reader, when he is asked to accept some of the conclusions at which
modern students of anthropology and comparative religion have arrived,
is one of scepticism. Miss Harrison is evidently alive to the existence
of this feeling, for in dealing with the ritualistic significance of the
Panathenaic frieze she bids her readers not to "suspect they are being
juggled with," or to think that she has any wish to strain an argument
with a view to "bolstering up her own art and ritual theory." It can,
indeed, be no matter for surprise that such suspicions should be
aroused. When, for instance, an educated man hears that the Israelites
worshipped a golden calf, or that the owl and the peacock were
respectively sacred to Juno and Minerva, he can readily understand what
is meant. But when he is told that an Australian Emu man, strutting
about in the feathers of that bird, does not think that he is imitating
an Emu, but that in very fact he is an Emu, it must be admitted that his
intellect, or it may be his imagination, is subjected to a somewhat
severe strain. Similarly, he may at first sight find some difficulty in
believing that any strict relationship can be established between the
Anthesteria and Bouphonia of the cultured Athenians and the idolatrous
veneration paid by the hairy and hyperborean Ainos to a sacred bear, who
is at first pampered and then sacrificed, or the ritualistic tug-of-war
performed by the Esquimaux, in which one side, personifying ducks,
represents Summer, whilst the other, personifying ptarmigans, represents
Winter. Although this scepticism is not only very natural, but even
commendable, it is certain that the science of modern anthropology, in
which we may reflect with legitimate pride that England has taken the
lead, rests on very solid foundations. Indeed, its foundations are in
some respects even better assured than those of some other sciences,
such, for instance, as craniology, whose conclusions would appear at
first sight to be capable of more precise demonstration, but which, in
spite of this fair appearance, has as yet yielded results which are
somewhat disappointing. At the birth of every science it is necessary to
postulate something. The postulates that the anthropologist demands
rival in simplicity those formulated by Euclid. He merely asks us to
accept as facts that the main object of every living creature is to go
on living, that he cannot attain this object without being supplied
with food, and that, in the case of man, his supply of food must
necessarily be obtained from the earth, the forest, the sea, or the
river. On the basis of these elementary facts, the anthropologist then
asks us to accept the conclusion that the main beliefs and acts of
primitive man are intimately, and indeed almost solely, connected with
his food supply; and having first, by a deductive process of reasoning,
established a high degree of probability that this conclusion is
correct, he proceeds to confirm its accuracy by reasoning inductively
and showing that a similarity, too marked to be the result of mere
accident or coincidence, exists in the practices which primitive man has
adopted, throughout the world, and which can only be explained on the
assumption that by methods, differing indeed in detail but substantially
the same in principle, endeavours have been, and still are being, made
to secure an identical object, viz. to obtain food and thus to sustain
life. The various methods adopted both in the past and the present are
invariably associated in one form or another with the invocation of
magical influences. The primitive savage, Miss Harrison says, "is a man
of action." He does not pray. He acts. If he wishes for sun or wind or
rain, "he summons his tribe, and dances a sun dance or a wind dance or a
rain dance." If he wants bear's flesh to eat, he does not pray to his
god for strength to outwit or to master the bear, but he rehearses his
hunt in a bear dance. If he notices that two things occur one after the
other, his untrained intellect at once jumps to the conclusion that one
is the cause and the other the effect. Thus in Australia--a specially
fertile field for anthropological research, which has recently been
explored with great thoroughness and intelligence by Messrs. Spencer and
Gillen--the cry of the plover is frequently heard before rain falls.
Therefore, when the natives wish for rain they sing a rain song in which
the cry of that bird is faithfully imitated.
Before alluding to the special point which Miss Harrison deals with in
_Ancient Art and Ritual_, it will be as well to glance at the views
which she sets forth in her previous illuminating treatise entitled
_Themis_. The former is in reality a continuation of the latter work.
The view heretofore generally entertained as regards the anthropomorphic
gods of Greece has been that the conception of the deity preceded the
adoption of the ritual. Moreover, one school of anthropologists ably
represented by Professor Ridgeway, has maintained that the phenomena of
vegetation spirits, totemism, etc., rose from primary elements, notably
from the belief in the existence of the soul after the death of the
body. Miss Harrison and those who agree with her hold that this view
involves an anthropological heresy. She deprecates the use of the word
"anthropomorphic," which she describes as clumsy and too narrow. She
prefers the expression ἀνθρωποφυής used by Herodotus (i. 131),
signifying "of human growth." She points out that the anthropomorphism
of the Greeks was preceded by theriomorphism and phytomorphism, that the
ritual was "prior to the God," that so long as man was engaged in a
hand-to-hand struggle for bare existence his sole care was to obtain
food, and that during this stage of his existence his religious
observances took almost exclusively the form of magical inducements to
the earth to renew that fertility which, by the periodicity of the
seasons, was at times temporarily suspended. It was only at a later
period, when the struggle for existence had become less arduous, that
the belief in the efficacy of magical rites decayed, and that in matters
of religion the primitive Greeks "shifted from a nature-god to a
human-nature god."
In her more recent work Miss Harrison reverts to this theme, and
subsequently carries us one step further. She maintains that the
original conception of the Greek drama was in no way spectacular. The
Athenians went to the theatre as we go to church. They did not attend to
see players act, but to take part in certain ritualistic things done
(_dromena_). The priests of Dionysos Eleuthereus, of Apollo
Daphnephoros, and of other deities attended in solemn state to assist in
the performance of the rites. With that keen sense of humour which
enlivens all her pages, and which made her speak in her _Themis_ of the
august father of gods and men as "an automatically explosive
thunderstorm," Miss Harrison says, "It is as though at His Majesty's the
front row of stalls was occupied by the whole bench of bishops, with the
Archbishop of Canterbury enthroned in the central stall." The actual
_dromenon_ performed was of the same nature as that which in more modern
times has induced villagers to make Jacks-in-the-Green and to dance
round maypoles. It was always connected with the recurrence of the
seasons and with the death and resurrection of vegetation. In fact, the
whole ritual clustered round the idea represented at a later period in
the well-known and very beautiful lines of Moschus in the _Lament for
Bion_, which may be freely translated thus:
Ah me! The mallows, anise, and each flower
That withers at the blast of winter's breath
Await the vernal, renovating hour
And joyously awake from feignèd death.
The idea which impelled these ancient Greeks to perform ritualistic
_dromena_ on their orchestras, which took the place of what we should
call the stage, is not yet dead. Miss Harrison quotes from Mr. Lawson's
work on modern Greek folklore, which is a perfect mine of knowledge on
the subject of the survival of ancient religious customs in modern
Greece, the story of an old woman in Euboea who was asked on Easter Eve
why village society was in a state of gloom and despondency, and who
replied: "Of course, I am anxious; for if Christ does not rise
to-morrow, we shall have no corn this year."
It was during the fifth century that the _dromenon_ and the Dionysiac
Dithyramb passed to some extent away and were merged into the drama.
"Homer came to Athens, and out of Homeric stories playwrights began to
make their plots." The chief agent in effecting this important change
was the so-called "tyrant" Pisistratus, who was probably a free-thinker
and "cared little for magic and ancestral ghosts," but who for political
reasons wished to transport the Dionysia from the country to the town.
"Now," Miss Harrison says, "to bring Homer to Athens was like opening
the eyes of the blind." Independently of the inevitable growth of
scepticism which was the natural result of increased knowledge and more
acute powers of observation, it is no very hazardous conjecture to
assume that the quick-witted and pleasure-loving Athenians welcomed the
relief afforded to the dreary monotony of the ancient _dromena_ by the
introduction of the more lively episodes drawn from the heroic sagas.
"Without destroying the old, Pisistratus contrived to introduce the new,
to add to the old plot of Summer and Winter the life-stories of heroes,
and thereby arose the drama."
Having established her case so far, Miss Harrison makes what she herself
terms "a great leap." She passes from the thing _done_, whether
_dromenon_ or drama, to the thing _made_. She holds that as it was the
god who arose from the rite, similarly it was the ritual connected with
the worship of the god which gave birth to his representation in
sculpture. Art, she says, is not, as is commonly supposed, the "handmaid
of religion." "She springs straight out of the rite, and her first
outward leap is the image of the god." Miss Harrison gives two examples
to substantiate her contention. In the first place, she states at some
length arguments of irrefutable validity to show that the Panathenaic
frieze, which originally surrounded the Parthenon, represents a great
ritual procession, and she adds, "Practically the whole of the reliefs
that remain to us from the archaic period, and a very large proportion
of those of later date, when they do not represent heroic mythology, are
ritual reliefs, 'votive' reliefs, as we call them; that is, prayers or
praises translated into stone."
Miss Harrison's second example is eminently calculated to give a shock
to the conventional ideas generally entertained, for, as she herself
says, if there is a statue in the world which apparently represents "art
for art's sake" it is that of the Apollo Belvedere. Much discussion has
taken place as to what Apollo is supposed to be doing in this famous
statue. "There is only one answer. We do not know." Miss Harrison,
however, thinks that as he is poised on tiptoe he may be in the act of
taking flight from the earth. Eventually, after discussing the matter at
some little length, she appears to come to the audacious conclusion
which, in spite of its hardy irreverence, may very probably be true,
that as Apollo was, after all, only an early Jack-in-the-Green, he has
been artistically represented in marble by some sculptor of genius in
that capacity.
Finally, before leaving this very interesting and instructive work, it
may be noted that Miss Harrison quotes a remarkable passage from
Athenaeus (xiv. 26), which certainly affords strong confirmation of her
view that in the eyes of ancient authors there was an intimate
connection between art and dancing, and therefore, inasmuch as dancing
was ritualistic, between art and ritual. "The statues of the craftsmen
of old times," Athenaeus says, "are the relics of ancient dancing."
It is greatly to be hoped that Miss Harrison will continue the study of
this subject, and that she will eventually give to the world the results
of her further inquiries.
[Footnote 104: _Ancient Art and Ritual._ By Miss Jane Harrison. London:
Williams and Norgate. 1s.]
XXIV
PORTUGUESE SLAVERY
_"The Spectator," August 16, 23, 30, 1913_
It is impossible to read the White Paper recently published on the
subject of slavery in the West African dominions of Portugal without
coming to the conclusion that the discussion has been allowed to
degenerate into a rather unseemly wrangle between the Foreign Office
officials and the Anti-Slavery Society. There is always a considerable
risk that this will happen when enthusiasts and officials are brought
into contact with each other. On the one hand, the enthusiasts in any
great cause are rather prone to let their emotions dominate their
reason, to generalise on somewhat imperfect data, and occasionally to
fall unwittingly into making statements of fact which, if not altogether
incorrect, are exaggerated or partial. On the other hand, there is a
disposition on the part of officials to push to an excess Sir Arthur
Helps's dictum that most of the evils of the world arise from
inaccuracy, and to surround all enthusiasts with one general atmosphere
of profound mistrust. An old official may perhaps be allowed to say,
without giving offence, that, quite apart from the nobility and moral
worth of the issue at stake, it is, from the point of view of mere
worldly wisdom, a very great error to adopt this latter attitude. There
are enthusiasts and enthusiasts. It is probably quite useless for an
anti-suffragist or a supporter of vivisection to endeavour to meet
half-way a militant suffragist or a whole-hearted anti-vivisectionist.
In these cases the line of cleavage is too marked to admit of
compromise, and still less of co-operation. But the case is very
different if the matter under discussion is the suppression of slavery.
Here it may readily be admitted that both the enthusiasts and the
officials, although they may differ in opinion as to the methods which
should be adopted, are honestly striving to attain the same objects. The
Anti-Slavery Society, and those who habitually work with them, have
performed work of which their countrymen are very justly proud. But they
are not infallible. It is quite right that the accuracy of any
statements which they make should be carefully tested by whatever means
exist for testing them. For instance, when the Society of Friends[105]
say that they are in possession of "first-hand information" to show that
"atrocities" are being committed in the Portuguese dominions, the
Foreign Office is obviously justified in asking them to state on what
evidence this formidable accusation is founded, and when it appears that
they cannot produce "exactly the kind of evidence as to 'atrocities'
which would strengthen your (_i.e._ the British Government's) hands in
any protest made by you to the Portuguese Government," it is not
unnatural that the officials should be somewhat hardened in their belief
that humanitarian testimony has to be accepted with caution. It would
obviously be much wiser for the humanitarians to recognise that
incorrect statements, or sweeping generalisations which are incapable of
proof, do their cause more harm than good.
The fact that erroneous statements are frequently made in controversial
matters, and that the data on which generalisations are based are often
imperfect, should not, however, beget the error of attaching undue
importance to matters of this sort, and thus failing to see the wood by
reason of the trees. What object, for instance, is to be gained by
addressing to the Anti-Slavery Society a remonstrance because they only
quote a portion and not the whole of a conversation between Sir Edward
Grey and the Portuguese Minister (M. de Bocage) when, on reference to
the account of that conversation, it would appear that the passages
omitted were not very material to the point under discussion? Again,
considering that the manner in which the so-called "contracts" with
slaves are concluded is notorious, is it not rather begging the question
and falling back on a legal quibble to say that there would "be no
reason for insisting on the repatriation (of a British subject) if he
were working under a contract which could not be shown to be illegal"?
Can it be expected, moreover, that Sir Eyre Crowe's contention that the
slaves "are now legally free" should carry much conviction when it is
abundantly clear from the testimony of all independent and also official
witnesses that this legal freedom does not constitute freedom in the
sense in which we generally employ the term, but that it has, in fact,
up to the present time been little more than an euphemism for slavery?
Every allowance should, of course, be made for the embarrassing position
in which the present Government of Portugal, from no fault of its own,
is placed. The fact, however, remains that at this moment the criticisms
of those who are interested in the cause of anti-slavery are not solely
directed against the Portuguese Government. They also demur to the
attitude taken up by the British Government. It is, indeed, impossible
to read the papers presented to Parliament without feeling that the
Archbishop of Canterbury was justified in saying, during a recent debate
in the House of Lords, that the Foreign Office and its subordinates have
shown some excess of zeal in apologising for the Portuguese. After all,
it should not be forgotten that the voice of civilised humanity calls
loudly on the Portuguese Government and nation to purge themselves, and
that speedily, of a very heinous offence against civilisation, namely,
that of placing their black fellow-creatures much on the same footing as
the oxen that plough their fields and the horses which draw their carts,
in order that the white man may acquire wealth. It is only fair to
remember that at no very remote period of their history the Anglo-Saxon
race were also guilty of this offence; but the facts that one branch of
that race purged itself of crime by the expenditure of huge sums of
money, and that the other branch shed its best blood in order to ensure
the black man's freedom, give them a moral right, based on very
substantial title-deeds, to plead the cause of freedom. Neither should
it be forgotten that, whatever mistakes those interested in the
Anti-Slavery cause may make in dealing with points of detail, they are
right on the chief issue--right, that is to say, not merely in
intention, but also on the main fact, viz. that virtual slavery still
exists in the Portuguese dominions. Any one who has had practical
experience of dealing with these matters, and can read between the lines
of the official correspondence, cannot fail to see that if the Foreign
Office authorities, instead of dwelling with somewhat unnecessary
insistence on controversial points and only half-accepting the realities
of the situation, had candidly admitted the main facts and had confined
themselves to a discussion of the means available for arriving at the
object which they, in common with the Anti-Slavery Society, wished to
attain, much useless recrimination might have been avoided and the
interests of the cause would, to a far greater extent, have been served.
The writer of the present article has had a good deal to do with the
Anti-Slavery and other similar societies, such, for instance, as that
which, until recently, dealt with the affairs of the Congo. He has not
always agreed with their proposals, but, being in thorough sympathy with
the objects which they wished to attain, he was fortunately able to
establish the mutual confidence which that bond of sympathy connoted. He
can, moreover, from his own experience, testify to the fact that,
although there may occasionally be exceptions, the humanitarians
generally, however enthusiastic, are by no means unreasonable. On the
contrary, if once they are thoroughly convinced that the officials are
honestly and energetically striving to do their best to remove the
abuses of which they complain, they are quite prepared to make due
allowance for practical difficulties, and to abstain from causing
unnecessary and hurtful embarrassment. They are not open to the
suspicion which often attaches itself to Parliamentarians who take up
some special cause, viz. that they may be seeking to acquire personal
notoriety or to gain some party advantage. The righteousness and
disinterestedness of their motives cannot be doubted. The question of
the abolition of slavery in the Soudan presented many and great
difficulties, which might easily have formed the subject of acrimonious
correspondence and of agitation in Parliament and in the press. Any such
agitation would very probably have led to the adoption of measures whose
value would have been illusory rather than real, and which might well
have endangered both public security and the economic welfare of the
country. The main reason why no such agitation took place was that a
mutual feeling of confidence was established. Sir Reginald Wingate and
his very able staff of officials were left to deal with the matter after
their own fashion. The result has been that, without the adoption of any
very sensational measures calculated to attract public attention, it may
be said, with truth, that for all practical purposes slavery has quietly
disappeared from the Soudan. But if once this confidence is conspicuous
by its absence, a state of more or less latent warfare between the
humanitarians and the official world, such as that revealed in the
papers recently laid before Parliament, is almost certain to be created,
with the results that the public interests suffer, that rather heated
arguments and counter-arguments are bandied about in the columns of the
newspapers, and that the differences of opinion on minor points between
those who ought to be allies tend to obscure the main issue, and
preclude that co-operation which should be secured, and which in itself
would be no slight earnest of success.
Stress has been laid on this point because of its practical importance,
and also in the hope that, in connection with this question, it may be
found possible ere long to establish better relations between the
Foreign Office officials and the Anti-Slavery Society than those which
apparently exist at present. There ought to be no great difficulty in
effecting an improvement in those relations, for it cannot for one
moment be doubted that both sides are honestly endeavouring to perform
what they consider to be their duty according to their respective
lights.
Turning now to the consideration of the question on its own merits, it
is obvious that, before discussing any remedies, it is essential to
arrive at a correct diagnosis of the disease. Is the trade in slaves
still carried on, and does slavery still exist in the Portuguese
dominions? The two points deserve separate treatment, for although
slavery is bad, the slave trade is infinitely worse.
It is not denied that until very recently the trade in slaves between
the mainland and the Portuguese islands was carried on upon an extensive
scale. The Anti-Slavery Society state that within the last twenty-five
years sixty-three thousand slaves, constituting "a human cargo worth
something over £2,500,000," have been shipped to the islands. Moreover,
it appears that, as was to be expected, this trade was, and perhaps to a
certain extent still is, in the hands of individuals who constitute the
dregs of society, and who, it may confidently be assumed, have not
allowed their operations to be hampered by any kind of moral or humane
scruples. Colonel Freire d'Andrade informed Sir Arthur Hardinge that
"many of the Portuguese slave-traders at Angola had been convicts
sentenced to transportation," who had been allowed to settle in the
colony. "It was from among these old convicts or ex-convict settlers and
their half-caste progeny that the slave-trading element, denounced by
the Belgian Government, was largely recruited; they at least were its
most direct agents." Since the accession to power of the Republican
Government in Portugal the trade in slaves has been absolutely
prohibited. No Government which professes to follow the dictates of
civilisation, and especially of Liberalism, could indeed tolerate for a
day the continuance of such a practice. The question which remains for
consideration is whether the efforts of the Portuguese Government, in
the sincerity of which there can be no doubt, have been successful or
the reverse. Has the cessation of the traffic been real and complete or,
as the Anti-Slavery Society appear disposed to think, only partial and
"nominal"? On this point the evidence is somewhat conflicting. On the
one hand, M. Ramaix, writing on behalf of the Belgian Government on May
1, 1912, says, "It is well known that the slave trade is still carried
on to a certain extent in the neighbourhood of the sources of the
Zambesi and Kasai, in a region which extends over the frontiers of the
Congo, Angola, and North-Western Rhodesia," and on June 8, 1912, Baron
Lalaing, the Belgian Minister in London, said, "At the instigation of
the traders the population living on the two slopes of the watershed,
from Lake Dilolo to the meridian of Kayoyo, are actively engaged in
smuggling, arms traffic, and slave trade." On the other hand, Mr.
Wallace, writing from Livingstone, in Northern Rhodesia, on June 25,
1912, says that "active slave-trading does not now exist along our
borders." On December 6 of the same year he confirmed this statement,
but added, "occasional cases may occur, for the status of slave exists,
but they cannot be many." Looking to all the circumstances of the
case--to the great extent and, in some cases, to the remoteness of the
Portuguese dominions, the ruthless character of the slave-traders, the
pecuniary inducements which exist for engaging in a very lucrative
traffic, the helplessness of the slaves themselves, and the fact that
traffic in slaves is apparently a common inter-tribal practice in
Central Africa, it would be unreasonable to expect that the Portuguese
Government should be able at once to put a complete stop to these
infamous proceedings. It may well be that, in spite of every effort, the
slave trade may still linger on for a while. All that can be reasonably
expected is that the Portuguese authorities should do their utmost to
stop it. That they are doing a good deal cannot be doubted, but it is
somewhat of a shock to read (_Africa_, No. 2 of 1912, p. 59) that Senhor
Vasconcellos rather prided himself on the fact that certain "Europeans
who were found guilty of acts of slave traffic" had merely been
"immediately expelled from the region," and were "not allowed to return
to the colonies." Surely, considering the nature of the offence, a
punishment of this sort errs somewhat on the side of leniency. Had these
men been residing in Egypt or the Soudan they would have been condemned
to penal servitude for a term of years. It is more satisfactory to
learn, on the authority of Colonel Freire d'Andrade, that the convicts
to whom allusion has already been made are "no longer permitted to roam
at large about the colony, but are, save a very few who are allowed to
live outside on giving a security, kept in the forts of Loanda."