Vance, Louis Joseph - "The False Faces"

John Richard Green - "History of the English People, Volume III (of 8)"

Charles Beard - "Strong Souls"

Edward Doyle - "Freedom, Truth and Beauty"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

Tancred

B >> Benjamin Disraeli >> Tancred




'It will be a crisis,' said Barizy of the Tower, excited by finding
his rival a listener, 'but not for a long time. The crisis has not
commenced. The first question is: to whom does the desert belong; to the
Porte, or to the Viceroy?'

'It depends upon what part of the desert is in question,' said
Pasqualigo.

'Of course the part where it took place. I say the Arabian desert
belongs to the Viceroy; my cousin, Barizy of the Gate, says "No, it
belongs to the Porte." Raphael Tafna says it belongs to neither. The
Bedouins are independent.'

'But they are not recognised,' said the Consul Pasqualigo. 'Without
a diplomatic existence, they are nullities. England will hold all the
recognise powers in the vicinity responsible. You will see! The murder
of an English prince, under such circumstances too, will not pass
unavenged. The whole of the Turkish garrison of the city will march out
directly into the desert.'

'The Arabs care shroff for your Turkish garrison of the city,' said
Barizy, with great derision.

'They are eight hundred strong,' said Pasqualigo.

'Eight hundred weak, you mean. No, as Raphael Tafna was saying, when
Mehemet. Ali was master, the tribes were quiet enough. But the Turks
could never manage the Arabs, even in their best days. If the Pasha of
Damascus were to go himself, the Bedouins would unveil his harem while
he was smoking his nargileh.'

'Then England will call upon the Egyptians,' said the Consul.

'Hah!' said Barizy of the Tower, 'have I got you at last? Now comes
your crisis, I grant you. The English will send a ship of war with a
protocol, and one of their lords who is a sailor: that is the way. They
will call upon the pasha to exterminate the tribe who have murdered the
brother of their queen; the pasha will reply, that when he was in Syria
the brothers of queens were never murdered, and put the protocol in his
turban. This will never satisfy Palmerston; he will order----'

'Palmerston has nothing to do with it,' screamed out Pasqualigo; 'he is
no longer Reis Effendi; he is in exile; he is governor of the Isle of
Wight.'

'Do you think I do not know that?' said Barizy of the Tower; 'but he
will be recalled for this purpose. The English will not go to war in
Syria without Palmerston. Palmerston will have the command of the fleet
as well as of the army, that no one shall say "No" when he says "Yes."
The English will not do the business of the Turks again for nothing.
They will take this city; they will keep it. They want a new market for
their cottons. Mark me: England will never be satisfied till the people
of Jerusalem wear calico turbans.'

Let us inquire also with Barizy of the Tower, where was Besso? Alone in
his private chamber, agitated and troubled, awaiting the return of
his daughter from the bath; and even now, the arrival may be heard of
herself and her attendants in the inner court.

'You want me, my father?' said Eva, as she entered. 'Ah! you are
disturbed. What has happened?'

'The tenth plague of Pharaoh, my child,' replied Besso, in a tone of
great vexation. 'Since the expulsion of Ibrahim, there has been nothing
which has crossed me so much.'

'Fakredeen?'

'No, no; 'tis nothing to do with him, poor boy; but of one as young, and
whose interests, though I know him not, scarcely less concern me.'

'You know him not; 'tis not then my cousin. You perplex me, my father.
Tell me at once.'

'It is the most vexatious of all conceivable occurrences,' replied
Besso, 'and yet it is about a person of whom you never heard, and whom
I never saw; and yet there are circumstances connected with him. Alas!
alas! you must know, my Eva, there is a young Englishman here, and a
young English lord, of one of their princely families----'

'Yes!' said Eva, in a subdued but earnest tone.

'He brought me a letter from the best and greatest of men,' said Besso,
with much emotion, 'to whom I, to whom we, owe everything: our fortunes,
our presence here, perhaps our lives. There was nothing which I was not
bound to do for him, which I was not ready and prepared to do. I ought
to have guarded over him; to have forced my services on his acceptance;
I blame myself now when it is too late. But he sent me his letter by
the Intendant of his household, whom I knew. I was fearful to obtrude
myself. I learnt he was fanatically Christian, and thought perhaps he
might shrink from my acquaintance.'

'And what has happened?' inquired Eva, with an agitation which proved
her sympathy with her father's sorrow.

'He left the city some days ago to visit Sinai; well armed and properly
escorted. He has been waylaid in the wilderness and captured after a
bloody struggle.'

'A bloody struggle?'

'Yes; they of course would gladly not have fought, but, though entrapped
into an ambush, the young Englishman would not yield, but fought with
desperation. His assailants have suffered considerably; his own
party comparatively little, for they were so placed; surrounded,
you understand, in a mountain defile, that they might have been all
massacred, but the fear of destroying their prize restrained at first
the marksmen on the heights; and, by a daring and violent charge,
the young Englishman and his followers forced the pass, but they were
overpowered by numbers.'

'And he wounded?'

'I hope not severely. But you have heard nothing. They have sent his
Intendant to Jerusalem with a guard of Arabs to bring back his ransom.
What do you think they want?'

Eva signified her inability to conjecture.

'Two millions of piastres!'

'Two millions of piastres! Did you say two? 'Tis a great sum; but we
might negotiate. They would accept less, perhaps much less, than two
millions of piastres.'

'If it were four millions of piastres, I must pay it,' said Besso. ''Tis
not the sum alone that so crosses me. The father of this young noble
is a great prince, and could doubtless pay, without serious injury to
himself, two millions of piastres for the ransom of his son; but that's
not it. He comes here; he is sent to me. I was to care for him, think
for him, guard over him: I have never even seen him; and he is wounded,
plundered, and a prisoner!'

'But if he avoided you, my father?' murmured Eva, with her eyes fixed
upon the ground.

'Avoided me!' said Besso; 'he never thought of me but as of a Jew
banker, to whom he would send his servant for money when he needed it.
Was I to stand on punctilios with a great Christian noble? I ought to
have waited at his gate every day when he came forth, and bowed to the
earth, until it pleased him to notice me; I ought----'

'No, no, no, my father! you are bitter. This youth is not such as you
think; at least, in all probability is not,' said Eva. 'You hear he is
fanatically Christian; he may be but deeply religious, and his thoughts
at this moment may rest on other things than the business of the world.
He who makes pilgrimage to Sinai can scarcely think us so vile as you
would intimate.'

'What will he think of those whom he is among? Here is the wound, Eva!
Guess, then, child, who has shot this arrow. 'Tis my father!'

'O traitor! traitor!' said Eva, quickly covering her face with her
hands. 'My terror was prophetic! There is none so base!'

'Nay, nay,' said Besso; 'these, indeed, are women's words. The great
Sheikh in this has touched me nearly, but I see no baseness in it. He
could not know the intimate relation that should subsist between me and
this young Englishman. He has captured him in the desert, according to
the custom of his tribe. Much as Amalek may injure me, I must acquit him
of treason and of baseness.'

'Yes, yes,' said Eva, with an abstracted air. 'You misconceive me. I was
thinking of others; and what do you purpose, my father?'

'First, to clear myself of the deep stain that I now feel upon my life,'
said Besso. 'This Englishman comes to Jerusalem with an unbounded
credit on my house: he visits the wilderness, and is made prisoner by my
father-in-law, who is in ambush in a part of the desert which his tribe
never frequents, and who sends to me for a princely ransom for his
captive.

These are the apparent circumstances. These are the facts. There is
but one inference from them. I dare say 'tis drawn already by all the
gossips of the city: they are hard at it, I doubt not, at this moment,
in my own divan, winking their eyes and shrugging their shoulders,
while they are smoking my choice tobacco, and drinking my sherbet of
pomegranate. And can I blame them?'

'A pure conscience may defy city gossips.'

'A pure conscience must pay the ransom out of my own coffers. I am not
over fond of paying two millions of piastres, or even half, for one
whose shadow never fell upon my threshold. And yet I must do it: do it
for my father-in-law, the Sheikh of the Recha-bites, whose peace I
made with Mehemet Ali, for whom I gained the guardianship of the
Mecca caravan through the Syrian desert for five years, who has twelve
thousand camels which he made by that office. Oh, were it not for you,
my daughter, I would curse the hour that I ever mixed my blood with the
children of Jethro. After all, if the truth were known, they are sons of
Ishmael.'

'No, no, dear father, say not such things. You will send to the great
Sheikh; he will listen----'

'I send to the great Sheikh! You know not your grandfather, and you know
not me. The truth is, the Sheikh and myself mutually despise each other,
and we have never met without parting in bitterness. No, no; I would
rather pay the ransom myself than ask a favour of the great Sheikh. But
how can I pay the ransom, even if I chose? This young Englishman is a
fiery youth: he will not yield even to an ambush and countless odds. Do
you think a man who charges through a defile crowned with matchlocks,
and shoots men through the head, as I am told he did, in the name of
Christ, will owe his freedom to my Jewish charity? He will burn the
Temple first. This young man has the sword of Gideon. You know little of
the world, Eva, and nothing of young Englishmen. There is not a race so
proud, so wilful, so rash, and so obstinate. They live in a misty clime,
on raw meats, and wines of fire. They laugh at their fathers, and never
say a prayer. They pass their days in the chase, gaming, and all violent
courses. They have all the power of the State, and all its wealth; and
when they can wring no more from their peasants, they plunder the kings
of India.' 'But this young Englishman, you say, is pious?' said Eva.

Ah! this young Englishman; why did he come here? What is Jerusalem to
him, or he to Jerusalem? His Intendant, himself a prisoner, waits here.
I must see him; he is one of the people of my patron, which proves our
great friend's interest in this youth. O day thrice cursed! day of a
thousand evil eyes! day of a new captivity----'

'My father, my dear father, these bursts of grief do not become your
fame for wisdom. We must inquire, we must hold counsel. Let me see the
Intendant of this English youth, and hear more than I have yet learnt.
I cannot think that affairs are so hopeless as you paint them: I will
believe that there is a spring near.'




CHAPTER XXXI.

_Parleyings_

IN AN almost circular valley, surrounded by mountains, Amalek, great
Sheikh of the Rechabite Bedouins, after having crossed the peninsula of
Petrasa from the great Syrian desert, pitched his camp amid the
magnificent ruins of an ancient Idumaean city. The pavilion of the chief,
facing the sunset, was raised in the arena of an amphitheatre cut out of
the solid rock and almost the whole of the seats of which were entire.
The sides of the mountains were covered with excavated tombs and
temples, and, perhaps, dwelling-places; at any rate, many of them were
now occupied by human beings. Fragments of columns were lying about, and
masses of unknown walls. From a defile in the mountains issued a stream,
which wound about in the plain, its waters almost hid, but its course
beautifully indicated by the undulating shrubbery of oleanders,
fig-trees, and willows. On one side of these, between the water and the
amphitheatre, was a crescent of black tents, groups of horses, and
crouching camels. Over the whole scene the sunset threw a violet hue,
while the moon, broad and white, floated over the opposite hills.

The carpet of the great Sheikh was placed before his pavilion, and,
seated on it alone, and smoking a chibouque of date wood, the patriarch
ruminated. He had no appearance of age, except from a snowy beard, which
was very long: a wiry man, with an unwrinkled face; dark, regular, and
noble features, beautiful teeth. Over his head, a crimson kefia, ribbed
and fringed with gold; his robe was of the same colour, and his boots
were of red leather; the chief of one of the great tribes, and said,
when they were united, to be able to bring ten thousand horsemen into
the field.

One at full gallop, with a long spear, at this moment darted from the
ravine, and, without stopping to answer several who addressed him,
hurried across the plain, and did not halt until he reached the Sheikh.

'Salaam, Sheikh of Sheikhs, it is done; the brother of the Queen of the
English is your slave.'

'Good!' said Sheikh Amalek, very gravely, and taking his pipe from his
mouth. 'May your mother eat the hump of a young camel! When will they be
here?'

'They will be the first shadows of the moon.' 'Good! is the brother of
the Queen with Sheikh Salem?'

'There is only one God: Sheikh Salem will never drink leban again,
unless he drink it in Paradise.'

'Certainly, there is only one God. What! has he fallen asleep into the
well of Nummula?'

'No; but we have seen many evil eyes. Four hares crossed our path this
morning. Our salaam to the English prince was not a salaam of peace. The
brother of the Queen of the English is no less than an Antar. He will
fight, yea or nay; and he has shot Sheikh Salem through the head.'

'There is but one God, and His will be done. I have lost the apple of
mine eye. The Prince of the English is alive?'

'He is alive.'

'Good! camels shall be given to the widow of Sheikh Salem, and she shall
be married to a new husband. Are there other deeds of Gin?'

'One grape will not make a bunch, even though it be a great one.'

'Let truth always be spoken. Let your words flow as the rock of Moses.'

'There is only one God: if you call to Ibrahim-ben-Hassan, to Molgrabi
Teuba, and Teuba-ben-Amin, they will not be roused from their sleep:
there are also wounds.'

'Tell all the people there is only one God: it is the Sheikh of the
Jeilaheens that has done these deeds of Gin?'

'Let truth always be spoken; my words shall flow as the rock of Moses.
The Sheikh of the Jeilaheens counselled the young man not to fight, but
the young man is a very Zatanai. Certainly there are many devils, but
there is no devil like a Frank in a round hat.'

The evening advanced; the white moon, that had only gleamed, now
glittered; the necks of the camels looked tall and silvery in its beam.
The night-fires began to blaze, the lamps to twinkle in the crescent of
dark tents. There was a shout, a general stir, the heads of spears were
seen glistening in the ravine. They came; a winding line of warriors.
Some, as they emerged into the plain, galloped forward and threw their
spears into the air; but the main body preserved an appearance of
discipline, and proceeded at a slow pace to the pavilion of the Sheikh.
A body of horsemen came first; then warriors on dromedaries; Sheikh
Hassan next, grave and erect as if nothing had happened, though he was
wounded, and followed by his men, disarmed, though their chief retained
his spear. Baroni followed. He was unhurt, and rode between two
Bedouins, with whom he continually conversed. After them, the bodies of
Sheikh Salem and his comrades, covered with cloaks and stowed on camels.
And then came the great prize, Tancred, mounted on a dromedary, his
right arm bound up in a sling which Baroni had hastily made, and
surrounded and followed by a large troop of horsemen, who treated him
with the highest consideration, not only because he was a great prince,
whose ransom could bring many camels to their tribe, but because he had
shown those feats of valour which the wild desert honours.

Notwithstanding his wound, which, though slight, began to be painful,
and the extreme vexation of the whole affair, Tancred could not be
insensible to the strange beauty of the scene which welcomed him. He
had read of these deserted cities, carved out of the rocks of the
wilderness, and once the capitals of flourishing and abounding kingdoms.

They stopped before the pavilion of the great Sheikh; the arena of the
amphitheatre became filled with camels, horses, groups of warriors; many
mounted on the seats, that they might overlook the scene, their arms and
shawled heads glistening in the silver blaze of the moon or the ruddy
flames of the watch-fires. They assisted Tancred to descend, they
ushered him with courtesy to their chief, who made room for Tancred on
his own carpet, and motioned that he should be seated by his side. A
small carpet was placed for Sheikh Hassan, and another for Baroni.

'Salaam, brother of many queens, all that you see is yours; Salaam
Sheikh Hassan, we are brothers. Salaam,' added Amalek, looking at
Baroni, 'they tell me that you can speak our language, which is
beautiful as the moon and many palm trees; tell the prince, brother of
many queens, that he mistook the message that I sent him this morning,
which was an invitation to a feast, not to a war. Tell him we are
brothers.'

'Tell the Sheikh,' said Tancred, 'that I have no appetite for feasting,
and desire to be informed why he has made me a prisoner.'

'Tell the prince, brother of many queens, that he is not a prisoner, but
a guest.'

'Ask the Sheikh, then, whether we can depart at once.'

'Tell the prince, brother of many queens, that it would be rude in me to
let him depart to-night.'

'Ask the Sheikh whether I may depart in the morning.'

'Tell the prince that, when the morning comes, he will find I am his
brother.' So saying, the great Sheikh took his pipe from his mouth and
gave it to Tancred: the greatest of distinctions. In a few moments,
pipes were also brought to Sheikh Hassan and Baroni.

'No harm can come to you, my lord, after smoking that pipe,' said
Baroni. 'We must make the best of affairs. I have been in worse straits
with M. de Sidonia. What think you of Malay pirates? These are all
gentlemen.'

While Baroni was speaking, a young man slowly and with dignity passed
through the bystanders, advanced, and, looking very earnestly at
Tancred, seated himself on the same carpet as the grand Sheikh. This
action alone would have betokened the quality of the newcomer, had not
his kefia, similar to that of Sheikh Amalek, and his whole bearing,
clearly denoted his princely character. He was very young; and
Tancred, while he was struck by his earnest gaze, was attracted by
his physiognomy, which, indeed, from its refined beauty and cast of
impassioned intelligence, was highly interesting.

Preparations all this time had been making for the feast. Half a dozen
sheep had been given to the returning band; everywhere resounded the
grinding of coffee; men passed, carrying pitchers of leban and panniers
of bread cakes hot from their simple oven. The great Sheikh, who had
asked many questions after the oriental fashion: which was the most
powerful nation, England or France; what was the name of a third
European nation of which he had heard, white men with flat noses in
green coats; whether the nation of white men with flat noses in green
coats could have taken Acre as the English had, the taking of Acre being
the test of military prowess; how many horses the Queen of the English
had, and how many slaves; whether English pistols are good; whether the
English drink wine; whether the English are Christian giaours or Pagan
giaours? and so on, now invited Tancred, Sheikh Hassan, and two or three
others, to enter his pavilion and partake of the banquet.

'The Sheikh must excuse me,' said Tancred to Baroni; 'I am wearied and
wounded. Ask if I can retire and have a tent.'

'Are you wounded?' said the young Sheikh, who was sitting on the carpet
of Amalek, and speaking, not only in a tone of touching sympathy, but in
the language of Franguestan.

'Not severely,' said Tancred, less abruptly than he had yet spoken, for
the manner and the appearance of the youth touched him, 'but this is
my first fight, and perhaps I make too much of it. However, my arm is
painful and stiff, and indeed, you may conceive after all this, I could
wish for a little repose.'

'The great Sheikh has allotted you a compartment of his pavilion,'
said the youth; 'but it will prove a noisy resting-place, I fear, for a
wounded man. I have a tent here, an humbler one, but which is at least
tranquil. Let me be your host!'

'You are most gracious, and I should be much inclined to be your guest,
but I am a prisoner,' he said, haughtily, 'and cannot presume to follow
my own will.'

'I will arrange all,' said the youth, and he conversed with Sheikh
Amalek for some moments. Then they all rose, the young man advancing to
Tancred, and saying in a sweet coaxing voice, 'You are under my care.
I will not be a cruel gaoler; I could not be to you.' So saying, making
their reverence to the great Sheikh, the two young men retired together
from the arena. Baroni would have followed them, when the youth stopped
him, saying, with decision, 'The great Sheikh expects your presence; you
must on no account be absent. I will tend your chief: you will permit
me?' he inquired in a tone of sympathy, and then, offering to support
the arm of Tancred, he murmured, 'It kills me to think that you are
wounded.'

Tancred was attracted to the young stranger: his prepossessing
appearance, his soft manners, the contrast which they afforded to all
around, and to the scenes and circumstances which Tancred had recently
experienced, were winning. Tancred, therefore, gladly accompanied him
to his pavilion, which was pitched outside the amphitheatre, and stood
apart. Notwithstanding the modest description of his tent by the young
Sheikh, it was by no means inconsiderable in size, for it possessed
several compartments, and was of a different colour and fashion from
those of the rest of the tribe. Several steeds were picketed in Arab
fashion near its entrance, and a group of attendants, smoking and
conversing with great animation, were sitting in a circle close at hand.
They pressed their hands to their hearts as Tancred and his host passed
them, but did not rise. Within the pavilion, Tancred found a luxurious
medley of cushions and soft carpets, forming a delightful divan; pipes
and arms, and, to his great surprise, several numbers of a French
newspaper published at Smyrna.

'Ah!' exclaimed Tancred, throwing himself on the divan, 'after all
I have gone through to-day, this is indeed a great and an unexpected
relief.'

''Tis your own divan,' said the young Arab, clapping his hands; 'and
when I have given some orders for your comfort, I shall only be your
guest, though not a distant one.' He spoke some words in Arabic to an
attendant who entered, and who returned very shortly with a silver lamp
fed with palm oil, which he placed on the ground.

'I have two poor Englishmen here,' said Tancred, 'my servants; they must
be in sad straits; unable to speak a word----'

'I will give orders that they shall attend you. In the meantime you must
refresh yourself, however lightly, before you repose.' At this moment
there entered the tent several attendants with a variety of dishes,
which Tancred would have declined, but the young Sheikh, selecting one
of them, said, 'This, at least, I must urge you to taste, for it is
a favourite refreshment with us after great fatigue, and has some
properties of great virtue.' So saying, he handed to Tancred a dish of
bread, dates, and prepared cream, which Tancred, notwithstanding his
previous want of relish, cheerfully admitted to be excellent. After
this, as Tancred would partake of no other dish, pipes were brought to
the two young men, who, reclining on the divan, smoked and conversed.

'Of all the strange things that have happened to me to-day,' said
Tancred, 'not the least surprising, and certainly the most agreeable,
has been making your acquaintance. Your courtesy has much compensated me
for the rude treatment of your tribe; but, I confess, such refinement is
what, under any circumstances, I should not have expected to find among
the tents of the desert, any more than this French journal.'

'I am not an Arab,' said the young man, speaking slowly and with an air
of some embarrassment.

'Ah!' exclaimed Tancred.

'I am a Christian prince.'

'Yes!'

'A prince of the Lebanon, devoted to the English, and one who has
suffered much in their cause.'

'You are not a prisoner here, like myself?'

'No, I am here, seeking some assistance for those sufferers who should
be my subjects, were I not deprived of my sceptre, and they of a prince
whose family has reigned over and protected them for more than seven
centuries. The powerful tribe of which Sheikh Amalek is the head often
pitch their tents in the great Syrian desert, in the neighbourhood
of Damascus, and there are affairs in which they can aid my unhappy
people.'

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