Sewell Ford - "Torchy, Private Sec."

James Buchanan - "Modern Atheism under its forms of Pantheism, Materialism, Secularism, Development, and Natural Laws"

Hamlin Garland - "Other Main Travelled Roads"

Jessie Graham Flower - "Grace Harlowe's Overland Riders in the Great North Woods"

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




'You did well to call; we know not what may happen. I doubt, however,
whether I shall return to Jerusalem. If affairs are pleasantly arranged
here, I think of visiting the Emir, at his castle of Canobia. A change
of air must be the best thing for me, and Lebanon, by his account, is
delicious at this season. Indeed, I want air, and I must go out now,
Baroni; I cannot stay in this close tent any longer; the sun has set,
and there is no longer any fear of those fatal heats of which you are in
such dread for me.'

It was the first night of the new moon, and the white beams of the
young crescent were just beginning to steal over the lately flushed
and empurpled scene. The air was still glowing, and the evening breeze,
which sometimes wandered through the ravines from the gulf of Akabah,
had not yet arrived. Tancred, shrouded in his Bedouin cloak, and
accompanied by Baroni, visited the circle of black tents, which they
found almost empty, the whole band, with the exception of the scouts,
who are always on duty in an Arab encampment, being assembled in the
ruins of the amphitheatre, in whose arena, opposite to the pavilion of
the great Sheikh, a celebrated poet was reciting the visit of Antar to
the temple of the fire-worshippers, and the adventures of that greatest
of Arabian heroes among the effeminate and astonished courtiers of the
generous and magnificent Nushirvan.

The audience was not a scanty one, for this chosen detachment of the
children of Rechab had been two hundred strong, and the great majority
of them were now assembled; some seated as the ancient Idumaeans, on the
still entire seats of the amphitheatre; most squatted in groups upon the
ground, though at a respectful distance from the poet; others standing
amid the crumbling pile and leaning against the tall dark fragments just
beginning to be silvered by the moonbeam; but in all their countenances,
their quivering features, their flashing eyes, the mouth open with
absorbing suspense, were expressed a wild and vivid excitement, the heat
of sympathy, and a ravishing delight.

When Antar, in the tournament, overthrew the famous Greek knight, who
had travelled from Constantinople to beard the court of Persia; when he
caught in his hand the assassin spear of the Persian satrap, envious of
his Arabian chivalry, and returned it to his adversary's heart; when he
shouted from his saddle that he was the lover of Ibla and the horseman
of the age, the audience exclaimed with rapturous earnestness, 'It is
true, it is true!' although they were guaranteeing the assertions of a
hero who lived, and loved, and fought more than fourteen hundred years
before. Antar is the Iliad of the desert; the hero is the passion of the
Bedouins. They will listen for ever to his forays, when he raised
the triumphant cry of his tribe, 'Oh! by Abs; oh! by Adnan,' to the
narratives of the camels he captured, the men he slew, and the maidens
to whose charms he was indifferent, for he was 'ever the lover of Ibla.'
What makes this great Arabian invention still more interesting is, that
it was composed at a period antecedent to the Prophet; it describes the
desert before the Koran; and it teaches us how little the dwellers in it
were changed by the introduction and adoption of Islamism.

As Tancred and his companion reached the amphitheatre, a ringing laugh
resounded.

'Antar is dining with the King of Persia after his victory,' said
Baroni; 'this is a favourite scene with the Arabs. Antar asks the
courtiers the name of every dish, and whether the king dines so every
day. He bares his arms, and chucks the food into his mouth without ever
moving his jaws. They have heard this all their lives, but always laugh
at it with the same heartiness. Why, Shedad, son of Amroo,' continued
Baroni to an Arab near him, 'you have listened to this ever since you
first tasted liban, and it still pleases you!'

'I am never wearied with listening to fine language,' said the Bedouin;
'perfumes are always sweet, though you may have smelt them a thousand
times.'

Except when there was some expression of feeling elicited by the
performance, a shout or a laugh, the silence was absolute. Not a whisper
could be heard; and it was in a muffled tone that Baroni intimated to
Tancred that the great Sheikh was present, and that, as this was his
first appearance since his illness, he must pay his respects to Amalek.
So saying, and preceding Tancred, in order that he might announce his
arrival, Baroni approached the pavilion. The great Sheikh welcomed
Tancred with a benignant smile, motioned to him to sit upon his carpet;
rejoiced that he was recovered; hoped that he should live a thousand
years; gave him his pipe, and then, turning again to the poet, was
instantly lost in the interest of his narrative. Baroni, standing as
near Tancred as the carpet would permit him, occasionally leant over and
gave his lord an intimation of what was occurring.

After a little while, the poet ceased. Then there was a general hum and
great praise, and many men said to each other, 'All this is true, for my
father told it to me before.' The great Sheikh, who was highly pleased,
ordered his slaves to give the poet a cup of coffee, and, taking from
his own vest an immense purse, more than a foot in length, he extracted
from it, after a vast deal of research, one of the smallest
of conceivable coins, which the poet pressed to his lips, and,
notwithstanding the exiguity of the donation, declared that God was
great.

'O Sheikh of Sheikhs,' said the poet, 'what I have recited, though it is
by the gift of God, is in fact written, and has been ever since the days
of the giants; but I have also dipped my pen into my own brain, and
now I would recite a poem which I hope some day may be suspended in the
temple of Mecca. It is in honour of one who, were she to rise to our
sight, would be as the full moon when it rises over the desert. Yes, I
sing of Eva, the daughter of Amalek (the Bedouins always omitted Besso
in her genealogy), Eva, the daughter of a thousand chiefs. May she never
quit the tents of her race! May she always ride upon Nejid steeds and
dromedaries, with harness of silver! May she live among us for ever! May
she show herself to the people like a free Arabian maiden!'

'They are the thoughts of truth,' said the delighted Bedouins to one
another; 'every word is a pearl.'

And the great Sheikh sent a slave to express his Wish that Eva and her
maidens should appear. So she came to listen to the ode which the poet
had composed in her honour. He had seen palm trees, but they were not as
tall and graceful as Eva; he had beheld the eyes of doves and antelopes,
but they were not as bright and soft as hers; he had tasted the fresh
springs in the wilderness, but they were not more welcome than she; and
the soft splendour of the desert moon was not equal to her brow. She
was the daughter of Amalek, the daughter of a thousand chiefs. Might
she live for ever in their tents; ever ride on Nejid steeds and on
dromedaries with silver harness; ever show herself to the people like a
free Arabian maiden!

The poet, after many variations on this theme, ceased amid great
plaudits.

'He is a true poet,' said an Arab, who was, like most of his brethren, a
critic; 'he is in truth a second Antar.'

'If he had recited these verses before the King of Persia, he would have
given him a thousand camels,' replied his neighbour, gravely.

'They ought to be suspended in the temple of Mecca,' said a third.

'What I most admire is his image of the full moon; that cannot be-too
often introduced,' said a fourth.

'Truly the moon should ever shine,' said a fifth. 'Also in all truly
fine verses there should be palm trees and fresh springs.'

Tancred, to whom Baroni had conveyed the meaning of the verses, was also
pleased; having observed that, on a previous occasion, the great Sheikh
had rewarded the bard, Tancred ventured to take a chain, which he
fortunately chanced to wear, from, his neck, and sent it to the poet of
Eva. This made a great sensation, and highly delighted the Arabs.

'Truly this is the brother of queens,' they whispered to each other.

Now the audience was breaking up and dispersing, and Tancred, rising,
begged permission of his host to approach Eva, who was seated at the
entrance of the pavilion, somewhat withdrawn from them.

'If I were a poet,' said Tancred, bending before her, 'I would attempt
to express my gratitude to the Lady of Bethany. I hope,' he added, after
a moment's pause, 'that Baroni laid my message at your feet. When I
begged your permission to thank you in person to-morrow, I had not
imagined that I should have been so wilful as to quit the tent tonight.'

'It will not harm you,' said Eva; 'our Arabian nights bear balm.'

'I feel it,' said Tancred; 'this evening will complete the cure you so
benignantly commenced.'

'Mine were slender knowledge and simple means,' said Eva; 'but I rejoice
that they were of use, more especially as I learn that we are all
interested in your pilgrimage.

'The Emir Fakredeen has spoken to you?' said Tancred, inquiringly, and
with a countenance a little agitated.

'He has spoken to me of some things for which our previous conversation
had not entirely unprepared me.'

'Ah!' said Tancred, musingly, 'our previous conversation. It is not
very long ago since I slumbered by the side of your fountain, and yet it
seems to me an age, an age of thought and events.'

'Yet even then your heart was turned towards our unhappy Asia,' said the
Lady of Bethany.

'Unhappy Asia! Do you call it unhappy Asia! This land of divine deeds
and divine thoughts! Its slumber is more vital than the waking life of
the rest of the globe, as the dream of genius is more precious than
the vigils of ordinary men. Unhappy Asia, do you call it? It is the
unhappiness of Europe over which I mourn.'

'Europe, that has conquered Hindustan, protects Persia and Asia Minor,
affects to have saved Syria,' said Eva, with some bitterness. 'Oh! what
can we do against Europe?'

'Save it,' said Tancred.

'We cannot save ourselves; what means have we to save others?'

'The same you have ever exercised, Divine Truth. Send forth a great
thought, as you have done before, from Mount Sinai, from the villages of
Galilee, from the deserts of Arabia, and you may again remodel all
their institutions, change their principles of action, and breathe a new
spirit into the whole scope of their existence.'

'I have sometimes dreamed such dreams,' murmured Eva, looking down. 'No,
no,' she exclaimed, raising her head, after a moment's pause, 'it is
impossible. Europe is too proud, with its new command over nature, to
listen even to prophets. Levelling mountains, riding without horses,
sailing without winds, how can these men believe that there is any
power, human or divine, superior to themselves?'

'As for their command over nature,'said Tancred, 'let us see how it will
operate in a second deluge. Command over nature! Why, the humblest root
that serves for the food of man has mysteriously withered throughout
Europe, and they are already pale at the possible consequences. This
slight eccentricity of that nature which they boast they can command has
already shaken empires, and may decide the fate of nations. No, gentle
lady, Europe is not happy. Amid its false excitement, its bustling
invention, and its endless toil, a profound melancholy broods over its
spirit and gnaws at its heart. In vain they baptise their tumult by the
name of progress; the whisper of a demon is ever asking them, "Progress,
from whence and to what?" Excepting those who still cling to your
Arabian creeds, Europe, that quarter of the globe to which God has never
spoken, Europe is without consolation.'




CHAPTER XXXIX.

_Freedom_

THREE or four days had elapsed since the departure of Fakredeen, and
during each of them Tancred saw Eva; indeed, his hours were much passed
in the pavilion of the great Sheikh, and, though he was never alone with
the daughter of Besso, the language which they spoke, unknown to those
about them, permitted them to confer without restraint on those subjects
in which they were interested. Tancred opened his mind without reserve
to Eva, for he liked to test the soundness of his conclusions by her
clear intelligence. Her lofty spirit harmonised with his own high-toned
soul. He found both sympathy and inspiration in her heroic purposes. Her
passionate love of her race, her deep faith in the destiny and genius
of her Asian land, greatly interested him. To his present position she
referred occasionally, but with reluctance; it seemed as if she thought
it unkind entirely to pass it over, yet that to be reminded of it
was not satisfactory. Of Fakredeen she spoke much and frequently. She
expressed with frankness, even with warmth, her natural and deep regard
for him, the interest she took in his career, and the high opinion she
entertained of his powers; but she lamented his inventive restlessness,
which often arrested action, and intimated how much he might profit
by the counsels of a friend more distinguished for consistency and
sternness of purpose.

In the midst of all this, Fakredeen returned. He came in the early
morning, and immediately repaired to the pavilion of the great Sheikh,
with whom he was long closeted. Baroni first brought the news to
Tancred, and subsequently told him that the quantity of nargilehs smoked
by the young Emir indicated not only a prolonged, but a difficult,
controversy. Some time after this, Tancred, lounging in front of his
tent, and watching the shadows as they stole over the mountain tombs,
observed Fakredeen issue from the pavilion of Amalek. His flushed and
radiant countenance would seem to indicate good news. As he recognised
Tancred, he saluted him in the Eastern fashion, hastily touching his
heart, his lip, and his brow. When he had reached Tancred, Fakredeen
threw himself in his arms, and, embracing him, whispered in an agitated
voice on the breast of Lord Montacute, 'Friend of my heart, you are
free!'

In the meantime, Amalek announced to his tribe that at sunset the
encampment would break up, and they would commence their return to the
Syrian wilderness, through the regions eastward of the Dead Sea. The
Lady Eva would accompany them, and the children of Rechab were to have
the honour of escorting her and her attendants to the gates of Damascus.
A detachment of five-and-twenty Beni-Rechab were to accompany Fakredeen
and Tancred, Hassan and his Jellaheens, in a contrary direction of the
desert, until they arrived at Gaza, where they were to await further
orders from the young Emir.

No sooner was this intelligence circulated than the silence which had
pervaded the desert ruins at once ceased. Men came out of every tent and
tomb. All was bustle and noise. They chattered, they sang, they talked
to their horses, they apprised their camels of the intended expedition.
They declared that the camels had consented to go; they anticipated a
prosperous journey; they speculated on what tribes they might encounter.

It required all the consciousness of great duties, all the inspiration
of a great purpose, to sustain Tancred under this sudden separation
from Eva. Much he regretted that it was not also his lot to traverse the
Syrian wilderness, but it was not for him to interfere with arrangements
which he could neither control nor comprehend. All that passed amid
the ruins of this desert city was as incoherent and restless as the
incidents of a dream; yet not without the bright passages of strange
fascination which form part of the mosaic of our slumbering reveries.
At dawn a prisoner, at noon a free man, yet still, from his position,
unable to move without succour, and without guides; why he was captured,
how he was enfranchised, alike mysteries; Tancred yielded without a
struggle to the management of that individual who was clearly master
of the situation. Fakredeen decided upon everything, and no one was
inclined to impugn the decrees of him whose rule commenced by conferring
freedom.

It was only half an hour to sunset. The advanced guard of the children
of Rechab, mounted on their dromedaries, and armed with lances, had
some hours ago quitted the ruins. The camels, laden with the tents and
baggage, attended by a large body of footmen with matchlocks, and who,
on occasion, could add their own weight to the burden of their charge,
were filing through the mountains; some horsemen were galloping about
the plain and throwing the jereed; a considerable body, most of them
dismounted, but prepared for the seat, were collected by the river side;
about a dozen steeds of the purest race, one or two of them caparisoned,
and a couple of dromedaries, were picketed before the pavilion of the
great Sheikh, which was not yet struck, and about which some grooms were
squatted, drinking coffee, and every now and then turning to the horses,
and addressing them in tones of the greatest affection and respect.

Suddenly one of the grooms jumped up and said, 'He comes;' and then
going up to a bright bay mare, whose dark prominent eye equalled in
brilliancy, and far exceeded in intelligence, the splendid orbs of
the antelope, he addressed her, and said, 'O Diamond of Derayeh, the
Princess of the desert can alone ride on thee!'

There came forth from his pavilion the great Amalek, accompanied by some
of his Sheikhs; there came forth from the pavilion Eva, attended by her
gigantic Nubian and her maidens; there came forth from the pavilion the
Emir Fakredeen and Lord Mon-tacute.

'There is but one God,' said the great Sheikh as he pressed his hand to
his heart, and bade farewell to the Emir and his late prisoner. 'May he
guard over us all!'

'Truly there is but one God,' echoed the attendant Sheikhs. 'May you
find many springs!'

The maidens were placed on their dromedaries; the grooms, as if by
magic, had already struck the pavilion of their Sheikh, and were stowing
it away on the back of a camel; Eva, first imprinting on the neck of the
mare a gentle embrace, vaulted into the seat of the Diamond of Derayeh,
which she rode in the fashion of Zenobia. To Tancred, with her inspired
brow, her cheek slightly flushed, her undulating figure, her eye proud
of its dominion over the beautiful animal which moved its head with
haughty satisfaction at its destiny, Eva seemed the impersonation of
some young classic hero going forth to conquer a world.

Striving to throw into her countenance and the tones of her voice a
cheerfulness which was really at this moment strange to them, she
said, 'Farewell, Fakredeen!' and then, after a moment's hesitation,
and looking at Tancred with a faltering glance which yet made his heart
tremble, she added, 'Farewell, Pilgrim of Sinai.'




CHAPTER XL.

_The Romantic Story of Baroni_

THE Emir of the Lebanon and his English friend did not depart from the
desert city until the morrow, Fakredeen being so wearied by his journey
that he required repose.

Unsustained by his lively conversation, Tancred felt all the depression
natural to his position; and, restless and disquieted, wandered about
the valley in the moonlight, recalling the vanished images of the past.
After some time, unable himself to sleep, and finding Baroni disinclined
to slumber, he reminded his attendant of the promise he had once given
at Jerusalem, to tell something of his history. Baroni was a lively
narrator, and, accompanied by his gestures, his speaking glance, and
all the pantomime of his energetic and yet controlled demeanour, the
narrative, as he delivered it, would have been doubtless much more
amusing than the calmer form in which, upon reflection, we have thought
fit to record some incidents which the reader must not in any degree
suppose to form merely an episode in this history. With this observation
we solicit attention to


_The history of the Baroni family._

BEING A CHAPTER IN THE LIFE OF SIDONIA.

I.

'I had no idea that you had a garrison here,' said Sidonia, as the
distant sounds of martial music were wafted down a long, ancient
street, that seemed narrower than it was from the great elevation of
its fantastically-shaped houses, into the principal square in which was
situate his hotel. The town was one of the least frequented of Flanders;
and Sidonia, who was then a youth, scarcely of twenty summers, was on
his rambling way to Frankfort, where he then resided.

'It is not the soldiers,' said the Flemish maiden in attendance, and who
was dressed in one of those pretty black silk jackets that seem to
blend so well with the sombre yet picturesque dwellings of the Spanish
Netherlands. 'It is not the soldiers, sir; it is only the Baroni
family.'

'And who are the Baroni family?'

'They are Italians, sir, and have been here this week past, giving some
representations.'

'Of what kind?'

'I hardly know, sir, only I have heard that they are very beautiful.
There is tumbling, I know for certain; and there was the Plagues of
Egypt; but I believe it changes every night.'

'And you have not yet seen them?'

'Oh no, sir, it is not for such as me; the second places are half a
franc!'

'And what is your name?' said Sidonia.

'Therese; at your service, sir.'

'You shall go and see the Baroni family to-night, Therese, if your
mistress will let you.'

'I am sure she would if you would ask her, sir,' said Therese, looking
down and colouring with delight. The little jacket seemed very agitated.

'Here they come!' said Sidonia, looking out of the window on the great
square.

A man, extremely good-looking and well made, in the uniform of a marshal
of France, his cocked hat fringed and plumed, and the colour of his coat
almost concealed by its embroidery, played a clarionet like a master;
four youths of a tender age, remarkable both for their beauty and their
grace, dressed in very handsome scarlet uniforms, with white scarfs,
performed upon French horns and similar instruments with great energy
and apparent delight; behind them an honest Blouse, hired for the
occasion, beat the double drum.

'Two of them are girls,' said Therese; 'and they are all the same
family, except the drummer, who belongs, I hear, to Ypres. Sometimes
there are six of them, two little ones, who, I suppose, are left at home
to-day; they look quite like little angels; the boy plays the triangle
and his sister beats a tambourine.'

'They are great artists,' murmured Sidonia to himself, as he listened to
their performance of one of Donizetti's finest compositions. The father
stood in the centre of the great square, the other musicians formed a
circle round him; they continued their performance for about ten minutes
to a considerable audience, many of whom had followed them, while the
rest had collected at their appearance. There was an inclination in the
curious multitude to press around the young performers, who would have
been in a great degree hidden from general view by this discourteous
movement, and even the sound of their instruments in some measure
suppressed. Sidonia marked with interest the calm and commanding manner
with which, under these circumstances, the father controlled the people.
They yielded in an instant to his will: one tall blacksmith seemed
scarcely to relish his somewhat imperious demeanour, and stood rooted to
the ground; but Baroni, placing only one hand on the curmudgeon's brawny
shoulder, while he still continued playing on his instrument with the
other, whirled him away like a puppet. The multitude laughed, and the
disconcerted blacksmith slunk away.

When the air was finished, Baroni took off his grand hat, and in a loud
voice addressed the assembled people, informing them that this evening,
in the largest room of the Auberge of St. Nicholas, there would be a
variety of entertainments, consisting of masterpieces of strength and
agility, dramatic recitations, dancing and singing, to conclude with the
mystery of the Crucifixion of our blessed Lord and Saviour; in which all
the actors in that memorable event, among others the blessed Virgin,
the blessed St. Mary Magdalene, the Apostles, Pontius Pilate, the High
Priest of the Jews, and many others, would appear, all to be represented
by one family.

The speaker having covered himself, the band again formed and passed
the window of Sidonia's hotel, followed by a stream of idle amateurs,
animated by the martial strain, and attracted by the pleasure of hearing
another fine performance at the next quarter of the town, where the
Baroni family might halt to announce the impending amusements of the
evening.

The moon was beginning to glitter, when Sidonia threw his cloak around
him, and asked the way to the Auberge of St. Nicholas. It was a large,
ungainly, whitewashed house, at the extremity of a suburb where the
straggling street nearly ceased, and emptied itself into what in England
would have been called a green. The many windows flared with lights, the
doorway was filled with men smoking, and looking full of importance, as
if, instead of being the usual loungers of the tavern, they were about
to perform a principal part in the exhibition; they made way with
respectful and encouraging ceremony to any one who entered to form part
of the audience, and rated with sharp words, and sometimes a ready cuff,
a mob of little boys who besieged the door, and implored every one who
entered to give them tickets to see the Crucifixion. 'It's the last
piece,' they perpetually exclaimed, 'and we may come in for five sous a
head.'

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