174 PORTUGUESE FAILURE. 



three hundred years. The savage gazes down from the heights 

 and wonders what strange power it is that stands by their 

 forests and deals with people in the sea. 



The Portuguese have not proven themselves equal to the 

 task of lifting up Africa. Their labor and long-continued sway 

 have been almost fruitless. The dilapidation of Loanda tells 

 the story of all their efforts in Angola. The marks of failure 

 are seen all over the district. The habits and customs of the 

 natives are hardly modified ; their superstitions are not dispelled; 

 their degradation is deepened. The white faces only supply a 

 contrast unfriendly to the black. The deserted convents and 

 broken crosses only cast heavy shadows on the barbarism they 

 have not enlightened. The civilization has only tyrannized 

 heathenism, and has not helped it. The curse of degeneracy 

 has followed their unfaithfulness, and settlers themselves need 

 reformation. Two things were unfortunate : the Portuguese 

 Government established the colony covetously, and Roman 

 Catholicism established the mission. The colony could not be 

 a success which sought only wealth. The mission could only 

 fail which encouraged superstition and little more than changed 

 the names of gods. But the forgotten villages and lampless 

 altars must not discourage civilization or daunt Christianity. 

 They do not prove that Africa is irredeemable ; they only call 

 our attention to a mistaken policy, and help us toward wisdom. 

 They furnish a field where ignorance has been bruised under the 

 heel of intelligence ; where superstition sits helplessly under the 

 seal of Christianity. Angola, with Portuguese stations every- 

 where, and familiar with the names of priests and saints, cries 

 piteously to the Christian world, as does the heart of Africa. 



One of two splendid cathedrals in Loanda is now a work- 

 shop, and the traveller saw, with sorrow, oxen feeding within 

 the walls of another. Many miserable huts of wattle and daub 

 have crept in between the stone mansions, and half-naked black 

 men trust to their fetiches under the shadow of the walls where 

 the crucifix hangs, and parade their strange customs by the side 

 of European luxury. Darkness and light dwell together, and 

 about them a half-caste offspring. A strange embodiment of 

 intelligence and ignorance, of Christianity and fetichism, exerts 

 a growing power. 



