Richard Runciman Terry - "The Shanty Book, Part I, Sailor Shanties"

Thomas Carlyle - "Sartor Resartus, and On Heroes, Hero Worship, and the Heroic in History"

Theodor Storm - "Aquis Submersus"

Matilda Betham - "Poems"

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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"It may be so, master. If it is, no harm is done. I have laid out a
few crowns uselessly, and there is an end of it. But if it should
not be a nightmare, but a real positive danger, you would at least
be prepared for it; and those few crowns may be the saving of our
lives."

Philip walked up and down the room for some time.

"At any rate, Pierre, you have acted wisely. As you say, the cost
is as nothing; and though my reason revolts against a belief in
this nightmare of yours, I am not such a fool as to refuse to pay
any attention to it. I know that you are no coward, and certainly
not one to indulge in wild fancies.

"Let us go a step farther. Suppose that all this should turn out
true, and that you, I, and--and some lady--are in disguise in the
midst of a howling mob shouting, 'Death to the Huguenots!' What
should we do next? Where should we go?

"It seems to me that your disguise for me is a badly chosen one. As
a monk, how could I keep with you as a beggar, still less with a
woman?"

"When I bought the monk's robe I had not thought of a woman,
monsieur. That was an afterthought. But what you say is just. I
must get you another disguise. You shall be dressed as a butcher,
or a smith."

"Let it be a smith, by all means, Pierre. Besides, it would be
safer. I would smear my face with dirt. I should get plenty on my
hands from climbing over the roofs.

"Let us suppose ourselves, then, in the mob. What should we do
next?"

"That would all depend, sir, whether the soldiers follow the Guises
and take part with the mob in their rising. If so, Paris would be
in a turmoil from end to end, and the gates closed. I have thought
it all over, again and again; and while your worship has been
attending the entertainments, I have been walking about Paris.

"If it is at night I should say we had best make for the river,
take a boat and drift down; or else make for the walls, and lower
ourselves by a rope from them. If it is in the day we could not do
that; and I have found a hovel, at present untenanted, close to the
walls, and we could wait there until night."

"You will end by making me believe this, Pierre," Philip said
angrily, as he again walked up and down the room, with impatient
steps. "If you had a shadow of foundation for what you say, even a
rumour that you had picked up in the street, I would go straight to
the Admiral. But how could I go and say:

"'My servant, who is a faithful fellow, has taken it into his head
that there is danger from an attack on us by the mob.'

"What think you the Admiral would say to that? He would say that it
was next door to treason to imagine such things, and that if men
were to act upon such fancies as these, they would be fit only for
hospitals for the insane. Moreover he would say that, even if you
had evidence, even if you had something to show that treachery was
meant, he would still, in the interest of France, stay at his post
of duty."

At this moment the door opened, and Francois de Laville entered
hurriedly.

"What is the matter, Francois?" Philip exclaimed, seeing that his
cousin looked pale and agitated.

"Have you not heard the news?"

"I have heard nothing. I have not been out this morning."

"The Admiral has been shot."

Philip uttered an exclamation of horror.

"Not killed, Francois; not killed, I trust?"

"No; two balls were fired, one took off a finger of his right hand,
and another has lodged in his left arm. He had just left the king,
who was playing at tennis, and was walking homewards with two or
three gentlemen, when an arquebus was fired from a house not far
from his own. Two of the gentlemen with him assisted him home,
while some of the others burst in the door of the house.

"They were too late. Only a woman and a manservant were found
there. The assassin had fled by the back of the house, where a
horse was standing in waiting. It is said that the house belongs to
the old Duchess of Guise.

"It is half an hour since the news reached the palace, and you may
imagine the consternation it excited. The king has shut himself up
in his room. Navarre and Conde are in deep grief, for they both
regard the Admiral almost as a father. As for the rest of us, we
are furious.

"There is a report that the man who was seen galloping away from
the house from which the shot was fired was that villain Maurevel,
who so treacherously shot De Mouy, and was rewarded by the king for
the deed. It is also said that a groom, in the livery of Guise, was
holding the horse when the assassin issued out.

"Navarre and Conde have gone to Coligny. The king's surgeon is
dressing his wounds."



Chapter 20: The Tocsin.


As soon as Francois had finished his account of the attempted
assassination of the Admiral, he and Philip sallied out, the latter
having hastily armed himself.

"I must go back to the Louvre," Francois said, "and take my place
by the King of Navarre. He is going to see the king, and to demand
permission to leave Paris at once. Conde and La Rochefoucault are
going to see the king, as soon as they return from the Admiral's,
for the same purpose; as it is evident their lives are not safe
here."

Philip made his way to the Admiral's house in the Rue de Bethisy.
Numbers of Huguenot gentlemen were hurrying in that direction; all,
like himself, armed, and deeply moved with grief and indignation;
for Coligny was regarded with a deep affection, as well as
reverence, by his followers. Each, as he overtook others, eagerly
inquired the news; for as yet most of them had learned nothing
beyond vague rumours of the affair.

Philip's account of it increased their indignation. So it was no
act of a mere fanatic, but the work of the Guises, and probably of
Catharine and Anjou.

In a short time between two and three hundred gentlemen were
gathered in the courtyard and antechamber of Coligny's house. Some
walked up and down, silent and stern. Others gathered in groups,
and passionately discussed the matter. This was an attack not only
upon the Admiral but upon the Huguenots in general. It was the work
of the Guises, ever the deadliest foes of the Reformed faith--the
authors of every measure taken against them, the cause of all the
blood that had been shed in the civil wars.

One thing was certain: all must leave Paris, and prepare for a
renewal of the war. But it was equally certain they could not leave
until the Admiral was fit to be moved.

"Truly he is a saint," said one of the gentlemen, who had come down
from the room where Coligny was lying. "He suffered atrociously in
the hands of the surgeon, for he had come without his instruments,
and amputated Coligny's fingers with a dagger so blunt that it was
only on the third attempt that he succeeded. Merlin, his minister,
was by his side, with several of his most intimate friends. We were
in tears at the sight of our noble chief thus traitorously struck
down. He turned to us and said calmly:

"'My friends, why do you weep? As for me, I deem myself happy at
having thus received wounds for the sake of God.'

"Then he said that, most sincerely, he forgave the man who wounded
him, and those who had instigated him to make the attack; knowing
for certain that it was beyond their power to hurt him for, even
should they kill him, death would be a certain passage to life."

An hour later Francois arrived.

"The prince has seen the king, Philip. He is furious, and has sworn
that he will inflict the most signal punishment upon the authors
and instigators of the crime: Coligny had received the wound, but
he himself most felt the smart. The King of Navarre told me he was
sure that Charles was deeply in earnest. He feels it in a threefold
sense: first, because it is the renewal of the troubles that he had
hoped had been put an end to; in the second place, because Coligny
is his guest; and lastly, because he has the greatest respect and
confidence in him, not only believing in his wisdom, but knowing
that his counsel is always sincere and disinterested.

"He is coming to visit the Admiral himself, this afternoon, Philip.
It is no use our staying here. There is nothing to be done, and no
prospect of seeing the Admiral."

As they moved towards the entrance to the courtyard, the Count de
Valecourt joined them.

"I have just left the Admiral," he said. "He is easier, and the
king's surgeon is of opinion that he will recover from his wounds,
and possibly may be fit to travel in a litter, in another week."

"That is good news, indeed," Francois said; "for the sooner we are
all out of Paris, the better."

"There is no doubt of that," the count agreed; "but as all say that
the king is furious at this attack upon the Admiral, I do not think
the Guises dare strike another blow for some time. Still, I shall
be glad, indeed, when we can set forth.

"It is certain we cannot leave the Admiral here. The villains who
are responsible for the attempt will be furious at its failure, and
next time they may use the weapon to which they are most
accustomed--poison. Even if the king himself begged him to stay at
the Louvre, until cured, Catharine de Medici is there; and I would
not trust him under the same roof with her, for all my estates.

"We have been talking it over, and all agree that we must wait
until he can be moved. Inconstant as Charles is, there can be no
fear of a change in his friendly intentions now. He has already
closed all the gates of Paris save two, and everyone who goes in or
out is closely questioned, and has to show his papers."

By this time, they had arrived at the door of the count's dwelling.

"Come in, monsieur," he said. "My daughter is terribly upset at
this attack upon the Admiral, for whom she has a profound reverence
and, were she a Catholic, would, I doubt not, make him her patron
saint."

"How is he, father?" Claire asked eagerly, as they entered the
room.

"He is better, Claire. The king's physician thinks he has every
chance of recovering."

"God be praised!" she said earnestly. "It would indeed have been a
terrible day for us all, had the assassin taken his life; and it
would have seemed a mark of Heaven's anger at this marriage of the
Protestant king with a Catholic princess. What says King Charles?"

"He is as angry as any of us; and declares that the assassin, and
those who abetted him, shall be punished in the severest manner. He
has visited the Admiral, and expressed his grief and indignation to
him."

"I shall be glad to be back in Dauphiny, father. This city, with
its wickedness and its violence, is hateful to me."

"We shall go soon, dear. The doctor hopes that, in a week, the
Admiral will be well enough to be moved in a litter; and we shall
all accompany him."

"A week is a long time, father. So much may happen in a week."

"There is no fear of anything happening, Claire. You must not let
this sad business affect your nerves. The anger of the king is so
great that you may be sure none will attempt to repeat this stroke.

"What think you, Monsieur de Laville?"

"I agree with you altogether, count."

"And you, Monsieur Philip?"

"I see no cause for fear, count; and yet, I feel sure that it would
be well to take every precaution. I acknowledge that I have no
grounds whatever for my fear. I have been infected by my lackey,
who is generally the lightest hearted and most reckless fellow; but
who has now turned croaker, and fears a sudden rising of the mob of
Paris, instigated thereto by the Guises."

"Has he heard anything to favour such an idea, or is it merely born
of today's outrage?"

"No, I think he has heard nothing specific, though he may have
caught up vague threats in wandering through the streets."

"Why, that is not like you," the count said, smiling, "who have
been through so many fights and dangerous adventures, to be alarmed
at a shadow."

"No, count, I do not think that I am given, any more than is my
lackey, to sombre thoughts; but I own that he has infected me, and
I would that some precautions could be taken."

"Precautions of what kind, Monsieur Philip?"

"I have not thought them out," Philip said; "but, were I the next
in rank to the Admiral, I would enjoin that a third of our number
should be under arms, night and day, and should at night patrol our
quarters; secondly, that a rallying place should be appointed, say
at the Admiral's, to which all should mount and ride, directly an
alarm is given."

"The first part could hardly be managed, here," the count said
gravely. "It would seem that we doubted the royal assurances of
good faith, and his promises of protection. We have enemies enough
about the king's ear, and such a proceeding would be surely
misrepresented to him. You know how wayward are his moods, and that
it would need but a slight thing to excite his irritation, and undo
all the good that the Admiral has effected."

Two or three other Huguenot gentlemen now entered, and a general
conversation on the state of affairs took place. Philip was
standing a little apart from the others, when Claire came up to
him.

"You really believe in danger, Monsieur Philip?"

"Frankly I do, mademoiselle. The population hate us. There have
been Huguenot massacres over and over again in Paris. The Guises
are doubtless the instigators of this attack on the Admiral. They
are the idols of the Paris mob and, if they gave the word, it would
at once rise against us. As I told your father, I have no real
reason for uneasiness, but nevertheless I am uneasy."

"Then the danger must be real," the girl said simply. "Have you any
advice to give me?"

"Only this. You have but a week to stay here in Paris. During that
time, make excuses so as not to stir abroad in the streets more
than you can help; and in the second place I would say, lie down in
your clothes at night, so as to be in readiness to rise,
instantly."

"I will do that," she said. "There is nothing else?"

"Nothing that I can think of. I hope and trust that the emergency
will not come; but at any rate, until it does come, we can do no
more."

A few minutes later, Philip and his cousin took their leave. The
former went back to his lodgings, the latter to the Louvre. Philip
was surprised at not finding Pierre, and sat up later than usual,
expecting his return; but it was not till he was rising next
morning that the man made his appearance.

"Why, where have you been all night?" Philip asked angrily. "This
is not the time for pleasure."

"I have been outside the walls, master," Pierre said.

"What in the world did you go there for, Pierre?"

"Well, sir, I was here when Monsieur de Laville brought in the news
of the shooting of the Admiral. This seemed, to me, to bear out all
that I have said to you. You hurried away without my having time to
speak to you, so I took it upon myself to act."

"In what way, Pierre?"

"I went straight to the stables, sir, and took one of your honour's
chargers and my horse and, riding one and leading the other, passed
out through the gate before the orders came about closing. I rode
them to a village, six miles away; and put them up at a small inn
there, and left them in the landlord's charge. I did not forget to
tell the stable boy that he should have a crown for himself if, on
my return, I found the horses in as good condition as I left them.

"Then I walked back to Paris, and found a crowd of people unable to
enter, and learned that the gates had been closed by the king's
order. I went off to Saint Denis, and there bought a long rope and
an iron hook; and at two in the morning, when I thought that any
sentries there might be on the walls would be drowsy, came back
again to Paris, threw up my hook, and climbed into one of the
bastions near the hut we had marked. There I slept until the
morning, and now you see me.

"I have taken out the horses so that, should you be obliged to fly,
there would be means of escape. One charger will suffice for your
wants here, and to ride away upon if you go out with the Huguenot
company, whether peacefully or by force of arms. As for me, I would
make my way there on foot, get the horses, and rejoin you."

"It was a good idea, Pierre, and promptly carried out. But no one
here has much thought of danger, and I feel ashamed of myself at
being the only one to feel uneasy."

"The wise man is uneasy while the fool sleeps," Pierre said. "If
the Prince of Conde had been uneasy, the night before Jarnac, he
would not have lost his life, and we should not have lost a battle.
No harm has been done. If danger does come, we at least are
prepared for it."

"You are quite right, Pierre. However surely he may count upon
victory, a good general always lays his plans in case of defeat. At
any rate, we have prepared for everything."

Pierre muttered something to himself.

"What do you say, Pierre?"

"I was only saying, master, that I should feel pretty confident of
our getting away, were there only our two selves to think of. What
with our disguises, and what with your honour's strong arm--and
what I can do to back you--and what with our being on our guard, it
would be hard if we did not make our way safe off. But I foresee
that, should there be trouble, it is not of your own safety you
will be thinking."

"Mademoiselle de Valecourt is engaged to the Sieur de Pascal,"
Philip said gravely.

"So I heard, from one of the count's lackeys; but there is many a
slip between the cup and the lip, and in such days as these there
is many an engagement that never becomes a marriage. I guessed how
it would be, that night after you had saved Mademoiselle Claire's
life; and I thought so, still more, when we were staying at
Valecourt."

"Then your thoughts ran too fast, Pierre. Mademoiselle de Valecourt
is a great heiress; and the count should, of course, give her in
marriage to one of his own rank."

Pierre shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly.

"Your honour is doubtless right," he said humbly; "and therefore,
seeing that she has her father and Monsieur de Pascal to protect
her, we need not trouble more about those articles of attire stowed
away on the roof above; but shall be able to concern ourselves
solely with our own safety, which puts a much better complexion on
the affair."

"The whole matter is ridiculous, Pierre," Philip said angrily, "and
I am a fool to have listened to you. There, go and see about
breakfast, or I shall lose my patience with you, altogether."

There were several consultations, during the day, between the
leading Huguenots. There was no apparent ground for suspicion that
the attack upon the Admiral had been a part of any general plot,
and it was believed that it was but the outcome of the animosity of
the Guises, and the queen mother, against a man who had long
withstood them, who was now higher than themselves in the king's
confidence, and who had persuaded him to undertake an enterprise
that would range France on the side of the Protestant powers. The
balance of evidence is all in favour of the truth of this
supposition, and to the effect that it was only upon the failure of
their scheme, against the Admiral, that the conspirators determined
upon a general massacre of the Huguenots.

They worked upon the weak king's mind, until they persuaded him
that Coligny was at the head of a plot against himself; and that
nothing short of his death, and those of his followers, could
procure peace and quiet for France. At last, in a sudden access of
fury, Charles not only ranged himself on their side, but astonished
Catharine, Anjou, and their companions by going even farther than
they had done, and declaring that every Huguenot should be killed.
This sudden change, and his subsequent conduct during the few
months that remained to him of life, seem to point to the fact that
this fresh access of trouble shattered his weak brain, and that he
was not fairly responsible for the events that followed--the guilt
of which rests wholly upon Catharine de Medici, Henry of Anjou, and
the leaders of the party of the Guises.

Philip spent a considerable portion of the day at the Louvre with
Henry of Navarre, Francois de Laville, and a few of the young
king's closest followers. There was no shadow of disquiet in the
minds of any of them. The doctors reported that the Admiral's state
was favourable; and although all would have been glad to be on
their way south, they regarded the detention of a few days as a
matter of little importance. Listening to their talk about the
court entertainments and pleasures, Philip quite shook off his
uneasiness, and was angry with himself for having listened to
Pierre's prognostications of evil.

"All these Huguenot lords know France and the Parisians better than
I do," he said to himself. "No thought of danger occurs to them. It
is not even thought necessary that a few of them should take up
their abode at the Admiral's. They have every faith in the king's
protestations and pledges for their safety."

Philip dined at the Louvre, and it was ten o'clock before he
returned to his lodging. He was in excellent spirits, and saluted
Pierre with the laughing inquiry:

"Well, bird of ill omen, what fresh plottings have you discovered?"

"You do not believe me, master, when I tell you," Pierre said
gravely.

"Oh, then, there is something new?" Philip said, seating himself on
a couch. "Let me hear all about it, Pierre, and I will try not to
laugh."

"Will you descend with me to the door, Monsieur Philip?"

"Assuredly I will, if it will please you; though what you are going
to show me there, I cannot imagine."

Pierre led the way downstairs and out through the door.

"Do you see that, sir?"

"Yes, I see that, Pierre."

"What do you take it to be, sir?"

"Well, it is not too dark to see what it is, Pierre. It is a small
white cross that some urchin has chalked on the door."

"Will you please to walk a little farther, sir? There is a cross on
this door. There is none here, neither on the next. Here you see
another, and then a door without one. Now, sir, does not that
strike you as curious?"

"Well, I don't know, Pierre. A boy might very well chalk some
doors, as he went along, and leave others untouched."

"Yes, sir. But there is one very remarkable thing. I have gone on
through several streets, and it has always been the same--so far as
I can discover by questioning the concierges--at every house in
which Huguenots are lodging, there is a white cross on the door. In
the houses that are not so marked, there are no Huguenots."

"That is strange, certainly, Pierre," Philip said, struck alike by
the fact and by the earnestness with which Pierre expressed it.
"Are you quite sure of what you say?"

"I am quite sure, sir. I returned here at nine o'clock, and saw
this mark on our door. I did not pay much heed to it, but went
upstairs. Then, as I thought it over, I said to myself, 'Is this a
freak of some passerby, or is it some sort of signal?' Then I
thought I would see whether our house alone was marked, or whether
there were crosses on other doors. I went to the houses of several
gentlemen of our party, and on each of their doors was a white
cross. Then I looked farther, and found that other houses were
unmarked. At some of these I knocked and asked for one or other of
your friends. In each case I heard that I was mistaken, for that no
Huguenots were lodging there."

[Illustration: That cross is placed there by design.]

"It is evident, sir, that this is not a thing of chance, but that
these crosses are placed there by design."

Philip went down the street, and satisfied himself that Pierre had
spoken correctly; and then returned to his lodgings, pausing,
however, before the house of the Count de Valecourt, and erasing
the cross upon it. He entered his own door without touching the
mark; but Pierre, who followed him in, rubbed the sleeve of his
doublet across it, unnoticed by his master, and then followed him
upstairs.

Philip seated himself thoughtfully.

"I like not these marks, Pierre. There may be nothing of importance
in them. Some fanatic may have taken the trouble to place these
crosses upon our doors, cursing us as he did so. But at the same
time, I cannot deny that they may have been placed there for some
set purpose, of which I am ignorant. Hitherto there has been
nothing, whatever, to give any foundation to your fancies; but here
is at least something tangible, whatever it may mean. What is your
own idea?"

"My own idea is, sir, that they intend to arrest all the Admiral's
followers; and that the king, while speaking us fair, is really
guided by Catharine, and has consented to her plans for the capture
of all the Huguenot lords who have come into this trap."

"I cannot believe that such an act of black treachery can be
contemplated, Pierre. All Europe would cry out against the king
who, inviting numbers of his nobles to the marriage of his sister,
seized that occasion for imprisoning them."

"It may not be done by him, sir. It may be the work of the Guises'
agents among the mob of Paris; and that they intend to massacre us,
as they did at Rouen and a score of other places, and as they have
done here in Paris more than once."

"That is as hard to believe as the other, Pierre. My own
supposition is by far the most probable, that it is the work of
some fanatic; but at any rate, we will be on the watch tonight. It
is too late to do anything else and, were I to go round to our
friends, they would mock at me for paying any attention to such a
trifle as a chalk mark on a door.

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