G. A. Henty - "Through Three Campaigns"

Maud Diver - "The Great Amulet"

Arthur Schnitzler - "Casanova's Homecoming"

Robert Green Ingersoll - "The Works of Robert G. Ingersoll, Volume VIII."

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.

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F >> Fredrika Bremer >> The Home




Jacobi bowed, withdrew a few steps, and then returned. "Judge Frank,"
said he, in a voice which showed the excitement of his feelings, "give
me your hand; I will deserve your friendship."

The outstretched hand was grasped firmly and powerfully, and Jacobi left
the room in haste.

"Come here, Elise," said the Judge, with warmth, leading his wife to the
sofa, and enclosing her in his arms. "Speak to me! Tell me, has anything
in my behaviour of late turned your heart from me!"

Elise's head sunk upon the breast of her husband, and she was silent.
"Ah, Ernst!" said she at length, with a painful sigh, "I also am
dissatisfied with myself. But, oh!" added she more cheerfully, "when I
lean myself on you thus, when I hear your heart beating, and know what
is within that heart, then, Ernst, I feel how I love you--how I believe
on you! Then I reproach myself with being so weak, so unthankful, so
ready to take offence, then--oh, Ernst! love me! Look on me always as
now, then life will be bright to me; then shall I have strength to
overcome all--even my own weakness; then I shall feel that only a cloud,
only a shadow of mist, and no reality can come between us. But now all
is vanished. Now I can lay open to you all the innermost loopholes of my
heart--can tell you all my weaknesses----"

"Be still, be still now," said the Judge, with a bright and affectionate
look, and laying his hand on her mouth. "I have more failings than you;
but I am awake now. Weep not, Elise; let me kiss away your tears! Do you
not feel, as I do now, that all is right? Do we not believe in the
Eternal Good, and do we not believe in each other? Let us forgive and
forget, and have peace together. Hereafter, when the error of this time
has in some measure passed from our remembrance, we will talk it over,
and wonder how it ever came between us. Now, all is so bright between
us, and we both of us see our way clearly. Our errors will serve us for
warnings. Wherefore do we live in the world, unless to become better?
Look at me, Elise. Are you friendly towards me? Can you have confidence
in me?"

"I can! I have!" said she; "there is not a grain of dust any longer
between us."

"Then we are one!" said he, with a joyful voice. "Let us, then, in God's
name, go thus together through life. What He has united, let no man, no
accident, nothing in this world, separate!"

Night came; but light had arisen in the breast both of husband and wife.

* * * * *

The furrow of disunion bears commonly thorns and thistles, but it may
likewise bear seed for the granary of heaven.

FOOTNOTES:

[3] According to the Northern mythology, Nidhoegg, the snake-king, lives
in Niflhem, the nether world.




CHAPTER XI.

JACOBI.


When Jacobi entered his room, he found a letter lying on the table near
his bed. He recognised the handwriting as that of Judge Frank, and
quickly opened it. A bank-note of considerable value fell out; and the
letter contained the following words:

"You are indebted to several persons in the city, Jacobi, with
whom I wish, for your own sake, that you should have as little to
do as possible. Within, you will find the means of satisfying
their demands. Receive it as from a paternal friend, who sincerely
wishes you to regard him as such, and who embraces with pleasure
an opportunity of making an acknowledgment to the friend and
instructor of his children. To the preserver of my child I shall
always remain indebted; but should you desire anything, or need
anything, do not apply to any other than

"Your friend, E. Frank."

"He! and he, too!" exclaimed Jacobi, deeply agitated. "Oh, the kind,
noble, excellent man! And I--I shall, I will become worthy of him! From
this day I am a new man!"

He pressed the letter to his breast, and looked up to the star-lighted
heaven with silent but fervent vows.




CHAPTER XII.

TIME GOES.


Life has its moments of strength and bloom; its bright moments of
inspiration, in which the human artist (the painter of earthly life)
seizes on, and utters the supremely pure, the supremely beautiful, the
divine. If, in such moments, everything in human life were executed; if
then sacrifices were made, work accomplished, victories won, there would
be but little difficulty in life. But the difficult part is to preserve,
through a long course of years, the flame which has been kindled by
inspiration! to preserve it while the storms come and go, while the
everlasting dust-rain of the moments falls and falls; to preserve it
still and uniform, amidst the uniform changing of uniform days and
nights. To do this, strength from above is required; repeated draughts
from the fountain of inspiration; both for the great and the small--for
all labourers on earth.

It was the good fortune of Ernst and Elise that they knew this; and knew
also how to avail themselves of it. On this account they succeeded more
and more in conquering their natural failings; on this account they came
nearer to each other by every little step, which in itself is so
unobservable, but which yet, at the same time, twines so firmly and
lovingly together the human heart and life, and which may be contained
in the rubric--_regard for mutual inclinations, interest for mutual
interests_.

Through this new-born intimacy of heart, this strengthening and pure
affection, Elise assumed a secure and noble standing with regard to
Jacobi. Her heart was vanquished by no weakness, even when she saw
suffering expressed in his youthful countenance; nay, she remained firm,
even when she saw that his health was giving way, and only besought her
husband to name an earlier day for his and Henrik's departure. This was
also her husband's wish. Like a good angel, at once gentle, yet strong,
he stood at this time by her side. No wonder was it, therefore, that,
with his support, Elise went forward successfully; no wonder was it,
therefore, that from the firm conduct of her husband, and from the
contemplation of the good understanding which existed between the
married pair, the whispered blame, which had already begun to get
abroad at their expense, died of itself, like a flame wanting
nourishment.

Of Judge Frank's "old flame," which Elise had feared so much, we must
relate how that she found herself so wounded, and so cooled likewise, by
the ice-cold behaviour of her former adorer, that she quickly left the
town, which was too monotonous for her, and abandoned all thoughts of
settling there.

"Life there would be too uniform for me, would possess too little
interest," said she, yawning, to the Judge, who was warmly counselling
her return either to France or Italy.

"In our good North," added he, "we must find that which can give
interest and enjoyment to life in ourselves and our own means,--from our
families, from our own breasts."

"She is, nevertheless, extremely beautiful and interesting," said Elise,
with a kindly feeling towards her when she was gone. The Judge made no
reply; he never was heard to speak again of his former beloved one.

Days went by. The Judge had much to do. Elise occupied herself with her
little girls, and the Candidate with Henrik and his own studies.

The children grew like asparagus in June, and the father rejoiced over
them. "The Queen-bee will grow over all our heads," prophesied he many a
time; and when he heard Eva playing "Marlbrough s'en va-t-en guerre," on
the piano, his musical sense awoke, and he said, "what a deal of feeling
there is already in her music!--is there not, Elise?"

The evenings, on which all the members of the family assembled, assumed
constantly a livelier and more comfortable character for every one;
often they played and danced with the children.

The children! What a world of pleasure and pain do they not bring with
them into a house! Of a truth all is not of as rosy a hue as their
cheeks. Elise discovered that in her children which was not always
exactly good. "Do not to others what thou wouldst not that they should
do to thee." "People should think of what they do." "Patience is a good
root." "You do not see that your father and mother do so; look at me,
and do as I do." These standing and going speeches, which have travelled
through the world from the time when "Adam delved and Eve span," down to
the present day, and which to the very end of time will be ever in
use--together with assurances to the children, whenever they were
punished, or when they must learn their lessons yet more--that all this
was done for their benefit, and that the time would come when they would
be thankful for it--which the children very seldom, if ever
believed--this citizen-of-the-world, patriarchal household-fare, which
was dealt out in the family of the Franks, as in every other worthy
family, did not always produce its proper effect.

Perhaps Elise troubled herself too much sometimes about the perpetual
recurrence of the same fault in her children--perhaps she calculated too
little on the invisible but sun-like and powerful influence of paternal
love on the little human-plants. True it is that she often was in great
anxiety on their account, and that the development and future prospects
of her daughters awoke in her soul much disquiet and trouble.

One day, when such thoughts had troubled her more than usual, she felt
the necessity of a prudent, and, in this respect, experienced female
friend, to whom she could open her mind.

"Ernst," said she, as her husband prepared himself to go out immediately
after dinner, "I shall go below for a few minutes to Evelina, but I will
be back again by the time you return."

"Don't trouble yourself about that, dear Elise," said he; "remain as
long as you like; I'll fetch you. Take my arm, and let us go down
together, that I may see exactly where you go, and whence I must fetch
you."




CHAPTER XIII.

A LITTLE EDUCATION AND COFFEE COMMITTEE.


As Elise entered Evelina's room, Pyrrhus sprang, barking, towards her,
and wagging his tail. Mrs. Gunilla was there, and she and the hostess
emulated each other in welcoming their friend.

"Nay! best-beloved, that is charming!" exclaimed Mrs. Gunilla, embracing
Elise cordially. "Now, how does the little lady?--somewhat
pale?--somewhat out of spirits, I fancy? I will tell confidentially that
I know we shall presently get some magnificent coffee, which will cheer
up little Elise."

Evelina took Elise's hand, and looked kindly and sympathising at her
with her calm sensible eyes. Pyrrhus touched her foot gently with his
nose, in order to call her attention, and then seated himself on his
hind legs before her, began growling, in order to express his sympathy
also. Elise laughed, and she and Mrs. Gunilla vied with each other in
caressing the little animal.

"Ah, let me sit down here and chat with you, where everything seems so
kind," said Elise, in reply to Evelina's glance, which spoke such a kind
"How do you do?" "Here all is so quiet and so comfortable. I do not know
how you manage, Evelina, but it seems to me as if the air in your room
were clearer than elsewhere; whenever I come to you it seems to me as if
I entered a little temple of peace."

"Yes, and so it seems to me," said Mrs. Gunilla, cordially.

"Yes, thank God," said Evelina, smiling gratefully, and with tears in
her eyes; "here is peace!"

"And at our little lady's, the young folks raise dust sometimes in the
temper, as well as in the rooms. Is it not so?" said Mrs. Gunilla, with
facetiousness. "Well, well," added she, by way of consolation,
"everything has its time, all dust will in time lay itself, only have
patience."

"Ah, teach me that best thing, Aunt," said Elise, "for I am come here
precisely with the hope of gaining some wisdom--I need it so much. But
where are your daughters to-day, Evelina?"

"They are gone to-day to one of their friends," replied she, "to a
little festival, which they have long anticipated with pleasure; and I
also expect to have my share, from their relation of it to me."

"Ah! teach me, Evelina," said Elise, "how I can make my daughters as
amiable, as good, and as happy, as your Laura and Karin. I confess that
it is the anxiety for the bringing up of my daughters which ever makes
me uneasy, and which lies so heavy on my heart this very day. I distrust
my own ability--my own artistical skill, rightly to form their
minds--rightly to unfold them."

"Ah, education, education!" said Mrs. Gunilla, angrily; "people are
everlastingly crying out now for education. One never can hear anything
now but about education. In my youth I never heard talk and outcry for
education, and yet, thank God, a man was a man in those days for all
that. I confess that when I first heard this talk of education, I
supposed that there would be two sorts, as of everything in the world. I
thought so! But now, ever since _le tiers etat_ have pushed themselves
so much forward, have made so much of themselves, and have esteemed
themselves as something exclusive in the world with their education--now
the whole world cries out, 'educate! educate!' Yes, indeed, they even
tell us now that we should educate the maid-servants. I pray God to
dispense with my living in the time when maid-servants are educated; I
should have to wait myself on them, instead of their waiting on me. Yes,
yes! things are going on towards that point at a pretty rate, that I can
promise you! Already they read Frithiof and Axel; and before one is
aware, one shall hear them talk of 'husband and wife,' and 'wife and
husband;' and that they fancy themselves 'to be vines, which must wither
if they are not supported;' and 'sacrifices,' and other such affecting
things, until they become quite incapable of cleaning a room, or
scouring a kettle. Yes, indeed, there would be pretty management in the
world with all their education! It is a frenzy, a madness, with this
education! It is horrible!"

The longer Mrs. Gunilla talked on this subject, the more she excited
herself.

Elise and Evelina laughed heartily, and then declared that they
themselves, as belonging to the _tiers etat_, must take education, nay,
even the education of maid-servants, under their protection.

"Ah," said Mrs. Gunilla, impatiently, "you make all so artistical and
entangled with your education; and you cram the heads of children full
of such a many things, that they never get them quite straight all the
days of their life. In my youth, people learned to speak 'the language,'
as the French was then called, just sufficient to explain a motto;
enough of drawing to copy a pattern, and music enough to play a _contre
danse_ if it were wanted; but they did not learn, as now, to gabble
about everything in the world; but they learned to think, and if they
knew less of art and splendour, why, they had the art to direct
themselves, and to leave the world in peace!"

"But, your best Honour," said Evelina, "education in its true meaning,
as it is understood in our time, teaches us to take a clearer view of
ourselves and of the world at large, so that we may more correctly
understand our own allotted station, estimate more properly that of
others, and, in consequence, that every one may be fitted for his own
station, and contented therewith."

"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Gunilla, "all that may be very good, but----" But
just then the coffee came in, with biscuits and gingerbread, which made
an important diversion in the entertainment, which now took a livelier
character. Mrs. Gunilla imparted to Elise, with jesting seriousness, a
variety of good counsel on the education of her children. She sent for
and recommended particularly a certain _Orbis Pictus_, which she herself
had studied when a child, and which began with the words, "Come here,
boy, and learn wisdom from my mouth," and in which one could see clearly
how the soul was fashioned, and how it looked. It looked like a pancake
spread out on a table round and smooth, with all the five senses
properly numbered. Mrs. Gunilla assured Elise, that if her children paid
attention to this picture, it would certainly develop and fashion their
ideas of the human soul. Furthermore, she proposed the same educational
course as had been used with such distinguished success upon her
deceased father and his brother, when they went to school, and which
consisted in every boy being combed with a fine comb every Saturday, and
well whipped, whilst an ounce of English salt was allowed per boy, in
order to drive the bad spirits out of him. Beyond this, they had, too,
on the same day, a diet of bread and beer, in which was a dumpling
called "Grammatica," so that the boys might be strengthened for the
learning of the following week.

During the merriment which these anecdotes occasioned, the Judge came
in: delighted with the merriment, and delighted with his wife, he seated
himself beside her, quite covetous of an hour's gossip with the ladies.
Mrs. Gunilla served him up the human soul in the _Orbis Pictus_, and
Elise instigated her still further to the relation of the purification
of the boys. The Judge laughed at both from the bottom of his heart, and
then the conversation turned again on the hard and disputable ground of
education; all conceding, by general consent, the insufficiency of rules
and methods to make it available.

Evelina laid great stress on the self-instruction of the teacher. "In
the degree," said she, "in which man developes in himself goodness,
wisdom, and ability, he succeeds commonly in calling out these in
children."

All the little committee, without exception, gave their most lively
approval; and Elise felt herself quite refreshed, quite strengthened by
the words which showed her so clearly the path to her great object. She
turned now, therefore, the conversation to Evelina's own history and
development. It was well known that her path through life had been an
unusual one, and one of independence, and Elise wished now to know how
she had attained to that serenity and refreshing quiet which
characterised her whole being. Evelina blushed, and wished to turn the
conversation from herself--a subject which she least of all would speak
about, and that probably because she was in harmony with herself--but as
the Judge with his earnest cordiality united in the wish of his wife and
Mrs. Gunilla, that Evelina would relate to them some passages in the
history of her life, she acceded, remarking only that what she had to
relate was in no way extraordinary; and then, after she had bethought
herself for a moment, she began, addressing herself more especially to
Elise, and in the mean time Mrs. Gunilla hastily jotted down the
narrative, which we will here designate


EVELINA'S HISTORY.

Have you ever been conscious, while listening to a beautiful piece of
music, of a deep necessity, an indescribable longing, to find in your
own soul, in your own life, a harmony like that which you perceived in
the tune?--if so, you have then an idea of the suffering and the release
of my soul. I was yet a little child when, for the first time, I was
seized upon by this longing, without at that time comprehending it.
There was a little concert in the house of my parents; the harp, piano,
horn, and clarionette, were played by four distinguished artists. In one
part of the symphony the instruments united in an indescribably sweet
and joyous melody, in the feeling of which my childish soul was seized
upon by a strong delight, and at the same time by a deep melancholy. It
seemed to me as if I had then an understanding of heaven, and I burst
into tears. Ah! the meaning of these I have learned since then. Many
such, and many far more painful, tears of longing, have fallen upon the
dark web of my life.

To what shall I compare the picture of my youthful years? All that it,
and many other such family pictures exhibit, is unclear, indefinite, in
one word, blotted as it were in the formation. It resembled a dull
autumn sky, with its grey, shapeless, intermingling cloud-masses; full
of those features without precision, of those contours without meaning,
of those shadows without depth, of those lights without clearness, which
so essentially distinguish the work of a bungler from that of a true
master.

My family belonged to the middle class, and we were especially well
content to belong to this noble class; and as we lived from our rents,
and had no rank in the state, we called ourselves, not without some
self-satisfaction, people of condition. We exhibited a certain genteel
indifference towards the _haute volee_ in the citizen society, not only
in words but sometimes also in action; yet, nevertheless, in secret we
were extremely wounded or flattered by all those who came in contact
with us from this circle; and not unfrequently too the family
conversation turned, quite accidentally as it were, on the subject of
its being ennobled on the plea of the important service which our father
could render to the state in the House of Knights; and in the hearts of
us young girls it excited a great pleasure when we were addressed as "my
lady." Beyond this agitation of the question nothing came.

The daughters of the house were taught that all pomp and pleasure of
this world was only vanity, that nothing was important and worth
striving after but virtue and inward worth; yet for all this, it so
happened that their most lively interest and endeavours, and the warmest
wishes of the hearts of all, were directed to wealth, rank, and worldly
fortune of every kind. The daughters were taught that in all things the
will of God must alone direct them; yet in every instance they were
guided by the fear of man. They were taught that beauty was nothing, and
of no value; yet they were often compelled to feel, and that painfully,
in the paternal house, that they wore not handsome. They were allowed to
cultivate some talents, and acquire some knowledge, but God forbid that
they should ever become learned women; on which account they learned
nothing thoroughly, though in many instances they pretended to
knowledge, without possessing anything of its spirit, its nourishing
strength, or its pure esteem-inspiring earnestness. But above all
things they learned, and this only more and more profoundly the more
their years increased, that marriage was the goal of their being; and in
consequence (though this was never definitely inculcated in words, but
by a secret, indescribable influence), to esteem the favour of men as
the highest happiness, denying all the time that they thought so.

We were three sisters. As children, it was deeply impressed upon us that
we must love one another; but in consequence of partiality on the side
of our teachers, in consequence of praise and blame, rewards and
punishments, which magnified little trifles into importance, envy and
bitterness were early sown among the sisters. It was said of my eldest
sister and myself, that we were greatly attached to each other; that we
could not live asunder. We were cited as examples of sisterly love; and
from constantly hearing this, we at last came to believe it. We were
compared to the carriage-horses of the family; and we were in the habit,
almost of our own accord, of seating ourselves every day after dinner on
each side of our good father, who caressed us, and called us his
carriage-horses. Yet, in fact, we did not pull together. My sister was
more richly endowed by nature than I, and won favour more easily. Never
did I envy a human being as I envied her, until in later years, and
under altered circumstances, I learned to love her rightly, and to
rejoice over her advantages.

We were not very rich, and we cast a philosophically compassionate
glance upon all who were richer than we, who lived in a more liberal
manner, had more splendid equipages, or who dressed themselves more
elegantly. "What folly--what pitiable vanity!" said we: "poor people,
who know nothing better!" We never thought that our philosophy was
somewhat akin to the fox and the grapes.

If we looked in this manner upon the advantages of the great, we
despised still more the pleasures of the crowd. (We ought to be so
all-sufficient for ourselves. Ah, alas!) And if ever a theatrical piece
was much talked of and visited, we had a kind of pride in saying, with
perfect indifference, that we never had seen it; and whenever there was
a popular festival, and the crowd went towards Haga or the Park, it was
quite as certain that our calesche--if it went out at all--would drive
on the road to Sabbatsberg, or in some other direction equally deserted
at the time; for all which, we prided ourselves on our philosophy. Yet
with all this in our hearts we really never were happy.

The daughters came out into society. The parents wished to see them
loved and wooed; the daughters wished it no less--but they were not
handsome--were dressed without any pretension. The parents saw very
little company; and the daughters remained sitting at balls, and were
nearly unobserved at suppers. Yet from year to year they slid on with
the stream.

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