Byron - "Byron's Poetical Works, Vol. 1"

Frank Hamilton Cushing - "Zuni Fetiches"

Mary Hallock Foote - "In Exile and Other Stories"

Amelia Edith Barr - "A Daughter of Fife"

Editorial
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.

Victorian Worthies

G >> George Henry Blore >> Victorian Worthies




Apart from this critical period, life at Darmstadt bored him
considerably. His presence there was valued highly by Queen Victoria,
one of whose daughters had married the Grand Duke; but Morier felt
himself to be in a backwater, far from the main stream of European
politics, and society there was dull. So he welcomed in 1871 his
transference first to Stuttgart, and a few months later to Munich, the
capital of the second state in the new Empire and a great centre of
literary culture. Here lived Dr. Doellinger, historian and divine, a man
suspected at Rome for his liberal Catholicism even before his definite
severance from the Roman Church, but honoured everywhere else for the
width and depth of his knowledge. With him Morier enjoyed many
conversations on Church councils and other subjects which interested
them both; and in 1874, lured by the prospect of such society, Gladstone
paid him a visit of ten days. Morier did not admire Gladstone's conduct
of foreign policy, but he was open-minded enough to recognize his great
gifts and to enjoy his company, and he writes home with enthusiasm about
his conversational powers. A still more welcome visitor in 1873 was
Jowett, his old Oxford friend, who never lost his place in Morier's
affections.

Among these delights he retained his vigilance in political matters, and
there was often need for it, since the German Government was now
developing that habit of 'rattling its sword', and threatening its
neighbours with war, which disquieted Europe for another forty years.
The worst crisis came in 1875, when Morier heard on good authority that
the military clique at Berlin were gaining ground, and seemed likely to
persuade the Emperor William to force on a second war, expressly to
prevent France recovering its strength. In general the credit for
checking this sinister move is given to the Tsar; but English influences
played a large part in the matter. Morier managed to catch the Crown
Prince on his way south to Italy and had a long talk with him in the
railway train. The Crown Prince was known to be a true lover of peace,
but capable of being hoodwinked by Bismarck; once convinced that the
danger was real (and he trusted Morier as he trusted no German in his
entourage), he returned to Berlin and threw all his weight into the
scale of peace. Queen Victoria also wrote from London; and, in face of a
possible coalition against them, the Germans decided that it was wisest
to abstain from all aggression.

A new period opened in his life when he left German courts, never to
return officially, and became the responsible head of Her Majesty's
Legation at the Portuguese Court. His five years spent at Lisbon cannot
be counted as one of his most fruitful periods, despite 'the large
settlement of African affairs', which Lord Granville tells us that
Morier had suggested to his predecessors in Whitehall. For the big
schemes which he planned he could get no continuous backing at home,
either in political or commercial circles. For the petty routine England
hardly needed a man of such outstanding ability. Of necessity his work
consisted often in tedious investigation of claims advanced by
individual Englishmen, whether they were suffering from money losses or
from summary procedure at the hands of the Portuguese police. Of the
diplomatic questions which arose many proved to be shadowy and unreal.
Something could be done, even in remote Portugal, to improve
Anglo-Russian relations by a minister who had friends in so many
European capitals. The politics of Pio Nono and the Papal Curia often
find an echo in his correspondence. Here, too, as elsewhere, the
intrigues of Germany had to be watched, though Morier was sensible
enough to discriminate between the deliberate policy of Bismarck and the
manoeuvres of those whom he 'allowed to do what they liked and say what
they liked--or rather to do what they thought _he_ would like done, and
say what they thought _he_ would like said--and then suddenly sent them
about their business to ponder in poverty and disgrace on the mutability
of human affairs'. In a passage like this Morier's letters show that he
could distinguish between a lion and his jackals, between 'policy' and
'intrigue'.

Had it not been for Germany and German suggestions, Portuguese
politicians would perhaps have been free from the fears which loomed
darkest on their horizon--the fears of an 'Iberian policy' which Spain
was supposed to be pursuing. In reality the leading men at Madrid knew
that they had little to gain by letting loose the superior Spanish army
against Portugal and trying to form the whole peninsula into a single
state. Morier, at any rate, made it clear that England would throw the
whole weight of her power against such treatment of her oldest ally. But
alarmist politicians were perpetually harping on this string, and
Morier, in a letter written in 1876, compares them to 'children telling
ghost-stories to one another who have got frightened at the sound of
their own voices, and mistake the rattling of a mouse behind the
wainscot for the tramping of legions on the march'.

To Morier it seemed that the important part of his work concerned South
Africa, in which, at the time, Portugal and Great Britain were the
European powers most interested. It was in 1877 that Sir Theophilus
Shepstone annexed the Transvaal, and many people, in Europe and Africa,
were talking as if this must lead to the expropriation of the Portuguese
at Delagoa Bay. Morier himself was as far as possible from the
imperialism which would ride rough-shod over a weaker neighbour. In
fact, he pleaded strongly for British approval of the pride which
Portugal felt in her traditions and of her desire to cling to what she
had preserved from the past. Once break this down, he said, and we
should see Portuguese dominions put up for auction, and England might
not always prove to be the highest bidder. Friendly co-operation, joint
development of railways, and commercial treaties commended themselves
better to his judgement, and he was prepared to spend a large part even
of his holidays in England in working out the details of such treaties.
He studied the people among whom he was, and did his best to lead them
gently towards reforms, whether of the slave-trade or other abuses, on
lines which could win their sympathy. He appealed to his own Foreign
Office to abstain from too many lectures, and to make the most of cases
in which the Portuguese showed promise of better things. 'This diet of
cold gruel', he says in 1878, 'must be occasionally supplemented by a
cup of generous wine, or all intimacy must die out.' Again in 1880, he
asks for a K.C.M.G. to be awarded to a Governor-General of Mozambique,
who had done his best to observe English wishes in checking the
slave-trade. 'Perpetual admonition', he says, 'and no sugar plums is bad
policy'--a maxim too often neglected when our philanthropy outruns our
discretion.

When Morier was promoted in 1881 to Madrid, he used the same tact and
geniality to lighten the burden of his task. No seasoned diplomatist
took the politics of Madrid too seriously. Though the political stage
was bigger, it was often filled by actors as petty and grasping as those
of Lisbon. The distribution to their own friends of the 'loaves and
fishes' was, as Morier says, the one steady aim of all aspirants to
power; and measures of reform, much needed in education, in commerce, in
law, were doomed to sterility by the factiousness of the men who should
have carried them out. In the absence of principles Morier had to study
the strife of parties, and his correspondence gives us lively pictures
of the eloquent Castelar, the champion of a visionary Republic, the
harsh, domineering Romero y Robledo, at once the mainstay and the terror
of his Conservative colleagues, and the cold, egotistic Liberal leader
Sagasta, whose shrewdness in the manipulation of votes had always to be
reckoned with. The constitution given in 1876 had entirely failed to
establish Parliament on a democratic basis. For this the bureaucracy was
responsible. The Home Office abused its powers shamelessly, and by the
votes of its functionaries, and of those who hoped to receive its
favours, it could always secure a big majority for the Government of
the moment. For the three years which Morier spent at Madrid, he
recounts surprising instances of the reversal of electoral verdicts
within a short space of time.

The King was popular and deserved to be so, for his personal qualities
of courage, intelligence, and public spirit; but his position was never
secure. There was a bad tradition by which at intervals the army
asserted its power and upset the constitution. Some intriguing general
issued a _pronunciamiento_, the troops revolted, and the Central
Government at Madrid, having no effective force and no moral ascendancy,
gave way. Parliament had little stability. Cabinets rose and vanished
again; the same eloquent but empty speeches were made, and the same
abuses remained unchanged.

But before now a spark from Spain had set the Continent ablaze. The past
had bequeathed some questions which, awkwardly handled, might cause
explosions elsewhere, and it was well to know the character of those who
had the key to the powder magazine. More than once Morier was approached
on the delicate question of the admission of Spain to the council of the
Great Powers. In Egypt, where so many foreign interests were involved,
and where Great Britain suffered, in the 'eighties, from so many
diplomatic intrigues, Spain might easily find an opening for her
ambitions. She might advance the plea that the Suez Canal was the direct
route to her colonies in the Philippines. Germany, for ulterior ends,
was encouraging Spanish pretensions; but, to the British, Spain with its
illiberal spirit scarcely seemed likely to prove a helpful
fellow-worker. Morier had to try to convince Spanish ministers that
Great Britain was their truer friend while refusing them what they asked
for; and in such interviews he had to know his men and to touch the
right chord in appealing to their prejudices or their patriotism. The
English tenure of Gibraltar was also a perpetual offence to Spanish
pride. Irresponsible journalists loved to expatiate on it when they had
no more spicy subject to handle. On this, as on all questions affecting
prestige only, Morier was tactful and patient. When they should come
within the range of practical politics, he could take a different tone.
But he knew that more serious dangers were arising in Morocco, where the
weakness of the Sultan's rule was tempting European powers to intervene,
and he laboured to maintain peace and goodwill not only between his own
country and Spain, but also between Spain and France. The common
accusation that the English are not 'good Europeans' was pre-eminently
untrue in his case. He realized that the interests of all were bound up
together, and used his influence, which soon became considerable, to
remove all occasions of bitterness in the European family, being fully
aware that at Berlin there was another active intelligence working by
hidden channels to keep open every festering sore.

Morier was fertile in expedients when ministers consulted him, as we see
notably on the occasion of King Alfonso's tour in 1883. Before the King
started, the newspapers had been writing of it as a 'visit to Berlin',
though it was intended to be a compliment to the heads of various
states. To allay the sensitiveness of the French, Morier suggested to
the Foreign Secretary that the King should make a point of visiting
France first; but, owing to the ineptitude of President Grevy, this
suggestion was rendered impracticable. When the King did visit Paris,
after a sojourn at Berlin, where he received the usual compliment of
being made titular colonel of a Prussian regiment, a terrible scene
ensued by which Morier's sagacity was justified. The King was greeted
with cries of 'a bas le Colonel d'Uhlans', and was hissed as he passed
along the streets; only his personal tact and restraint saved the two
Governments from an undignified squabble. He was able to give a lesson
in deportment to his hosts and also to satisfy the resentful pride of
his fellow-countrymen. The whole episode shows how individuals can
control events when the masses can only become excited; kings and
diplomats may still be the best mechanics to handle the complicated
machinery on which peace or war depends. Alfonso XII died in November
1885, soon after Morier's departure for another post, but not before he
had testified to the high esteem in which our Minister had been held in
Spain.

From Madrid he might have passed to Berlin. The British Government had
only one man fit to replace Lord Ampthill (Lord Odo Russell), who died
in 1884. Inquiries were made in Berlin whether it was possible to employ
Morier's great knowledge at the centre of European gravity, but Bismarck
made it quite clear that such an appointment would be displeasing to his
sovereign. It was believed by a friend and admirer of both men that, if
Bismarck and Morier could have come to know one another, mutual respect
and liking would have followed; but magnanimity towards an old enemy, or
one whom he had ever believed to be such, was not a Bismarckian trait,
and it is more probable that all Morier's efforts would have been
thwarted by misrepresentation and malignity.

Instead he was sent to St. Petersburg, where he took up his duties as
Ambassador in November 1885. Here he had to deal with bigger problems.
The affray at Penjdeh, when the Russians attacked an Afgh[=a]n outpost
and forcibly occupied the ground, had, after convulsing Europe, been
settled by Mr. Gladstone's Government. Feeling did not subside for some
years, but for the moment Asiatic questions were not so serious as the
conflict of interests in the Balkan peninsula. The principality of
Bulgaria created by the Congress of Berlin was the focus of the 'Eastern
question'--that is, the question whether Russia, Austria, or a united
Europe led by the Western powers, was to preside over the dissolution of
Turkey. Bulgaria certainly owed its existence to Russian bayonets; in
her cause Russian lives had been freely given; and this formed a real
bond between the two nations, more lasting than the effect of Mr.
Gladstone's speeches, to which English sentimentalists attached such
importance. But the Bulgarians have often shown an obstinate tendency to
go their own way, and their politicians were loath to be kept in Russian
leading-strings. Their last act, in 1885, had been to annex the Turkish
province of Eastern Roumelia without asking the consent of the Tsar. At
the moment they could safely flout the Sultan of Turkey, their nominal
suzerain; but diplomatists doubted whether they could, with equal
safety, ignore the Treaty of Berlin and the wishes of their Russian
protector. The path was full of pitfalls. The Austrian Government was on
the watch to embarrass its great Slavonic rival; English statesmen were
too anxious to humour Liberal sentiment as expressed at popular
meetings; Russian agents on the spot committed indiscretions; Russian
opinion at home suspected that Bulgaria was receiving encouragement
elsewhere, and the air was full of rumours of war.

Across this unquiet stage may be seen to pass, in the lively letters
which Morier sent home, the figures of potential and actual princes of
Bulgaria, of whom only two deserve mention to-day. The first, Alexander
of Battenberg, member of a family which enjoyed Queen Victoria's special
favour, had been put forward at the Berlin Congress, and justified his
choice in 1885 by repelling the Serbian Army and winning a victory at
Slivnitza. He had won the attachment of his subjects but had incurred
the hatred of the Tsar, and the tone of his speeches in 1886 offended
Russian sentiment. Two years after Slivnitza, in face of intrigues and
violence, he abandoned the contest and abdicated. The second is
Ferdinand of Coburg, whose tortuous career, begun in 1887, only ended
with the collapse of the Central Powers in 1918. He was put forward by
Austria and supported by Stambuloff, the dictatorial chief of the
Bulgarian ministry. For years the Russian Government refused to
recognize him, and it was not till 1896 that he came to heel, at the
bidding of Prince Lobanoff, and made public submission to the Tsar. But,
first and last, he was only an astute adventurer of no little vanity and
of colossal egotism, and such sympathies as he had for others beside
himself went to Austria-Hungary, where he owned landed property, and had
served in the army. He was also displeasing to orthodox Russia as a
Roman Catholic, and in Morier's letters we see clearly the mistrust and
contempt which Russians felt for him.

With an autocrat like Alexander III, secretive and obstinate, these
personal questions became very serious. Ambitious generals might
anticipate his wishes, Russian regiments might be on the march before
the Ministers knew anything, and Europe might awake to find itself over
the edge of the precipice.

Morier's own attitude can best be judged from the letters which he
exchanged with Sir William White, our able ambassador to the Porte, who
was frankly anti-Russian in his views. At first he put his trust in
strict observance of the Treaty of Berlin, and wished that Prince
Alexander would consent to restore the _status quo ante_ (i.e. before
the change in Eastern Roumelia); but although a stout upholder of
treaties, he admitted as a second basis for settlement 'les voeux des
populations', on which the modern practice of plebiscites is founded.
The peasants of Eastern Roumelia were clearly glad to transfer their
allegiance from the Sultan to the Prince. Also the successes achieved by
Prince Alexander in so soon welding together Bulgaria and Eastern
Roumelia had to be recognized as altering the situation. In fact,
Morier's position was nearer to that of 1919 than to the old traditions
in vogue a century earlier, and would commend itself to most English
Liberals. But, as an ambassador paid to watch over British interests, he
was guided by expediency rather than by sentiment. These interests, he
was convinced, were more vitally affected in Central Asia than in the
Balkans. He believed that, if British statesmen would recognize Russia's
peculiar position in Bulgaria, the advance of Russian outposts towards
India might be stayed, and the two great powers might work together all
along the line. But, to effect this, national jealousies must be allayed
and an understanding established. Morier had to interpret at St.
Petersburg speeches of English politicians, which often sounded more
offensive there than in London: he also had to watch and report to
London the unofficial doings and sayings of the aggressive Pan-Slavist
party, who might at any moment undermine the Ministry.

Foreign policy was in the hands of de Giers, an enlightened, pacific
minister, who lacked, however, the courage to face his master's
prejudices and had little authority over many of his own subordinates.
De Nelidoff, at Constantinople, dared even to make himself the centre of
diplomatic intrigue directed against the policy of his chief. Still less
was de Giers able to control the strong Pan-Slavist influences which
ruled in the Church, the Home Office, and the Press. Morier gives
interesting portraits of Pobedonostsev, the bigoted procurator of the
Holy Synod, of Tolstoy the reactionary Minister of the Interior, of
Katkoff the truculent editor of the _Moscow Gazette_. These were the
most notable of the men who flouted the authority, thwarted the work,
and undermined the position of the Tsar's nominal adviser, and often
they carried the day in determining the attitude of the Tsar himself.
Yet Morier was bound by his own honesty and by the traditions of
British diplomacy to do business with de Giers alone, to receive the
assurances of one who was being betrayed by his own ambassadors, to make
his protests to one who could not effectively remedy the grievances. His
difficulty was increased by de Giers's manner--'when getting on to
slippery ground he has a remarkable power of speaking only half
intelligibly and swallowing a large proportion of his words'. Morier was
often conscious that he was building on sand; but in quiet weather it
was possible to stem the flood for a while even with dikes of sand.
Perhaps a little later the tide of Balkan troubles might be setting in
another direction and the danger might be past. In Russia, where so much
was incalculable, it was wise to make the most of such help as presented
itself. Meanwhile the Russian Ambassador in London, Baron de Staael,
co-operated as loyally with Lord Salisbury as Morier with de Giers; and
thanks to their diplomatic skill, rough places were smoothed away and
bases of agreement were found. In the course of 1887, the smouldering
fires of Anglo-Russian antagonism died down, and Russia adopted a
waiting attitude in Bulgaria.

But this happy result was not attained till after Asiatic problems had
given rise to serious alarms. The worst moment was in July 1886, when
the Tsar suddenly proclaimed, contrary to the Treaty of Berlin, that the
port of Batum was closed to foreign trade. His point of view was
characteristic. His father had, autocratically, expressed in 1878 his
intention to open the port; this had been done, and it had proved in
practice a failure; as a purely administrative act, he (Alexander III)
now declared the port closed, _et tout etait dit_. But naturally foreign
merchants resented the injury to their trade, and insisted on the
sanctity of treaties. The Berlin Government, as usual, left to Great
Britain all the odium incurred in making a protest, and the other
Continental powers were equally silent. Morier asserted the British
case so strongly that he roused even de Giers to vehemence; but when he
saw that protests would avail nothing, he advised his Government to cut
the loss and to avoid further bitterness. He reminded them that Russia
had given way in Bulgaria, where the British point of view had
prevailed, and that they must not expect her to submit to a second
diplomatic defeat. Besides, a quarrel between Russia and Great Britain
would only benefit a third party, ready enough to avail himself of it.
Harmony was preserved, but the risk of a breach had been very great, and
feeling was not improved by Russian activity at Sebastopol, where the
Pan-Slavists were acclaiming the new birth of the Black Sea fleet. The
death of Katkoff in 1887, and of Tolstoy in 1889, with the advent of
more Liberal ministers, strengthened de Giers's hands; and during his
later years, though he often needed great vigilance and tact, Morier was
not troubled by any crisis so severe.

The Grand Cross of the Bath, which he received in 1887, was a fitting
reward for the services he had rendered to England and to Europe in this
anxious time. He never lost heart or despaired of a peaceful solution.

At bottom, as he often repeats, Russia was not ready for big
adventures--was, in fact, still suffering from lassitude after the war
of 1878, 'like an electric eel which, having in one great shock given
off all its electricity, burrows in the mud to refill its battery,
desiring nothing less than to come again too soon into contact with
organic tissue'.

Apart from _la haute politique_ and the conflicts between governments,
Morier's own compatriots were giving him plenty to do. A few instances
will illustrate the variety of the applications which reached the
Embassy. Captain Beaufort requests a special permit to visit Kars and
its famous fortifications. Mr. Littledale asks for a Russian guide to
help him in an ascent of Mount Ararat. Father Perry, S.J. (the Jesuits
were specially obnoxious to the Holy Synod), wishes to observe a solar
eclipse only visible in Russia. Another traveller, Mr. Fairman, is
summarily arrested near Rovno where the Tsar's visit is making the
police unduly brisk for the moment. Morier procures him a prompt
apology; but, not content with this, the Englishman now thinks himself
entitled to a personal audience with the Tsar and the gift of some
decoration to compensate him, which suggestion draws a curt reply from
the much-vexed ambassador. But he was always ready to help a genuine
explorer, whether it was Mr. de Windt in Trans-Caucasia or Captain
Wiggins in the Kara Sea. To the latter, in his efforts to establish
trade between Great Britain and Siberia by the Yenisei river, Morier
lent most valuable aid, and he is proud to report the concessions which
he won for our merchants in a new field of commerce.

Meanwhile he found occasion to cultivate friendships with Russians and
foreign diplomats of all kinds. Of the more important he sends home
interesting sketches to his superiors in Whitehall, Vischnegradsky, the
'wizard of finance', who raised the value of the rouble 30 per cent.,
became one of his intimate friends. When that ambiguous figure, Witte,
his rival and successor, tried to discredit him, Morier vindicated with
warmth the honesty and patriotism of his friend. Baron Jomini of the
Foreign Office was of a different kind, witty, volatile, audaciously
outspoken, more like a character in Thackeray's novels. Pobedonostsev,
the Procurator of the Holy Synod, remained 'somewhat of an enigma'--as
we can easily believe when we hear that this bigoted Churchman, the
terror of the Jews, had been a friend of Dean Stanley, and was still
fond of English literature and English theology.

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