Lewis Hodus - "Buddhism and Buddhists in China"

Ignatius Donnelly - "The Antediluvian World"

John Morley - "Critical Miscellanies, Volume I (of 3)"

Herbert Wes McBride - "The Emma Gees"

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 Gray Dawn

S >> Stewart Edward White >> The Gray Dawn




The hall was filled to its utmost capacity. Every inch of floor space was
occupied, and men perched on sills, clung to beams. Coleman raised his hand
and obtained an immediate dead silence.

"In view of the miscarriage of justice in the courts," he announced
briefly, "it has been thought expedient to revive the Vigilance Committee.
An Executive Council was chosen by a representative of the whole body. I
have been asked to take charge. I will do so, but must stipulate that I am
to be free to choose the first council myself. Is that agreed?"

A roar of assent answered him.

"Very well, gentlemen. I shall request you to vacate the hall. In a short
time the books will be open for enrollment."

He turned and reentered the anteroom followed by the others. In so doing he
came face to face with the intruders.

"This is not your place, gentlemen," he told them courteously.

They retired down the narrow back stairs and joined the huge throng that
filled the streets, waiting patiently and quietly, its eyes fixed on the
closed doors of the hall. In a remarkably short time these doors were
thrown open. Those nearest surged forward. Inside the passage were twelve
men, later to be known as the Executive Committee. These held back the
rush, admitting but one man at a time. The crowd immediately caught the
idea. There was absolutely no excitement. Every man was grimly in earnest.
Cries of "Order! Order! Line up!" came from different parts of the throng.
A rough quadruple queue was formed extending down the street. There was no
talk nor smiles, none of the usual rough joking. Each waited his turn
without impatience.

Johnny Fairfax and Keith, owing to the chance that they had, entered the
crowd from the nearby alley and found themselves close to the head of the
line. As they neared the entrance, and so could hear what was there going
on, they found that each applicant was being closely scrutinized and
interrogated. The great majority passed this ordeal, but several men were
peremtorily turned back with a warning not to try again.

Keith's turn came. He was conscious of the scrutiny of many eyes; he heard
the word "pass" pronounced by some one in the background, and climbed the
stairs. At the top he was directed to an anteroom at the left. Here behind
a table sat Coleman, Dempster, and a third man unknown to him. To them he
repeated the words of an oath of secrecy, and then was passed into another
room where Isaac Bluxome sat behind a ledger. In this he wrote his name.

"Your number is 178," said Bluxome to him, "By that number, and not by your
name, you are henceforth to be known here. Never use names, always their
numbers, in referring to other members."

Thence Keith was directed to the main hall where were those already
admitted. These were gathered in groups discussing the situation. In a
moment Johnny Fairfax joined him.

"179, I am," said Johnny. His eyes swept the hall. "Not much mob spirit
about this; it looks like business."

They hung around for an hour. The hall slowly filled. Finally, learning
that nothing further was to be done until the enrollment had finished, they
wandered out again into the street. The unbroken lines of applicants
extended as far down the street as the eye could see.

All that day the applicants, orderly and grim with purpose, were passed
through in line. By mid-day it was seen that the Know-Nothing Hall was
going to be too small for the meeting that would later take place.
Therefore, a move was made to the Turnverein Hall. After enrolling, no man
departed from the vicinity for long. Short absences for hastily snatched
meals were followed by hurried returns lest something be missed. From time
to time reports were circulated as to the activities of the Executive
Committee, which had been in continuous session since its appointment. Thus
it was said that an Examining Committee had been appointed to scrutinize
the applicants; that the members of the Executive Committee had been raised
to twenty-six, that Oscar Smith had been appointed chief of police. The
latter rumour was immediately verified by the energetic activities of that
able citizen. He, or his messengers, darted here and there searching for
individuals wanted as doorkeepers, guards, or police officers. His
regulations also began to be felt. By evening only registered members of
the committee were allowed on the floor of the hall, even the expostulating
reporters being gently but firmly ejected.

Nobody manifested the least excitement or impatience. At eight o'clock
Coleman came out of one of the side rooms, and, mounting a table, called
for order.

"A military organization is deemed necessary," he said crisply. "Numbers
one to one hundred will please assemble in the southwest corner of the
room; numbers one hundred and one to two hundred will take the first
window; numbers two hundred and one to three hundred the second window, and
so on." He hesitated and looked over the assembly. "_Que les Francais, se
mettent au centre_," he ended.

This command in a foreign language was made necessary by the extraordinary
number of Frenchmen who had first answered the call of gold in the El
Dorado of '49; and then with equal enthusiasm responded to this demand for
essential justice.

Coleman waited while the multitude shifted here and there. When the
component parts had again come to rest he made his next announcement:

"Now each company will elect its own officers, but those officers are
subject to the orders of the Executive Committee."

Numbers one hundred and one to two hundred inclusive, the company in which
Keith and Johnny Fairfax found themselves, were for the most part strangers
to one another, They exchanged glances, hesitating as to how to begin. Then
a small, spectacled, man spoke up.

"Gentlemen," said he, "we must get organized as rapidly as possible, Mr,
Coleman is waiting. We need for a leader a man who is experienced in active
life. I nominate John Fairfax as captain of this company."

Johnny gasped and turned red.

"Who's your little friend?" Keith whispered.

"Never saw him before in my life," replied Johnny.

The announcement was received with indecision. Nobody immediately replied
or commented aloud on the nomination, but men were asking each other in
undertones. The little spectacled man saw this, and spoke up again:

"Perhaps I should say that Mr. Fairfax is better known as Diamond Jack."

Faces cleared, heads nodded. A murmur of recognition replaced the puzzled
frowning, "Good man," "The express rider," "Danny Randall's man," they told
each other.

"I do not know Mr. Fairfax," the spectacled man was saying, "but I saw his
name just before mine on the register."

"This is Fairfax," said Keith, thrusting the reluctant Johnny forward.

He was elected to the post by acclamation.

"Nominations for a lieutenant?" suggested the spectacled man, but Keith
interrupted.

"If you all have as much confidence in Mr. Fairfax as I have," said he,
"perhaps you'll give him free hand and let him pick his own officers."

This seemed a good idea, and was instantly adopted.

"Well, I thank you, gentlemen," said Johnny, "and we'll do our best to
become efficient. Report your names and addresses to this gentleman here--"

"Willey," supplied the little man.

"We shall drill to-morrow at eight sharp. Bring whatever weapons----"

But Coleman was again speaking and on this very subject:

"The committee have arranged with George Law," he was saying, "to supply or
hire muskets to the number of several thousands. These weapons will be at
this hall to-morrow morning early. Company captains can then make their
requisitions."

A murmur of inquiry swept the hall. "George Law? Where did _he_ get several
thousand muskets?" And the counter current of information making its way
slowly--they were only flintlocks, perfectly efficient though, had
bayonets--superseded government arms--brought out some time ago by Law to
arm some mysterious filibustering expedition that had fizzled.

In this manner, without confusion, an organization of two thousand men was
formed, sixteen military companies officered and armed.

Shortly after Coleman dismissed the meeting. Its members dispersed to their
homes. Absolute quiet descended on the city, which slept under the moon.





LVI

To the thoughtful bystander all this preparation had its significance and
its portent, which became the stronger when he contemplated the
dispositions of the Law and Order party. The latter had been not less
vigorous, and its strength could not be doubted. The same day that marked
the organization of the Vigilantes saw the regular police force largely
increased. In addition, the sheriff issued thousands of summonses to
citizens, calling on them for service on a _posse_. These were in due form
of the law. To refuse them meant to put one's self outside the law. A great
many of them were responded to, for this reason only, by men not wholly in
sympathy with either side. Once the oath was administered, these new
deputies were confronted by the choice between perjury and service. To be
sure the issuance of these summonses forced many of the neutral minded into
the ranks of the Vigilantes. The refusal to act placed them on the wrong
side of the law; and they felt that joining a party pledged to what
practically amounted to civil war was only a short step farther. The
various military companies were mustered, reminded of their oaths, called
upon solemnly to fulfil their sworn duty, and marched to various strategic
points about the jail and elsewhere. Parenthetically, their every
appearance on the streets was well hissed by the populace. The governor was
informally notified of a state of insurrection, and requested to send in
the State militia. By evening all the forces of organized society were
under arms. The leaders of the Law and Order party were jubilant. Their
position appeared to be impregnable. They felt that back of them was all
the weight of constituted authority, reaching, if need be, to the Federal
Government at Washington. Opposed to them was lawlessness. Lawlessness had
occasionally become dignified revolution, to be sure, but only when a race
took its stand on a great issue; never when a handful espoused a local
quarrel. Civil war it might be; but civil war, the wise politicians argued,
must spread to become effective; and how could a civil war based on the
shooting of an obscure editor in a three-year-old frontier town spread
anywhere? Especially such an editor as James King of William.

For King had made many bitter enemies. In attacking individual members of a
class he had often unreasonably antagonized the whole class. Thus he had
justly castigated the _Times_ and other venal newspapers; but in so doing
had by his too general statements drawn the fire of every other journal in
town. He had with entire reason attacked a certain scalawag of a Roman
Catholic priest--a man the church itself must soon have taken in hand--but
had somehow managed to offend all Roman Catholics in doing so; likewise,
there could be no question that his bitter scorn for "the chivalry" was
well justified, but the manner of its expression offended also the decent
Southerners. And all these people saw the Vigilantes, not as a protest
against a condition that had become intolerable, but as the personal
champions of King. The enemies of King, many of them worthy citizens, quite
out of sympathy with the present methods of administering the law, became
the enemies of the Vigilantes.

No wonder the Law and Order party felt no uneasiness. They did not
underestimate the determination of their opponents. It was felt that
fighting, severe fighting, was perhaps inevitable. The Law and Order party
loved fighting. They had chosen as their commander William Tecumseh
Sherman, later to gain his fame as a great soldier. His greatness in a
military capacity seems to have been exceeded only by his inability to
remember facts proved elsewhere by original historical documents. This is
the only possible explanation for the hash of misstatements comprising
those chapters in his "Memoirs" dealing with this time. In writing them the
worthy general evidently forgot that original documents existed, or that
statements concerning historical events can often be checked.

And as a final source of satisfaction, the Vigilantes had placed themselves
on record. Every man could be apprehended and made to feel the weight of
the law. A mob is irresponsible and anonymous. These fools had written down
their names in books!




LVII

Now a new element was injected into the situation in the person of the
governor of the State, one J. Neely Johnson, a politician who would long
since have been utterly forgotten had not his unlucky star risen just at
this unlucky time. A more unfortunate man for a crisis it would have been
difficult to find. His whole life had been one of trimming; he had made his
way by trimming; he had gained the governor's chair by yielding to the
opinions of others. This training combined perfectly with the natural
disposition of a chameleon. He was, or became, a sincere trimmer, taking
his colour and his temporary beliefs from those with whom he happened to
be. His judgment often stuck at trifles, and his opinions were quickly
heated but as quickly cooled. His private morals were none of the best,
which gave certain men an added hold.

On receipt of the message sent by the Law and Order party--but not, be it
noted, by the proper authorities--requesting the State militia, Governor
Johnson came down post-haste from Sacramento. Immediately on arriving in
the city he sent word to Coleman requesting an interview. Coleman at once
followed the messenger to the Continental Hotel. He was shown to a private
room where he found Johnson pacing up and down alone. Coleman bowed gravely
in response to the governor's airy greeting. Johnson sat down, offered
cigars, made every effort to appear amiable and conciliatory.

"This is bad; this is bad, Coleman," he began the interview. "What is it
you want?"

"Peace," replied Coleman, "and if possible without a struggle."

"That's all very well," said Johnson pettishly, "to talk about peace with
an army of insurrection newly raised. But what is it you actually wish to
accomplish?"

Coleman looked at him steadily, then leaned forward.

"The law is crippled," he told the governor in measured tones. "We want
merely to accomplish what the crippled law should do but cannot. This done,
we will gladly retire. Now, Governor, you have been asked by the mayor, and
certain others, to bring out the militia and crush this movement. I assure
you, it cannot be done; and if you attempt it, it will cause you and us
great trouble. Do as Governor McDougall did in '51. See in this movement
what he saw in that: a local movement for a local reform, in which the
State is not concerned. We are not a mob; we demand no overthrow of
institutions. We ask not a single court to adjourn; we ask not a single
officer to vacate his position; we demand only the enforcement of the law--
which, after all, we have made!" He extended his strong fist and laid it on
the table. "If you deem it the conscientious duty of your office to
discountenance these proceedings--as perhaps you well may--then let your
opposition be in appearance only. In your heart you must know the necessity
of this measure; you know the standing of the men managing it, You know
that this is no mob, no distempered faction. It is San Francisco herself
who speaks! Let California stand aside; let her leave us to our shame and
sorrow; for, as God lives, we will cleanse this city of her corruption or
perish with her! So we have sworn!"

This long speech, delivered with the solemnity of absolute conviction,
profoundly impressed Johnson's volatile nature.

"But," he objected uncertainly, "Coleman, you must understand! This is
against the law--and I have sworn to uphold the law!"

"That is a matter for your own conscience," rejoined Coleman a little
impatiently. "Issue your proclamation, if you feel that the dignity of the
law may be best maintained by frowning on justice--but confine yourself to
that! Leave us alone in our righteous purposes!"

Johnson, his chameleon soul aglow with enthusiasm, leaped to his feet and
seized Coleman's two hands. In his eye stood a tear.

"Sir," he cried, "go on with your work! Let it be done as speedily as
possible! You have my best wishes!"

Coleman did not relax his formal gravity.

"I am glad you feel that way, and that we understand each other," he
contented himself with saying.

The heroic moment past, Johnson's restless mind began to glance among
anxieties.

"But hasten the undertaking as much as you can," he begged. "The opposition
is stronger than you suppose. The pressure on me is going to be terrible.
What about the prisoners in the jail?" asked Johnson anxiously. "What is
your immediate plan?"

"That is in the hands of the committee," evaded Coleman.

He left the governor, again pacing up and down.




LVIII


Coleman returned at once to the hall to resume his interrupted labours with
the committee. The results of his conference with the governor seemed very
satisfactory,

"We can now go ahead with free minds," said Clancey Dempster.

The business was astonishingly varied in scope. Charles Doane--not to be
confused with Duane, the ex-fire chief--was appointed military commander-
in-chief; Colonel Johns, captain of artillery; Olney was given the task of
guarding the jail from the outside "with a force numerous enough to prevent
escape." After considerable discussion Aaron Burns was made head of a
civilian committee to take charge of all prisoners. It was moved and
carried that no city or county official should be admitted to membership, a
striking commentary on the disesteem in which such men were held. Permanent
headquarters were arranged for; committees appointed for the solicitation
of funds. A dozen other matters of similar detail were taken up,
intelligently discussed, and provided for with the celerity of men trained
in crises of business or life. At length it was moved the "committee, as a
body, shall visit the county jail at such time as the Executive Committee
might direct; and take thence James P. Casey and Charles Cora, give them a
fair trial, and administer such punishment as justice shall demand."

This was the real business, for the transaction of which all these lesser
businesses had been prepared. A slight pause followed its introduction, as
though each member present were savouring the significance of the moment.

"Are you ready for the question?" asked Coleman in grave tones. "Those in
favour----"

"Aye," came the instant response from every man present.

A messenger opened the door to announce that Governor Johnson was in the
anteroom requesting speech with Coleman. The latter, handing his gavel to
Dempster, immediately answered the summons.

He found Johnson, accompanied by Sherman, Garrison, and two strangers,
lounging in the anteroom. The governor sprawled in a chair, his hat pulled
over his eyes, a cigar in the corner of his mouth. His companions arose and
bowed gravely as Coleman entered the room, but he remained seated, nodding
at Coleman with an air of cavalier bravado that was plainly intended to
conceal his nervousness. Without waiting for the exchange of spoken
greetings, he burst out:

"We have come to ask what you intend to do," he demanded truculently of
Coleman, as though he had never seen or talked to him before.

Coleman stared at him for an instant, completely surprised; read him; set
his mouth grimly.

"Outrages are of constant occurrence," he recited briefly; "our suffrages
are profaned, our fellow-citizens shot down in the street, our courts
afford us no redress, we will endure it no longer."

"I agree with you as to the grievances," rejoined the governor, almost as
though reciting a learned lesson; "but I think the courts are the proper
remedy. The judges are good men, and there is no necessity for the people
to turn themselves into a mob and obstruct the execution of the laws."

A flush mounted Coleman's cheek.

"Sir!" he cried indignantly, "this is no mob! You know this is no mob!"

Johnson looked at him from between half-closed lids, as though from a great
distance.

"The opposition is stronger than you imagine," he said. "There is danger to
the city--great danger of bloodshed--which should be prevented if
possible." He paused, focussed his whole attention on Coleman, and went on
with deliberate significance: _"It may be necessary to bring out all the
force at my command._ I strongly advise you to leave the case of Casey to
the courts; and I pledge myself to his fair and speedy trial."

Although realizing fully what a formidable element this change of front
threw into the situation, Coleman's expression did not change: Sherman,
watching him closely, could not see that his eyes even flickered,

"That will not satisfy the people," he told the governor, coldly and
formally. "However they might consider your intention, they will doubt your
ability to keep such a promise," He was going to say more, but checked,
himself abruptly. The silent but intent attitude of the governor's four
companions had struck his attention. "They are present as witnesses!" he
told himself. Aloud he said, "Sir, I will report your remarks to my
associates," Coleman wanted witnesses, too.

He returned to the committee, interrupting the proceedings,

"The governor has flopped over the fence." he informed them. "He is out
there with Sherman and some others threatening to bring in the State troops
unless we turn Casey over to the courts and disband. He personally
guarantees a fair and speedy trial."

"What did you tell him?" demanded Hossfros.

"I haven't told him anything. It suddenly occurred to me that I ought to
have witnesses for my side of the conversation, What do you think?"

"Same as I've always thought," replied Ward.

A murmur of assent greeted this.

After a remarkably brief discussion, considering the delicacy of the
crisis, Coleman with others returned to the anteroom.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting," he said blandly, "but some consideration
of the question was necessary. Let us understand each other clearly. As I
understand your proposal, it is that, if we make no move, you guarantee no
escape, immediate trial, and instant execution?"

"That is it," agreed Johnson, after a moment's focussing of his mind. For
the first time it became evident to Coleman that the man had a trifle too
much aboard.

"We doubt your ability to do this," went on Coleman, "but we are ready to
meet you halfway. This is what we will promise: we will take no steps
without first giving you notice. But in return we insist that ten men of
our own selection shall be added to the sheriff's force within the jail."

"And," added Isaac Bluxome, "that they be fed and kept and treated well.
That's part of the bargain."

"Why, that sounds fair and reasonable, gentlemen!" the governor cried
heartily. "I see no objection to that! I was sure we could come to an
agreement!"

He was suddenly all cordiality, all smiles, shaking each man's hand in
turn. His companions retained their manner of glacial formality, however.
He shortly withdrew, full of spirits, very much relieved at the lifting of
what seemed to him a cloud of unjust oppression for a poor official who
merely wanted peace. The real situation, evident enough to the keener
brains on either side, was veiled to him. For poor Johnson had thus far
stepped from one blunder into another. If Coleman were completely outside
the law, then he, as an executive of the law, had no business treating or
making agreements with him at all. Furthermore, as executive of the State,
he had no legal right to interfere with city affairs unless formally
summoned by the authorities--a procedure that had not been adopted. And to
cap it all, he had for the second time treated with "rebels" and to their
advantage. For, as the astute Coleman well knew, the final agreement was
all to the benefit of the committee. They gained the right to place a
personal guard over the prisoners; they gave, practically, only a promise
to withdraw that guard before attacking the jail--a procedure eminently
sensible if they cared anything for the guard.

This little weakness was immediately and vigorously pointed out to Johnson
when he returned triumphantly to his hotel. Keen minds were plenty in the
Law and Order party. Johnson was crestfallen. Like all men of little
calibre elevated by expediency to high office, he wanted above everything
to have peace, to leave things as they were, to avoid friction.

"Upon my word, gentlemen!" cried the governor, dismayed, "I did it for the
best; and I assure you I am still convinced that this agreement--entered
into in all faith, and sincerity----"

"Bosh!" boomed Judge Caldwell.

"I beg your pardon!" said Johnson, flushing.

"I said 'bosh,'" repeated the judge, bringing the point of his cane against
the floor. "You've muddied it, as every sensible man can see. Best thing is
to put a bold face on it. Take it for granted that the committee has
promised to surrender all right of action, and that they have promised
definitely to leave the case to the courts."

Copyright (c) 2007. topboookz.com. All rights reserved.