Marcus Tullius Ciceronis - "De Amicitia, Scipio's Dream"

William Edward Hartpole Lecky - "Historical and Political Essays"

Bernard Shaw - "The Miraculous Revenge"

Ella Wheeler Wilcox - "Custer, and Other 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.

The Englishwoman in America

I >> Isabella Lucy Bird >> The Englishwoman in America




True enough, we were in New York, the western receptacle not only of the
traveller and the energetic merchant, but of the destitute, the
friendless, the vagabond, and in short of all the outpourings of Europe,
who here form a conglomerate mass of evil, making America responsible for
their vices and their crimes. Yet the usual signs of approach to an
enormous city were awanting--dwarfed trees, market-gardens, cockney
arbours, in which citizens smoke their pipes in the evening, and imagine
themselves in Arcadia, rows of small houses, and a murky canopy of smoke.
We had steamed down Tenth Avenue for two or three miles, when we came to a
standstill where several streets met. The train was taken to pieces, and
to each car four horses or mules were attached, which took us for some
distance into the very heart of the town, racing apparently with omnibuses
and carriages, till at last we were deposited in Chambers Street, not in a
station, or even under cover, be it observed. My baggage, or "plunder" as
it is termed, had been previously disposed of, but, while waiting with my
head disagreeably near to a horse's nose, I saw people making distracted
attempts, and futile ones as it appeared, to preserve their effects from
the clutches of numerous porters, many of them probably thieves. To judge
from appearances, many people would mourn the loss of their portmanteaus
that night.

New York deserves the name applied to Washington, "the city of magnificent
distances." I drove in a hack for three miles to my destination, along
crowded, handsome streets, but I believe that I only traversed a third
part of the city.

It possesses the features of many different lands, but it has
characteristics peculiarly its own; and as with its suburbs it may almost
bear the name of the "million-peopled city," and as its growing influence
and importance have earned it the name of the Empire City, I need not
apologise for dwelling at some length upon it in the succeeding chapter.




CHAPTER XVI.

Position of New York--Externals of the city--Conveyances--
Maladministration--The stores--The hotels--Curiosities of the hospital--
Ragged schools--The bad book--Monster schools--Amusements and oyster
saloons--Monstrosities--A restaurant--Dwelling-houses--Equipages--Palaces
--Dress--Figures--Manners--Education--Domestic habits--The ladies--The
gentlemen--Society--Receptions--Anti-English feeling--Autographs--The
"Buckram Englishman."


New York, from its position, population, influence, and commerce, is
worthy to be considered the metropolis of the New World. The situation of
it is very advantageous. It is built upon Manhattan Island, which is about
thirteen miles in length by two in breadth. It has the narrowest portion
of Long Island Sound, called East River, on its east side; the Hudson,
called the North River, environs it in another direction; while these two
are connected by a narrow strait, principally artificial, denominated the
Harlem River. This insular position of the city is by no means
intelligible to the stranger, but it is obvious from the top of any
elevated building. The dense part of New York already covers a large
portion of the island; and as it _daily_ extends northward, the whole
extent of insulated ground is divided into lots, and mapped out into
streets.

But, not content with covering the island, which, when Hendrick Hudson
first discovered it, abounded with red men, who fished along its banks and
guided their bark canoes over the surrounding waters, New York, under the
names of Brooklyn, Williamsburgh, and four or five others, has spread
itself on Long Island, Staten Island, and the banks of the Hudson.
Brooklyn, on Long Island, which occupies the same position with regard to
New York that Lambeth and Southwark do to London, contains a population of
100,000 souls. Brooklyn, Williamsburgh, Hoboken, and Jersey City are the
residences of a very large portion of the merchants of New York, who have
deserted the old or Dutch part of the town, which is consequently merely
an aggregate of offices. Floating platforms, moved by steam, with space in
the middle part for twelve or fourteen carriages and horses, and luxurious
covered apartments, heated with steam-pipes on either side, ply to and fro
every five minutes at the small charge of one halfpenny a passenger, and
the time occupied in crossing the ferries is often less than that of the
detention on Westminster Bridge. Besides these large places, Staten Island
and Long Island are covered with villa residences. Including these towns,
which are in reality part of this vast city, New York contains a
population of very nearly a million! Broadway, which is one of the most
remarkable streets in the world, being at once the Corso, Toledo, Regent
Street, and Princes Street of New York, runs along the centre of the city,
and is crossed at right angles by innumerable streets, which run down to
the water at each side. It would appear as if the inventive genius of the
people had been exhausted, for, after borrowing designations for their
streets from every part of the world, among which some of the old Dutch
names figure most refreshingly, they have adopted the novel plan of
numbering them. Thus there are ten "Avenues," which run from north to
south, and these are crossed by streets numbered First Street, Second
Street, and so on. I believe that the skeletons of one hundred and fifty
numbered streets are in existence. The southern part of the town still
contains a few of the old Dutch houses, and there are some substantial
red-brick villas in the vicinity, inhabited by the descendants of the old
Dutch families, who are remarkably exclusive in their habits.

New York is decidedly a very handsome city. The wooden houses have nearly
all disappeared, together with those of an antiquated or incongruous
appearance; and the new streets are very regularly and substantially built
of brown stone or dark brick. The brick building in New York is remarkably
beautiful. The windows are large, and of plate-glass, and the whole
external finish of the houses is in a splendid but chaste style, never to
be met with in street-architecture in England. As the houses in the city
are almost universally heated by air warmed by a subterranean stove, very
few chimneys are required, and these are seldom visible above the stone
parapets which conceal the roofs. Anthracite coal is almost universally
used, so there is an absence of that murky, yellow canopy which disfigures
English towns. The atmosphere is remarkably dry, so that even white marble
edifices, of which there are several in the town, suffer but little from
the effects of climate.

Broadway is well paved, and many of the numbered streets are not to be
complained of in this respect, but a great part of the city is
indescribably dirty, though it is stated that the expense of cleaning it
exceeds 250,000 dollars per annum. Its immense length necessitates an
enormous number of conveyances; and in order to obviate the obstruction to
traffic which would have been caused by providing omnibus accommodation
equal to the demand, the authorities have consented to a most alarming
inroad upon several of the principal streets. The stranger sees with
surprise that double lines of rails are laid along the roadways; and while
driving quietly in a carriage, he hears the sound of a warning bell, and
presently a railway-car, holding thirty persons, and drawn by two or four
horses, comes thundering down the street. These rail-cars run every few
minutes, and the fares are very low. For very sufficient reasons, Broadway
is not thus encroached upon; and a journey from one end to the other of
this marvellous street is a work of time and difficulty. Pack the traffic
of the Strand and Cheapside into Oxford Street, and still you will not
have an idea of the crush in Broadway. There are streams of scarlet and
yellow omnibuses racing in the more open parts, and locking each other's
wheels in the narrower--there are helpless females deposited in the middle
of a sea of slippery mud, condemned to run a gauntlet between cart-wheels
and horses' hoofs--there are loaded stages hastening to and from the huge
hotels--carts and waggons laden with merchandise--and "Young Americans"
driving fast-trotting horses, edging in and out among the crowd--wheels
are locked, horses tumble down, and persons pressed for time are
distracted. Occasionally, the whole traffic of the street comes to a dead-
lock, in consequence of some obstruction or crowd, there being no
policeman at hand with his incessant command, "_Move on_!"

The hackney-carriages of New York are very handsome, and, being drawn by
two horses, have the appearance of private equipages; but woe to the
stranger who trusts to the inviting announcement that the fare is a dollar
within a certain circle. Bad as London cabmen are, one would welcome the
sight of one of them. The New York hackmen are licensed plunderers,
against whose extortions there is neither remedy nor appeal. They are
generally Irish, and cheat people with unblushing audacity. The omnibus or
stage accommodation is plentiful and excellent. A person soon becomes
accustomed to, and enjoys, the occasional excitement of locked wheels or a
race, and these vehicles are roomy and clean. They are sixteen inches
wider than our own omnibuses, and carry a number of passengers certainly
within their capabilities, and the fares are fixed and very low, 6-1/2
cents for any distance. They have windows to the sides and front, and the
spaces between are painted with very tolerably-executed landscapes. There
is no conductor; the driver opens and closes the door with a strap, and
the money is handed to him through a little hole in the roof. The lady
passengers invariably give the money to a gentleman for this purpose, and
no rule of etiquette is more rigidly enforced than for him to obey the
request to do so, generally consisting in a haughty wave of the hand. The
thousand acts of attention which gentlemen, by rigid usage, are compelled
to tender to ladies, are received by them without the slightest
acknowledgment, either by word or gesture. To so great an extent is this
_nonchalance_ carried on the part of the females, that two or three
newspapers have seriously taken up the subject, and advise the gentlemen
to withdraw from the performance of such unrequited attentions.

Strangers frequently doubt whether New York possesses a police; the doubt
is very justifiable, for these guardians of the public peace are seldom
forthcoming when they are wanted. They are accessible to bribes, and will
investigate into crime when liberally rewarded; but probably in no city in
the civilised world is life so fearfully insecure. The practice of
carrying concealed arms, in the shape of stilettoes for attack, and
swordsticks for defence, if illegal, is perfectly common; desperate
reprobates, called "Rowdies," infest the lower part of the town; and
terrible outrages and murderous assaults are matters of such nightly
occurrence as to be thought hardly worthy of notice, even in those prints
which minister to man's depraved taste for the horrible. [Footnote: The
state of New York has improved. Mr. Fernando Wood, who was elected Mayor
in November, 1854, has issued stringent regulations for the maintenance of
order. A better police-force has been organised, and many of the notorious
"Rowdies" and other bad characters have been shut up on Blackwell's
Island. His tenure of office has just expired, and it is much to be feared
that the mob, which exercises an undue influence upon the municipal
elections, has not chosen a successor who will interfere with its
privileges.]

No language can be too strongly expressive of censure upon the disgraceful
condition of New York. The evil may be distinctly traced to the wretched
system of politics which prevails at the election of the municipal
officers, who are often literally chosen from the lowest of the people,
and are venal and corrupt in the highest degree.

During my visit to New York a candidate for one of these offices stabbed a
policeman, who died of the wound. If I might judge from the tone of the
public prints, and from conversations on the subject, public feeling was
not much outraged by the act itself, but it was a convenient stalking-
horse for the other side, and the policeman's funeral procession, which
went down Broadway, was nearly a mile in length.

The principal stores are situated in Broadway; and although they attempt
very little in the way of window display, the interiors are spacious, and
arranged with the greatest taste. An American store is generally a very
extensive apartment, handsomely decorated, the roof frequently supported
on marble pillars. The owner or clerk is seen seated by his goods,
absorbed in the morning paper--probably balancing himself on one leg of
his chair, with a spittoon by his side. He deigns to answer your
inquiries, but, in place of the pertinacious perseverance with which an
English shop man displays his wares, it seems a matter of perfect
indifference to the American whether you purchase or no. The drapers' and
mercers' shops, which go by the name of "dry goods" stores, are filled
with the costliest productions of the world. The silks from the looms of
France are to be seen side by side with the productions of Persia and
India, and all at an advance of fully two-thirds on English prices. The
"fancy goods" stores are among the most attractive lounges of the city.
Here Paris figures to such an extent, that it was said at the time when
difficulties with France were apprehended, in consequence of the Soule
affair, that "Louis Napoleon might as well fire cannon-balls into the
Palais Royal as declare war with America." Some of the bronzes in these
stores are of exquisite workmanship, and costly china from Sevres and
Dresden feasts the eyes of the lovers of beauty in this branch of art.

The American ladies wear very costly jewellery, but I was perfectly amazed
at the prices of some of the articles displayed. I saw a diamond bracelet
containing one brilliant of prodigious size and lustre. The price was
25,000 dollars, or 5000_l._ On inquiring who would purchase such a thing,
the clerk replied, "I guess some southerner will buy it for his wife."

One of the sights with which the New York people astonish English visitors
is Stewart's dry-goods store in Broadway, an immense square building of
white marble, six stories high, with a frontage of 300 feet. The business
done in it is stated to be above 1,500,000_l._ per annum. There are 400
people employed at this establishment, which has even a telegraph office
on the premises, where a clerk is for ever flashing dollars and cents
along the trembling wires. There were lace collars 40 guineas each, and
flounces of Valenciennes lace, half a yard deep, at 120 guineas a flounce.
The damasks and brocades for curtains and chairs were at almost fabulous
prices. Few gentlemen, the clerk observed, give less than 3_l._ per yard
for these articles. The most costly are purchased by the hotels. I saw
some brocade embroidered in gold to the thickness of half an inch, some of
which had been supplied to the St. Nicholas Hotel at 9_l._ per yard! There
were stockings from a penny to a guinea a pair, and carpetings from 1_s._
8_d._ to 22_s._ a yard. Besides six stories above ground, there were large
light rooms under the building, and under Broadway itself, echoing with
the roll of its 10,000 vehicles.

The hotels are among the sights of New York. The principal are the Astor
House (which has a world-wide reputation), the Metropolitan, and the St.
Nicholas, all in Broadway. Prescott House and Irving House also afford
accommodation on a very large scale. The entrances to these hotels
invariably attract the eye of the stranger. Groups of extraordinary-
looking human beings are always lounging on the door-steps, smoking,
whittling, and reading newspapers. There are southerners sighing for their
sunny homes, smoking Havana cigars; western men, with that dashing free-
and-easy air which renders them unmistakeable; Englishmen, shrouded in
exclusiveness, who look on all their neighbours as so many barbarian
intruders on their privacy; and people of all nations, whom business has
drawn to the American metropolis.

The Metropolitan Hotel is the most imposing in appearance. It is a block
of building with a frontage of 300 feet, and is six stories high. I
believe that it can accommodate 1300 people. The St. Nicholas is the most
superb in its decorations; it is a magnificent building of white marble,
and can accommodate 1000 visitors. Everything in this edifice is on a
style of princely magnificence. The grand entrance opens into a very fine
hall with a marble floor, and this is surrounded with settees covered with
the skins of wild animals. The parlours are gorgeous in the extreme, and
there are two superb dining-rooms to contain 600 people each. The curtains
and sofa-covers in some of the parlours cost 5_l._ per yard, and, as has
been previously named, one room is furnished with gold brocade purchased
at 9_l._ per yard. About 100 married couples reside permanently at the St.
Nicholas; it does not, however, bear the very best reputation, as it is
said to be the resort of a large number of professed gamblers. Large as
these hotels are, they are nothing to a monster establishment at Cape May,
a fashionable summer resort in New Jersey. The capacities of this
building, the Mount Vernon Hotel, though stated on the best authority, can
scarcely be credited--it is said to make up 3000 beds!

Owing to the high rates of house-rent and the difficulty of procuring
servants, together with the exorbitant wages which they require, many
married couples, and even families, reside permanently at the hotels.
Living constantly in public, without opportunity for holding family
intercourse, and being without either home cares or home pleasures,
nomade, restless, pleasure-seeking habits are induced, which have led
strangers to charge the Americans with being destitute of home life. That
such is the case to some extent is not to be denied; but this want is by
no means generally observed. I have met with family circles in the New
World as united and affectionate as those in the Old, not only in country
districts, but in the metropolis itself; and in New England there is
probably as much of what may be termed patriarchal life as anywhere in
Europe.

The public charities of New York are on a gigantic scale. The New York
Hospital, a fine stone building with some large trees in front, situated
in Broadway, was one which pleased me as much as any. Two of the
physicians kindly took me over the whole building, and explained all the
arrangements. I believe that the hospital contains 650 beds, and it is
generally full, being not only the receptacle for the numerous accident
cases which are of daily occurrence in New York, but for those of a large
district besides, which are conveniently brought in by railroad. We first
went into the recent-accident room, where the unhappy beings who were
recently hurt or operated upon were lying. Some of them were the most
piteous objects I ever witnessed, and the medical men, under the
impression that I was deeply interested in surgery, took pains to exhibit
all the horrors. There were a good many of the usual classes of
accidents,--broken limbs and mangled frames. There was one poor little boy
of twelve years old, whose arms had been torn to pieces by machinery; one
of them had been amputated on the previous day, and, while the medical men
displayed the stump, they remarked that the other must be taken off on the
next day. The poor boy groaned with a more than childish expression of
agony on his pale features, probably at the thought of the life of
helplessness before him. A young Irishman had been crushed by a railway
car, and one of his legs had been amputated a few hours previously. As the
surgeon altered the bandages he was laughing and joking, and had been
singing ever since the operation--a remarkable instance of Paddy's
unfailing lightheartedness.

But, besides these ordinary accidents, there were some very characteristic
of New York and of a New York election. In one ward there were several men
who had been stabbed the night before, two of whom were mortally wounded.
There were two men, scarcely retaining the appearance of human beings, who
had been fearfully burned and injured by the explosion of an infernal
machine. All trace of human features had departed; it seemed hardly
credible that such blackened, distorted, and mangled frames could contain
human souls. There were others who had received musket-shot wounds during
the election, and numbers of broken heads, and wounds from knives. It was
sad to know that so much of the suffering to be seen in that hospital was
the result of furious religious animosities, and of the unrestrained
lawlessness of human violence.

There was one man who had been so nearly crushed to pieces, that it seemed
marvellous that the mangled frame could still retain its vitality. One leg
was broken in three places, and the flesh torn off from the knee to the
foot; both arms and several ribs were also broken. We went into one of the
female wards, where sixteen broken legs were being successfully treated,
and I could not but admire a very simple contrivance which remedies the
contraction which often succeeds broken limbs, and produces permanent
lameness. Two long straps of plaister were glued from above the knee to
the ankle, and were then fixed to a wooden bar, with a screw and handle,
so that the tension could be regulated at pleasure. The medical men, in
remarking upon this, observed that in England we were very slow to adopt
any American improvements in surgery or medicine.

There were many things in this hospital which might be imitated in England
with great advantage to the patients. Each ward was clean, sweet, and
airy; and the system of heating and ventilation is very superior. The
heating and ventilating apparatus, instead of sending forth alternate
blasts of hot and cold air, keeps up a uniform and easily regulated
temperature. A draught of cold air is continually forced through a large
apparatus of steam-pipes, and, as it becomes vitiated in the rooms above,
passes out through ventilators placed just below the ceiling. Our next
visit was to the laundry, where two men, three women, and, last but not
least, a steam-engine of 45-horse power, were perpetually engaged in
washing the soiled linen of the hospital. The large and rapidly-moving
cylinder which churns the linen is a common part of a steam laundry, but
the wringing machine is one of the most beautiful practical applications
of a principle in natural philosophy that I ever saw. It consists of a
large perforated cylinder, open at the top, with a case in the centre.
This cylinder performs from 400 to 700 revolutions in a minute, and, by
the power of the centrifugal force thus produced, the linen is impelled so
violently against the sides, that the moisture is forced through the
perforations, when the linen is left nearly dry.

Strange as it may appear to those who associate America with plenty and
comfort, there is a very large class of persons at New York living in a
state of squalid and abject poverty; and in order that the children
belonging to it may receive some education, it has been found necessary by
the benevolent to supplement the common school system with ragged or
industrial schools. In order not to wound the pride of parents who are not
too proud to receive a gratuitous education for their offspring, these
establishments are not called Ragged Schools, but "Boys' Meetings," and
"Girls' Meetings." I visited two of these, the first in Tompkin Square.
There were about 100 children in the school, and nearly all of them were
Irish Roman Catholics. They receive a good elementary education, and
answered the questions addressed to them with correctness and alacrity.
The Bible, of course, is not read, but the pupils learn a Scripture
catechism, and paraphrased versions of Scripture incidents. One day,
during the absence of the teacher, one of the pupils was looking into an
English Bible, and another addressed her with the words, "You wicked girl,
you know the priest says that you are never to open that bad book; I will
never walk with you again." The child, on going home, told her mother, and
she said that she did not think it could be such a bad book, as the ladies
who were so kind to them read it. The child said that it was a beautiful
book, and persuaded her mother to borrow a Bible from a neighbour; she
read it, and became a Protestant. These children earn their clothing by a
certain number of good marks, but most of them were shoeless. Each child
is obliged to take a bath on the establishment once a-week. Their answers
in geography and history were extremely good. In the afternoon the elder
girls are employed in tailoring and dressmaking, and receive so much work
that this branch of the school is self-supporting.

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