Alfred Lord Tennyson - "Becket and other plays"

A. F. Winnington Ingram - "The After glow of a Great Reign"

Charles S. Brooks - "Journeys to Bagdad"

Various - "R. Caldecott's First Collection of Pictures and Songs"

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.

The Argonauts

E >> Eliza Orzeszko (AKA Orzeszkowa) >> The Argonauts




Miss Mary remembered people seized with violent pains, who, in
the fruitless hope of allaying them, changed positions and
postures continually. She remembered, also, the faintness and
weariness which cover the faces of people with pallor and an
expression of unbearable disgust. A certain disgust, repulsive
and unendurable, must be working in that slender breast, from
which a low moan came when she turned her head from side to side.

"Are you ill, dearest Cara; are you in pain?"

Prom the bed, in a scarcely audible whisper, came:

"No."

She rose, went to Miss Mary, sat on the carpet, put her head on
the English girl's knee, with her face toward the ceiling. She
threw her hands back on her dishevelled hair, and then let them
drop without control, so that they fell on the carpet as if
lifeless. Her dry, inflamed eyes continued to look at the
ceiling. Miss Mary, bent, and making her words as low and
fondling as human words could be, inquired again:

"Has anything happened? Has anything hurt you?"

Changing the position of her head, and shaking it, as if she
wished to shake something off, she whispered:

"Nothing."

And rising, she went again to the end of the room. Her hair, not
long, but thick, like a bundle of silken flax, lay motionless on
her narrow shoulders; her pendent hands seemed like two rose-buds
falling from a bush. She stood again for a moment before the
clump of green plants, then went around it and hid beyond the
thickest palms at the window. Outside the window was the darkness
of a winter evening, relieved somewhat by snow which covered the
broad garden. The darkness was spotted by red lamps, which
illuminated the street beyond the garden. Some months before,
Cara had opened a window overlooking that same garden; she did
this in the middle of the night to look at the first snow and at
the frost in the moonlight. Snow was lying there now, at the
close of winter, surely the last snow.

Much time passed. Miss Mary rose, and went to the narrow space
between the clump of plants and the window. Cara was standing
there at the very window, looking into the darkness, or at the
red spots made by lanterns, placed here and there in it. The
governess saw that a change had taken place in her. She was not
pale as before; on the contrary, a lively flush had come out on
her face. Her features were less rigid; instead of the nauseous
disgust and dull pain, an expression of deep thought had covered
them. As happened often when Cara was thinking deeply, the point
of her finger was in her mouth. Miss Mary felt relieved. "Cara is
no longer pale," thought she; "she has stopped over something;
she stands long in one place; she is recovering her balance; soon
she will be pacified completely, and will tell what has
happened."

"Do you not wish me to read to you?"

Cara shook her head, and said in a low voice:

"I want to sleep."

"To sleep! so early? But you are tired, of course. Very well,
dear. Lie down and rest. I will call Ludvika to open the bed. Or
no--I will do it myself. No one need make a noise here that would
prevent us from talking."

With great goodness and kindly grace, while arranging the bed
with a rustle of silk, and the waves of lace going through her
fingers, Miss Mary told vivaciously of many things which were
near and confidential, things always affecting Cara, and though
no answer came to her from beyond the green plants, her voice,
which sounded agreeably, scattered the gloom and silence of the
chamber.

Half an hour later the door to the drawing-room was opened
partly, and the voice of Irene said some words in English. Miss
Mary went to the door on tip-toe.

"Cara is sleeping already," whispered she; "we ought not to wake
her; she is a little unwell."

The door was closed slowly and in silence; some minutes later the
maid brought a tray in with tea and many dishes.

Soon after Malvina entered the room. She approached her
daughter's bed quietly, and anxious.

"What is the matter?" whispered she. "Why did she go to bed so
early?"

Miss Mary gave some pacifying answer. That was caution. She felt
always in that house, and on that day more than ever, the need of
caution in making observations. Both looked at the girl, who, as
they thought, was sleeping soundly; she breathed slowly and
evenly, with a deep flush on her cheeks.

Malvina bent down and impressed a long kiss on the forehead of
her sleeping daughter. Then Miss Mary noted something of which
she was not sure: when her mother's lips rested on Cara's
forehead a quiver ran through the girl's body, from head to foot.
But Miss Mary was not sure whether Cara really trembled, or it
only seemed so to her. After Malvina's departure she remained at
the bedside, with eyes fixed on the delicate face, which was
growing more inflamed with an ever-increasing flush. A number of
dark spots came out on her purple lips, which were parched and
half open, her small pearl-like teeth gleamed behind them.

"She is sick, but has fallen asleep!" thought Miss Mary. "Perhaps
that horror, which I thought seized the child in the empty
drawing-rooms, was an invention of her mind? Surely it was
nothing more; she is simply ill; perhaps, not very ill, since she
fell asleep so quickly."

The small night-lamp shone in Cara's room like a blue spark. In
the adjoining room, beyond the open door, far into the night,
rustled book-leaves turned by the English governess. Miss Mary
watched long, and stood often in the open door, between her room
and Cara's, inclining forward, looking from a distance at the bed
from which the regular, unbroken sound of breathing came to her.
She is asleep. She moved a number of times and groaned, then
again she was silent. Puff lay at her feet, like a bundle of
ash-colored silk, and snored slightly. The street beyond the
garden grew more and more silent till it was silent altogether.
At the windows light began to whiten the shades and to draw aside
the black curtain of darkness which was on the furniture. The
wearied Miss Mary, in a long dressing-gown, ready to spring from
her bed any moment, slept for a short time and then woke with a
feeling of great fear. She was roused by a sharp cold by a breath
of frosty air coming in through the open door. She sprang up and
ran, with a cry, to Cara's chamber. There, on the threshold she
saw beyond the spreading palm leaves the great window half open,
and a slender, white figure sitting there in the gray dawn. When
had she done that? How long had she sat there with her shoulders
resting on the window-frame, with her naked feet hanging in the
air, with her breast and arms stripped even of muslin? No one was
ever to know.

Miss Mary, while carrying the girl to bed with that strength
which only terror can give one, felt in her embrace, limbs as
stiff as those of a frozen corpse; but her breast rose and fell
with her breathing which was heavy and audible; her cheeks and
forehead were burning. In half a minute the window was closed;
Miss Mary, with all the strength of long and supple arms, strove
to warm the breast and shoulders, which were as cold as ice, and
the skin on them stiffened.

"Oh, child! you unkind! most dear! poor child! Why have you done
this? Is it possible to do such things? Did you know what you
were doing? Was that an unfortunate accident, or did you do it
purposely? Tell, was it done purposely? Tell me! tell!"

Cara for the first time looked straight into Miss Mary's face;
she bent her head with a lively movement; her eyes shot forth
triumph; a smile encircled her parched lips. In the glitter of
her eyes, in the smile, in the curve of her neck, for the twinkle
of an eye, shone forth once again the wilful, capricious Cara.
Next moment her teeth began to chatter and her whole body
trembled in a feverish chill, so that the silk of the bed rustled
loudly. With that rustling was joined a dry, unbroken cough,
which shook the fragile and ice-cold breast, the skin of which
was rough, and had a tanned and withered look. Miss Mary sprang
from her knees. On her lips were the words:

"Her parents! A doctor!"

The rumbling of a carriage was heard far away on the street, it
drew nearer and nearer, rolled in through the gate of the house,
and was silent. Miss Mary, all in white, her hair hanging over
her shoulders, hastened to Darvid's study, through drawing-rooms
in which, from behind black veils which the pale dawn was
removing, emerged glass, metal, pictures, mirrors, plush, silk,
polished surfaces, gildings, mosaics, marbles, porcelain, in the
dull gleam of their colors.

The dawn was in Darvid's study also; but the servant was lighting
the hanging-lamp over the round table. Darvid, very pale, with a
nervous movement, tore rather than drew the gloves from his
hands.

"Then did she return from me? Where did she come from? You say
that she was with me, and returned--in that condition? But she
was not here yesterday; I did not see her; she was not here--"

"She was," answered Miss Mary; "she said that she was going to
you; she did not return for more than an hour."

"She might have been with her mother?"

"No; I asked her sister about that. She was not with her mother;
she was here."

Darvid was astonished; he thought a while, and called suddenly:

"Ah!"

There was something tragic in the gesture with which he indicated
the thick case full of books, forming with the two walls a little
triangular space; then in the manner in which he intertwined his
fingers:

"She was there! And--she heard! Ah!"

He stood for a moment as if rooted to the floor; he bit his lip;
there were quivers on his cheeks and wrinkles on his forehead;
then he approached Miss Mary, and asked in such a low voice that
she barely heard him:

"Did she do this purposely--purposely? Purposely?"

"With clasped hands she said in a very low voice:

"I cannot hide--maybe something will depend on this--she did it
purposely."

Then that man, usually calm and regular in all his movements,
rushed to the door of the antechamber with the spring of a tiger.

"Carriage!" cried he.

"When the most famous doctor in the city came out of the sick
girl's chamber that day for the second time, Darvid met him in
the blue drawing-room, alone. He was as usual self-possessed, and
with a pleasing smile in the presence of that man with a great
name.

"Is the disease defined?" asked he.

It was defined, and very serious. Inflammation had seized the
greater part of the lungs, and was working fiercely on an
organism weakened by a previous attack. Besides, some kind of
complication had supervened, something coming from the brain,
from the nerves, something psychic.

Darvid mentioned a consultation.

"We may summon from abroad--from Paris, from Vienna; we have
telegraphs and railroads at our service--as to expense--"
concluded he with indifference "--as to expense, I shall not
spare it. My whole fortune is at the disposal of--"

He fixed in the eyes of the doctor a look in which was the desire
for a silent understanding.

"This is no hyperbole, or figure of rhetoric. I am ready to
summon half medical Europe, and spend half my fortune."

There was a quiver on his temples, around his mouth, and near his
eyes, but he smiled. The doctor smiled also.

"My dear sir," said he, "the case is not so peculiar as to need
presentation before the judgment of Europe. But being in
Europe--yes. I will serve you at once with the names of my
foreign colleagues. But as to colossal money sacrifices, I must
say that they will not help. Death, my dear sir, is such a
giantess, that if she is to come, mountains of gold will not stop
her. I will not say that she must come surely in this case. But
if she is to come, half your fortune--that is, golden
mountains--yes, golden mountains will be no hindrance to her. She
will spring over them and--come."

After the doctor had gone, Darvid remained alone for a while,
and, with his eyes fixed on the floor, he thought:

"A giantess! Golden mountains will not stop her! True, but
science is also a giantess. And, besides, is human, and every
human thing travels in golden chariots. But to set one giantess
against the other, gold and energy are needed."

For some time the great study was seething with activity, in
sending letters and telegrams. Darvid was heard commanding and
giving directions in a voice always low, but emphatic. He was
decisive, cool, and active, as he always was when going to a
contest. In the course of a few minutes arriving carriages
halted, one after another, before the gate of the mansion. Out of
them issued men full of importance, with famous names, very
learned, specialists, old and young, strong in theory and
practice. Some of these men it was almost impossible to see, for
they were reposing in wealth and on laurels, but they had been
snatched from their rest by the rumble of the golden chariot
which came for them. There were many of these men. The blue room
grew black from their garments as from a cloud. Darvid pressed
their hands a little more firmly than he was wont to do; perhaps
his side-whiskers dropped a little less symmetrically than usual,
along cheeks somewhat paler than usual, but there was no other
change in the man. And when the cloud of dark garments flowed
from the blue room to the chamber of his daughter, a spark of
triumph glittered in his eye. Let one giantess fight with the
other; we shall see which one wins. The power of science was one
of the very few articles of Darvid's faith. That power had to be
great, since it was indispensable in the conquest of wealth. He
had tried that power more than once in his mighty struggles for
wealth; he would try it now, also. This was only the beginning of
the battle. Diseases last a series of days, sometimes weeks, but
to-morrow, after to-morrow, Europe will begin to ride hither on
the golden chariot. Giantess against giantess! We shall see their
force.

Inflammation extending with great rapidity in the weak breast of
the girl, besides a complication of the brain, not considerable,
but giving much cause for concern--the normal condition of the
mind shaken--that was the case. A long consultation was carried
on in an undertone; some medicines were prescribed, and some
advice given, in the domain of hygiene. Among the carriages which
left the gate of the mansion, two were empty. The two dignitaries
of science, who had remained in his house, Darvid conducted to
his study for black coffee, excellent liquors, and cigars of
uncommon quality. They had to remain some hours, then they would
be relieved by others. They opposed this wish at first, for it
was in opposition to their customs, to obligations assumed
elsewhere; but Darvid, with his eyes looking very kindly into
theirs, uttered a magic word. It was a figure unheard of--almost
fabulous. They hesitated still; resisted; then they came to an
understanding as to the how-and-when--and remained. Darvid's
forehead smoothed for the moment, all wrinkles vanished from it.
His child (in his mind he added), "my little one," during one
hour of the day or night would not be without the good giantess,
who would do battle against the wicked one.

In the city, people said that Darvid, in anxiety for his daughter
would commit some mad folly; but those who had seen him shrugged
their shoulders. Not at all! There was not a man on earth who
could preserve better, in such straits, cool blood,
self-confidence, fluent speech, affability perfect, though cold.
Only at times, from the quiver which ran over his face, from the
temporary stare of his eyes, and the slight carelessness in
dressing his hair, was it possible to divine in him a man playing
for great stakes. Really, in the battle which he had begun and
was fighting, the question was not of Cara alone--it was of her
above all, but not of her alone. At the bottom of his being he
felt himself a player, then, as he had been countless times
before in cases wholly different; a player aided by energy,
money, and universal reason, which was his own and that bought by
money. The stakes in this play were not only the life of his
child, but the one faith which he had--his faith in the
all-mightiness, and all-effectiveness of energy, sound sense, and
money.

At one time and another, either with the doctors, or without
them, Darvid entered Cara's chamber; where, in obedience to
medical advice, they had not darkened the great windows through
which light was pouring in its golden torrents. This light
penetrated the yellowish folds of cretonne at the walls, lent
apparent life to forget-me-nots and rose-buds scattered over
them, played among the palm leaves, lay on the flowery carpet,
struck out golden sparks on the gilding of toys and books, played
with rainbow gleams on surfaces inlaid with mother-of-pearl. In
this gleaming light, near the mirror, which was surrounded by
porcelain flowers, amid flasks gilded and enamelled, a rosy Cupid
was drawing a bow with a golden arrow, a marble cat lay at the
feet of a statuette, which held a dove rat its bosom; on a small
desk of lapis-lazuli as blue as the sky, a bronze statuette
personifying the Dew was inclining gracefully an amphora above an
open book, skeins of various colored silks were hanging at little
looms. Amid all these tones of spring, joyous themes, light and
graceful forms, the sunlight went to Cara's bed, and, from the
white cambric on which she was lying, increased the paleness of
her yellow hair. On the pillow with lace it was difficult at
first to distinguish where the sunrays ended and the maiden's
hair began. But, amid the yellow of the rays and the hair, her
oval, delicate face in its bright flush seemed a scarlet flower.
Her lips, blooming with a bloody purple, her eyes, flashing with
a dry fire, were silent. But her breast labored with hoarse,
hurried breathing, and a cough shook her body, the slender,
fragile form of which was indicated beneath the blue silk
coverlet, like a fine piece of sculpture.

When Darvid entered the chamber a dark-robed woman drew back from
the bed of the suffering Cara, without the least rustle, and
stood at some distance with a pained, pallid face under smoothly
dressed hair of the same hue exactly as that which, in
dishevelled abundance, lay mingled with pale sunrays on the
pillow of the sick girl.

"How is it with you, little one?" asked Darvid. "Perhaps you feel
somewhat better? Perhaps you would like something?"

For its only answer the face, which was like a scarlet flower,
turned toward the wall, covered with forget-me-nots and
rose-buds.

"Why not answer, Cara? Perhaps you would like something? Only
say, only whisper. Say into my ear. I would bring you anything,
get it, buy it. Perhaps you would like something? Have something,
something to look at. You can have anything--anything, only say
what it is--whisper in my ear."

But in vain he bent low, brought his ear to her lips almost, no
sound came from them, no whisper, only her face turned away still
more and her breath became hoarser and heavier.

How many times did he go there and put to her the question:
"Would you like something? Will you tell what?" He thought that
the young girl, though sick, must remember some wish, some desire
which, if granted, might give her relief and some comfort. He had
power to gratify every wish, even the wildest, but had not the
power of drawing from her lips even one word, and that the
briefest.

Some days passed. In front of the mansion the carriages of
doctors were arriving and departing continually, meeting on the
way a multitude of equipages from which men came out and entered
the study of the master of the mansion, or only came to the
entrance to inscribe their names in a book furnished by the Swiss
in livery. Once, when coming home, Darvid met on the stairway two
men who spoke a foreign language. He was eloquent, triumphant.
These were allies from abroad, coming to strengthen the local
forces, which joined them in full array for a consultation. Again
a cloud of black garments moved from the blue room to the chamber
which was full of spring colors, of childhood's playthings, of
mother-of-pearl rainbow gleams. One more mountain of gold and of
intellect set up as a bulwark of defence near the bed of the sick
girl. When the cloud of black garments and serious faces had
vanished, the mother drew near:

"These gentlemen have wearied you. That is nothing. Because they
have come you will be well. Those are very wise men. The two who
have just come are Germans; throughout the whole world they are
famous. They will cure you to a certainty. But now you may
swallow a little of those excellent sweets which those gentlemen
let us give you. Or a drop of wine. Perhaps a spoonful, one
little spoonful of bouillon?"

Cara's only answer was to turn on her yellowish bed to the wall
sprinkled with spring flowers, her face in scarlet flushes.
Malvina, bending low, kissed the little hand, the heat of which
burnt her lips, and which trembled under those lips, like a leaf
in a blast of wind.

"Why not answer me, Cara? One word! only one short, little word!
Shall I give a drop of wine? Those gentlemen ordered it--will you
have it now? Whisper!"

But in vain did she put her ear almost down to Cara's lips, not a
sound, not a whisper, she only turned her face away farther,
while her breath grew in hoarseness.

Maryan came in with a great bouquet of flowers in his hand.

"What, are we sick, little one!" began he. "Well, that is nothing
wonderful! King Solomon said that for everyone there must be a
time for sickness and a time for dancing. You will be sick a
little while, and then you will dance. But now I have brought
flowers to cheer you. Flowers without odor, for sick girls might
get headache from fragrant ones. These have no fragrance, but
they are very beautiful. You will look most poetic when I scatter
them on the bed before you. They will gladden your sight after
looking at those dreary pedants who are like a flock of wise
ravens. Father has brought in the wisest ravens from all the
world for you; I have gathered throughout this whole city the
most beautiful flowers. Mein Lieichen, was willst du mehr?"

While laughing he scattered on the blue coverlet, and on the
slender form of the maiden indicated under it, the most beautiful
flowers which the best conservatories could yield to him; she
only looked at her brother with great burning eyes, and when he
went away she began, with a slow and monotonous movement to throw
them from the bed. She did not look at these flowers, but the
slender, dry, rosy hand of the girl worked and worked on, pushing
from the bed the rich twigs and beautiful flowers, which fell,
one after another, with a dull rustle on the carpet. She wanted
nothing. But in the night, when Malvina and Miss Mary thought
that she was sleeping, a whisper was heard in the deep stillness
calling:

"Puffie! Puffie!"

Miss Mary raised the little dog from a neighboring chair and gave
him to her. Cara took him in her burning hands, but soon she
pushed him away with the same kind of slow gesture with which she
had thrown down the flowers, turned her face toward the wall, and
then whispered:

"No."

Next morning the faces of the "wise ravens" were very gloomy.
Those who flew in from the neighborhood, and those who came from
a distance took on more and more that mysterious solemnity which
reminds one of death-bells.

But Darvid waited yet; he did not lay down his arms; he did not
lose faith in the power of the good giantess. He waited for a new
reinforcement. This was the greatest medical name in all Europe,
that of a man who had the fame almost of one who worked miracles.
Here again was a mountain of gold, and of intellect piled up, the
highest mountain among all of them.
In the blue drawing-room a suppressed, many-tongued murmur was
heard. Servants bore about food and drink. Darvid gave cigars to
his worthy guests, the most worthy of all, he who had just
arrived; listened with close attention to the explanation of his
colleagues touching the case before which he was to find himself.
At last, calm, and perfectly correct, with a pleasant smile on
his lips, a smile almost of triumph, Darvid indicated with a
gesture full of welcome the door of his daughter's chamber. The
most famous of the famous entered first, and stopped some steps
from the threshold; behind him stopped the others. On the parched
lips of the sick girl appeared ruby-like drops of blood; her eyes
were opened very widely; to her forehead, which was damp from
perspiration, some slender locks of pale, yellow hair adhered.
Throughout the room sounded in an audible, hoarse whisper:

"Ira! Ira!"

Irene approached quickly, and, bending over, removed, delicately,
with a thin handkerchief, the liquid rubies from the lips of her
sister.

"What do you want, little one; what do you wish?"

Cara fixed on her sister eyes in which something uncommon had
begun to take place, for the dark pupils became larger every
moment, and larger, more prominent, they seemed to grow and to
swell, as if concentrating into one point all power of vision,
until a glassy film began to come down over them, and at the same
time her lips, sprinkled with blood, moved a number of times
wishing to pronounce something and not being able. At last,
fixing on her sister from behind the glassy film the sight of her
swollen pupils, Cara, as if in sign that she understood, shook
her head, and with a whisper which was heard through the room
with a note of alarm and complaint, she said:

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