Richard F. Burton - "The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, Volume 3"

Solon Robinson - "Guano"

John Ruskin - "The Storm Cloud of the Nineteenth Century"

Hamlin Garland - "Prairie Folks"

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.

Elson Grammer School Literature, Book Four.

W >> William H. Elson and Christine Keck >> Elson Grammer School Literature, Book Four.




Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the God
of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed in the
holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are
invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir,
we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over
the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our
battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the
vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we
were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the
contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are
forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is
inevitable--and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come!

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace,
peace!--but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale
that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding
arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What
is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace
so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it,
Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give
me liberty or give me death!

Biographical and Historical: Patrick Henry was an American patriot and
orator whose eloquent speech was a powerful force in moulding public
opinion at the time of the Revolution. This famous speech was made in the
Virginia Convention, March 28, 1775, and is an appeal to place the colonies
in a state of defence.

* * * * *


THE MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY

EDWARD EVERETT HALE

I first came to understand anything about "the man without a country" one
day when we over-hauled a dirty little schooner which had slaves on board.
An officer was sent to take charge of her, and, after a few minutes, he
sent back his boat to ask that someone might be sent him who could talk
Portuguese. But none of the officers did; and just as the captain was
sending forward to ask if any of the people could, Nolan stepped out and
said he should be glad to interpret, if the captain wished, as he
understood the language. The captain thanked him, fitted out another boat
with him, and in this boat it was my luck to go.

There were not a great many of the negroes; most of them were out of the
hold and swarming all round the dirty deck, with a central throng
surrounding Vaughan. "Tell them they are free, Nolan," said Vaughan; "and
tell them that I will take them all to Cape Palmas."

Cape Palmas was practically as far from the homes of most of them as New
Orleans or Rio Janeiro was; that is, they would be eternally separated from
home there. And their interpreters, as we could understand, instantly said,
"Ah, non Palmas." The drops stood on poor Nolan's white forehead, as he
hushed the men down, and said:

"He says, 'Not Palmas.' He says, 'Take us home, take us to our own country,
take us to our own house, take us to our own pickaninnies and our own
women.' He says he has an old father and mother who will die if they do not
see him. And this one says," choked out Nolan, "that he has not heard a
word from, his home in six months."

Even the negroes stopped howling, as they saw Nolan's agony, and Vaughan's
almost equal agony of sympathy. As quick as he could get words, Vaughan
said:

"Tell them, yes, yes, yes; tell them they shall go to the Mountains of the
Moon, if they will."

And after some fashion Nolan said so. And then they all fell to kissing him
again.

But he could not stand it long; and getting Vaughan to say he might go
back, he beckoned me down into our boat. As we lay back in the stern-sheets
and the men gave way, he said to me: "Youngster, let that show you what it
is to be without a family, without a home, and without a country. And if
you are ever tempted to say a word or to do a thing that shall put a bar
between you and your family, your home, and your country, pray God in his
mercy to take you that instant home to his own heaven. Think of your home,
boy; write and read, and talk about it. Let it be nearer and nearer to your
thought, the farther you have to travel from it; and rush back to it when
you are free, as that poor black slave is doing now. And for your country,
boy," and the words rattled in his throat, "and for that flag," and he
pointed to the ship, "never dream a dream but of serving her as she bids
you, though the service carry you through a thousand terrors. No matter
what happens to you, no matter who flatters you or who abuses you, never
look at another flag. Remember, that behind all these men you have to do
with,--behind officers, and government, and people even--there is the
Country Herself, your Country, and that you belong to Her as you belong to
your own mother."


Biographical and Historical: This is an extract from "The Man Without a
Country," a book written by Edward Everett Hale, a clergyman and author
(1822-1909). He was a grand-nephew of Nathan Hale, of Revolutionary fame.

"The Man without a Country" is the story of Philip Nolan, a young officer
of the United States army. On account of his intimacy with Aaron Burr, he
was court-martialed and, having expressed the wish never to hear the name
of his country again, was banished and sentenced to live upon a government
boat, where no one was allowed to mention his country.

* * * * *


LOVE OF COUNTRY (From "The Lay of the Last Minstrel," Canto VI.)

SIR WALTER SCOTT


Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said:--
"This is my own, my native land!"
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned,
As home his footsteps he hath turned
From wandering on a foreign strand?
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch concentered all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.

* * * * *


NAPOLEON BONAPARTE

CHARLES PHILLIPS

He is fallen! We may now pause before that splendid prodigy, which towered
among us like some ancient ruin, whose frown terrified the glance its
magnificence attracted. Grand, gloomy, and peculiar, he sat upon the
throne, a sceptered hermit, wrapt in the solitude of his own originality. A
mind, bold, independent, and decisive,--a will despotic in its dictates--an
energy that distanced expedition, and a conscience pliable to every touch
of interest, marked the outline of this extraordinary character--the most
extraordinary, perhaps, that, in the annals of this world, ever rose, or
reigned, or fell.

Flung into life in the midst of a revolution that quickened every energy of
a people who acknowledge no superior, he commenced his course, a stranger
by birth, and a scholar by charity! With no friend but his sword, and no
fortune but his talents, he rushed into the lists where rank and wealth and
genius had arrayed themselves, and competition fled from him as from the
glance of destiny. He knew no motive but interest--he acknowledged no
criterion but success--he worshiped no God but ambition, and, with an
Eastern devotion, he knelt at the shrine of his idolatry.

Subsidiary to this, there was no creed that he did not profess, there was
no opinion that he did not promulgate; in the hope of a dynasty, he upheld
the Crescent; for the sake of a divorce, he bowed before the Cross; the
orphan of St. Louis, he became the adopted child of the Republic; and, with
a parricidal ingratitude, on the ruins both of the throne and tribune, he
reared the throne of his despotism.

A professed Catholic, he imprisoned the Pope; a pretended patriot, he
impoverished the country; and, in the name of Brutus, he grasped--without
remorse and wore without shame the diadem of the Caesars. Through this
pantomime of policy, fortune played the clown to his caprices. At his
touch, crowns crumbled, beggars reigned, systems vanished, the wildest
theories took the color of his whim, and all that was venerable, and all
that was novel, changed places with the rapidity of a drama.

Even apparent defeat assumed the appearance of victory,--his flight from
Egypt confirmed his destiny,--ruin itself only elevated him to empire. But,
if his fortune was great, his genius was transcendent; decision flashed
upon his counsels; and it was the same to decide and to perform. To
inferior intellects his combinations appeared perfectly impossible, his
plans perfectly impracticable; but, in his hands, simplicity marked their
development, and success vindicated their adoption. His person partook the
character of his mind,--if the one never yielded in the cabinet, the other
never bent in the field. Nature had no obstacle that he did not
surmount--space no opposition that he did not spurn: and whether amid
Alpine rocks, Arabian sands, or Polar snows, he seemed proof against peril,
and empowered with ubiquity.

The whole continent trembled at beholding the audacity of his designs, and
the miracle of their execution. Skepticism bowed to the prodigies of his
performance; romance assumed the air of history; nor was there aught too
incredible for belief, or too fanciful for expectation, when the world saw
a subaltern of Corsica waving his imperial flag over her most ancient
capitals. All the visions of antiquity became commonplace in his
contemplation; kings were his people--nations were his outposts; and he
disposed of courts, and crowns, and camps, and churches, and cabinets, as
if they were titular dignitaries of the chess-board. Amid all these
changes, he stood immutable as adamant.

It mattered little whether in the field or in the drawing-room, with the
mob or the levee--wearing the Jacobin bonnet or the iron crown--banishing a
Braganza, or espousing a Hapsburg--dictating peace on a raft to the Czar of
Russia, or contemplating defeat at the gallows of Leipsic--he was still the
same military despot.

In this wonderful combination, his affectations of literature must not be
omitted. The jailer of the press, he affected the patronage of letters; the
proscriber of books, he encouraged philosophy; the persecutor of authors
and the murderer of printers, he yet pretended to the protection of
learning. Such a medley of contradictions, and at the same time, such an
individual consistency, were never united in the same character. A
royalist--a republican and an emperor--a Mohammedan--a Catholic and a
patron of the synagogue--a subaltern and a sovereign--a traitor and a
tyrant--a Christian and an infidel--he was, through all his vicissitudes,
the same stern, impatient, inflexible original--the same mysterious,
incomprehensible self--a man without a model and without a shadow.

* * * * *


THE TRUE GRANDEUR OF NATIONS

BY CHARLES SUMNER

The flowers of gentleness, of kindliness, of fidelity, of humanity, which
flourish in unregarded luxuriance in the rich meadows of peace, receive
unwonted admiration when we discern them in war, like violets shedding
their perfume on the perilous edges of the precipice, beyond the smiling
borders of civilization. God be praised for all the examples of magnanimous
virtue which he has vouchsafed to mankind! God be praised that the Roman
emperor, about to start on a distant expedition of war, encompassed by
squadrons of cavalry and by golden eagles which moved in the winds, stooped
from his saddle to listen to the prayer of the humble widow, demanding
justice for the death of her son! God be praised that Sidney, on the field
of battle, gave with dying hand the cup of cold water to the dying soldier!
That single act of self-forgetful sacrifice has consecrated the fenny field
of Zutphen far, oh, far beyond its battle; it has consecrated thy name,
gallant Sidney, beyond any feat of thy sword, beyond any triumph of thy
pen. But there are hands out-stretched elsewhere than on fields of blood
for so little as a cup of cold water; the world is full of opportunities
for deeds of kindness. Let me not be told, then, of the virtues of war. Let
not the acts of generosity and sacrifice which have triumphed on its fields
be invoked in its defense. In the words of Oriental imagery, the poisonous
tree, though watered by nectar, can produce only the fruit of death.

As we cast our eyes over the history of nations, we discern with horror the
succession of murderous slaughters by which their progress has been marked.
As the hunter traces the wild beast, when pursued to his lair, by the drops
of blood on the earth, so we follow man, faint, weary, staggering with
wounds, through the black forest of the past, which he has reddened with
his gore. Oh, let it not be in the future ages as in those which we now
contemplate. Let the grandeur of man be discerned in the blessings which he
has secured; in the good he has accomplished; in the triumphs of
benevolence and justice; in the establishment of perpetual peace.

And peace has its own peculiar victories, in comparison with which Marathon
and Bannockburn and Bunker Hill, fields held sacred in the history of human
freedom, shall lose their lustre. Our own Washington rises to a truly
heavenly stature--not when we follow him over the ice of the Delaware to
the capture of Trenton--not when we behold him victorious over Cornwallis
at Yorktown--but when we regard him, in noble deference to justice,
refusing the kingly crown which a faithless soldiery proffered, and at a
later day upholding the peaceful neutrality of the country, while he
received unmoved the clamor of the people wickedly crying for war....

To this great work let me summon you. That future which filled the lofty
visions of the sages and bards of Greece and Rome, which was foretold by
the prophets and heralded by the evangelists, when man in happy isles or in
a new paradise shall confess the loveliness of peace, may be secured by
your care, if not for yourselves, at least for your children. Believe that
you can do it, and you can do it. The true golden age is before you, not
behind you.

Let it not be said that the age does not demand this work. The mighty
conquerors of the past from their fiery sepulchres demand it; the blood of
millions unjustly shed in war crying from the ground demands it; the voices
of all good men demand it; the conscience even of the soldier whispers
"peace." There are considerations springing from our situation and
condition which fervently invite us to take the lead in this great work. To
this should bend the patriotic ardor of the land; the ambition of the
statesman; the efforts of the scholar; the pervasive influence of the
press; the mild persuasion of the sanctuary; the early teachings of the
school. Here, in ampler ether and diviner air, are untried fields for
exalted triumphs, more truly worthy the American name than any snatched
from rivers of blood. War is known as the last reason of kings. Let it be
no reason of our republic. Let us renounce and throw off forever the yoke
of a tyranny more oppressive than any in the annals of the world. As those
standing on the mountain tops first discern the coming beams of morning,
let us, from the vantage-ground of liberal institutions, first recognize
the ascending sun of a new era. Lift high, the gates and let the King of
glory in--the King of true glory, of peace. I catch the last words of music
from the lips of innocence and beauty--

"And let the whole earth be filled with his glory!"

It is a beautiful picture in Grecian story that there was at least one
spot, the small island of Delos, dedicated to the gods, and kept at all
times sacred from war, where the citizens of hostile countries met and
united in a common worship. So let us dedicate our broad country. The
temple of honor shall be surrounded by the temple of concord, so that the
former can be entered only through the portals of the latter; the horn of
abundance shall overflow at its gates; the angel of religion shall be the
guide over its steps of flashing adamant; while within, Justice, returned
to the earth from her long exile in the skies, shall rear her serene and
majestic front. And the future chiefs of the republic, destined to uphold
the glories of a new era, unspotted by human blood, shall be "the first in
peace, and the first in the hearts of their countrymen."

But while we seek these blissful glories for ourselves, let us strive to
extend them to other lands. Let the bugles sound the truce of God to the
whole world forever. Let the selfish boast of the Spartan women become the
grand chorus of mankind, that they have never seen the smoke of an enemy's
camp. Let the iron belt of martial music which now encompasses the earth be
exchanged for the golden cestus of peace, clothing all with celestial
beauty. And now, on this Sabbath of our country, let us lay a new stone in
the grand temple of universal peace, whose dome shall be as lofty as the
firmament of heaven, as broad and comprehensive as the earth itself.


Biographical: Charles Samuer was an American statesman noted for his
oratory. His speeches were marked by soundness of reason, and the fifteen
published volumes of them make an imposing addition to our literature. This
selection is taken from his address "The True Grandeur of Nations," which
was delivered in Tremont Temple, Boston, July 4, 1845.

* * * * *


THE EVILS OF WAR

HENRY CLAY


"The drying up a single tear has more
Of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore."--_Byron_.


War, pestilence, and famine, by the common consent of mankind, are the
three greatest calamities which can befall our species; and war, as the
most direful, justly, stands foremost and in front. Pestilence and famine,
no doubt for wise although inscrutable purposes, are inflictions of
Providence, to which it is our duty, therefore, to bow with obedience,
humble submission, and resignation. Their duration is not long, and their
ravages are limited. They bring, indeed, great affliction, while they last,
but society soon recovers from their effects.

War is the voluntary work of our own hands, and whatever reproaches it may
deserve, should be directed to ourselves. When it breaks out, its duration
is indefinite and unknown,--its vicissitudes are hidden from our view. In
the sacrifice of human life, and in the waste of human treasure,--in its
losses and in its burdens,--it affects both belligerent nations, and its
sad effects of mangled bodies, of death, and of desolation, endure long
after its thunders are hushed in peace.

War unhinges society, disturbs its peaceful and regular industry, and
scatters poisonous seeds of disease and immorality, which continue to
germinate and diffuse their baneful influence long after it has ceased.
Dazzling by its glitter, pomp, and pageantry, it begets a spirit of wild
adventure and romantic enterprise, and often disqualifies those who embark
in it, after their return from the bloody fields of battle, for engaging in
the industrious and peaceful vocations of life.

History tells the mournful tale of conquering nations and conquerors. The
three most celebrated conquerors, in the civilized world, were Alexander,
Caesar, and Napoleon. The first, after ruining a large portion of Asia, and
sighing and lamenting that there were no more worlds to subdue, met a
premature and ignoble death. His lieutenants quarreled and warred with each
other as to the spoils of his victories, and finally lost them all.

Caesar, after conquering Gaul, returned with his triumphant legions to Rome,
passed the Rubicon, won the battle of Pharsalia, trampled upon the
liberties of his country, and expired by the patriot hand of Brutus. But
Rome ceased to be free. War and conquest had enervated and corrupted the
masses. The spirit of true liberty was extinguished, and a long line of
emperors succeeded, some of whom were the most execrable monsters that ever
existed in human form.

And Napoleon, that most extraordinary man, perhaps, in all history, after
subjugating all continental Europe, occupying almost all its
capitals,--seriously threatening proud Albion itself,--and decking the
brows of various members of his family with crowns torn from the heads of
other monarchs, lived to behold his own dear France itself in possession of
his enemies, was made himself a wretched captive, and far removed from
country, family, and friends, breathed his last on the distant and
inhospitable rock of St. Helena.

The Alps and the Rhine had been claimed, as the natural boundaries of
France, but even these could not be secured in the treaties, to which she
was reduced to submit. Do you believe that the people of Macedon or Greece,
of Rome, or of France, were benefited, individually or collectively, by the
triumphs of their captains? Their sad lot was immense sacrifice of life,
heavy and intolerable burdens, and the ultimate loss of liberty itself.


Biographical: Henry Clay was one of the most prominent statesmen of his
time, serving as speaker of the House for ten years, as secretary of state
for four years, and as senator from Kentucky for twenty years. He was the
author of the compromise measures in 1850, and was known as the "Great
Pacificator," and the "Great Compromiser."

* * * * *


PEACE, THE POLICY OF A NATION

JOHN C. CALHOUN

I am opposed to war, as a friend to human improvement, to human
civilization, to human progress and advancement. Never, in the history of
the world, has there occurred a period so remarkable. The chemical and
mechanical powers have been investigated and applied to advance the
comforts of human life, in a degree far beyond all that was ever known
before. Civilization has been spreading its influence far and wide, and the
general progress of human society has outstripped all that had been
previously witnessed.

The invention of man has seized upon, and subjugated two great agencies of
the natural world, which never before were made the servants of man. I
refer to steam and to electricity, under which I include magnetism in all
its phenomena. We have been distinguished by Providence for a great and
noble purpose, and I trust we shall fulfill our high destiny.

Again, I am opposed to war, because I hold that it is now to be determined
whether two such nations as these shall exist for the future, as friends or
enemies. A declaration of war by one of them against the other, must be
pregnant with miseries, not only to themselves, but to the world.

Another reason is, that mighty means are now put into the hands of both, to
cement and secure a perpetual peace, by breaking down the barriers of
commerce, and uniting them more closely in an intercourse mutually
beneficial. If this shall be accomplished, other nations will, one after
another, follow the fair example, and a state of general prosperity,
heretofore unknown, will gradually unite and bless the nations of the
world.

And far more than all. An intercourse like this points to that inspiring
day which philosophers have hoped for, which poets have seen in their
bright dreams of fancy, and which prophecy has seen in holy vision,--when
men shall learn war no more. Who can contemplate a state of the world like
this, and not feel his heart exult at the prospect? And who can doubt that,
in the hand of an Omnipotent Providence, a free and unrestricted commerce
shall prove one of the greatest agents in bringing it about?

Finally, I am against war, because peace--peace is preeminently our policy.
Our great mission, as a people, is to occupy this vast domain,--there to
level forests, and let in upon their solitude the light of day; to clear
the swamps and morasses, and redeem them to the plow and the sickle; to
spread over hill and dale the echoes of human labor, and human happiness,
and contentment; to fill the land with cities and towns; to unite its
opposite extremities by turnpikes and railroads; to scoop out canals for
the transmission of its products, and open rivers for its internal trade.
War can only impede the fulfillment of this high mission of Heaven; it
absorbs the wealth and diverts the energy which might be so much better
devoted to the improvement of our country. All we want is
peace,--established peace; and then time, under the guidance of a wise and
cautious policy, will soon effect for us all the rest. Where we find that
natural causes will of themselves work out good, our wisdom is to let them
work; and all our task is to remove impediments. In the present case, one
of the greatest of these impediments is found in our impatience.

Yes; time--ever-laboring time--will effect everything for us. Our
population is now increasing at the annual average of six hundred thousand.
Let the next twenty-five years elapse, and our increase will have reached a
million a year, and, at the end of that period, we shall count a population
of forty-five millions. Before that day it will have spread from ocean to
ocean. The coast of the Pacific will then be as densely populated and as
thickly settled with villages and towns as is now the coast of the
Atlantic. If we can preserve peace, who shall set bounds to our prosperity,
or to our success? With one foot planted on the Atlantic and the other on
the Pacific, we shall occupy a position between the two old continents of
the world,--a position eminently calculated to secure to us the commerce
and the influence of both. If we abide by the counsels of common sense,--if
we succeed in preserving our constitutional liberty, we shall then exhibit
a spectacle such, as the world never saw.

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