A Plagiarism on Sealsfield (pamphlet)
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Plagiarism in its most objectionable form, when committed against an author of considerable but obscure merit, is sometimes historically significant in that it points to a latent or incipient appreciation. The sign is especially telling when we see an otherwise inferior piece of work captivate the unwar reader's interest by the sole force of a purloined fragment. Yet a pen driver with a duly low opinion of the Bildungspobel may be disposed to copy only the crude and catchy conceit when his model's qualities of style and presentation are beyond his reach.
By a recent article of Prof. Rich. M. Meyer's 1 we are reminded that Sealsfield in spite of his alleged isolation should not be numbered among the rare writers who ever heed the cautious precept of Polonius:
“Neither a borrower nor a lender be.”
Whether the unquestionable similarity that exists as to the situation and the phrasing between a striking passage in “Morton” and one in Balzac's "Gobseck" constitutes plagiarism of an obnoxious sort is a matter on which honest critics may differ. As to Sealsfield's legitimate or improper indebtedness to other contemporaries, the number of the vague hints and suggestions is legion, but not even the few more definite pointers (those of Faust, Sarrazin, Muller-Rastatt, Rich. M. Meyer) have been followed up sufficiently to allow a conclusion. Surely, too, every student of Sealsfield will agree with the opinion expressed, if I err not, by Professor Goebel, that a perusal of the 'amusement literature' of the early part of the 19th century might disclose some of the sources of Sealsfield's matter and motifs. And conversely it may be worth while, in view of the steady progress of Sealsfield toward the foreground of the literary-historic interest, 2 to insist that a study of Sealsfield's influence and after-effect again imposes the irksome task of delving into a vast deal of Unterhaltungslektüre.
In my opinion there is small doubt that a critical balancing of the accounts will eventually show Sealsfield's liabilities to sum up to a far lesser total than indebtedness of others to him. Already Mr. Edward Leyh has entered one fair sized item to the credit of the great German-American novelist[1] (whereas Professor Faust's transfer of part of Simms' “Guy Eivers” from the debit to the credit page of Sealsfield's ledger is somewhat problematical, and the derivation of Helen Jackson's “Ramona” from Sealsfield's Indian novel not coercively made out).
Sealsfield tempted foreign pirates not only as a good, but also as a safe prize. The reason was probably not so much, as Faust thinks, that he wrote anonymously, as that he was so little known and read outside of Germany. On this score we should not be misled by his own immoderate boasts of his enormous popularity in the United States.[2] He never hesitated to draw the long bow when seeking to impress a solvent publisher. To me, a fairly thorough search for Sealsfieldiana in American newspapers and periodicals has yielded a rather negative result, with some unimpeachable evidence contradicting Sealsfield's assertions about his literary connections, made in his letters and heretofore accepted at par by his biographers. Even after the simultaneous appearance of several of his books in English (1844) it was in all probability mostly connoisseurs of the Mayne Eeid type who had any real ‘use‘ for Sealsfield.
In England, the gentle reader warmed up still less to the new “Great Unknown.” Practically the only trace of Sealsfield's writings runs through the files of the Blackwood publications.[3] The anonymous sketches first printed in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine were for the most part republished in “Travel, Adventure, and Sport from Blackwood's Magazine” and in “Tales from Blackwood”.[4] They also came out, selected, as a volume, twice in Great Britain and twice in America, and in these reprints authorship is owned by Frederick Hardman who was a story writer of narrowly circumscribed powers but as a literary critic possessed ability of a much higher order. To Hardman's (unsigned) article in No. 352 of Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, and more particularly to his fine essay on Sealsfield in No. 74 of the Foreign Quarterly Review[5] (which for a quick and sure seizure of Sealsfield's literary character has not been surpassed to this day) whatever recognition the German-American romancer ever received in the British Isles is almost solely due.
It appears that, certainly from less laudable motives, the same Hardman established the actual connection between Sealsfield and English fiction of the forties. In other words, Hardman in his capacity of literary hack did not scruple to profit from his familiarity with Sealsfield's stories.
In No. 365 of Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine[6] there is an anonymous tale entitled “The Smuggler's Leap. A Passage in the Pyrenees.” It is the story of a trip by some young English people, among them the teller of the story and a young fellow, Walter Ashley, whose description at once recalls the foolhardy Ralph Doughby, Esq. The core of the story is a harebrained attempt to leap over a chasm, with the ensuing rescue of the dare-devil through the quick-wittedness of the heroine, in all its details quite like Chapter VII of “Ralph Doughby's Brautfahrt.” The following passage[7] cannot be adjudged a mere “reminiscence”: “With the speed of light and woman's dexterity she knotted together her scarf, a long silk cravat which I gave her, … and securing a stone at either extremity of the rope thus formed, she threw one end of it, with sure aim and steady hand, across the ravine and round the sapling already referred to … The sapling bent and bowed … he grasped it, another powerful effort … and he lay exhausted and almost senseless upon the rocky brink. At the same moment Dora fell fainting into her brother's arm.” That this story hit the taste of the “general reader,” there can be no doubt; else it would not have been received into the “Tales from Blackwood.”
In the light of these facts we may understand the omission of the most sensational chapter of “Ralph Doughby” from Hardman's English version: “Settled at Last; Red River Collections,”[8]where “The Race” (=chapter VI) is followed immediately by the “Stag Hunt” (chapter VIII), whereas the American version by Hebbe and Mackay[9] inserts the episode of the “Leap” in its proper place between the above sections.
Evidently Hardman withheld the central incident of the story for the enhancement of his own product. That he could do so with safety indicates the dense unfamiliarity of the British reader with Sealsfield, even after Hardman's active propaganda.
Washington University, Saint Louis. OTTO HELLER.
- ↑ A. B. Faust, Charles Sealsfield, der Dichter beider Hemispharen, Weimar 1897, p. 5 f.; and id., earlier, in his Johns Hopkins Dissertation. Mr. Leyh in the Washington Sentinel, 1887.
- ↑ See preface to Gesammelte Werke, Pocket Edition, p. XI.
- ↑ A fairly complete list of the English versions (for the fewest of them are close translations) is piven by Faust, 1. c. p. 3. Yet he fails to mention the most elaborate Blackwood rifacimento, viz: “The Americans and the Aborigines. Scenes in the Short War.” Blackw. Edinb. Mag. vol. LIX and LX (1846) p. 289-413 (Nrs. 367, 368, 369), also in “Travel, Adventure and Sport” from ‘Blackwoods’, Nr. 6.
- ↑ In a somewhat altered and more condensed form. These adaptations are likewise missing in Faust's list.
- ↑ Vol. XXXVII (April-July 1846) p. 416-448. Hardman revealed his authorship of these articles in his preface to “Scenes and Adventures in Central America.” (1852).
- ↑ Vol. LIX (March 1846), p. 366–372.
- ↑ Vol. X (No. 29) p. 90–98, where the author's name appears as Frederick Hardman.
- ↑ Blackw. Edinb. Mag., vol. LVII (1845) p. 18–29
- ↑ “Life in the New World,” New York, 1844; the numbering of the chapters here differs somewhat from the original.
