such atrocities as those I have just described committed, if they had not themselves actually taken part in them.

The standard of morality was by no means high in heathen Madagascar. A man might be a drunkard, dishonest, a liar, or quarrelsome and given to fighting, and as such be regarded by his neighbours as a bad man, that is a bad member of society; but in other respects he might be utterly immoral without earning that title. A man’s morals were not regarded as having anything whatever to do with his personal character they were regarded as his own private affair. The community passed no judgement upon him.

I have said a man, because a woman was not really regarded as having any place in society. Women were viewed as little more than chattels necessary for the furnishing of a man’s house. They were the slaves of their lord and master. They were spoken of as àmbin-jàvatra, that is, surplus belongings. Under these circumstances the marriage relationship was not regarded as of much consequence, and before 1879 a man had only to say to his wife, in the presence of a witness, Misàotra anào, màndehàna hìanào, ‘Thanks, go!’ and she was divorced. Marriage was said not to be a binding tie, but only a knot out of which you could slip at any time. With such views of the highest and holiest relationship in life, with divorce easy, and polygamy rampant, the condition of society may be better imagined than described. Yet it could not exactly be said of the Malagasy that the ‘emblems of vice’ had been ever ‘objects of worship,’ or that ‘acts of vice’ had ever been regarded by them as ‘acts of public worship,’ as can be said of the people of some heathen lands.

Such a state of things, of which many were wearied, paved the way, in a measure, for the new teaching. The work of the mission made rapid progress. The Gospel effected a marvellous change in the lives of the people, and numbers were baptized on profession of faith and received into church fellowship. The old heathen party became alarmed at this, and rose in arms against the New Religion. As Samuel Rutherford said: ‘Good being done, the devil began to roar.’ This he did with a vengeance, making use of all who had vested interests in immorality and superstition, and especially of the keepers of the royal idols. The converts were charged with refusing to worship the gods of their forefathers, and to pray to the spirits of their departed ancestors, and with praying instead to ‘the white man’s ancestor, Jesus Christ.’

History was repeating itself. The keepers of the royal idols frightened the queen by telling her that the gods were getting exasperated, and that if they once were enraged they would send fever, and famine, and pestilence, and all kinds of calamities. Although a strong-minded woman, and in some respects unusually shrewd, the queen was very superstitious, and the idol-keepers and the heathen party were able to work upon her fears, and, as the issue proved, with deadly effect.

‘She determined to introduce important changes in the government of the kingdom. She gave notice to the British Agent, and all Europeans, of her withdrawal from the treaty which Radàma I had made with the British government for the abolition of the foreign slave trade. She picked a quarrel with the British Agent because he had ridden on horseback into the village where a celebrated idol was kept, drove him from the capital, and ultimately from the island[3].’ Things had seemingly reached a crisis, and the missionaries felt that they might soon have to follow the British Agent; but this was for a time prevented by a rather singular incident.

There was no soap of any kind in Madagascar in those days. The queen had come into possession of some English soap, and thought it desirable to get the white teachers to make soap from the materials found in her own island, and instruct some of her young noblemen to make it. This is not exactly noblemen’s work, as we should think; but in those days, and in that land, every one had to do as the queen commanded, or have their heads cut off. To attain her object she resolved to keep the gods and the royal idol-keepers quiet for a time, until some of her young noblemen had learned the mystery of soap-making.

She had already proposed to the missionaries that they should confine their efforts to mere secular education, which, however, they had politely but firmly declined to do. The influence of the artisan missionaries had been of immense service to the Madagascar Mission in those early days of its existence; and mainly to their teaching must be attributed much of the skill of the Malagasy workmen to this day. There can be no doubt that the manifest utility of their work did much to win for the mission a large measure of tolerance, as this incident of the soap-making shows.

‘Having driven the British Agent from the capital and the island, and wishing next to get rid of the missionaries, the queen sent and asked them all to meet at the house of the senior missionary, as she had a communication to make to them. The queen’s messengers met them, and in her name thanked them for all they had done and all they had taught the people. The queen wished to know, they said, if there was anything they could still teach her people. The missionaries replied that they had only taught the very simplest elements of knowledge, and that there was still many things of which the Malagasy were quite ignorant, and they mentioned sundry branches of education, among which were the Greek and Hebrew languages, which had been partially taught to some. The messengers carried this answer to the queen, and when they came back they said that the queen did not care for the teaching of languages that nobody spoke; but she would like to know, they said, whether they could not teach her people something more useful, such as the making of soap from materials to be found in the country[1].’

This was rather an awkward question to address to theologians, and the ministerial members of the mission were much perplexed. Instruction in soap-making had not been part of their college training, and they knew little about it. ‘After a short pause, the senior member of the mission asked Mr. J. Cameron whether he could give an answer to that question. Mr. Cameron replied: “Come back in a week, and we may give an answer to Her Majesty’s inquiry.” At the end of the week they returned, and Mr. Cameron presented them with two small bars of tolerably good soap made entirely from materials found in the island[4].’ This incident, along with the conversations which the missionaries had with Her Majesty’s messengers, arrested for a time the backward trend of things. It revealed to Her Majesty and her heathen advisers their want of knowledge about the most common things, and their need of the most elementary education, and led to further inquiries about various matters. The tone adopted towards the missionaries and the treatment of them and their converts became more gentle and considerate.

The queen herself was so pleased with the soap that, on condition that Mr. Cameron would undertake a contract to supply the palace and the government with a certain amount of soap, and teach some of the young noblemen how to make it, things were to be allowed to go on; and the missionaries were not to be interfered with in their work. Mr. Cameron and Mr. Chick, another of the artisan missionaries, undertook contracts for soap-making and the production of other useful articles. The government wanted them to undertake a contract for making gunpowder; but this they declined. It took nearly five years to fulfil this agreement. Perhaps their brethren had given Messrs. Cameron[5] and Chick a hint to deal out their instruction as to the soap-making in homoeopathic doses, so that they might be able to accomplish as much as possible of their higher service to Madagascar before the end of the period at which the contracts expired. One most important result to the mission from these contracts was a fresh impulse to the work of education throughout the central province. New schools were allowed to be established, and, although the queen and government would have much preferred to patronize merely secular education, had the missionaries agreed to separate it from religious teaching, they were constrained for the sake of the secular instruction to sanction and countenance the religious education.

The education of the young naturally formed an important element in the work of the mission from its commencement, and under the patronage of Radàma I the work flourished greatly. Radàma never became a Christian. ‘My Bible,’ he would say, ‘is within my own bosom.’ But he was a shrewd and clever man, and his ideas had been much broadened through intercourse with foreigners, and especially through his constant intercourse with Mr. Hastie, the British Agent, and he clearly saw that the education of the children would be an immense gain to his country. Thus he did all in his power to further this branch of missionary work, and both he and Mr. Hastie showed great interest in the prosperity of the schools.

In the year 1826 about thirty schools had been founded, and there were nearly 2,000 scholars; in 1828 the schools were forty-seven, but the number of scholars had fallen to 1,400. At one time the missionaries reported 4,000 as the number of scholars enrolled, though there were never so many as this actually receiving instruction. During the fifteen years the mission was allowed to exist (1820–1835) it was estimated that from 10,000 to 15,000 children passed through the schools; so that when the missionaries were compelled to leave the island there were thousands who had learned to read, and who had by the education they had received been raised far above the mass of their heathen fellow countrymen.

The direct spiritual results of the missionaries’ work were of slow growth, and it was not till eleven years after Mr. Jones’s arrival in the capital that the first baptisms took place. This was on the Sabbath, May 29, 1831, in Mr. Griffiths’s chapel at Ambòdin-Andohàlo, when twenty of the first converts were baptized in the presence of a large congregation. On the next Sabbath, June 5, eight more were baptized by Mr. David Johns in the newly erected chapel at Ambàtonakànga.

From this time the growth was comparatively rapid and encouraging, and by the time of the outbreak of persecution two hundred had been received into church membership.

During the carrying out of the contracts the missionaries were hard at work on their translation of the Scriptures. They knew very well that what had taken place was but a calm before the storm, which they saw approaching, and that when it burst they would all be expelled from the island. They were most anxious to be able to leave the completed translation of the Word of God with the people. In March, 1830, a first edition of 3,000 copies of the New Testament was completed. Messrs. Cameron and Chick used to go down for a few hours in the morning to the Government Works at Ampàribè, to see to the soap-making and other work going on there; and after that they and the other artisan members of the mission went up in turns to help at the printing-office. The ministerial brethren would be there with their translation, and, under the guidance of the superintendent of the press, one member of the mission put up the type, while another brought the paper, another inked the type, and the rest took their turn at working the press. When, as was latterly the case, no labourers could be got to do it, even the ladies of the mission sometimes helped at this heavy task.

Thus these devoted men and women often worked to the small hours of the morning printing off the Scriptures. Before their task was finally accomplished the New Testament, and also single books of both the Old and New Testaments, were bound up and set in circulation. Single sheets even of the Gospels, tracts, leaves of the Pilgrim’s Progress, and of the small hymn-book found their way all over the island; and some of these, as late as 1871, I found in the possession of the people in Vònizòngo.

CHAPTER II
‘THE KILLING TIMES’

‘Yea, and all that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution.’—2 Tim. iii. 12.

The edict of Queen Rànavàlona I against the Christian religion was published on March 1, 1835. To effect a return to absolute heathenism at all costs was the settled policy of the queen and her advisers. Christianity and heathen barbarism could not exist together. Very soon, however, to the astonishment of the queen and her advisers, it was found that although the missionaries had been expelled, and the Bible and other religious books burned, a stop had not really been put to the ‘praying.’ They had not been able to expel the Spirit of God from the hearts of the people. The good seed of the Kingdom began through persecution to strike its roots deeper, and under the influence of the dews of Heaven to spring up and yield fruit. Midnight prayer-meetings were begun in the capital itself, within gunshot of the palace. At one of those midnight prayer-meetings, when discovery meant certain death, a young man, Razàka, and his wife from Vònizòngo were baptized. He had been a scholar in the mission school at Fihàonana, and afterwards became the native pastor of the mother-church at Fihàonana, which office he held for more than twenty years. Not only so; he became the Apostle of Vònizòngo, and founded some forty of the village congregations in that district.

The queen, thus thwarted, became more incensed than ever, and severer measures were resorted to in order to exterminate the hateful ‘praying.’ Death was the penalty of the slightest act of disobedience; but still the people continued to pray, and the Kingdom of God to make quiet but sure progress. The queen discovered, as other persecutors had done before, that the more she persecuted the people of God the more they increased and grew. Had the queen taken Christianity under her patronage, after the expulsion of the missionaries, she might have stifled it, or made it a mere name; but in persecuting the Christian faith she did it the best service possible. Persecution rooted and grounded Christianity in the hearts of the Hova people in a way that nothing else could have done. And not only so, but her cruelties did service to the cause of Christ in other lands besides Madagascar; for it was by the light of those martyr fires, which she in her cruelty had kindled, that thousands in this and other lands saw Madagascar, and were roused to take interest in the island and in Christian missions. Thus once more did God make the wrath of man to praise Him.

‘At the time when the missionaries left the capital severe persecution was directed against Rafàravàvy, a woman of rank who had become a convert prior to the proscription of Christianity. Her family, and she among them, had once been devoted in an exceptional degree to the service of the national idols. She was accused of “praying,” but upon the day they left Antanànarìvo she was pardoned on payment of a fine, and warned that if she was again found guilty her life would be forfeited. About a year later, with ten others she was again accused of praying and allowing others to pray in her house. When arrested she refused to betray those who had been associated with her. The officers entrapped a young woman named Ràsalàma, who had been included in the same impeachment, into revealing the names of seven Christians hitherto unknown to the officials. Among these was a former diviner, Ràinitsìhèva by name, memorable in Madagascar annals by his name of Paul. Rafàravàvy would have been executed, and thus have become the first Christian martyr in Madagascar, but for a great fire on the eve of the day fixed for her execution. This led to a postponement of her execution. Ràsalàma, while in prison, grieved by the weakness which had led her to betray others, uttered words which, on being reported to the commander-in-chief, determined him to put her to death.

‘She was ordered for execution next morning, and the previous afternoon was put in irons, which, being fastened to the feet, hands, and neck, confined the whole body in a position of excruciating pain. In the early morning she sang hymns, as she was borne along to the place of execution, expressing her joy in the knowledge of the Gospel, and on passing the chapel in which she had been baptized, she exclaimed: “There I heard the words of the Saviour.” After being borne more than a mile farther, she reached the fatal spot—a broad, dry, shallow fosse or ditch, strewn with the bones of previous criminals, outside what was formerly a fortification, at the southern extremity of the hill on which the city stands. Here, permission being granted her to pray, Ràsalàma calmly knelt on the earth, committed her spirit into the hands of her Redeemer, and fell with the executioner’s spears buried in her body.

THE CAVE IN WHICH THE BIBLE WAS HID FOR TWENTY YEARS.

THE FOSSE IN WHICH RÀSALÀMA WAS SPEARED.

‘So suffered, on August 14, 1837, Ràsalàma, the first who died for Christ of the martyr Church of Madagascar, which thus, in its early infancy, received its baptism of blood. Heathenism and hell had done their worst. Some few of the bystanders, it was reported, cried out: “Where is the God she prayed to, that He does not save her now?” Others were moved to pity for one whom they deemed an innocent sufferer; and even the heathen executioners declared: “There is some charm in the religion of the white people, which takes away the fear of death.” Most of her more intimate companions were either in prison or in concealment; but one faithful and loving friend, who witnessed her calm and peaceful death, when he returned, exclaimed: “If I might die as tranquil and happy a death, I would willingly die for the Saviour too[6].”’

‘Ràsalàma was accused of praying, one of her own servants being the accuser. She was taken to the house of one of the high officers in Andòhàlo. This officer made use of bad language towards her, when Ràsalàma severely reproved him, saying: “Take care what you say, for we shall meet again face to face at the last day.” The officer replied: “I shall not meet you again, you silly young woman.” “You cannot avoid doing so,” said Ràsalàma, “for we must all appear at the judgement seat of God on the last day; and every idle word spoken by men shall be revealed to them on the day of judgement.”

‘Just before her martyrdom, Ràsalàma wrote a letter to one of the missionaries who had taught her, in which she said: “This is what I beg most earnestly from God—that I may have strength to follow the words of Jesus which say: ‘If any one would come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me.’ Therefore I do not count my life as a thing worth mentioning, that I may finish my course, that is, the service which I have received from my Lord Jesus.... Don’t you missionaries think that your hard work here in Madagascar for the Lord has been, or will be, of no avail. No! that is not, and cannot be the case; for through the blessing of God your work must be successful.”

‘She also called to mind the words of Scripture which say: “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints[7].”’

‘After the death of Ràsalàma, 200 Christians were sold into slavery. Rafàravàvy was also sold, but her owner, so long as she did her allotted task, allowed her much personal liberty. Among those who had witnessed Ràsalàma’s martyrdom was the young man referred to above, named Rafàralàhy, who had been in the habit of receiving Christians for worship at his house near the capital. This man was betrayed by a former friend, an apostate who owed him money, and took this means of cancelling his debt.

‘After being confined in heavy irons for three days, he was taken out for execution. On the way he spoke to the officers of the love and mercy of Christ, and of his own happiness in the prospect of so soon seeing that divine Redeemer Who had loved him and died to save him. Having reached the place of execution, the same spot on which Ràsalàma had suffered nearly a twelvemonth before, he spent his last moments in supplication for his country and his persecuted brethren, and in commending his soul to his Saviour. As he rose from his knees, the executioners were preparing, as was the custom, to throw him on the ground, when he said that was needless, he was prepared to die; and, quietly laying himself down, he was instantly put to death, his friends being afterwards allowed to inter his body in the ancestral tomb.

‘Rafàralàhy’s wife was seized, cruelly beaten, and compelled to name those who had frequented his house. Rafàravàvy, one of these, fled, and by the aid of native friends finally reached Tàmatàve. There, by the aid of sympathetic friends among the Europeans, with six other Christians, she escaped to Mauritius in safety. Five of these, including Rafàravàvy, visited England, and were present at a great meeting at Exeter Hall on June 4, 1839. Their presence centred extraordinary interest upon Madagascar, and indirectly upon the general work of the Society. The refugees were accompanied by Mr. Johns. They returned to Mauritius in 1842, and undertook work there among the many Malagasy slaves then in that island[8].’

The measures taken to destroy Christianity were not at all times equally severe; there were lulls in the storm, during which the persecuted had comparative quietness, and even gleams of sunshine. The years that stand out with special prominence in the annals of the persecution are 1835–37, 1840, 1849, and 1857. The next series of martyrdoms occurred in 1840. David Griffiths had been allowed to return to Antanànarìvo as a trader, and he, in connexion with Dr. Powell, whom business took to Madagascar, did all in their power to aid those whose Christian faith brought their lives into jeopardy. In May, 1840, sixteen of the proscribed made an attempt to reach the coast. Unhappily, they were betrayed, captured, and, five weeks after their flight, they were brought back. Two managed to escape. Of the rest, on July 9, 1840, nine were executed.

Many of the native converts fled to the forests, where they died of fever; or to the mountains, where they lived among the dens and the caves of the earth; or to distant parts of the island, such as to the Ankàrana in the north, or to the Bètsilèo country in the south, or to the Sàkalàva tribe who occupy some six hundred miles of the west side of the island—where the most of them were murdered as Hova spies.

The province of Vònizòngo, being about forty miles to the north-west of the capital, having no governor, and very few government officials, became a hiding-place for many of the persecuted Christians. Midnight prayer-meetings were held there for years—first in the house of Ràmitràha, who was afterwards burned at Fàravòhitra, and afterwards in the house of Razàka. The converts travelled twenty, thirty, and even forty miles to attend those meetings. At Fìhàonana they had one of the few Bibles that had been saved. This was a well in the desert, for the ‘Word of God was precious in those days.’ The converts met and spent the night in reading the Scriptures and prayer; and on the very dark nights of the rainy season they ventured on singing a hymn to refresh their weary hearts and souls, trusting the noise of the falling rain would drown their voices, as it might well do. On such nights the queen’s spies did not venture abroad.

Many of the persecuted fled from the capital and other parts to Vònizòngo, and hid there for months, and some for years. The rice-pits under the floors of the huts were favourite hiding-places, while refuge was also found among the rocks, in ravines on the hill-sides, and in the ‘cave,’ used as a small-pox hospital. Some of the rice-pits had underground passages connecting them with pits in the neighbouring huts, from which a passage led to the outside, so that if any in hiding in the first rice-pit were searched for, they could crawl into the pit in the adjoining hut, and thence find their way outside.

On one occasion Rafàravàvy Marìa, who afterwards escaped from the island and was brought to England, was in hiding in a hut in Vònizòngo, when an officer sent to search for her arrived in the village. He had come so suddenly that she had not had time to get into the rice-pit or outside into the fosse; she had barely time to crawl under a low wooden bedstead, and the woman of the house had only time to draw the mat on the bed down in front of it to hide her. She put some baskets with rice and manioc on the bedstead, to keep the mat from slipping down, when the officer entered the hut. He said: ‘Have you Rafàravàvy here?’ The woman of the house answered: ‘Look and see.’ He just looked round the hut, did not look under the bedstead, and went away. When he left the village to seek for her elsewhere Rafàravàvy escaped to a place of safety.

When very strict search was made by the queen’s orders for Bibles and other Christian books—for she more than suspected that they had not all been given up—the Christians in Vònizòngo were very much afraid they might lose their copy of the Scriptures. They said: ‘If we lose our Bible what shall we do?’ A consultation was held as to how and where the Bible was to be hidden to ensure its safety; and it was agreed that the best and safest place in which to hide the Bible was the small-pox hospital. The officers dreaded small-pox too much to venture there.

A little to the north-east of the village of Fihàonana a hill rises, and near the foot of it stands a cluster of large boulders. Inside that cluster, during the lulls in the persecution, from ten to thirty of the converts used to hold a Sabbath morning service. Underneath one of the largest of the boulders, at the foot of the hill, there is an artificial cave, dug out by the people to serve as a small-pox hospital for the village: in the dark corner of this cave the Bible was hidden between two slabs of granite. The queen’s officers arrived at the village, as it was expected they would, to search for the Bible and other Christian books, which the queen and government had reason to believe, from the reports of spies, were to be found there. A bootless search was made in the huts of the suspected, in the rice-pits, and in the village fosse; and then the officers directed their way to the cluster of boulders on the hill-side. As they were about to enter the cave where the Bible lay, some one said: ‘I suppose you know that this is the small-pox hospital?’ ‘We did not,’ they said, starting back in horror. ‘Wretch! why did you not tell us sooner? Why did you let us come so near?’ The officers beat a hasty retreat, and the Bible was safe. This particular copy is now, and for many years has been, in the library of the British and Foreign Bible Society, Queen Victoria Street, London.

Razàka lay for over two years in hiding in that cave, and during that time he seemed to have learnt most of the Bible by heart. After the martyrdom of Ràmitràha the queen had sent to have him arrested as the ringleader of the ‘prayers’ in Vònizòngo. Had he been caught, he would have been put to death. He had before that been sold into slavery for his religion; but, as a distant relative bought him, his slavery was of a mild type. He heard that the officers had been sent out to arrest him, and went into hiding. A report was spread that he had escaped to the Sàkalàva tribe in the west, and the search was given up.

THE MARTYRDOMS AT AMPAMARINANA.

(From a Native Sketch.)

On a dark night he returned to the cave, and there began his long concealment of two years. At night his wife took him rice; in the daytime, when it was safe, he lay at the mouth of the cave and read and re-read the Bible. How many times he read it through I do not know, but I do know that he had the most extraordinary knowledge of the Scriptures of any man I have met. This qualified him for the honour afterwards conferred upon him of becoming native pastor of the mother-church at Fihàonana and the Apostle of the Vònizòngo district.

I have been unable to discover the number of church members in the Vònizòngo district when the persecution began, in 1835; but in a letter written in 1856 it was stated that there were then 193. I was told, however, in 1871, by Razàka, that when the persecution began, there were thirty-six church members at Fihàonana, ten of whom were then alive. Of the twenty-six dead, two died as martyrs. One, Ràmitràha, was burned at Fàravòhitra Antanànarìvo; the other, Rakòtonomè, was thrown over the rocks at Ampàmarìnana. These men were preachers at Fihàonana.

Ràmitràha was chief of the village and district of Fihàonana—his younger brother was chief in our time; their mother had been the first convert to Christianity in the Vònizòngo district. Ràmitràha seems to have been a very remarkable man. After the outbreak of the persecution, and when it became known that there were many Christians in the Vònizòngo district, several officers and men were sent to bring them to the capital. While the officers were on their way there, Ràmitràha was informed of their coming, and that he was specially named as being a leader, and because midnight prayer-meetings had been held in his house. He was advised to flee; but he nobly refused. ‘Where could I flee to?’ he said. ‘If I flee to the west, I shall be speared by the Sàkalàvas as a Hova spy. If I flee to the forest, I shall die of fever. If I flee to the mountains or to the wilderness, I shall die of famine or fever; and if I am to die, I prefer to die for my faith.’ He was carried to the capital, along with some three hundred others, of whom the majority did not stand the test. To save their lives they took the oath to worship the idols and pray to the spirits of their ancestors and the departed sovereigns. Ràmitràha stood firm, and died for his faith in the flames at Fàravòhitra, while his fellow labourer, Rakòtonomè, was rolled down the precipice at Ampàmarìnana.

‘All through this period (from 1835 to 1849) accused Christians were often compelled to drink the tangèna, and many of them died. But it was not until 1849 that another fierce wave of persecution rolled over the infant church. On February 19, 1849, two houses belonging to Prince Ramònja, which had been used for Christian worship, were destroyed, and eleven Christians cast into prison. A kabàry was held at Andohàlo (the central piàzza of Antanànarìvo), and once again Christians were ordered to accuse themselves. In Vònizòngo a noble named Ràmitràha and others refused to worship the idols, and eighteen were condemned to death at Anàlakèly[9].’

‘Ràmitràha, a noble and a descendant of one of the most distinguished chiefs of the province of Vònizòngo, replied—when asked to take the oath invoking the idols—“God has given none to be worshipped on the earth, nor under the heavens, except Jesus Christ.” “Fellow,” exclaimed the officer, “will you not pray to the spirits of the departed sovereigns, and worship the sacred idols that raised them up?” To which the steadfast confessor replied: “I cannot worship any of them; for they were sovereigns given to be served, but not to be worshipped. God alone is to be worshipped for ever and ever, and to Him alone I pray.” This faithful man sealed his testimony to Jesus Christ in the flames.

‘On February 25, 1849, the accused Christians were gathered at Andohàlo for examination and trial. They were asked: “What is the reason that you will not forsake this new religion, and that, notwithstanding threats of severe punishment and even death, you keep on earnestly practising it? Speak out and tell the truth, don’t lie.” They answered, one by one, but the substance of what was said was: “This is the reason why we love it: we can pray to the true God for the queen, the kingdom, and for ourselves who work; and thank Him for redemption and the blessings received at His hands. We know that true religion benefits the kingdom, because in the Word of God, which we accept, there are good laws which benefit the subjects and bless them; and these laws are not opposed to the laws of the land.”

‘During the first week of March, the Christians throughout the central provinces were ordered to accuse themselves at the appointed place in each district. “I give these ‘prayers’ time to accuse themselves,” said the queen’s message; “but not for their own sakes do I give them time, but for the sake of Imèrina; and were it not so, I would put them all to death; for they persist in doing what I hate[10].”’

‘On March 21 and 22, 1849, the Christians were gathered at Anàlakèly, and were again subjected, not to examination as to their rigid adherence to the new religion, but whether they would take the prescribed oath or not. One by one they were asked the following questions, and all gave similar answers.

‘The Officer: “Do you still practise prayer?”

‘Christian: “Yes, I still pray.”

‘Officer: “Will you not pray to the twelve sacred mountains, and the sacred idol that raised up and sanctified the twelve sovereigns?”

‘Christian: “The mountains are but earth to be trodden upon, and the idols are but wood from which houses are built, quite lifeless, the work of God’s hands—hence we cannot pray to them or worship them.”

‘Officer: “Will you not pray to Andrìanampòinimèrina and Radàma?”

‘Christian: “Andrìanampòinimèrina and Radàma were worthy of reverence as sovereigns while here on earth; but as to worshipping them, that cannot be done, as the objects of worship cannot be increased.”

‘Officer: “Will you not worship Her Majesty Rabòdonàndrìanampòinimèrina?”

‘Christian: “Rabòdonàndrìanampòinimèrina is the sovereign appointed by God to be served and obeyed; but she is only human, hence we cannot worship her, we can only worship God.”

‘Officer: “Won’t you take the oath?”

‘Christian: “We cannot do so, and we have vowed not to do so.”

‘Officer: “Do you still regard the Sabbath day as sacred, and abstain from all work on it?”

‘Christian: “The Sabbath is a day set apart for the service of God; during the six days we labour and do all our work, but we still hold the Sabbath sacred.”

‘Officer: “Why do you say that you will not worship or pray to any one except God; and yet you worship and pray to Jehovah and Jesus Christ?”

‘Christian: “Jehovah and Jesus Christ are God under different names.”

‘One man was asked by the officer: “Who are your companions, fellow?” To whom he replied: “You and all the people on the earth are my companions.” This same man strengthened his fellow Christians by saying: “Be not afraid of them who kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul; but rather fear Him Who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.”

‘On Wednesday, March, 28, 1849, a proclamation was issued and read at Anàlakèly condemning the eighteen Christians who had refused to give up praying to Jesus Christ and worship the idols. It ran—“Concerning these eighteen brothers and sisters whom I have interrogated and examined: they will not follow the doings of you the majority of my subjects; therefore I shall put them to death. Some of them shall be burned at Fàravòhitra, and the rest I shall fling over the precipice.” When the condemned heard the sentence, they began singing a favourite hymn: “We are going home, O God.”

‘The Christians were mocked, jeered at, and vilified by their fellow countrymen, called traitors to their fatherland, and worshippers of the “white man’s ancestor[11].”’

‘The sentences of the queen upon the offenders were divided into classes, according to their rank or their crimes. The four nobles, two of whom were husband and wife, were sentenced to be burned alive at Fàravòhitra, at the northern end of the hill on which the city is built; and they were burned under circumstances of cruelty which dare hardly be described. The fourteen others of inferior rank were sentenced to be hurled from the edge of Ampàmarìnana, a precipice to the west of the palace, and their wives and children sold into irredeemable slavery. The total number of those on whom one or other of the sentences was pronounced on this occasion amounted, at the lowest computation, to 1,903, but by some accounts it is nearer 3,000.

‘The soldiers took up the four nobles, and carried them from the plain up the hill-side to Fàravòhitra, to a place on the highest part of the hill. As they were carried along they kept on with their hymn-singing. Thus they sang until they reached the spot where four piles of firewood were built up. They were then fastened to stakes in the centre of the piles above the wood. When the piles were kindled, and the flames were rising round them, they prayed and praised the Lord. Among the utterances then heard by those standing near were: “Lord Jesus, receive our spirits—lay not this sin to their charge”; and, as if the visions of the future triumphs of the Lord were given to their departing spirits, one was heard to exclaim: “His name, His praise, shall endure for ever and ever.”’

One of the four burned was a woman, Ramàrindàlana, the wife of Andrìampanìry, who was a preacher at Fìarènana, West Vònizòngo. The condition of this poor woman failed to move the hearts of her persecutors. She was about to become a mother, and actually gave birth to a child in the flames which consumed her and her offspring. Truly ‘the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel.’

‘Once, if not more than once, the falling rain extinguished the fire, which was rekindled; and to one of the sufferers (as we have said) the pains of maternity were added to those of the flames. While they were thus suffering, a large and triple rainbow—the sign of God’s promise and faithfulness—stretched across the heavens, one end seeming to rest upon the spot whence the martyrs’ spirits were departing. Some of the spectators, to whom the phenomenon appeared supernatural, fled in terror. One friend, who faithfully remained to the end, records of the martyrs: “They prayed as long as they had life. Then they died; but softly, gently. Indeed, gentle was the going forth of their life, and astonished were all the people around that beheld the burning of them there[12].”’

The names of the four martyrs burned at Fàravòhitra were Ràmitràha, Andrìantsiàmba, Andrìampanìry and Ramànandàlana his wife.

‘Among these so-called criminals who perished at the stake were some, as we have seen, of the highest rank, in whose veins the blood of former kings was supposed to flow. In the same order and manner in which they had been brought to receive judgement the remaining fourteen confessors (all of whom were from the province of Vònizòngo) were taken along the public streets, through the crowds in the city, the agitated and deeply affected crowds, to the top of the rock at Ampàmarìnana, the Tarpeian rock of Antanànarìvo. There on the top of that lofty precipice, at the edge of the western crest of the hill on which the city is built, the filthy fragments of matting wrapped round their bodies were removed. Their arms still remained pinioned and their ankles bound. Thus bound they were rolled in mats, carried one by one to the edge of the precipice and rolled over the downward-curving edge, whence they fell fifty feet, striking a projecting ledge, bounding off, and then falling upon the jagged and broken fragments of granite lying at the base of the precipice, some two hundred feet below the edge from which they had been hurled[13].’

‘One of them, before he was rolled in the matting, asked permission to stand up and view once more the striking scene before him, as from that spot the country can be seen for some sixty miles in three directions—west, north-west, and south-west. His request was granted; he rose, feasted his eyes for a few moments on the familiar scene, and then bowed his head in prayer. He was then rolled in the mat and hurled over the precipice. As his body descended to the rocks below he was heard singing[14].’

Another, Rainiàsivòla, after being rolled over the edge of the downward-curving rock, was caught by the thorns which grow out of a fissure of the rock, some twenty feet below the edge. The officers who had rolled him over were in mortal terror, for it seemed as if their commission was not to be accomplished, and they might have to answer with their own lives for its failure. Lying there among the thorns on the edge of that precipice, the man must have looked up and seen their trepidation; for he shouted up to them: ‘Don’t be needlessly alarmed; I will wriggle myself clear and roll myself over!’ By violent exertion the thorns were snapped, he was freed, and fell upon the jagged rocks below, where he lay a mangled corpse. That man had been idol-keeper and diviner to Razàka-Ratrìmo, the father of Rànavàlona II, the first Christian Queen of Madagascar; but after his conversion he made firewood of the idol, and, as we have seen, died a martyr for his faith in Jesus Christ[15].

‘Ranìvo, an interesting and beautiful young woman of one of the first families, for she belonged to the tribe or clan from which the reigning family traced their descent; the queen herself, therefore, wished to save her. When questioned she said: “I cannot serve the idols: God alone will I serve, as long as my life shall last; for God alone has given me life and spirit—a higher spiritual life to worship Him; and for that reason I worship God.”

‘“You are wrong in your mind, or ill,” said the examining officer, “or you are under some charm; and you should consider well lest the queen hate you, and you should destroy yourself for no purpose.”

‘“I am not deranged,” she replied, “nor am I ill.” Then addressing her father, who was present, she said: “You indeed love me, O father, but God has given me a spirit to worship Him, and I should be filled with fear if I were to cease to pray to Him; therefore I shall not cease to worship Him, lest I should die everlasting death.”

‘“Bind her!” said the officer; and she was bound like the others.

‘The queen, anxious to save her, had with that view ordered her to be placed so that she might see her fellow Christians hurled from the fearful height, expecting that that would frighten her into submission. After they had all been hurled over, she was led by the executioner to the edge of the rock, and directed to look down upon the mangled bodies of her friends. She did so, but the sight did not lead her to waver in mind; for she still declined to take the required heathen oath necessary to save her life. “Dispatch me,” she said, “for my companions have already gone.” Her relatives entreated her to comply with the queen’s demand, and so save her life; but she said she could not take the oath, and she preferred to follow her martyred friends. They thought her insane, and reported to the queen to this effect, and hence her life was saved[16].’

A younger brother of Ranìvo was a great friend of mine for many years, and I got him to write a sketch of the life of his sister for our Malagasy monthly, Good Words.

‘The mangled and scarcely lifeless bodies of Ranìvo’s Christian companions, who had been hurled over the precipice, were dragged to the spot on the top of the Fàravòhitra hill, on which the four nobles had been burned, and there consumed in one vast pile. The lurid flames of this funeral pyre were intended to spread awe and terror among the inhabitants of the numerously peopled villages around from which they were visible[17].’

While Ràmitràha was in prison his mother visited him, and is said to have urged him to promise to pray to the idols sometimes, seeing that they were ‘nothings,’ and save his life; but he answered, ‘I will not, I cannot.’ I once asked Razàka, our native pastor at Fihàonana, and Ràmitràha’s successor, in conducting the midnight prayer-meetings at Fihàonana, if he thought Ràmitràha’s mother was a really good woman. He said she was one of the best Christian women he had ever known. ‘For,’ said he, ‘her life was a testimony to her faith. She used to visit the sick, read the Scriptures to them, pray with them, teach the children, and do everything you could think of a good woman doing. In fact she was instant, in season and out of season, in every good work.’ ‘Well, but,’ I said, ‘if she was really the good Christian woman you say she was, how do you explain her asking her son to promise to pray to the idols sometimes in order to save his life?’ He replied: ‘I cannot explain it, sir; but she must have half lost her senses through grief at the prospect of death to her first-born and much loved son; for I am quite sure that she was a truly good woman.’

THE SPEARING AT AMBOHIPOTSY.

THE STONING AT FIADANANA.

THE BURNING AT FARAVOHITRA.

(From Native Sketches.)

Ràmitràha’s younger brother, Andrìampàrany, also visited him while in prison, and I asked him whether his brother seemed daunted at the prospect of death. ‘Not at all,’ he replied, ‘he seemed rather to rejoice.’ I had in my possession Ràmitràha’s New Testament and some of the books of the Bible which had belonged to him; they were given to me by his widow, who was a member of my congregation at Fihàonana. To my intense regret they were lost by a friend in Scotland to whom I sent them. Her husband’s death was a life-long sorrow to her till, in 1876, pneumonia brought her release, the deaconesses and other Christian women soothing her last moments with hymns of faith and hope. Their only son, Rakòtovào, has been for many years pastor of one of the churches in the Fihàonana district. There was also a daughter, Rànàhy, who lived with a relation in the village of Fihàonana—a grey-haired, fine-featured, good old lady of one of the chief families of the district, ‘an old disciple,’ known as Rafàravàvifòtsivòlo—grey-haired Miss Last-born.

It was about this time at one of the midnight prayer-meetings, held in the house of Rafàravàvy Maria in the capital, that Razàka and his wife were baptized and received into the church. He had been a pupil of the missionaries, had been expelled from his father’s house for his adherence to the New Religion, and had his first wife (the wife his father and friends had provided for him) taken from him by her parents. They refused to allow their daughter to live with an outcast! He wrote his story for me, on condition that I should not publish it during his lifetime. After his death, in 1884, it appeared in the Malagasy Good Words, and was afterwards issued in the form of a booklet, many copies of which have been given as school prizes. He told me that during the persecutions many of the Christians fled from the capital to Vònizòngo, and there remained in hiding for many a day.

After the martyrdom of Ràmitràha, Razàka secured the Bible which belonged to the small Christian community at Fihàonana, and with it carried on the midnight prayer-meetings, which Ràmitràha had begun. He once said to me: ‘You know, sir, that often at those midnight prayer-meetings, when we read the Bible, we came upon parts we did not understand. We had no missionary to explain them.’ ‘What then did you do?’ I asked. ‘We read and re-read them,’ he replied, ‘prayed and re-prayed over them until we thought we understood them.’ They used often, he said, to long for the rainy season, for a thunderstorm with its torrential rains, that they might be free to refresh their hearts with a hymn. In the central provinces of Madagascar some five months of the year pass without rain; but when the rains do come they descend in a deluge. Terrific thunderstorms usher in these tropical rains. In an hour and a half I have known three inches of rain to fall. In the lap of such storms the persecuted found freedom to worship God. The Malagasy are fond of singing, and sing well. Their language lends itself to musical expression. It has been called the ‘Italian of the Southern Hemisphere.’ It is soft, liquid, flexible, and rich in vowels.

‘In 1853 the Rev. William Ellis, sent out by the London Missionary Society, and Mr. James Cameron from the Cape visited the port of Tàmatàve, but they were not allowed to journey to the capital. In June, 1854, Mr. Ellis again went to Tàmatàve, and during a stay there of some weeks saw many Christian refugees; and was enabled to do something to sustain the courage and the hope of the persecuted natives.

In July, 1856, Mr. Ellis visited the island again, was allowed to visit the capital, which he reached on August 25, and where he stayed until September 26. He saw much to confirm the constancy of the disciples, tidings of which had reached England from time to time. While aware of the dangers to which the Christian natives were exposed, he and other friends of Madagascar were hopeful that matters would now improve, especially as the prince royal was known to be favourably disposed towards Christianity. But these hopes were speedily overclouded. In July, 1857, a renewed and even fiercer outbreak of persecution occurred[18].’

It has been asserted that the Christians who were stoned to death at Fìadànana and Fàravòhitra in July, 1857, were political rather than religious martyrs; and one ill-informed clergyman has actually gone the length of saying that no Malagasy has ever been martyred for belief in Christianity! He affirms that any who suffered death did so because of their connexion with the Lambert and Laborde conspiracy—with which Ida Pfeifer, the famous German lady traveller, who was in Antanànarìvo at the time, became involved—to dethrone the queen and place her son, the crown prince, afterwards Radàma II, on the throne. There is, however, not only not a vestige of proof for such an assertion, but the following extract from the Native Narrative of the Persecutions gives verbatim the queen’s order for their execution and the reason for it. The royal order for their execution runs: ‘They persist in the practice of the worship which I have prohibited, says the sovereign, and they are grieved, it is said, on account of those I have previously put to death, and state that I have executed as many as 1,300 in one day. These are crimes worthy of death, and I inform you, O ye under heaven.’

Not a single word about any conspiracy—which would certainly have been referred to had there been any foundation for the above-mentioned reckless assertions. The names of all the fourteen who suffered are given in the Narrative, which says: ‘On July 18, 1857, at Fìadànana (an open space a little to the south-west of the capital, and which can be easily seen from the palace-yard), they were stoned to death in the presence of an immense gathering of the people. They were first bound to stakes, and at the order “Fling!” a shower of stones darkening the sky almost like a cloud of locusts was hurled at them. All the fourteen were not stoned together at Fìadànana, only eleven, as Ràmahàzo, who was arrested after the others, was stoned by himself the following day; Ramànandàfy was pounded to death in his own house, and Rabètsàrasàotra, who was caught later, was stoned to death at Fàravòhitra on July 29, 1857. At the execution of all the Christian martyrs, but especially at the execution of those stoned to death at Fìadànana, everything was done calculated to rouse and excite the populace to the utmost. Bands with bugles sounding, big drums and kettledrums being beaten, and cymbals clashing, marched through the streets and lanes of the capital. The royal chanters and the conch-shell blowers paraded through the city, chanting the praises of the sovereign and sounding their shells. The cannon roared from dawn to midday. An immense pile of Bibles, books of the Bible, Gospels, hymn-books, catechisms, and other Christian books was raised on a spot to the north of the palace and burned. The excitement and yelling of the people, who had been wrought up into a state of frenzy, was frightful to see and hear: the city was a perfect pandemonium[19].’

CRIMINALS IN CHAINS, ILLUSTRATING HOW THE MARTYRS WERE TREATED.

The cruel instincts of a people like the Malagasy, just emerging from heathenism, can only be gradually eradicated by time. It will take a long course of Christian training, through many generations—as in our own and other lands—to effect a permanent change. It augurs well, however, for the future of Madagascar that so much has already been accomplished in that direction in so short a time. Volumes might be written on the progress of Christianity during the periods of persecution, as it would take volumes to recount the sufferings of that evil time. Enough has been said, however, to indicate the baptism of blood and suffering which ushered in the new life of that benighted people. It is said that the darkest hour is that which precedes the dawn—and the dawn for Madagascar was at hand.

On Friday, August 16, 1861, Queen Rànavàlona died at the age of eighty-one, after a reign of thirty-three years; or—as the Malagasy rather poetically put it—‘she turned her back on the affairs of this life,’ since they dared not say that a sovereign died. She ended her long life of cruelty and shameless immorality in the darkness of heathenism, without a ray of hope for the future to lighten up the gloom of the dark valley, while terrors of some kind—probably the superstitious horrors of a guilty conscience—seem to have tormented her during her last hours; as if the shadows from the swift-coming eternity were appalling her, chilling her heart, and filling her soul with horrors.

Her reign was a veritable reign of terror, and lives as such in the memory of her people. They tell that when any of her fighting bulls died she had their carcases rolled in silk plaids and buried; but when her subjects complained of the severity of the forced labour which she demanded, she used to say: ‘Make three of them!’ that is, behead them and cut them through the middle! It is believed that during her reign some ten thousand perished from the poison ordeal alone. Her Christian subjects were treated as common criminals, and chained together by the neck by hundreds, a gang of them sometimes extending to nearly half a mile. If one of the gang died, the dead body had to be dragged along by the living, until the guard struck off the head and released them from the ‘body of death.’

In the interior of the island, in the Bètsilèo country and wherever the Hovas had jurisdiction, criminals were kept in chains. Some of the condemned Christians were so treated. Prisoners had to earn their own living, and were only confined to prison during the night. On the days, however, on which the sovereign appeared they were not allowed to leave the prison; or if allowed out on those days, at noon, before the sovereign was to appear, they had all to return to prison, were counted and locked up. Why? Because if one of those criminals managed to secrete himself, and then emerged from his hiding-place to gaze at and salute the sovereign as she passed, wearing her diadem and beautiful in the glory of her royal apparel, he was a free man whatever his crime had been. His chains were at once struck off, for he had looked on the sovereign in her beauty and saluted her—the salutation being: ‘Is it well with you, my sovereign?’ and no one could do that and still remain a prisoner. ‘Thine eyes shall see the king in his beauty’ (Isa. xxxiii. 17); ‘Whosoever shall call on the name of Jehovah shall be delivered’ (Joel ii. 32).

Razàka informed me that when tidings reached the province of Vònizòngo of the queen’s illness, he started for the capital with a beating heart. He felt that he was now on the threshold of liberty. When he arrived at the capital he sought out his old friend Andrìambèlo, the pastor of Ampàribè, Antanànarìvo, and asked: ‘How is the queen?’ He was told that she was very ill. Next day he called again and asked, and was told that she was at the point of death.

On the third day, while these old friends sat and discussed the possibilities of the future, they saw first one man run past the house, and then others. They went to ascertain the cause of excitement. They were then told that ‘the queen had turned her back on the affairs of this life.’ ‘When we were told this,’ he said, ‘we could not speak. We took hold of each other’s hands, looked each other in the face, and wept. This was all we could do. We wept for joy; we were free.’ I said: ‘Did you weep for joy, Razàka, that the queen was dead?’ He answered: ‘We did, sir, for we knew that we were free from our sufferings and our sorrows, and free to worship God when and where we pleased; and we wept for joy.’

On the death of the queen, Razàka and other worthy men who had been sold into slavery, put in chains, or banished to distant provinces for their faith, were set free, and they set to work to build up what had been broken down, and spread anew the Word of God. Much was done in that direction in the province of Vònizòngo, mainly by the labours of those men.

The dire persecution, which had lasted from 1835, came to an end with the death of Queen Rànavàlona I, in August, 1861. Her son became king, as Radàma II, and the cruel laws against Christianity were repealed.

‘Rànavàlona I was the wife given to Radàma I by his father, Àndrìanàmpòinimèrina, the founder of the dynasty, with the express injunction that a child of his, of whom she should be the mother, should be his successor. Rànavàlona was neither the wife of his choice nor the mother of his children.’ Her only child, Radàma II, had been born a year after her husband’s death. It has been said that, cruel and heartless as Rànavàlona was, she was not incapable of acts of personal kindness. She had climbed to the throne over the murdered bodies of the lawful heirs to it, and ‘her position as a despotic queen called into exercise her fiercest passions and her indomitable will—both being fostered and intensified by the superstitions of her country and her time. She was declared to be the divinity incarnate, invested with absolute rule and resistless power. In the overruling providence of God, this woman became the means of testing, purifying, and strengthening in her country that divinely implanted faith which the chief energies of her life were employed to destroy.’

CHAPTER III
FROM DARKNESS TO DAWN

‘The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwelt in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.’—Isaiah ix. 2.

‘With the accession of Radàma II a new era in the history of Madagascar began. For although not himself a Christian, he had long been recognized as the friend and protector of the persecuted Christians; and one of his first acts, as King of Madagascar, was to proclaim religious liberty, a blessing so earnestly desired by hundreds of his subjects, but so persistently denied by his mother[20].

‘The reopening of Madagascar to the Gospel stirred up in other churches a strong desire to share in Christian work. Even before the arrival of the Rev. William Ellis (who had been sent out by the Directors of the London Missionary Society to reopen the mission), Roman Catholic priests and workers had reached the capital. From the first these agents pursued the invariable policy of Rome. They denounced Protestantism, they attempted to secure the direction of affairs, and they showed no scruples in the means they used to secure their ends.

‘French political agents were also already on the spot, and active in their efforts, only too successful, to gain an influence over the king, and to aggrandize France. The French Consul was M. Laborde, and in close association with him was M. Lambert, who, in 1857, had been banished along with M. Laborde and others by Rànavàlona because detected in a plot to dethrone her. Mr. Pakenham, the English Consul—“the degenerate son of a noble sire, married to a low French-Creole woman”—contrary to all reasonable expectation, took the side of the French as against Mr. Ellis, and did all in his power to lower the missionary’s influence and weaken his authority[21].

‘On September 23, 1862, in the presence of an immense gathering of natives, and a fair number of Europeans, including the English and French embassies, Radàma II was crowned. At that time he appeared to be almost the idol of his people; and little did those present at the ceremony of September anticipate that within eight months the reign that had been begun under such favourable auspices would come to a tragic and melancholy end. Had the weakness and instability of Radàma’s character been better known and more fully considered, and had his dissoluteness and licentiousness been better known, the sad termination of his short reign would have produced far less surprise. His steady friendship for the persecuted Christians, his hatred of bloodshed, and his desire to stand well in the estimation of Europeans are well known. But the darker side of his character seems never to have been known or understood by those most interested in his career. A halo of romance was consequently thrown around the youthful king in the imagination of many; and hence the violent shock and bitter disappointment caused by his death. A juster estimate of his character has probably long since been formed by those most interested in Madagascar. Probably, however, there still lurks in the minds of some the idea that the character of Radàma underwent a more rapid deterioration than was actually the case; and that during the early part of his short reign he was one of whom it might have been said that he was “not far from the Kingdom of God.” Such a favourable view of his character is, however, utterly opposed to facts but too well known in Madagascar.’

While the above statements from the pen of my friend the Rev. W. E. Cousins are no doubt accurate, and it is also true that the Rev. William Ellis was greatly deceived as to the real character of Radàma, and grossly imposed upon, it is nevertheless a fact that the ruin of the unfortunate king was accelerated, and his untimely end much hastened, by the conduct of some who went to the capital to be present at his coronation and remained there, and aided and encouraged him in his downward course, and in the orgies practised in his palace. Things were brought to a crisis by the king insanely throwing all Malagasy law and tradition to the winds, and wishing to introduce and legalize the custom of duelling. It is said that the prime minister, the commander-in-chief, and the officers of the palace besought him on their knees with tears not to introduce such a practice; but he would not relent. The prime minister deliberately asked him: ‘Do you mean to say that if two men quarrel, they can go out and fight with swords or pistols, and if one kills the other the murderer shall not be punished?’ To which the king replied: ‘that’s it, that’s exactly what I mean.’ The prime minister then said: ‘But we cannot have that.’ To that the king replied: ‘But I will have it; I am the king, and I shall have what I please.’ ‘That is enough,’ said the prime minister. ‘It is time for us to see to our own interests,’ and left the palace. The obnoxious order cost the king his life.

‘In estimating the effect of Radàma’s policy upon the Church of Christ in Madagascar, it must be acknowledged that his thorough hatred of restraint of every kind, and the absolute freedom granted by him to all classes of his subjects, allowed the long repressed power of Christianity to assert itself, and by its rapid progress to take such a firm hold upon the people of the central province of Imèrina as to convince the government of the folly of again attempting a policy of repression.

‘Radàma II was succeeded by his widow, Rabòdo, who was proclaimed queen on the afternoon of the day on which her husband was assassinated, under the title of Ràsohèrina. Before she was proclaimed, a paper was presented to her by ministers, advisers, and officers containing seven articles, one of which set forth the terms upon which she would be acknowledged as queen—that Christianity should never more be forbidden or hindered by the government of Madagascar! It was generally understood that that was mainly, if not entirely, the work of the late prime minister. The new queen was personally unfavourable to the Christian religion; but during the five years of her reign she never openly deviated from that agreement, the acceptance of which was made a condition of her assuming the crown. In many respects the reign of Ràsohèrina was a period of retrogression, and the Christians were often troubled by the fear of another outbreak of persecution.

‘At several of the great kabàries, or public assemblies, held at various times during the reign of Ràsohèrina, messages hostile to Christianity were sent to her by representatives of some of the more important places. But her uniform answer to such messages was that she was determined not to depart from the policy of toleration with which her reign began. Towards the end of the reign of Ràsohèrina a more steady confidence gained ground among the people; and Christianity continued to make slow but real progress. Treaties of friendship were made with Great Britain (signed June 27, 1865), and with America (signed February 14, 1867); and thus the fears of any breach between Europeans and the Hova government, and of any consequent hostility to Christianity, were dispelled.

‘A French treaty was under consideration in Ràsohèrina’s reign; but was not finally agreed to till August 8, 1868, some months after the accession of Rànavàlona II.’ To the honour of Great Britain and of Britain’s late noble and beloved Queen be it told, ‘that the British Consul, who negotiated the treaty of friendship, was charged with a special personal message from Queen Victoria, asking that, as an expression of friendship to herself, the Queen of Madagascar would not allow the native Christians to be persecuted on account of their religion. This noble request had the desired effect, by securing the insertion of the toleration clause in the treaty: “Her Majesty the Queen of Madagascar, from her friendship for Her Britannic Majesty, promises to grant full religious liberty to all her subjects.” This will form, in the estimation of many, one of the brightest jewels in the crown of the late great Queen, whilst it will remind some of the memorable message sent from Windsor Castle by Queen Adelaide in March, 1837, to the persecuting Rànavàlona I: “Tell the Queen of Madagascar from me, that she can do nothing so beneficial to her country and her people as receive the Christian religion[22].”’

Thus, from 1865 to 1896, the Malagasy people owed it to the late Queen Victoria that they enjoyed (what they once more enjoy) the fullest religious toleration. It was little wonder, therefore, that they had the most extraordinary admiration and veneration for Her Majesty, though they could not understand how it was that she forsook them at the last—as they thought—and did not come to their help. I believe many thought that her prime minister, or some of her advisers, had told her lies about them, otherwise their great and good friend Queen Victoria could never have deserted them.

‘Queen Ràsohèrina died on Wednesday, April 1, 1868; and early on the morning of Thursday, April 2, Ramòma, a first cousin of Ràsohèrina, was proclaimed Queen of Madagascar under the title of Rànavàlona II. No idols were brought forth when she made her first public appearance to the people on the balcony of the large palace; and no idols were to be seen at the funeral of Queen Ràsohèrina. From all that could be learned at the time, the new reign promised to be more favourable to Christianity than that of Ràsohèrina had been.

‘The attempt that had been made to change the government had failed; but the strong desire on the part of the people for more liberal measures had been clearly shown; and the rulers of the country saw that they had been standing upon a mine ready to explode at any moment, and that their continuance in power must depend upon their keeping in harmony with the advancing ideas of their people[23].’

RADAMA II.RADAMA I.

THE ROYAL IDOLS OF MADAGASCAR.

THE PALACE, ANTANANARIVO.

Things had come to a crisis, and the rulers of the country had to make up their minds either to lead the people or be led by them. They could not afford to follow, so they were bound to lead them. Various changes were accordingly made. The new queen had in early life been interested in Christianity, and much impressed with the truths taught her by her nurse, a slave woman in her father’s household and a secret Christian, who sometimes took her young mistress to a midnight prayer-meeting. She had also felt the power of the words secretly read to her from the Bible by one of the native preachers; and a Bible, or some books of it, were said to have been hid for years in one of the corners of her father’s courtyard.

Little did that poor slave woman and native preacher dream of the service they were rendering future generations and the Kingdom of God by their efforts to fill the mind of that young princess with the truths of Christianity. The good seed of the Kingdom, which had been sown in her mind, seemed for years as if it had been choked by the corruptions of the court of her aunt, Queen Rànavàlona I, and kept from bringing forth fruit by the persecutions of those terrible times. The truth was not dead, however; for the announcement that she was to be the future queen seemed to have quickened it into life, and to have led her to think seriously of the opportunity soon to be hers of serving God and His Cause, by taking a stand for Him and His Word. She informed her officers that she meant to worship the true God, and she began her reign by having family worship in her palace morning and evening.

‘One by one there came indications that the queen and the prime minister would declare themselves Christians. At the coronation of the queen, which took place on September 3, 1868, the declaration in favour of Christianity was unmistakable; for the people were told in the royal proclamation (art. 8)—“And this also is my word to you, ye under heaven, in regard to the praying: it is not enforced; it is not forbidden; for God made you.”

‘Rànavàlona I, the cruel persecuting queen—the “Bloody Mary” of Madagascar—had done her best to burn and destroy all the Bibles in the land; but Rànavàlona II, the Christian Queen of Madagascar, had a Bible placed on a table at her side in sight of the thousands of her subjects, gathered from all parts of Madagascar to be present at her coronation. And thus for the first time the Bible and the crown were associated in Madagascar.

‘The reign of Rànavàlona I was one of terror and bloodshed; but at the coronation of Rànavàlona II the words—“Glory to God”; “Peace on earth”; “Good will among men”; “God shall be with us” were inscribed in letters of gold on the canopy under which her throne was placed. These things augured well for the progress of Christianity, and time proved that they were not mere empty symbols, but that Rànavàlona II and her very able and enlightened prime minister were most anxious to see Madagascar a Christian country; and a succession of most important events afterwards made this evident to all[24].’

‘On the Sabbath, October 25, 1868, a religious service was begun in the palace for the benefit of the queen and prime minister and their attendants. From the beginning, up to April, 1880, this service was conducted by native preachers only. Probably some fear of difficulty with the French kept the queen from asking any of the British missionaries to take part in the services. About the same time as the palace service was begun all government work was stopped on the Sabbath. The various markets formerly held on the Sabbath were ordered to be changed to some other day. Proclamations were made throughout the country to the effect that the queen commanded the people to abstain from all work on the Sabbath; and on February 21, 1869, the queen and the prime minister were publicly baptized[25].’

On July 20, 1869, the foundation-stone of a chapel royal was laid, and in the cavity the following statement was placed:—

‘By the power of God, and the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, I, Rànavàlona, Queen of Madagascar, founded this House of Prayer on the 13 Adimizàna (July 20), in the year of the Lord Jesus Christ 1869, as a House of Prayer for the praise and service of God, King of Kings, and Lord of Lords, according to the word in the sacred Scriptures, by Jesus Christ the Lord, who died for the sins of all men, and rose again for the justification and salvation of all who believe in and love Him.

‘For these reasons this stone house, founded by me as a House of Prayer, cannot be destroyed by any one, whoever may be sovereign of this my land, for ever and for ever; for if he (or she) shall destroy this House of Prayer to God which I have founded, then is he (or she) no longer sovereign of my land Madagascar.

‘Wherefore I have signed my name with my hand and the seal of the kingdom.

‘(Signed) Rànavàlomanjàka,

‘Queen of Madagascar.

‘This word is genuine, and the signature by the hand of Rànavàlomanjàka is genuine,’ (says) Rainilaiàrivòny, prime minister and commander-in-chief of Madagascar.

‘Mr. William Pool, of the London Missionary Society, made the designs for this house of prayer[26].’

The building, when finished, was publicly opened by the queen in person, on April 8, 1880, when missionaries of the London Missionary Society and the Friends’ Foreign Mission Association preached and presided, having been requested to do so by Her Majesty. After the first day of the opening, the chapel royal was thrown open to the congregations of the twenty sections, or districts, into which the mission of the London Missionary Society and the Friends’ Foreign Mission Association were divided, and Her Majesty worshipped there with her people in her own chapel royal every day for twenty days! The chapel royal is certainly a beautiful building, and reflects the greatest credit upon the late Mr. W. Pool, the architect and builder for the London Missionary Society in Madagascar, by whom the plans were drawn, and who also superintended its erection, as well as upon the Malagasy workmen employed. It may also be very fairly said to have been ‘a visible manifestation to all of the unhesitating manner in which the religion of the Lord Jesus Christ had been adopted by the rulers of Madagascar, and confirmed the truth of what Queen Rànavàlona II repeatedly stated on public occasions after her accession to the throne: “I rest my kingdom upon God!”’

On September 8, 1869, Ikèlimalàza (the small but famous Sàmpy), the chief royal idol in Imèrina (the central province of Madagascar), was committed to the flames by the orders of Rànavàlona II, Queen of Madagascar. During the remainder of the month of September, a general burning of idols and charms took place all over the provinces of Imèrina and Vònizòngo; and the great majority of the people, in those two provinces at least, destroyed their idols—the objects of veneration and terror for ages—without any great signs of grief at their loss.

Some seem to have thought that it was a mere matter of state policy on the part of the queen and prime minister to profess Christianity when they did. But, looking to her consistent conduct and earnest Christian character to the end of her reign, I believe that on the part of the late queen, at least, it was a matter of the purest and highest principle. But even if it had been a mere matter of policy, surely Christian policy, and the policy which brought such blessings to multitudes and to the Church of Christ, was a good thing for Madagascar.

The congregations, both in the capital and in the country districts, grew in numbers, and indeed were almost swamped by additions from heathenism or semi-heathenism; while some six hundred village congregations were formed in various parts of the provinces of Imèrina, Bètsilèo, Antsihànaka, and on the coasts within twelve months. The people gathered together on the Sabbaths, but there was no one to preach, or even read the Scriptures to them. In some cases they met, simply sat quiet for a time in the building they had erected, and then dispersed; or they sang a hymn, or a verse of one, over and over again before breaking up.

From all parts of the country there came applications to the missionaries for teachers and preachers, which they could not meet. So that the work done during the last thirty years has been mainly that of teaching heathen, or semi-heathen, congregations what are the first principles of the Gospel of Christ. We have, however, had very apt scholars, and they have made extraordinary progress in many directions, and doubtless would have made even greater advance had they had better teachers. Much of the success has been due to the circulation of the Word of God among the people. For, although the majority of the missionaries have given their best and done their very utmost, still the sad thing has always been that we could never overtake a hundredth part of our work, or do it as we should have liked, and as it ought to have been done. How could we? Most of us had charge of a mother-church and the oversight of some sixty village congregations or preaching stations and day schools. In one case a hundred and twenty were reported to be, in a very nominal way, connected with one mother-church; and, the tie being so slight, the results were only what might have been expected.

The work has always suffered from its very success—suffered in depth from its vast extension, for it is hardly possible to have both depth and extension at the same time. It has also suffered somewhat, as was to be expected, from the imperfections of the native agents who had to be employed as pastors, local preachers, and evangelists. For while the majority of these did marvellously well, all things considered, and many of them were really gifted speakers, yet very few had had training of any kind or even much instruction. Most extravagant expectations were entertained of them and the work they could do, mainly because of their number and it seemed to have been quite forgotten how very recently they had emerged from heathenism.

Great mistakes have sometimes been made with regard to the Madagascar Mission. Many supposed that the burning of the idols in Imèrina meant that all the Malagasy had been converted, and some have still the idea that the whole of Madagascar—an island four times the size of England and Wales—has been Christianized. Yet, as a matter of fact, only about one million—out of five—of those in the central provinces have been reached. The burning of the idols, which was greatly overruled for the glory of God and the cause of Christianity in Madagascar, was indeed an event for which we have all the greatest reason to feel most profoundly thankful; but it by no means meant the conversion of all the Malagasy. And, notwithstanding all the good work done, two-thirds of the island is still in heathen darkness.

By burning the idols the Malagasy government simply assumed a new attitude towards Christianity and Christian civilization. The vast majority of the people in the central province of Imèrina and the adjacent districts and provinces followed the example set them by the queen and government; but they did so mainly from loyalty or fear, and not from any real heart-love for the Christian religion. Doubtless there were hundreds—I should like to believe there were thousands—who were actuated by higher and nobler motives, some by the very highest and holiest, and who rejoiced and sincerely thanked God for the change of policy which He, in His providence, had led the rulers of the land to initiate.

Still the fact remains that the movement was mainly a political one on the part of the majority of Her Majesty’s advisers, and could in no sense be truly and honestly called ‘the conversion of the Malagasy as a nation to God’ by any one who understood the real state of the case. The Malagasy as a people were not converted at the burning of the idols. They and their rulers took up a new position with regard to Christianity, and made it no longer a crime to worship God. As a result of this, there was a large influx into the existing churches of semi-heathenism, while some six hundred new ones were formed in the province of Imèrina alone within twelve months.

The news of the burning of the idols reached the Directors of the London Missionary Society in London about the middle of January, 1870, and they decided to reinforce the Madagascar Mission by four new missionaries. On January 17 I was asked if I would be one of the four, who were to sail the following month. I consented, and was told to go and prepare at once, as the vessel by which we were to sail was posted for February 26. I immediately set to work to get ready, and within a month was ordained and married, and had bought, packed, and sent off our outfit and stores, and said farewell to my friend James Gilmour and other friends. On the way to London, however, I had the misfortune to be struck down with typhoid fever, which detained us some six weeks longer in the country, so that it was not until April 6 that we sailed from Gravesend in the ‘Sea Breeze’ for Mauritius. I was in a very weak state when we left England, and did not derive much benefit from the voyage; consequently was not much stronger when we reached Mauritius.

We reached Mauritius on Sabbath evening, July 3, having been eighty-four days on the voyage from England; and we left Mauritius again for Madagascar on Saturday, July 9, reaching Tàmatàve on Thursday, July 14, and Antanànarìvo on Saturday, July 30, fully five months from the time we left home. As might be expected in the circumstances, my journey from the coast to the capital was far from comfortable. For there are pleasanter experiences than being jolted on the shoulders of four bearers for over 200 miles, in a very poor apology for even a Malagasy palanquin, while suffering from an acute attack of sciatica.

A RIVER SCENE AND A FOREST SCENE IN MADAGASCAR.

We spent our first Sabbath in Madagascar, on our way from the coast to the capital, at one of the mission stations of the Church Missionary Society, where we had a very quiet, comfortable day, although unfortunately the missionary was from home. We had met him on his way to Tàmatàve, when he expressed his regret at being unable to entertain us in person at his station, and most kindly gave us liberty to occupy his house, and to make use of all we wanted. We attended most interesting native services in the mission chapel. Our journey up country, through the great forest with its thousands of orchids and tree-ferns, over the thickly wooded mountains, up the great river, and across the plains and plateaus, had all the pleasures of novelty, while the songs of our men, as they paddled us up the rivers, added to our enjoyment.

The climbing over the mountain ranges was very fatiguing. It was the cold season, when the south-east winds prevail, which render the nights on the plateau of Imèrina most piercingly cold, and we found them growing much colder as we penetrated further into the interior. As we could not speak to our men, we had to leave them to proceed in their own fashion, and carry us when and where they pleased. They were all fond of long journeys; but unfortunately all did not travel at the same rate. The palanquin-bearers kept rushing on, so as to get up to the capital as soon as possible; while the porters with the bedding, boxes, and provisions followed more slowly. On two occasions we did not reach the village where we were to spend the night until long after dark. One night the porters with our beds and provisions did not overtake us at all, and in consequence we had to go supperless to such beds as we could make for ourselves under the circumstances, had a very wretched night, and had to start next morning—a very cold, drizzly one—without our usual cup of coffee. This, and the night of torment we had suffered from mosquitoes and the other insects for which Malagasy villages are notorious, did not tend to put us in a very happy frame of mind.

At last, on the ninth morning of our journey, we saw Antanànarìvo (‘the city of a thousand men’—not towns—the full and original form having been Antanànarìvolàhy), the capital of Madagascar, about forty miles away. We reached Ambàtovòry that afternoon, where we found a small European house, with a member of the Friends’ Mission waiting for us. We entered the capital next day. We were met a few miles from it by the members of the London Missionary Society and Friends’ Missions, who all gave us a most warm and hearty reception. We had reached our destination.

Central Madagascar can in no sense be called either picturesque or beautiful. Those who have described the bare plateau and bald hills of Imèrina as beautiful must either have an inaccurate notion of what constitutes beauty of scenery or must have viewed that portion of the island through a highly-coloured medium. As a general rule, not only is the central province of Imèrina without the two main elements of beauty—variety of outline and variety of colour—but the features are rarely so grouped together as to form any distinct or impressive combination. The tangled and almost featureless hills of the lowlands of Scotland afford perhaps the nearest parallel to them that I know; but even they are beauty itself, and picturesque in the extreme, when compared with the characterless hills, dales, and ditches of Imèrina.

It is only fair to say, however, that we saw Central Madagascar for the first time at its worst—in the middle of the cold season, when all is bleak, bare, and desolate-looking. In the early months of the year, after the first rains have fallen, when the young rice is appearing in the rice-fields, and the downs and hill-sides are covered with the fresh dark green grass, it is very different. It was at that season that the lamented Mr. Cameron, the war correspondent of The Standard, saw Central Madagascar in 1884, and although the beautiful little piece of word-painting, in which he tells us how it appeared to him, may seem slightly overdone, it is worth quoting, as the testimony of a man of such shrewdness and world-wide experience to the change that mission work had wrought over the once barbarous Hovas. He says:

‘Antanànarìvo itself was in sight; and we could plainly see the glass windows of the palace glistening in the morning sun on the top of the long hill on which the city is built. It was Sunday, and the people were clustering along the footpaths on their way to church, or sitting on the grass outside waiting for the service to begin, as they do at home. The women, who appeared to be in the majority, wore white cotton gowns, often neatly embroidered, and white, or black and white, striped làmbas thrown gracefully over their shoulders. The men were clad also in cotton—white cotton pantaloons, cotton làmbas, and straw hats with large black silk bands.

‘In the morning sun the play of colours over the landscape was lovely. The dark green hills, studded with the brilliant red-brick houses of the inhabitants, whose white garments dotted the lanes and footpaths, contrasted with the brighter emerald of the rice-fields in the hollows. The soil everywhere is deep red, almost magenta in colour, and where the roads or pathways cross the hills, they shine out as if so many paint-brushes had streaked the country in broad red stripes. Above all, the spires of the strange city, set on the top of its mountain, with a deep blue sky for a background, added to the beauty of the scene. It was difficult to imagine that this peaceful country, with its pretty cottages, its innumerable chapels, whose bells were then calling its people to worship, and its troops of white-robed men and women answering the summons, was the barbarous Madagascar of twenty years ago[27].’

CHAPTER IV
THE MORNING BREAKING

‘Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee.’—Isaiah lx. 1.

On Friday, August 6, there was a meeting of the Imèrina District Committee, that is, the committee of management for all London Missionary Society affairs in Imèrina. I laid my instructions from the Directors of the London Missionary Society on the table, and asked for some one to go with me to Vònizòngo, in order to examine the district and see where it would be best, in the interests of the mission, for me to have my station. For although I was allowed by my instructions to remain for the first year at the capital, if I felt so inclined, and thought it would be of advantage to my work, or for my acquisition of the language, I was very anxious to go at once to my own station and become acquainted as soon as possible with the people for whom I had especially come. Our minds were made up accordingly to go on at all risks.

The Rev. W. E. Cousins, the senior member of the Committee, was asked to accompany me to Vònizòngo, and kindly consented. But before we could start, I was prostrated by another severe attack of sciatica, from which I suffered for four months, and was thus prevented from reaching Vònizòngo at all during 1870, as by the time I was better the rainy season had set in. As it afterwards proved, however, this illness and disappointment were but blessings in disguise.

Early in 1871 we began to make preparations for proceeding to Vònizòngo; but to this the doctors very strongly objected. They said I was quite unfit to face the fever of the west, adding that I little knew to what I was going, and in this they were perfectly right. As, however, we refused to abandon our determination to push on to our station as soon as the season would allow, the doctors ordered us away to the hills near the Great Forest for a month, that we might get somewhat braced up before starting for the west. We were on the hills during the month of April, and on our return to the capital, Mr. Cousins and I set out on a fortnight’s tour in Vònizòngo. We went over the greater part of the district, and everywhere met with a very hearty reception.

The province of Vònizòngo is one of the central provinces of Madagascar, situated about forty miles to the north-west of Antanànarìvo, the capital. It lies between two ranges of high hills, and is bounded on the north, south, and west by two large rivers, the Ikòpa and Bètsibòka, or to speak more precisely still, by two branches of one river, the Bètsibòka, or Kàtsèpo. Within these two branches of the Kàtsèpo lies Vònizòngo proper. It has no very extensive valleys (though in a sense about half of the province is one long, wide valley); but small fertile valleys abound, where large quantities of rice are grown. Like other parts of the island, the province formerly was split up into numerous subdivisions. The five most important places were Fihàonana, Fierènana, Ankàzobè, Isoàvina, and Miàntso.

Vònizòngo was never conquered, but the Andrìandàhy, or chiefs, submitted themselves to the rule of the Hova government on certain conditions. Originally the whole province was under a number of chiefs, or petty kinglets, very similar to the chiefs of the Scottish highlands in former times; and, of course, there was much intestine warfare. Every large village had its own chief or kinglet, who was lord and master of all it contained, either as slaves or vahòaka (clansmen). The people were almost at the absolute disposal of their chief, and hence generally followed blindly as he led to good or evil. In several cases I discovered that the chief had been chosen pastor of the church in his village, apparently for no other reason than that as chief of the village the people thought he ought to be also pastor and head of the church.

This arrangement, with all its drawbacks, was perhaps not the worst that could have been made, in the then ignorant and semi-heathen state of the people, and in the absence of proper men to undertake the duties of the pastorate. It must be remembered, and gratefully acknowledged, that to many of these pastor-chiefs the Church of Christ in Vònizòngo owed a great deal. Some of the most devoted of the martyrs came of their number, as Ràmitràha for one, and many of the most earnest and zealous of the pastors and preachers of our own time were also drawn from this class.

Vònizòngo was a province that had always been renowned for having an unusual number of petty chiefs. These generally claimed exemption from certain kinds of government service, such as digging, fetching wood from the forest, and assisting in building palaces for the sovereign. A number of these petty chiefs were chosen by Radàma I, to assist in cultivating some land at Foule Pointe, on the east coast, where he formed a colony; and on the service being declined by them, as incompatible with their dignity as chiefs, Radàma yielded the point; but he still availed himself of their services, by ordering that, as carrying a spade would be derogatory to their dignity, carrying a musket could not, and they must, therefore, honourably serve with the army in his wars. Hence there was a far larger number from Vònizòngo in the army than from any other province in the island.

The inhabitants of Vònizòngo were notorious in former times for their attachment to charms and idols. They have now for years been famous for their affection for the Gospel, their knowledge of it, and trust in it. In the year 1828, three of the natives of this province were executed for making òdy mahèry—powerful medicines or spells; in other words for being sorcerers. During the persecution, fourteen from Vònizòngo were put to death for their love to the Lord Jesus Christ.

From the time that the first missionaries arrived at Antanànarìvo, in 1820, a number of the people of Vònizòngo came into contact with them; and when they opened their first schools, they had several young men from the province as pupils, some of whom were for years among the most devoted pastors of the district. To certain of these, such as the late Razàka, the pastor of the mother-church at Fihàonana, we owed, under God, almost all that had been done in the province for the advancement of the Redeemer’s Kingdom. I was told that Mr. Johns, who to the day of his death had a deep interest in Vònizòngo, first visited Vònizòngo in 1832, when he gathered ‘the seekers after God’ into six small congregations, and afterwards began schools at Fihàonana, Fierènana, Ankàzobè, Miàramanjàka, Àndrambàzana, and Ìsoàvina.

The hut in which we lived for nearly two years in the village of Fihàonana, stood on the site of the hut in which the first small congregation used to meet thirtynine years before our arrival. The mother of the chief of Fihàonana was the first convert, and her eldest son, Ràmitràha, became the first preacher to the small church. A third son was second pastor of the church at Fihàonana whilst we were in Madagascar.

The people have always had the highest respect for the memories of these devoted missionaries who first carried the glad tidings of the Gospel to Madagascar. They often spoke most affectionately of them and their work. For the Rev. Mr. Johns and the Rev. Mr. Griffiths they entertained a more than ordinary regard. The year after the churches were founded in Vònizòngo, Radàma I died; but the churches seem to have made progress for some years. Even after the expulsion of the missionaries, when they were entirely at the mercy of Queen Rànavàlona I, they flourished and gained strength. When matters had assumed a really serious aspect at the capital, all was still quiet in Vònizòngo. This may be accounted for in part by the distance of Vònizòngo from the capital, in part also by the small numbers of government officials there, compared with the rest of the country.

After the mission was reopened in 1862, Vònizòngo was visited for the first time by the Rev. W. E. Cousins. He paid a second visit in May, 1864, after which visit he wrote: ‘This district formed a hiding-place for many of those who fled from the capital, and from it many of the most steadfast martyrs came. Nothing would so rejoice the Christians of Vònizòngo as the appointment of a missionary to reside among them, and take charge of the churches in the district.’

Of course the people in most of the large villages were very anxious that the missionary should settle in their particular village; but after the most careful consideration of all claims we came to the conclusion that Fihàonana, ‘The Home of the Martyrs,’ where was located the mother-church of the province around which clustered so many sacred associations, memories of the martyrs and of the persecutions of former times, was decidedly the most suitable place for the new mission station, and every year of our stay in the island proved the wisdom of this decision.

Much preaching and teaching was done during this visit. We attended many gatherings of the pastors, local preachers, and deacons, and a great number of questions of all kinds were answered. Some of the questions put to us were of a somewhat curious nature. For example, I was asked: ‘Who was the Queen of Sheba, and where did she come from?’ ‘How was it that Melchisedec had neither father nor mother?’ ‘Who were the brethren of the Lord?’ ‘How was it that Satan was allowed to fight in heaven?’ That seemed to be a great difficulty with them, since they thought all fighting was finished here on earth, and how there could be fighting again in heaven was a great mystery to them. And then we were asked a very strange question, but one which showed more than all the others the stage in religious knowledge reached by the people at the time of our settlement among them. The question was: ‘Whether the late Mr. Pool (the Society’s architect and builder for Madagascar, whose name is pronounced by the Malagasy Powlie), and the Apostle Paul (also pronounced Powlie), who wrote the Epistles, were one and the same person!’

We found that one of the local preachers had been electrifying the district by a sermon, which consisted mainly of a dialogue purporting to have taken place in heaven between God the Father and God the Son, when the Son, prompted by love, wished to leave heaven and come amongst men to seek and to save the lost. The Father was represented as remonstrating with the Son, and warning Him that mankind were intensely wicked; that they would treat Him very badly, and finally murder Him: and the Son as replying, that He knew all that very well; but such was His love for men, that although they were so very wicked, and although He was well aware they would put Him to death, and indeed just because they were so bad, He was determined to come and save them. And consequently, in spite of His Father’s remonstrances, He left heaven, came to earth, suffered from privation and poverty, and finally was crucified by the very men He came to redeem. Nevertheless, by that same death the salvation of men had been made possible; for such was the Father’s love for the Son, that He had agreed that all who believed on Jesus Christ as the Son of God, and accepted Him as their guide and friend for the future, should be saved with an everlasting salvation.

We also found, or rather were told, of an instance in which church discipline had been exercised after a new, and rather a drastic fashion, a few weeks before our arrival in the district. The Malagasy knew of no discipline except military discipline, which they had introduced into the church, and would have employed still, had we not arrived on the scene. The special case was this: A worthless character from the capital had been going through the district teaching hymn-singing. He taught so many hymns and tunes for so many dollars. He posed as one of the aides de camp of the prime minister, and this gave him a status in the eyes of the people which he otherwise would never have had. At the same time it ensured the prompt payment of his fees. At one of the villages he met with one as worthless as himself in the person of the wife of one of the deacons, and together they eloped. When this was discovered, a church meeting was called and the husband laid his case before the meeting. He said: ‘Here is a servant of the church at large, whom you brought here. He has run away with my wife, and I think it is your duty to help me to recover her.’ ‘Yes,’ they said, ‘that is quite right,’ and they thereupon appointed another deacon to accompany the husband and assist him in his search for his lost wife. They found out the direction the runaways had taken, followed, and found them sitting sunning themselves on a rock overhanging the river Ikòpa. They caught the man, bound him, rolled him up in his cotton plaid, tied the ends, and flung him from the top of the rock into the river. Then taking the woman with them, they returned and reported the church business finished[28]!

Our visit to Vònizòngo in 1871 was most memorable. I then met for the first time many of the early disciples, men and women who had fought a good fight and kept the faith all through ‘the killing times,’ and who had hazarded their lives for the Gospel, and suffered the loss of their little all for their loyalty to the New Religion. Some had been sold into slavery, while others had been put in chains, and others again had to flee for safety to the forest, or other parts of the island, or, like Razàka, had to hide for years in caves, or rice-pits, or dens of the earth. It was a joy to see such noble men and women, headed by the noblest of them all, Razàka. I also met for the first time the widow and children—a son and daughter—of the martyr Ràmitràha, and the son of Àndrìampanìry and his wife, who were burned along with Ràmitràha at Fàravòhitra.

We visited the famous small-pox hospital, the cave, in which the Bible was hidden for over twenty years, and Razàka for two. We also saw the small space inside the circle of immense boulders on the hill-side, where during lulls in the persecution from ten to twenty-five of the persecuted Christians met on the Sabbath mornings for worship. It thrilled one to see these truly sacred places, and to hear what the faithful band had to tell us of the sufferings of those times of strain and trial. We were given portions of the Scriptures, even leaves of the Bible, or of the Pilgrim’s Progress, leaves of the hymn-book, tracts, portions of sermons, and catechisms, which had been kept all through the darkest days, and handed on from one to the other, and so had helped to support the faith of those suffering saints.

My friend and I had some memorable experiences during that visit to Vònizòngo. Of course, preachings, catechizings, interrogations, and deputations were abundant. Our experiences in the science of entomology were rather trying; but one of our greatest troubles was that our food was so badly cooked, and so smoked that we could hardly eat it. This was intentional on the part of the cook and his assistants, whose perquisite what food we left was; so we had to take measures to stop such practices.

We were not able to visit the Ankàzobè district, at the north end of the province, as malarial fever was raging there that season. All our porters were not vìtatàzo, i. e. fever proof, so for their sakes and our own we were advised not to go, and returned to Fìhàonana. The Malagasy have the idea that if once you have malarial fever severely and recover, you will never have so severe an attack again, and so will be vìtatàzo. I have known a porter on a journey to the coast abstain from taking quinine, although he had it at hand, and deliberately run the risk of a severe attack of fever, since if he got over it he would be vìtatàzo, and so fit to go anywhere.

There is no doubt something in this idea, as I have proved in my own person during the past twenty years; for after suffering greatly from malarial fever during the last five years of our first period of service, having been prostrated with it ten times, I have only had four mild attacks of fever since. It is necessary to state, however, that we have not lived in such a malarious district during the last twenty years as we did during the first ten. By exercising greater care, by taking quinine and a certain form of iron, and by other precautions, such as good food, wearing flannel, or lamb’s wool underclothing, &c., we have been able to keep ourselves as near normal health as possible. Once you get below par in the tropics, it usually means fever or something worse. Dr. Livingstone says that ‘living in a malarious district, the whole tone is so lowered through the blood being poisoned, that you are not only liable to all the ills that flesh is heir to; but that if you do get any of them, you have it ten times worse.’

Having settled that Fìhàonana was the right place for our work, we sought out a hut in which we could live until I built a house. We found a large mud hut, some twenty feet by twelve, in the centre of the village of Fìhàonana. Although it was far from what we would have liked in the way of a dwelling, it was the best to be had; so we took it, had it cleaned out, and the walls whitewashed. It was the ordinary mud hut of Central Madagascar, an oblong structure with mud walls, earthen floor, and a pillar in the centre for the support of the thatched roof. There was no ceiling, of course, and as the thatch was thin we suffered from the bitter east winds during the nights of the cold season. There were three small apertures in the walls, one at each side and one in the end, which served the purpose of windows, or rather wind-holes, for they let very little light into the hut. I had frames filled with glass fitted into these apertures, and this helped to keep the dust out of the hut, but did not increase the scanty supply of light.

As we were in the middle of a Malagasy village, our surroundings were not of the sweetest, especially as in those days the villages of Vònizòngo swarmed with pigs. Whenever we opened the door these creatures came into the hut. Of course I helped them out, to the astonishment of the natives, with whom the pigs were great favourites. People and porkers lived and slept in the same hut; and to my remonstrances the people replied: ‘The pigs help to keep the hut warm on the cold nights, sir.’

We found that enteric fever was endemic in the village; but I was able to improve things a little by having channels made from the stagnant pools and cattle-pens to the fosse, from which the water drained away to a lake south-east of the village, and thus the rains of the wet season helped to cleanse the village and somewhat sweeten the atmosphere. It cost some trouble to get those channels cut, for the stagnant water with its coat of green slime on it had stood in pool and pen from time immemorial, and why make any change? One Sabbath afternoon, while we were all in church, a child toddled out of a hut and fell into one of the stagnant pools and was drowned. The mother, who was in the hut, heard nothing. She wondered why the little fellow had not found his way back into the hut again. On looking out to see where he was, she saw the body in the pool. An alarm was raised, we were called out of church, and did our best to restore animation, but we had been called too late.

A space of some six feet at the north end of our large hut was partitioned off by a low mud wall, and this we made our bedroom. We had besides two small huts; half of one was my study and the other half served as a storeroom, while the remaining hut was used as a kitchen. Everything was of the most primitive, makeshift, and inconvenient nature; but nothing else could be obtained until I could get a house built. When circumstances will not bow to mind, the only alternative is for mind to bow to circumstances, and make the best of it. This we did, and, all things considered, were fairly comfortable.

In 1873 the late Rev. Dr. Mullens, the then Foreign Secretary of the London Missionary Society, and the late Rev. John Pillans were sent by the Board of Directors to visit the Madagascar Mission. During the fortnight they spent with us in Vònizòngo, I took them down to see the village of Fìhàonana and our former habitation there. After looking into the hut, Dr. Mullens said: ‘Well, you did write us some strongly worded letters about your need for a proper house; but I admit you had cause. We had no idea in London that you were living in a hovel like that, and amid such surroundings.’ And yet we were no worse off than hundreds of missionaries who go to found new mission stations in other heathen lands. Those who spend all their missionary life amid the comforts and conveniences, such as they are, of city or sanatorium stations, know little of what life at lonely country stations in unhealthy districts means, and consequently do not always sympathize as they ought with others less fortunately placed.

A missionary’s life at a lonely station, far from friends, fellow labourers, and human sympathy, is often very trying, but it is also one in which many useful lessons are taught more directly than they could be anywhere else, or in any other walk of life.

It was while living in the village of Fìhàonana that my wife had her first severe attack of malarial fever, while our child had croup badly, followed by a severe attack of bronchitis, brought on by the bitterly cold night winds, from which our hut afforded us insufficient protection. In this connexion I am reminded of a splendid feat of one of our Malagasy men, who had been a servant of ours, but had fallen into disgrace and been discharged. When he heard that I wanted a man to go to the capital for medicine for my child, he volunteered to go, and ran to the capital and back, a distance of eighty miles, in fourteen hours! We took him back into our service, my wife trained him to be a good cook and a first-class baker, and he only left our service in 1898 to take up a temperance restaurant at Fìhàonana.

On July 12, 1871, we left Antanànarìvo for Vònizòngo, and arrived that evening at Fìhàonana, where we settled down to work. We lived and laboured there until driven away in July, 1879, after many months of severe suffering from fever. The first and last years of our first term of service were trying indeed. In our first year my own protracted sickness, followed by my wife’s dangerous illness, made it a specially trying time for us. Throughout our last year we had not a single month in which one or other of us was not prostrated by fever. We had two very bad fever seasons in succession in Vònizòngo, and lost some five thousand of our people. The interval between our first and last years was simply glorious. Full of our work, we flung ourselves heart and soul into it. We loved our work and our people, and were loved by them in return. As their first missionaries we were their first Rai-àman-drèny, ‘father and mother.’ They had several teachers after us, but none that they ever recognized in the same way as their Rai-àman-drèny.

Then our children were about us, and we were as happy and contented as could be. But after the first term of service it is always a very different story, for it is then but an impoverished, lopsided life that the missionary and his wife must live. He is a very fortunate man who is able to spend two years out of the next twenty with his family. Therein lies the sacrifice and suffering of missionary family life; and the children feel it most, for they miss their parents greatly, just at the very time when their help and advice would be of highest service. Good, kind, warm-hearted friends do much for the missionaries’ children, and make such compensation for their parents’ absence as is possible. Ninety per cent. of all missionary families have to suffer in this way (otherwise I should feel ashamed to mention the matter); and yet I question if ten per cent. of the members of the home churches, whose messengers, in a very real sense, the missionaries are, ever give a single thought to this side of missionary life.

Our first Sabbath at Fìhàonana was one long to be remembered, for on that day I spoke for the first time to my own people. The small chapel was quite full, although there were few present except the regular congregation. They were all clean, tidy, and attentive, and the only thing I had to find fault with was that so many of them chewed tobacco, or rather sucked snuff, which they placed in their lower lip, holding it between the lip and the gum, and expectorated into spittoons, which were for the most part open tins or earthenware basins, or empty ‘Day and Martin’s’ blacking bottles! I had only once to ask them to desist from such a filthy and objectionable practice in the house of God, though I had the greatest difficulty in putting a stop to the same thing twelve years afterwards in the city congregation of Ambàtonakànga.

We began a day-school at once, and my wife started a sewing-class. We had also a large Sabbath school class for young and old, for Bible reading on the Sabbath afternoons. My first schoolmaster was Rakòtovào, a fine, open-faced, manly fellow, who did splendid work in that school for some years, and then rendered still better service as an evangelist for many more. He and his two sons were carried off by some of his personal enemies, who accompanied the heathen mob which attacked Fìhàonana during the rising in 1897, and all three were shot—murdered in cold blood.

Our station school began with thirty, but went on increasing until we had two hundred and sixty. I did my utmost to get a school started in connexion with every village congregation, or preaching station, for from the first we recognized that in the children lay the hope of the future. My success, however, was by no means what I had expected; very few, except church members, would send their children to school, and as most of these were old, and their children quite grown up, we had but poor schools indeed for some years.

After a time I found out one reason for this reluctance on the part of parents who were only adherents to send their children to school. It was this. The year before our arrival in Vònizòngo, a Jesuit priest had passed through the province, and had tried to found some Roman Catholic stations, and to gather the children into schools. In his anxiety to get the children gathered in, he is reported to have said: ‘We want not your children’s bodies, but only their hearts.’ Some old heathen, proud no doubt of his exceptional wisdom, explained to the people what that meant. He said: ‘Those white men are very clever and very cunning. They want to get the children gathered into schools, under the pretence of teaching them to be wise and good; but once they get them they will kill them, take out their hearts, dry them in the sun, and then reduce them to powder and make it into their medicine. For that is what their powerful medicine is made of, powdered children’s hearts!’ The ignorant people believed that story, hence their reluctance to allow their children to attend school. Later they became more enlightened, the more so after Queen Rànavàlona II issued her famous proclamation with regard to education.

Once settled at Fìhàonana, I began visiting the outlying village congregations, eighty-four in number, of which I was supposed to be in charge. Although I was not able to do much in the way of preaching at each place, still I could give out a hymn to be sung, read certain chapters, and give a short address. The people everywhere were delighted to see me, always giving me a hearty welcome, and these visits did us all good. They listened ‘with eyes and ears’ to all I had to tell them about the Gospel, the love of God, and salvation; for it was a wonderful story to them, and came to them with a freshness and an interest which those who have heard it from their infancy can hardly understand. That Àndrìamànitra Andrìanànahàry, God the Creator, should think of them, and love them, and send His only-begotten Son to seek and to save them, poor, degraded, besotted, sorcery-ridden Malagasy, amazed them, and they were never weary listening to the good news. Even to those of us who could tell the Gospel story only with stammering lips and another tongue for some time, they listened with a patience and a politeness that surprised and encouraged us.

I was not long in finding out how true the statement is that ‘There is a work to be done by missionaries which people in Christian lands hardly dream of. They have to create a moral sense before they can appeal to it—to arouse the conscience before they can look to its admonitions to enforce their teachings. Heathen consciences are seared, and their moral perceptions blunted. The memories scarcely retain anything we teach them; so low have they sunk, that the plainest text in the whole Bible cannot be understood by them. It is hard, until one goes to a heathen country, to realize how much civilization owes to Christianity.’ I found when I came to teach my own children the elements of religious truth, how quickly they apprehended them as compared with the Malagasy children; but they had been born with a measure of a mental and moral nature to which the Malagasy children were utter strangers.

The Malagasy have the capacity of our Covenanting and Puritan forefathers for sermon hearing, and four sermons a Sabbath—two in the morning and two in the afternoon—of an hour each was the common thing, until the practice had to be abandoned for lack of preachers. My wife was often asked in those earlier days if I was quite well, because I had not preached quite so long as usual. Even to-day, the modern sermonette prepared for ‘home consumption’ would meet with but scant courtesy and little mercy at the hands of a Malagasy congregation.

In my visits to the outlying congregations of the district I was at first much struck with the appearance of many village pastors and their wives. They were nicely and neatly dressed. The husbands wore clean white cotton pants, white shirts, and white làmbas (cotton plaids); while the wives had pretty print dresses and white làmbas. After a few visits it occurred to me that there was a striking sameness about the dresses of the pastors’ wives; but the obvious explanation was that they had probably all come from the same piece of print.

It was my custom at the first to visit the village congregations at their own request, or after sending them notice of my intended visit; but after a time I thought I should like to pay surprise visits, in order to see what their usual state was. I was astonished to find a sort of epidemic among the village pastors and their wives. Almost everywhere I went, on asking for the pastor I was told he was not well, and his wife also was ill. The epidemic did not seem to affect any one except the pastors and their wives. I soon found out the cause of all this pretended illness. When they were expecting my visit on the Sabbath, the pastor and his wife sent and hired proper clothing for the occasion; but when I arrived unexpectedly, they had no proper clothing in which to appear before the white man, and hence the feigned sickness. This also explained the sameness in their attire; for the same gown, the same pants, and the same white shirt had done duty all over the district, having been hired for a few pence wherever and whenever wanted.

Previous to our settlement at Fìhàonana, some of the village congregations had been visited by strange preachers from the capital, who professed to be local preachers connected with one of the congregations there. Razàka told me how an impostor of this kind arrived at Fìhàonana one Sabbath morning. He was taken at his word, and invited to preach. He gave out a hymn, prayed, and then announced his text—a verse from the fortieth chapter of Matio (Matthew), pronouncing it Madio (clean). Razàka suggested Matio, but he persisted in saying Madio. Razàka then gently hinted that there were not forty chapters in Matio; but the preacher was quite equal to the occasion, for he replied: ‘I don’t know anything about your village Bibles, I go by the capital Bibles!’

The village churches on the long route from the capital to the port of Mojangà, on the north-west coast, were often victimized by these self-styled preachers. A worthless creature, with that gift of speech which so many of the Malagasy possess, would arrive at a village on a Saturday afternoon, pretending to be a local preacher from the capital, and probably adding that he was an officer of the prime minister’s sons, or some palace official. Of course a deputation from the village church at once waited upon him, and invited him to preach next day. As a guest of the Christian community he received hospitality from Saturday to Monday at least, perhaps for a week, sometimes for a whole month. Some member, possibly a deacon’s wife, or a deaconess, but generally one of the young women of the choir, was appointed to keep house for him, and this often led to grave scandals.

I was informed of this state of affairs by my colporteur, whom I had sent down to visit those remote churches. I immediately reported it to the committee in Antanànarìvo. Printed certificates were prepared, which one of the missionaries in the capital, or I, was empowered to fill up, sign, and give to bona fide local preachers. I dispatched my colporteur again to Mojangà, with instructions to show a copy of the certificate to each church, and inform them that no one who failed to bring one of those documents duly signed was to be allowed to preach; nor was any one to be allowed to join them in the Communion Service, unless he brought a certificate of membership from the church to which he belonged.

While my colporteur was at Mojangà, the late Sir Bartle Frere visited the port. He landed on the Sabbath morning, worshipped, and joined in the Communion Service with the small native church there. The following May, being in London, he attended the annual meeting of the London Missionary Society in Exeter Hall, took a seat on the platform, and in the course of the meeting asked the chairman’s permission to make a few remarks. In a graceful speech he testified to what he himself had seen of the fruits of the society’s work on the north-west coast of Madagascar[29].

CHAPTER V
BREAKING UP THE FALLOW GROUND

‘A light for revelation to the Gentiles.’—St. Luke ii. 32.

From the first I had to give a good deal of medical advice to my people, and my work in that direction increased so rapidly that, finally, I had to confine medical work to one day a week, unless the case was very urgent. It is important that the majority of missionaries should know something about medicine—if only enough to impress them with its mysteries and their ignorance of its action, so as to keep them from prescribing unless they are pretty sure of their diagnosis. Medical skill is often of great service in the work and to the workers themselves. Besides, no native will believe that a European knows nothing of medicine. There is, however, a danger of a man being tempted (and many yield to the temptation) to give more time than he can afford to that part of his work, to the detriment of other and even more important duties.

Dentistry was very popular, for the Malagasy suffer much from toothache. One of their proverbs says: ‘A worm in the tooth, there is no cure except extraction.’ The Malagasy may almost be said to know nothing of nerves in our sense of the term; but I have seen a Malagasy young woman writhing on the ground under the agony of toothache, from which she only found relief on my extracting the tooth. One morning I drew three teeth, one after the other, for one woman, who never once winced, but, with her mouth half full of blood, simply said, ‘Thank you, sir!’ and walked away as if nothing had happened.

Operating upon others was easy enough; it was when one had to draw one’s own tooth—as I had to do one Sabbath morning—that the difficulty came in. I had had a night of excruciating toothache, and in the morning was half beside myself with the pain. I was due that morning to preach at one of the outlying churches. I knew the people would be waiting for me, but while in such agony I did not feel fit to go. In my desperation I determined to have the offending tooth out. I wanted my wife to draw it, but she said she could not. ‘Fix the forceps on it, then,’ I said, ‘and I will draw it myself.’ She did as requested. I waited a little, then I wrenched the tooth out, flung the forceps from me, danced through the hut for a few minutes in agony, then all was over, and I mounted my palanquin, and went off to my preaching. Fortunately it was an upper tooth, otherwise I could not have succeeded.

Just after we had settled at Fìhàonana, a boy was brought to me with his hand seemingly crushed to a pulp. At the entrance of the villages in the country a circular block of granite used to be rolled in between four upright pillars of the same material during the night to block the entrance. Sitting swinging upon one of these, he had got his hand crushed between the circular block and one of the pillars. When first I saw it I thought the whole hand was bruised to a jelly; but after soaking it for some time in tepid water I found that it was not nearly so bad as I had feared. The first joint of the middle finger, however, had been so crushed that I deemed it best to amputate it. I laid the lad down on a mat at my own door, with a crowd of natives standing round, administered chloroform, took my knife and performed the operation. The hand was dressed and done up before consciousness quite returned. After all was over his friends asked the lad whether he had felt the vazàha (white man) cutting him. ‘No,’ he answered. ‘Did he cut me?’ he asked. ‘Yes,’ they said, ‘he cut off the point of your finger.’ ‘I never felt him,’ he replied. His confession caused the deepest wonder. ‘What magicians these white men are!’ the people said; ‘they just put a rag with a few drops of eau-de-Cologne’ (eau-de-Cologne was the only liquid with an odour with which the Malagasy were acquainted) ‘to a boy’s nostrils, and off he goes to sleep, and they can cut him without his knowing anything about it.’

Of course an exaggerated account of this simple operation was spread abroad, and gave rise to an exaggerated estimate of my own powers and that of my medicine, which stood me in good stead for many years; although I only discovered this during the rising in 1897.

In those early days, and even until 1896, we had domestic slavery in Madagascar. It was, no doubt, the mildest form of slavery, and in most cases the slaves were regarded as almost members of the family and treated as such. Still slavery it was; and that is the sum of all villanies. When masters treated their slaves badly they ran away. In those days also the soldiers of the native army were soldiers for life, and received no pay. They had to maintain their wives and families as best they could; that was their business and not the government’s. In consequence, many of the soldiers deserted, and one can attach small blame to the poor fellows who flung away their rifles and fled to the forests and joined the runaway slaves. Together they formed marauding bands, and dwelt for the most part in the forests of the far north. They made periodic raids on Imèrina, Vònizòngo, and the other provinces, and were a terror to many parts of the country.

A set of these freebooters pounced down one morning upon a large village near Fìhàonana, bound every man, woman, and child in it, and carried off all that they could lay their hands on—cattle, sheep, pigs, and poultry. The day following a man passing the village thought that it was very quiet, and entered to discover the reason. He found the inhabitants all lying bound in their huts. These robber bands often carried away women and children, especially those belonging to the Hovas, and sold them to the Sàkalàva tribe, or body of tribes, who inhabit some six hundred miles of the west side of the island.

One of my pastors came to tell me what had happened at that village, and to warn me of the approach of the band. I thanked him, but added that I was not at all afraid of their molesting us: but I did not know then, nor for many years after, to what we owed our exemption from their depredations. The report of my operation, and of the effects of the chloroform, had reached even them. They had been told that, if they went near that vazàha’s house, even during the night, it would be the worse for them; for he kept most powerful medicine—had but to open his window, and fling it out, and all would fall down asleep, and by-and-by wake up to find themselves all bound and ready to be sent as prisoners to the capital!

HEATHEN MALAGASY.

But even the mildest form of domestic slavery was utter ruination to all family morality. For, even in the days when polygamy was rampant, a man’s female slaves were all at his mercy, and were practically his concubines, or those of his sons, or both. As the children of the slaves, whether married or single, were all the property of the masters, the more the slave children increased, the richer they became; thus a premium was put upon immorality, as a slave woman who had children was better treated than one who had not.

As barren women were hated and despised among the Hovas, and not always well treated, a young woman who had a child could choose her husband from among many suitors. As a consequence of this, Hova parents urged and encouraged their daughters to immorality, and young men were allowed to live and associate with them in the hope of their having children.

When a slave owner left home in former times on a raiding or a trading expedition, a female slave was sent along with him as his cook or housekeeper, ostensibly to attend on him and look after his wants; but the euphemistic name given to her showed why she was sent. If this could not be done, owing to the fewness of the female slaves or for some other reason, he and his wife gave each other the saodrànto, a temporary divorce—literally, the divorce of trade—and so each was free to take up with whom they pleased during the period of separation.

Such are some of the milder phases of heathenism; and yet some people ask, Why disturb the heathen in their happy, blissful life? The Hovas were dying out when Christianity found them, and saved them as a people. Like the Roman empire, when Christianity was introduced into it they were rotting away, and would have soon ceased to exist.

While doing all I could in the way of teaching and preaching, I was hard at work on the language. Owing to my own bad health and my wife’s serious illness I was unable to give more than some six months to this subject before my first examination fell due. I passed it, but only by the skin of my teeth. I read my first address in the vernacular three months after I began the study of the language; but I have often wondered how much of it was understood by the people—I am afraid very little. It is not till one can think in a language, and is able to look at things in some measure as the natives do, that one can really reach them and touch their hearts to any profit.

Our late principal used to hint to his students that many a young missionary spoke to the natives in an unknown tongue without the aid of inspiration! He was right. We have had a few curious examples in Madagascar of the mistakes made by young missionaries in their first attempts at preaching in a new language. A devoted missionary had selected the text, ‘Lord, Lord, open to us!’ which in Malagasy is Tòmpo, Tòmpo, vohày ìzahày! but instead of this he read and repeated, Tòmpo, Tòmpo, voày ìzahày! which was ‘Lord, Lord, we are calf crocodiles!’ Our hostess, during our first fortnight in Antanànarìvo, meeting her native nurse in the lobby, by a slip of the tongue gravely asked her if she had cooked, instead of asking if she had bathed the baby! The look of horror on the face of the nurse, and her ‘What, madam?’ caused our hostess to realize what a slip she had made.

The Malagasy were too polite to laugh at one, even when the grossest mistakes made by a young missionary in phrase, grammar, or pronunciation greatly tempted the risibility of the hearer. The Hovas were a very polite people; they would not pass you on a country road without asking your permission to do so. They received reproof gracefully, and I have been thanked for giving a man a very severe scolding.