Orison Swett Marden - "How to Succeed"

Washington Irving - "The Crayon Papers"

Various - "Georgian Poetry 1911 12"

HUTTON WEBSTER - "EARLY EUROPEAN HISTORY"

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 Home

F >> Fredrika Bremer >> The Home




"But again I felt compelled to look at the shadow in the glass, and grew
quite melancholy. Emelie also cast glances at the mirror, and drew
comparisons, but with feelings far different to mine. Then came Ernst,
and I saw that he too made comparisons between us.

"He was, all this evening, very much occupied with Emelie. I felt unwell
and weak; I longed so to support myself on his arm; but he did not come
near me the whole time: perhaps he imagined I was out of
humour--perhaps I looked so. Ah! I returned home before supper, and he
remained. As I drove home through those deserted streets in the wretched
hackney-coach, a sense of misery came over my heart such as I cannot
describe; many a bitter thought was awakened within me, before which I
trembled.

"At the door of my own home I met Jacobi; he had sate up for me, and
wished to tell me something amusing about my children. He seemed to have
foreboded my feelings this evening. My favourite fruit, which he had
provided for me, should have refreshed me. His friendship and his
devotion cheered me. There is something so beautiful in feeling oneself
beloved.

* * * * *

"Every new emotion, every new connexion, among men, has its danger, its
temptation; the most beautiful, the most noble, may have their dangerous
tendency. Oh! how is this to be prevented without a separation?--how is
the poison to be avoided without deadening the sting? Oh, Cecilia! at
this moment I need a friend; I need you, to whom I could turn, and from
whom, in these disquieting circumstances, I in my weakness could derive
light and strength. I am discontented with myself; I am discontented
with----Ah! he alone it is who, if he would, could make all right!

* * * * *

"Oh, Cecilia, this is a mist-enveloped hour of my life!--does it
announce day or night? My glance is dark; I see the path no longer! But
I will resign myself into the hand of Him who said, 'let there be
light.'

* * * * *

"All is now better and clearer! God be praised! In a few hours this day
will be over;--I long vehemently for it!

"This evening we have a children's dance at our house. Emelie will be
here also. There is not a good understanding between us two. She is cold
to me, too witty, and too----, but I will do my best to be a good
hostess; and when the day is ended, I will sit and look at my beautiful
sleeping boy, and be happy in my children."




CHAPTER X.

THE END OF THE DAY.


Evening came, and with it lights and guests. A strong, self-sacrificing
amiability governed Elise's manner this evening. She was almost cordial
towards Emelie; cared for the comfort of every one, played the piano for
the children's dance, and appeared to exist only in order to serve
others. The beautiful Emelie, on the contrary, thought of herself; was
livelier and more brilliant than ever, and, as usual, assembled all the
gentlemen around her. The conversation was lively in this group; it
turned from politics to literature, and then dwelt awhile on
theatricals, in which Emelie, equally animated and sarcastic,
characterised the Scribe and Mellesville school as a dramatic
manufactory.

"For the rest," added she, "the stage acts very prudently and sensibly
in letting the curtain fall the moment the hero and heroine approach the
altar; novels do the same, and that, also, with good reason, otherwise
nobody would be able to read them."

"How so?" asked the Judge, with great earnestness.

"Because," answered Emelie, "the illusion of life is extinguished on the
other side of this golden moment, and reality steps forward then in all
its heaviness and nakedness. Look at a young couple in the glowing
morning of their union, how warm love is then; how it penetrates and
beautifies everything; how it glows and speaks in glance and word, and
agreeable action; how its glory changes the whole of life into poetry!
'Thou, thou!' is the one thought of the young people then. But observe
the same couple a few years later--'I, I!' and 'my pleasure,' is the
phrase now. The adoring all-resigning lover is then become the exacting
married man, who will be waited on and obeyed. And the loving
all-sacrificing bride, she is become the unwieldy and care-burdened
housewife, who talks of nothing but trouble, bad saltings, and negligent
maid-servants. And what are _tete-a-tete_ communications between these
two? 'How, my dear! is the butter really used up already? Why, I gave
you money only the other day for butter! You really must look better
after things, and see what the cook does with the butter; I will not
allow such extravagance in the house! Do you want something more?' 'Yes,
indeed, my love, I and the children must have new over-dresses. Little
Peter's coat is worn out, and little Paul has grown out of his; and my
old cloak cannot last to eternity!' People," continued the sarcastic
Emilie, "may thank their stars, too, if out of such interesting
communications as these no hateful quarrels arise; and if, in the happy
repose of their homes, harmless yawnings have only taken place of the
kisses which have left it. Contracted circumstances, meannesses, and
domestic trials, destroy the happiness of marriage, even as the worm
destroys the flower, bringing bitterness and sourness into the temper;
and though the married pair may continue to the very day of their death
to address each other as 'My sweet friend,' yet, very often, _in petto_,
it is 'My sour friend.' Yet, after all, this is nothing, in fact, but
what is perfectly natural; and, in this respect, marriage only follows
the eternal law of nature in all earthly existence. Every form of life
carries in itself decay and dissolution--a poisonous snake-king[3] gnaws
even at the root of the world's tree."

Several of the listeners, and among them the Candidate, had laughed
loudly at Emelie's descriptions; but the Judge had not once moved his
lips, and replied, when she had done, with an earnestness that
confounded even her satire.

"If all this were true, Emelie," said he, "then were life, even in the
best point of view, good for nothing; and with justice might it indeed
be called an illusion. But it is not so; and you have only described
marriage in its lowest, and not either in its best or its truest sense.
I do not deny the difficulties which exist in this as in every other
circumstance of life; but I am confident that they may and must be
overcome; and this will be done if the married pair bring only right
intentions into the house. Then want and care, disturbing, nay even
bitter hours, may come, but they will also go; and the bonds of love and
truth will be consolation, nay, even will give strength. You have
spoken, Emelie, of death and separation as the end of the drama of life;
you have forgotten the awaking again, and the second youth, of which
the ancient northern Vala sings. Married life, like all life, has such a
second youth; yes, indeed, a progressive one, because it has its
foundation in the life which is eternal; and every contest won, every
danger passed through, every pain endured, change themselves into
blessings on home and on the married pair, who have thus obtained better
knowledge, and who are thus more closely united."

He spoke with unusual warmth, and not without emotion, and his
expressive glance sought and dwelt upon his wife, who had approached
unobserved, and who had listened to Emelie's bitter satire with stinging
pain, because she knew that there was a degree of truth in it.

But as her husband spoke, she felt that he perceived the full truth, and
her heart beat freer and stronger, and all at once a clearness was in
her soul. With her head bent forward, she gazed on him with a glance
full of tenderness and confidence, forgetting herself, and listening
with fervour to every word which he uttered. In this very moment their
eyes met, and there was much, inexpressibly much, in their glance; a
clear crimson of delight flushed her cheek, and made her beautiful. The
gentle happiness which now animated her being, together with her lovely
figure, her graceful movements, and the purity of her brow, made her far
more fascinating than her lovely rival. Her husband followed her with
his eyes, as kindly and attentively she busied herself among her guests,
or with the little Gabriele in her arms mingled in the children's dance,
for which Evelina's foster-daughters were playing a four-handed piece.
He had suddenly cooled towards his "old flame," nor was he at all warmed
again by the sharp tone with which the little caressing Petrea was
reproved for being too obtrusive.

"Our little Louise in time will dance very well," remarked the Judge to
his wife, as he noticed with great pleasure the little _brisees_ and
_chassees_ of his daughter whom the twelve-years-old Nils Gabriel
Stjernhoek twirled round, and with whom he conversed with great gravity,
and a certain knightly politeness.

In the mean time Mrs. Gunilla was instructing Emelie on the manners and
character of the French; and Emelie, whose countenance since the
discussion of the marriage question had worn a bitter expression,
endeavoured with a tolerably sharp tone to make her superior
information felt, and in return was mown down, as it were, at one stroke
by Mrs. Gunilla, who--had never been in France.

The Candidate followed Elise everywhere with glances of devotion, and
appeared this evening perfectly enchanted by her amiability.

"Fie, for shame!--to take all the confections to yourself!" moralised
the little Queen-bee to the little S----ne,--a fat, quiet boy, who took
the confections and the reproof with the same stoical indifference.
Louise cast a look of high indignation upon him, and then gave her share
of sweetmeats to a little girl, who complained that she had had none.

Supper came, and Emelie, whose eyes flashed unusual fire, seemed to wish
fervently to win back that regard which she, perhaps, feared to have
lost already, and with her playful and witty conversation electrified
the whole company. Jacobi, who was excited in no ordinary manner, drank
one glass of wine after another, talked and laughed very loud, and
looked between whiles upon Elise with glances which expressed his
sentiments in no doubtful manner. These glances were not the first of
the kind which the quick eye of Elise's rival observed.

"That young man," said she, in a low but significant whisper to the
Judge, and with a glance on Jacobi, "seems to be very charming; he has
really remarkably attractive talents--is he nearly related to Elise?"

"No," returned he, looking at her rather surprised; "but he has been for
nearly three months a member of our family."

"Indeed!" said she, in a significant and grave manner; "I should have
thought--but as for that," added she, in an apparently careless
tone--"Elise is really so kind and so amiable, that for him who is with
her daily, it must be very difficult not to love her."

The Judge felt the sting of the viper, and with a glance which flashed a
noble indignation, he replied to his beautiful neighbour, "You are
right, Emelie; I know no woman who deserves more love or esteem than
she!"

Emelie bit her lip and grew pale; and she would assuredly have grown yet
paler, could she only have understood the sentiment which she had
awakened in the breast of her former admirer.

Ernst Frank had a keen sense of moral meanness, and when this displayed
itself no gifts of genius or of nature had power to conceal it. He
clearly understood her intentions, and despised her for them. In his
eyes, at this moment, she was hateful. In the mean time his composure
was destroyed. He looked on Jacobi, and observed his glances and his
feelings; he looked on Elise, and saw that she was uneasy, and avoided
his eye.

A horrible spasmodic feeling thrilled through his soul; in order to
conceal what he felt he became more than usually animated, yet there was
a something hostile, a something sternly sarcastic in his words, which
still, on account of the general gaiety, remained unobserved by most.

Never before was Assessor Munter so cheerful, so comically cross with
all mankind. Mrs. Gunilla and he shouted as if desperate against each
other. The company rose from the supper-table in full strife, and
adjourned to the dancing-room.

"Music, in heaven's name! music!" exclaimed the Assessor with a gesture
of despair, and Elise and the Colonel's widow hastened to the piano. It
was a pleasant thought, after the screaming of that rough voice had been
heard, to play one of Blangini's beautiful night-pieces, which seem to
have been inspired by the Italian heaven, and which awaken in the soul
of the hearer a vision of those summer nights, with their flowery
meadows, of their love, of their music, and of all their unspeakable
delights.

"_Un' eterna constanza in amor!_" were the words which, repeated several
times with the most bewitching modulations, concluded the song.

"_Un' eterna constanza in amor!_" repeated the Candidate, softly and
passionately pressing his hand to his heart, as he followed Elise to a
window, whither she had gone to gather a rose for her rival. As Elise's
hand touched the rose, the lips of Jacobi touched her hand.

Emelie sang another song, which delighted the company extremely; but
Ernst Frank stood silent and gloomy the while. Words had been spoken
this evening which aroused his slumbering perception; and with the look
he cast upon Jacobi and his wife, he felt as if the earth were trembling
under his feet. He saw that which passed at the window, and gasped for
breath. A tempest was aroused in his breast; and at the same moment
turning his eyes, he encountered, those of another person, which were
riveted upon him with a questioning, penetrating expression. They were
those of the Assessor. Such a glance as that from any other person had
been poison to the mind of Frank, but from Jeremias Munter it operated
quite otherwise; and as shortly afterwards he saw his friend writing
something on a strip of paper, he went to him, and looking over his
shoulder, read these words:

"Why regardest thou the mote in thy brother's eye, yet seest not the
beam in thine own eye?"

"Is this meant for me?" asked he, in a low but excited voice.

"Yes," was the direct reply.

The Judge took the paper, and concealed it in his breast.

He was pale and silent, and began to examine himself. The company broke
up; he had promised Emelie to accompany her home; but now, while she,
full of animation, jested with several gentlemen, and while her servant
drew on her fur-shoes, he stood silent and cold beside his "old flame"
as a pillar of ice. Mrs. Gunilla and the Assessor quarrelled till the
last moment. Whilst all this was going on, Elise went quietly to Jacobi,
who stood somewhat apart, and said to him in a low voice, "I wish to
speak with you, and will wait for you in the parlour, when they are all
gone." Jacobi bowed; a burning crimson flashed to his cheek; the Judge
threw a penetrating glance upon them, and passed his hand over his pale
countenance.

"It gives me great pleasure," cried Mrs. Gunilla, speaking shrilly and
_staccato_--"it gives me great pleasure to see my fellow-creatures, and
it gives me great pleasure if they will see me. If they are not always
agreeable, why I am not always agreeable myself! Heart's-dearest! in
this world one must have patience one with another, and not be
everlastingly requiring and demanding from others. Heaven help me! I am
satisfied with the world, and with my own fellow-creatures, as our Lord
has been pleased to make them. I cannot endure that people should be
perpetually blaming, and criticising, and mocking, and making sour faces
at everything, and saying 'I will not have this!' and 'I will not have
that!' and 'I will not have it so! It is folly; it is unbearable; it is
wearisome; it is stupid!' precisely as if they themselves only were
endurable, agreeable, and clever! No, I have learned better manners than
that. It is true that I have no genius, nor learning, nor talents, as so
many people in our day lay claim to, but I have learned to govern
myself!"

During this moral lecture, and endeavouring all the time to overpower
it, the Assessor exclaimed, "And can you derive the least pleasure from
your blessed social life? No, that you cannot! What is social life, but
a strift to get into the world in order to discover that the world is
unbearable? but a scheming and labouring to get invited, to be offended
and put out of sorts if not invited; and if invited, then to complain of
weariness and vexation, and thus utter their lamentations. Thus people
bring a mass of folks together, and wish them--at Jericho! and all this
strift only to get poorer, more out of humour, more out of health; in
one word, to obtain the perfectly false position, _vis-a-vis_, of
happiness! See there! Adieu, adieu! When the ladies take leave, they
never have done."

"There is not one single word of truth in all that you have said," was
the last but laughing salutation of Mrs. Gunilla to the Assessor, as,
accompanied by the Candidate, she left the door. The Judge, too, was
gone; and Elise, left alone, betook herself to the parlour.

Suddenly quick steps were heard behind her--she thought "Jacobi"--turned
round, and saw her husband; but never before had she seen him looking as
then; there was an excitement, an agitation, in his countenance that
terrified her. He threw his arm violently round her waist, riveted his
eyes upon her with a glance that seemed as if it would penetrate into
her inmost soul.

"Ernst, Ernst, be calm!" whispered she, deeply moved by his state of
mind, the cause of which she imagined. He seized her hand and pressed it
to his forehead--it was damp and cold; the next moment he was gone.

We will now return to the Candidate.

Wine and love, and excited expectation, had so inflamed the imagination
of the young man, that he hardly knew what he did--whether he walked, or
whether he flew; and more than once, in descending the stairs, had he
nearly precipitated Mrs. Gunilla, who exclaimed with kindness, but some
little astonishment, "The Cross preserve me! I cannot imagine,
heart's-dearest, how either you or I go to-night! I think we are all
about to--see, now again, all's going mad.--No, I thank you, I'll take
care of my nose, crooked as it is. I think I can go safer by myself. I
can hold by----"

"A thousand thousand times pardon," interrupted the Candidate, whilst he
pressed Mrs. Gunilla's arm tightly; "it is all my fault. But now we will
go safely and magnificently; I was a little dizzy!"

"Dizzy!" repeated she. "Heart's-dearest, we should take care on that
very account; one should take care of one's head as well as one's heart;
one should take care of that, or it may go still more awry than it now
is with us! He, he, he, he--but listen to me, my friend," said Mrs.
Gunilla, suddenly becoming very grave: "I will tell you one thing, and
that is----"

"Your most gracious Honour, pardon me," interrupted he, "but I think--I
feel rather unwell--I--there, now we are at your door! Pardon me!" and
the Candidate tumbled up-stairs again.

In the hall of the Franks' dwelling he drew breath. The thought of the
mysterious meeting with Elise filled him at the same time with joy and
uneasiness. He could not collect his bewildered thoughts, and with a
wildly-beating heart went into the room where Elise awaited him.

As soon as he saw her white lovely figure standing in the magical
lamplight his soul became intoxicated, and he was just about to throw
himself at her feet, when Elise, hastily, and with dignity, drew back a
few paces.

"Listen to me, Jacobi," said she, with trembling but earnest voice.

"Listen to you!" said he, passionately--"oh, that I might listen to you
for ever!--oh, that I----"

"Silence!" interrupted Elise, with a severity very unusual to her; "not
one word more of this kind, or our conversation is at an end, and we are
separated for ever!"

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Jacobi, "what have----"

"I beseech you, listen to me!" continued Elise; "tell me, Jacobi, have I
given you occasion to think thus lightly of me?"

Jacobi started. "What a question!" said he, stammering, and pale.

"Nevertheless," continued Elise, with emotion, "I must have done so;
your behaviour to me this evening has proved it. Could you think,
Jacobi, that I, a wife, the mother of many children, could permit the
sentiment which you have been so thoughtless as to avow this evening?
Could you imagine that it would not occasion me great uneasiness and
pain? Indeed, it is so, Jacobi; I fear that you have gone sadly wrong;
and if I myself, through any want of circumspection in my conduct, have
assisted thereto, may God forgive me! You have punished me for it,
Jacobi--have punished me for the regard I have felt for you and shown to
you; and if I now must break a connexion which I hoped would gladden my
life, it is your own fault. Only one more such glance--one more such
declaration, as you have made this evening, and you must remove from
this house."

The crimson of shame and indignation burned on Jacobi's cheek. "In
truth," said he, "I have not deserved such severity."

"Ah! examine yourself, Jacobi," said she, "and you will judge yourself
more severely than I have done. You say that you love me, Jacobi, and
you do not dread to destroy the peace and happiness of my life. Already,
perhaps, are poisonous tongues in activity against me. I have seen this
evening glances directed upon me and upon you, which were not mild; and
thoughts and feelings are awakened in my husband's soul, which never
ought to have been awakened there. You have disturbed the peace of a
house, into which you were received with friendship and confidence. But
I know," continued she, mildly, "that you have not intended anything
criminal!--no bad intentions have guided your behaviour; folly only has
led you to treat so lightly that relationship which is the holiest on
earth. You have not reflected on your life, on your duty, and your
situation, in this family, with seriousness."

Jacobi covered his face with his hands, and a strong emotion agitated
him.

"And seriousness," again began Elise, with warmth and deep
earnestness--"seriousness! how it clothes--how it dignifies the
man!--Jacobi, the saviour of my child--my young friend! I would not have
spoken thus to you if I had not had great faith on your better--your
nobler self;--if I had not hoped to have won a friend in you--a friend
for my whole life, for myself and my Ernst. Oh, Jacobi, listen to my
prayer!--you are thrown among people who are willing from their very
hearts to be your friends! Act so that we may love and highly esteem
you; and do not change into grief that hearty goodwill which we both
feel for you! Combat against, nay, banish from your heart, every foolish
sentiment which you, for a moment, have cherished for me. Consider me as
a sister, as a mother! Yes," continued she, pausing over this word, and
half prophetically, "perhaps you may even yet call me mother; and if you
will show me love and faith, Jacobi, as you have said, I will accept
it--from my son! Oh, Jacobi! if you would deserve my blessing, and my
eternal gratitude, be a faithful friend, a good instructor of my boy--my
Henrik! Your talents as a teacher are of no common kind. Your heart is
good--your understanding is capable of the noblest cultivation--your
path is open before you to all that which makes man most estimable and
most amiable. Oh, turn not away from it, Jacobi--tread this path with
seriousness----"

"Say not another word!" exclaimed Jacobi. "Oh, I see all! forgive me,
angelic Elise! I will do all, everything, in order to deserve hereafter
your esteem and your friendship. You have penetrated my heart--you have
changed it. I shall become a better man. But tell me that you forgive
me--that you can be my friend, and that you will!"

Jacobi, in the height of his excitement, had thrown himself on his knee
before her; Elise also was deeply affected; tears streamed from her
eyes, whilst she extended her hand to him, and bending over him said,
from the very depths of her heart, "Your friend, for ever!"

Calmly, and with cheerful countenances, both raised themselves; but an
involuntary shudder passed through both as they saw the Judge standing
in the room, with a pale and stern countenance.

Jacobi went towards him: "Judge Frank," said he, with a firm but humble
voice, "you behold here a----"

"Silence, Jacobi!" interrupted Elise, quickly; "you need not blush on
account of your bended knee, nor is any explanation needful. It is not,
is it, Ernst?" continued she, with the undaunted freshness of innocence:
"you desire no explanation; you believe me when I say that Jacobi now,
more than ever, deserves your friendship. A bond is formed between us
three, which, as I hope before God, nothing will disturb, and no
poisonous tongues censure. You believe me, Ernst?"

"Yes," said he, giving her his hand; "if I could not, then----" he did
not finish his sentence, but fixed his eyes with a stern expression
immovably on her. "I will speak with you," said he, after a moment, and
in a calmer voice. "Good night, Mr. Jacobi."

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