William Shakespeare - "Ein St. Johannis Nachts Traum"

Samuel Pegge - "The Forme of Cury"

Amanda Minnie Douglas - "A Little Girl in Old Salem"

Hugh Walpole - "The Cathedral"

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.

Saint Bartholomew\'s Eve

G >> G. A. Henty >> Saint Bartholomew\'s Eve




"Now let us be off, at once."

The party mounted without delay, and rode towards Toulouse. This
rich and powerful city was surrounded by handsome villas and
chateaux, the abode of wealthy citizens and persons of distinction.
At the first house at which they stopped, Philip, with Pierre and
two of the men-at-arms, dismounted and entered. It was the abode of
a small farmer, who cultivated vegetables for the use of the
townsfolk. He had retired to bed with his family, but upon being
summoned came downstairs trembling, fearing that his late visitors
were bandits.

"No harm will be done to you, if you obey our orders," Philip said;
"but if not, we shall make short work of you. I suppose you know
the houses of most of the principal persons who live outside the
walls?"

"Assuredly I do, my lord. There is the President of the Parliament,
and three or four of the principal councillors, and the Judge of
the High Court, and many others, all living within a short mile of
this spot."

"Well, I require you to guide us to their houses. There will be no
occasion for you to show yourself, nor will anyone know that you
have had aught to do with the matter. If you attempt to escape, or
to give the alarm, you will without scruple be shot. If, on the
other hand, we are satisfied with your work, you will have a couple
of crowns for your trouble."

The man, seeing that he had no choice, put a good face on it.

"I am ready to do as your lordship commands," he said. "I have no
reason for goodwill towards any of these personages, who rule us
harshly, and regard us as if we were dirt under their feet. Shall
we go first to the nearest of them?"

"No, we will first call on the President of the Parliament, and
then the Judge of the High Court, then the councillors in the order
of their rank. We will visit ten in all, and see that you choose
the most important.

"Pierre, you will take charge of this man, and ride in front of us.
Keep your pistol in your hand, and shoot him through the head, if
he shows signs of trying to escape. You will remain with him when
we enter the houses.

"Have you any rope, my man?"

"Yes, my lord, I have several long ropes, with which I bind the
vegetables on my cart when I go to market."

"That will do. Bring them at once."

Pierre accompanied the man when he went to his shed. On his return
with the ropes, Philip told the men-at-arms to cut them into
lengths of eight feet, and to make a running noose at one end of
each. When this was done, they again mounted and moved on.

"When we enter the houses," he said to the two other lackeys, "you
will remain without with Pierre, and will take charge of the first
four prisoners we bring out. Put the nooses round their necks, and
draw them tight enough to let the men feel that they are there.
Fasten the other ends to your saddles, and warn them, if they put
up their hands to throw off the nooses, you will spur your horses
into a gallop. That threat will keep them quiet enough."

In a quarter of an hour they arrived at the gate of a large and
handsome villa. Philip ordered his men to dismount, and fasten up
their horses.

"You will remain here, in charge of the horses," he said to the
lackeys; and then, with the men-at-arms, he went up to the house.

Two of them were posted at the back entrance, two at the front,
with orders to let no one issue out. Then with his dagger he opened
the shutters of one of the windows and, followed by the other six
men, entered. The door was soon found and, opening it, they found
themselves in a hall where a hanging light was burning.

Several servants were asleep on the floor. These started up, with
exclamations of alarm, at seeing seven men with drawn swords.

"Silence!" Philip said sternly, "or this will be your last moment.

"Roger and Jules, do you take each one of these lackeys by the
collar. That is right. Now, put your pistols to their heads.

"Now, my men, lead us at once to your master's chamber.

"Eustace, light one of these torches on the wall at the lamp, and
bring it along with you.

"Henri, do you also come with us.

"The rest of you stay here, and guard these lackeys. Make them sit
down. If any of them move, run him through without hesitation."

At this moment an angry voice was heard shouting above.

"What is all this disturbance about! If I hear another sound, I
will discharge you all in the morning."

Philip gave a loud and derisive laugh, which had the effect he had
anticipated for, directly afterwards, a man in a loose dressing
gown ran into the hall.

"What does this mean, you rascals?" he shouted angrily, as he
entered.

Then he stopped, petrified with astonishment.

[Illustration: If you move a step, you are a dead man.]

"It means this," Philip said, levelling a pistol at him, "that if
you move a step, you are a dead man."

"You must be mad," the president gasped. "Do you know who I am?"

"Perfectly, sir. You are president of the infamous parliament of
Toulouse. I am a Huguenot officer, and you are my prisoner. You
need not look so indignant; better men than you have been dragged
from their homes, to prison and death, by your orders. Now it is
your turn to be a prisoner.

"I might, if I chose, set fire to this chateau, and cut the throats
of all in it; but we do not murder in the name of God. We leave
that to you.

"Take this man away with you, Eustace. I give him into your charge.
If he struggles, or offers the least resistance, stab him to the
heart."

"You will at least give me time to dress, sir?" the president said.

"Not a moment," Philip replied. "The night is warm, and you will do
very well, as you are.

"As for you," he went on, turning to the servants, "you will remain
quiet until morning; and if any of you dare to leave the house, you
will be slain without mercy. You can assure your mistress that she
will not be long without the society of your master; for in all
probability he will be returned, safe and sound, before midday
tomorrow. One of you may fetch your master's cloak, since he seems
to fear the night air."

The doors were opened and they issued out, Philip bidding the
servants close and bar them behind them. When they reached the
horses, the prisoner was handed over to D'Arblay's lackey, who
placed the noose round his neck, and gave him warning as Philip had
instructed him. Then they set off, Pierre with the guide again
leading the way.

Before morning they had ten prisoners in their hands. In one or two
cases the servants had attempted opposition, but they were speedily
overpowered, and the captures were all effected without loss of
life. The party then moved away about a mile, and the prisoners
were allowed to sit down. Several of them were elderly men, and
Philip picked these out, by the light of two torches they had
brought from the last house, and ordered the ropes to be removed
from their necks.

"I should regret, gentlemen," he said, "the indignity that I have
been forced to place upon you, had you been other than you are. It
is well, however, that you should have felt, though in a very
slight degree, something of the treatment that you have all been
instrumental in inflicting upon blameless men and women, whose only
fault was that they chose to worship God in their own way. You may
thank your good fortune at having fallen into the hands of one who
has had no dear friends murdered in the prisons of Toulouse. There
are scores of men who would have strung you up without mercy,
thinking it a righteous retribution for the pitiless cruelties of
which the parliament of Toulouse has been guilty.

"Happily for you, though I regard you with loathing as pitiless
persecutors, I have no personal wrongs to avenge. Your conscience
will tell you that, fallen as you have into the hands of Huguenots,
you could only expect death; but it is not for the purpose of
punishment that you have been captured. You are taken as hostages.
My friends, the Count de Laville and the Sieur D'Arblay, were
yesterday carried prisoners into Toulouse; and with them Monsieur
de Merouville, whose only fault was that he had afforded them a
night's shelter. His innocent wife was also dragged away with him.

"You, sir," he said to one of the prisoners, "appear to me to be
the oldest of the party. At daybreak you will be released; and will
bear, to your colleagues in the city, the news that these nine
persons are prisoners in my hands. You will state that, if any body
of men approaches this place from any quarter, these nine persons
will at once be hung up to the branches above us. You will say that
I hold them as hostages for the four prisoners, and that I demand
that these shall be sent out here, with their horses and the arms
of my two friends, and under the escort of two unarmed troopers.

"These gentlemen here will, before you start, sign a document
ordering the said prisoners at once to be released; and will also
sign a solemn undertaking, which will be handed over to Monsieur de
Merouville, pledging themselves that, should he and his wife choose
to return to their chateau, no harm shall ever happen to them; and
no accusation, of any sort, in the future be brought against them.

"I may add that, should at any time this guarantee be broken, I
shall consider it my duty, the moment I hear of the event, to
return to this neighbourhood; and assuredly I will hang the
signatories of the guarantee over their own door posts, and will
burn their villas to the ground. I know the value of oaths sworn to
Huguenots; but in this case, I think they will be kept, for I swear
to you--and I am in the habit of keeping my oaths--that if you
break your undertaking, I will not break mine."

As soon as it was daylight, Pierre produced from his saddlebag an
ink horn, paper, and pens; and the ten prisoners signed their name
to an order for the release of the four captives. They then wrote
another document, to be handed by their representative to the
governor, begging him to see that the order was executed, informing
him of the position they were in, and that their lives would
certainly be forfeited, unless the prisoners were released without
delay. They also earnestly begged him to send out orders, to the
armed forces who were searching for the Huguenots, bidding them
make no movement, whatever, until after midday.

The councillor was then mounted on a horse and escorted, by two of
the men-at-arms, to within a quarter of a mile of the nearest gate
of the city. The men were to return with his horse. The councillor
was informed that ten o'clock was the limit given for the return of
the prisoners; and that, unless they had by that hour arrived, it
would be supposed that the order for their release would not be
respected, and in that case the nine hostages would be hung
forthwith; and that, in the course of a night or two, another batch
would be carried off.

Philip had little fear, however, that there would be any
hesitation, upon the part of those in the town, in acting upon the
order signed by so many important persons; for the death of the
president, and several of the leading members of the parliament,
would create such an outcry against the governor, by their friends
and relatives, that he would not venture to refuse the release of
four prisoners, of minor importance, in order to save their lives.

After the messenger had departed, Philip had the guarantee for the
safety of Monsieur de Merouville and his wife drawn up and signed,
in duplicate.

"One of these documents," he said, "I shall give to Monsieur de
Merouville. The other I shall keep myself, so that, if this solemn
guarantee is broken, I shall have this as a justification for the
execution of the perjured men who signed it."

The time passed slowly. Some of the prisoners walked anxiously and
impatiently to and fro, looking continually towards the town.
Others sat in gloomy silence, too humiliated at their present
position even to talk to one another.

The soldiers, on the contrary, were in high spirits. They rejoiced
at the prospect of the return of their two leaders, and they felt
proud of having taken part in such an exploit as the capture of the
chief men of the dreaded parliament of Toulouse. Four of them kept
a vigilant guard over the prisoners. The rest ate their breakfast
with great gusto, and laughed and joked at the angry faces of some
of their prisoners.

It was just nine o'clock when a small group of horsemen were seen
in the distance.

"I think there are six of them, sir," Eustace said.

"That is the right number, Eustace. The lady is doubtless riding
behind her husband. Two men are the escort, and the other is, no
doubt, the councillor we released, who is now acting as guide to
this spot.

"Bring my horse, Pierre," and, mounting, Philip rode off to meet
the party.

He was soon able to make out the figures of Francois and D'Arblay
and, putting his horse to a gallop, was speedily alongside of them.

"What miracle is this?" Monsieur D'Arblay asked, after the first
greeting was over. "At present we are all in a maze. We were in
separate dungeons, and the prospect looked as hopeless as it could
well do; when the doors opened and an officer, followed by two
soldiers bearing our armour and arms, entered and told us to attire
ourselves. What was meant we could not imagine. We supposed we were
going to be led before some tribunal; but why they should arm us,
before taking us there, was more than we could imagine.

"We met in the courtyard of the prison, and were stupefied at
seeing our horses saddled and bridled there, and Monsieur De
Merouville and his wife already mounted. Two unarmed troopers were
also there, and this gentleman, who said sourly:

"'Mount, sirs, I am going to lead you to your friends.'

"We looked at each other, to see if we were dreaming, but you may
imagine we were not long in leaping into our saddles.

"This gentleman has not been communicative. In fact, by his manner,
I should say he is deeply disgusted at the singular mission with
which he was charged; and on the ride here Francois, Monsieur de
Merouville, and myself have exhausted ourselves in conjectures as
to how this miracle has come about."

"Wait two or three minutes longer," Philip said, with a smile.
"When you get to yonder trees, you will receive an explanation."

Francois and Monsieur D'Arblay gazed in surprise at the figures of
nine men, all in scanty raiments, wrapped up in cloaks, and
evidently guarded by the men-at-arms, who set up a joyous shout as
they rode in. Monsieur de Merouville uttered an exclamation of
astonishment, as he recognized the dreaded personages collected
together in such a plight.

"Monsieur de Merouville," Philip said, "I believe you know these
gentlemen by sight.

"Monsieur D'Arblay and Francois, you are not so fortunate as to be
acquainted with them; and I have pleasure in introducing to you the
President of the Parliament of Toulouse, the Judge of the High
Court, and other councillors, all gentlemen of consideration. It
has been my misfortune to have had to treat these gentlemen with
scant courtesy, but the circumstances left me no choice.

"Monsieur de Merouville, here is a document, signed by these nine
gentlemen, giving a solemn undertaking that you and Madame shall
be, in future, permitted to reside in your chateau without the
slightest let or hindrance; and that you shall suffer no
molestation, whatever, either on account of this affair, or on the
question of religion. I have a duplicate of this document; and
have, on my part, given an undertaking that, if its terms are
broken I will, at whatever inconvenience to myself, return to this
neighbourhood, hang these ten gentlemen if I can catch them, and at
any rate burn their chateaux to the ground. Therefore I think, as
you have their undertaking and mine, you can without fear return
home; but this, of course, I leave to yourself to decide.

"Gentlemen, you are now free to return to your homes; and I trust
this lesson--that we, on our part, can strike, if necessary--will
have some effect in moderating your zeal for persecution."

Without a word, the president and his companions walked away in a
body. The troopers began to jeer and laugh, but Philip held up his
hand for silence.

"There need be no extra scorn," he said. "These gentlemen have been
sufficiently humiliated."

"And you really fetched all these good gentlemen from their beds,"
D'Arblay said, bursting into a fit of laughter. "Why, it was worth
being taken prisoner, were it only for the sake of seeing them.
They looked like a number of old owls, suddenly disturbed by
daylight--some of them round eyed with astonishment, some of them
hissing menacingly. By my faith, Philip, it will go hard with you,
if you ever fall into the hands of those worthies.

"But a truce to jokes. We owe you our lives, Philip; of that there
is not a shadow of doubt. Though I have no more fear than another
of death in battle, I own that I have a dread of being tortured and
burned. It was a bold stroke, thus to carry off the men who have
been the leaders of the persecution against us."

"There was nothing in the feat, if it can be called a feat," Philip
said. "Of course, directly we heard that you had been seized and
carried into Toulouse, I cast about for the best means to save you.
To attempt it by force would have been simple madness; and any
other plan would have required time, powerful friends, and a
knowledge of the city, and even then we should probably have failed
to get you out of prison. This being so, it was evident that the
best plan was to seize some of the citizens of importance, who
might serve as hostages. There was no difficulty in finding out,
from a small cultivator, who were the principal men living outside
the walls; and their capture was as easy a business. Scarcely a
blow was struck, and no lives lost, in capturing the whole of
them."

"But some of the men are missing," D'Arblay said.

"Yes; five of your men, I am sorry to say. On getting back to the
wood after dark I sent them, as you ordered, to fetch you from
Monsieur de Merouville's; but of course you had been captured
before that, and they fell into an ambush that was laid for them,
and were all killed."

"That is a bad business, Philip.

"Well, Monsieur de Merouville, will you go with us, or will you
trust in this safeguard?"

"In the first place, you have not given me a moment's opportunity
of thanking this gentleman; not only for having saved the lives of
my wife and myself, but for the forethought and consideration with
which he has, in the midst of his anxiety for you and Monsieur de
Laville, shown for us who were entire strangers to him.

"Be assured, Monsieur Fletcher, that we are deeply grateful. I hope
that some time in the future, should peace ever again be restored
to France, we may be able to meet you again, and express more
warmly the obligations we feel towards you."

Madame de Merouville added a few words of gratitude, and then
D'Arblay broke in with:

"De Merouville, you must settle at once whether to go with us, or
stay on the faith of this safeguard. We have no such protection
and, if we linger here, we shall be having half a dozen troops of
horse after us. You may be sure they will be sent off, as soon as
the president and his friends reach the city; and if we were caught
again, we should be in an even worse plight than before. Do you
talk it over with Madame and, while you are doing so, Francois and
I will drink a flask of wine, and eat anything we can find here;
for they forgot to give us breakfast before they sent us off, and
it is likely we shall not have another opportunity, for some
hours."

"What do you think, Monsieur Fletcher?" Monsieur de Merouville
said, after speaking for a few minutes with his wife; "will they
respect this pledge? If not we must go, but we are both past the
age when we can take up life anew. My property would, of course, be
confiscated, and we should be penniless among strangers."

"I think they will respect the pledge," Philip replied. "I assured
them, so solemnly, that any breach of their promises would be
followed by prompt vengeance upon themselves and their homes, that
I feel sure they will not run the risk. Two or three among them
might possibly do so, but the others would restrain them. I believe
that you can safely return; and that, for a long time, at any rate,
you will be unmolested.

"Still, if I might advise, I should say sell your property, as soon
as you can find a purchaser at any reasonable price; and then
remove, either to La Rochelle or cross the sea to England. You may
be sure that there will be a deep and bitter hatred against you, by
those whose humiliation you have witnessed."

"Thank you. I will follow your advice, Monsieur Fletcher; and I
hope that I may, ere long, have the pleasure of seeing you, and of
worthily expressing our deep sense of the debt of gratitude we owe
you."

Five minutes later the troop mounted and rode away, while Monsieur
de Merouville, with his wife behind him, started for home.

"I hope, Francois," D'Arblay said, as they galloped off from the
wood, "that the next time I ride on an expedition your kinsman may
again be with me, for he has wit and resources that render him a
valuable companion, indeed."

"I had great hopes, even when I was in prison, and things looked
almost as bad as they could be," Francois said, "that Philip would
do something to help us. I had much faith in his long headedness;
and so has the countess, my mother. She said to me, when we
started:

"'You are older than Philip, Francois; but you will act wisely if,
in cases of difficulty, you defer your opinions to his. His
training has given him self reliance and judgment, and he has been
more in the habit of thinking for himself than you have,' and
certainly he has fully justified her opinion.

"Where do you propose to ride next, D'Arblay?"

"For La Rochelle. I shall not feel safe until I am within the
walls. Presidents of Parliament, judges of High Court, and
dignified functionaries are not to be dragged from their beds with
impunity. Happily it will take them an hour and a half to walk back
to the town; or longer, perhaps, for they will doubtless go first
to their own homes. They will never show themselves, in such sorry
plight, in the streets of the city where they are accustomed to
lord it; so we may count on at least two hours before they can take
any steps. After that, they will move heaven and earth to capture
us. They will send out troops of horse after us, and messengers to
every city in the province, calling upon the governors to take
every means to seize us.

"We have collected a good sum of money, and carried out the greater
portion of our mission. We shall only risk its loss, as well as the
loss of our own lives, by going forward. The horses are fresh, and
we will put as many miles between us and Toulouse as they can carry
us, before nightfall."

The return journey was accomplished without misadventure. They made
no more halts than were required to rest their horses and,
travelling principally at night, they reached La Rochelle without
having encountered any body of the enemy.

While they had been absent, the army of Conde and the Admiral had
marched into Lorraine and, eluding the forces that barred his
march, effected a junction with the German men-at-arms who had been
brought to their aid by the Duke Casimir, the second son of the
Elector Palatine. However, the Germans refused to march a step
farther, unless they received the pay that had been agreed upon
before they started.

Conde's treasury was empty, and he had no means, whatever, of
satisfying their demand. In vain Duke Casimir, himself, tried to
persuade his soldiers to defer their claims, and to trust their
French co-religionists to satisfy their demands, later on. They
were unanimous in their refusal to march a step, until they
obtained their money.

The Admiral then addressed himself to his officers and soldiers. He
pointed out to them that, at the present moment, everything
depended upon their obtaining the assistance of the Germans--who
were, indeed, only demanding their rights, according to the
agreement that had been made with them--and he implored them to
come to the assistance of the prince and himself at this crisis. So
great was his influence among his soldiers that his appeal was
promptly and generally acceded to, and officers and men alike
stripped themselves of their chains, jewels, money, and valuables
of all kinds, and so made up the sum required to satisfy the
Germans.

As soon as this important affair had been settled, the united army
turned its face again westward; with the intention of giving
battle, anew, under the walls of Paris. It was, however, terribly
deficient in artillery, powder, and stores of all kinds and, the
military chest being empty and the soldiers without pay, it was
necessary, on the march, to exact contributions from the small
Catholic towns and villages through which the army marched and, in
spite of the orders of the Admiral, a certain amount of pillage was
carried on by the soldiers.

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