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had the magnanimity to put himself to open penance in a later edition—a good example which we believe that smaller offenders did not think it necessary to follow. The truth is that St. Eligius' did mention certain formal observances j as binding on a good Christian, but that he also enlarged at much greater length on those moral and religious duties about which all Christians agree. Mosheim. picked up so much as suited his purpose of depreciation, but he had the decency to leave some marks of omission. His English translator left out the marks of omission, and Robertson—who is still read at Oxford—and a host of others copied one from the other, till poor St. \ Eligius was made to give a description of a perfect Christian as little like what he intended to give as the statement \ about the goats breathing through their [ ears was like the real meaning of Aristotle. These are two specially bad cases, because in each of them somebody, be it Aristotle or be it Eligius, is misrepresented and held up to unjust contempt. But it is only the common way; one man copies from another, without ever thinking of searching whether these things are so. Robertson, indeed, we must acquit of the grossest form of dishonesty, because he distinctly says that he borrowed the passage from Mosheim or Mosheim's translator. But we can not acquit him of gross idleness and carelessness in being satisfied with translations and extracts, instead of going to the Latin text of Eligius (or as he blunderingly calls him Eyidius) for himself. We suspect that this sort of carelessness is much more common than deliberate misrepresentation. But it is a sort of carelessness which, though we acquit it of! the grossest form of dishonesty, is still | distinctly dishonest It is like the act of a medical man who has no sort of wish to kill his patient, but who, through idleness, carelessness, or culpable ignorance, does not take the proper means to keep his patient alive. We acquit Robertson of the wilful murder of Eligius' reputation, but we undoubtedly convict him of manslaughter. We are not sure whether Dr. White, Regius, Professor of Hebrew at Oxford, who transcribes Mosheim's extracts, leaving out all the signs of omission, might not be condemned for wilful mur
der. And in truth this is the way in which most of our popular history is written. Among the blind the one-eyed man is king, and Niebuhr's man who verified the references and then passed them off as his own would, in such company, appear as a model not only of research, but of honesty. The truth is that people seem not to understand that honesty, any more than accuracy, has anything to do with the matter. They copy and copy without a thought that anything besides copying is possible. As it does not come into their heads, to inquire whether the actors of history really did the acts which they are made out to have done, still less does it come into their heads to inquire when the writers of history really wrote what they are made out to have written.
It is curious that the people who play these tricks should in any way present a likeness to the class of writers on whom their tricks are most commonly played. We have often had occasion to point out how utterly unknown the idea of literary property was to the chroniclers of the middle ages. Every mediieval writer did not copy, because in some cases the Ibrru of their works hindered much copying. William of Malmesbury, we have no doubt, incorporated the matter of a great many ballads in his history, but the peculiar form of his work hindered him from largely copying the text of any earlier Latin prose writer. So, when a man wrote a distinct monograph of events of which he was an eye-witness—an Itinerary of King Richard or a History of the Emperor Frederick—his work was necessarily his own. But the authors of chroniclers in the shape of chronicles copied without scruple—good writers no less than bad ones, a brilliant narrator like Matthew Paris no less than a dull copyist like Thomas Walsingharn. He wanted his chronicle for use, for his own use or for that of his brethren. For times before his own, he copied any earlier chronicle that he approved of, correcting, omitting, adding, just as lie pleased—sometimes, as in the case of Matthew Paris dealing with Roger of Wendover, translating the narrative from one vein of political sentiment to ar It was only when he came dowr own time and spoke as a coutei
that he thought it at all necessary to draw wholly from his own stores. So with translations; we have seen that King Allied himself was anything but a faithful translator: in translating Boelhius and Orosius, he improved Boethius and Orosius whenever he thought he could make them serve better to edification. In short, no one scrupled to copy if it served his purpose, and an able and earnest writer was more likely to copy unfaithfully, if we are to use such an expression, than a stupid writer.
This sort of feeling could hardly survive the invention of printing. During the days of manuscript, it was natural enough when applied to the class of writings to which it was mainly applied. Even then, men, at least honest men, did not pilfer from writings which clearly were some man's special property. Poems or histories or letters, whose form or matter showed them to be distinctly a man's own, were respected even then. But a chronicle seemed to be common property, written for common use; and if it suited the general purpose of a later chronicler, why should he take the trouble to put the whole of the same matter into other words? If he thought he could improve upon it in detail, why should he forbear to do so? The position of the transcriber, when he was himself an author and not a mere profession • al scribe, would constantly tempt him to deal with his predecessors in this way. A chronicle which he had picked out from among others and copied with his own hand be might seem to have some right in as well as the original author. Every copy was a distinct edition, the result of distinct and considerable labor. The man who had done all this might not unreasonably claim the right at once to appropriate and to improve. There were no reviews in which he might either suggest his own improvements or be censured ior his plagiarisms. When a man formed his library with his own hand, and had no way of criticizing his predecessor but by bodily altei ing their texts, it is no wonder that ideas of literary property were wholly different from what they are now.
Printing naturally changed all this, and if a modern historian treated an earlier writer as Matthew Paris treated
Roger of Wendover, he would be rightly looked on as having reached the summit of literary dishonesty. To print another man's history or poem as your own, to repeat another man's speech as your own on a great national occasion, are pranks which few men would venture to play now-a days. Perhaps no one under the rank of leader of a Conservative Opposition would dare to run such a risk. People no longer appropriate other men's writings whole—not even with improvements which they may fondly think render them their own. Serjeant Stephen, indeed, puts in the same volume and the same page large portions of Blackstone's Commentaries and large portions of his own. Physically, this is much the same as Matthew Paris's treatment of Roger of Wendover. But the likeness is only physical. Matthew's readers had no means of knowing how much he had composed himself and how much he had merely copied, but a man must be very stupid who, with the help that is given him, can confound a paragraph of Stephen with a paragraph of Blackstone. You are told, at the beginning of the book, on what principle it is put together, and the original and the borrowed portions are carefully distinguished by those typographical marks which Matthew had not at his command. There is nothing in Serjeant Stephen's way of dealing with Blackstone which is other than honest, and straightforward, and we never heard that any one found fault with him for it. But, with a curious analogy to the case of the mediaeval chronicle, it is only with books of a certain class that such an arrangement could be tolerated—namely, with those where sound and trustworthy information is all that is wanted. It does perfectly well for a law-book; but no one would be satisfied with a poem, a history, or a philosophical treatise put together on such a principle. Still there is the great difference that in the modern case the union of borrowed and original matter is distinctly and repeatedly acknowledged, while in the mediaeval case it is either not acknowledged at all, or acknowledged in such a way as not to call constant attention to it.
In fact, it very seldom happens that a modern writer ventures to transfer large portions of another man's writings to his own pages without acknowledgment. Such doings would be at once found out and at once scouted. But many people do what is practically as bad—sometimes, one can not help thinking, conscious!}', but very often from sheer incapacity to discern between right and wrong in the matter. The grossest case which we remember for n good while past is the way in which Dr. Doran and the Duke of Manehestertook to themselves so much as seemed good to them of the labors of Mr. Bergenroth, and dismissed Mr. Bergenroth with a single patronizing men- j tion of his name. The people of whom Nk'buhr complained were very small sin-', nerscompared with such Anakim as these. The temptation to their offence is often very strong. No one can object to theif using modern writers as guides and indexes to ancient authorities; it is in fact oneof their most important uses. Blessed be the modern writer—Dean Milrnan for instance—whose writings can so be used; and, did not the memory of Sir Francis Palgrave hinder us, we should add, cursed be the modern writer who does not give us the power of so using them. You have seen an account of such or such a matter in some ancient writer, but you are not quite certain in which of several it was, or, if you remember the writer, you can not at once put your finger on chapter and verse. Turn to the place where the subject is treated of by a modern writer who does his duty, a Thirl wall or a Lappenberg, and you are at once sent to the right place. A reference got at in this way is surely your own reference ; the modern writer has at most only refieshcd your memory. But suppose that, along with such a reference, you find another equally opposite, j from an author whom you have not read, or whom at anj rate you have utterly i forgotten. It is a strong temptation to transfer both references alike to your own pages. But honesty distinctly forbids it in the latter case. You may make use of the passage and the information which it conveys, but you must distinctly show, in some way or other, that it was Dr. Mihnan or Dr. Lappenberg who sent, you to the passage. How far it may be allowable to cover your obligation by taking that moment either to agree with or to differ from the views of the old writer
is another matter. Bat anyhow the name of your benefactor must appear.
The whole morality of the matter involves the existence and the use of original writers. But while so many people never look at an original writer, and can hardly be persuaded that original writers exist, it is not wonderful if designing and daring persons—Dukes, Doctors, or others, as may happen—take advantage of the carelessness of the public to deck themselves iu the borrowed plumes of their betters.
THE CROWN PRINCESS OF PRUSSIA.
It is more than seven years now since Victoria, the Princess Royal of England, left her home and her native land, where she will be always remembered with respect and affection. Scarcely ever has a royal alliance been hailed with so much joy and anticipation of happiness as was the marriage of the English Princess Royal with the heir presumptive of the Prussian monarchy. Apart from its being a union of the heart, and not of mere political expediency, it was a token of good for the future generation that the two greatest Protestant nations were thus united by family ties. There are blessings which can be expected only in countries where evangelical religion is known, and where God is worshiped according to his word. May England and Prussia be ever closely united, and in both countries may there be increase of that righteousness which alone exalteth a people!
In the social and domestic life of a nation nothing is of more importance and influence than the moral tone of the Court. History is full of illustrations of the power for good or for evil that goes forth from the chamber of kings and queens. The moral and domestic life of the palace tells directly or indirectly upon the homes of the people of all ranks and conditions. The influence of the Crown Princess, since her residence in Prussia, we are told by a well-known minister in Berlin, has been very great. Her sweetness of disposition and gentleness of manner, the simplicity of her domestic fife and household arrangements, even at one of the most powerful courts of Europe, have been felt through the length and breadth of the land of her adoption. At the beginning of her residence the lords and ladies in waiting, and the directors of court ceremonies, were often shocked at her disregard of the long-established stiff forms in vogue. The Princess always followed more the dictates of her heart than the prescribed routine of ceremonials. It is said that she once had to hear a lecture from a court official on the impropriety of speaking in public of the Crown Prince as her husband, instead of giving him his due j title. She at once went to the king, and
asked him whether it was unbecoming in her to call the Crown Prince her husband. The king, pressing her to his heart, told her certainly to call him always her husband, wherever and whenever she pleased. The Princess seeks and finds her happiness in her family circle. Her riches are her children; and lovely and beloved children they are all four. Her eldest, Frederic William Victor Albert, was born 27th January, 1859; the second, Victoria Elizabeth Augusta Charlotte, born 24th July, 1860; Albert William Henry, born 14th August, 18f>2; and the fourth, Francis Frederic Sigismund, born loth September, 1864. The eldest, a nice-tempered boy, now six years of age, lively and full of spirit, rides his pony well; and it is a pleasant sight when he is seen with his sister running about and playing in the royal garden. With the greatest motherly care the Princess watches over the training of her children. The Crown Prince also finds it his delight to occupy himself with his family, especially with the eldest boy, encouraging him in his work, and joining in his sports. It will interest mothers to mention also that when the Princess, much against her own wish, was obliged to giv« up nursing her first! three children, she took care that the j wet-nurse was close to her own apart-• meuts in the palace, so that she could: herself watch over her children. She also insisted that the nurse should at j least, once during the day, nurse her own child. After having given way so much, she carried her point in regard to [ the fourth child, and she had permission ,
to exercise the duty and privilege of a mother, to nurse her own child. In order to avoid all the excitement and anxieties at the time attending the troubled political state of the country, she went to Italy, where she enjoyed quiet and retirement for her family duties. In her whole domestic life she is indeed a pattern to mothers, all the more exemplary for the hindrances of her exalted station. After tiresome, though necessary State ceremonies or duties, her first visit is to the nursery. Once she surprised a large party, on a public occasion, by taking uj> her children, who came rushing to her, in her arms, and embracing them, and allowing them to caress her before the company.
• The unobtrusive benevolence of the Princess is well known to all at Berlin. The writer knows it as a fact that she is in the habit of sending to make inquiries as to the character and mode of life, and then rendering substantial help, when she hears of cases of distress. She was solicited to become a patroness of a temporary asylum for governesses out of employ. She desired that the committee should lay before her an estimate of the cost of the institution, and twice the estimate was retured, as not being sufficiently explicit and clear in details; and only after everything had been fully and satisfactorily explained did she express her approval, and consent to become the patroness. On visiting the institution she minutely inspected all the arrangements, and directed several improvements to be made, in accordance with, her English ideas of comfort.
In her leisure hours she zealously improves her mind, and cultivates her taste, in reading and writing, drawing, modelling, and painting. We saw lately a beautiful statuette of " One of the Wise Virgins trimming her Lamp," sent from Berlin as a present to Mr. Edward Henry Corbould, her early instructor in drawing and the Fine Arts. Mr. Corbould's tuition must have been most valuable to the Princess, and to his other pupils in the royal family ; but no master can communicate the talent for original design, any more than a writing-master can teach the ait of original composition. We have seen historical and poetical designs by the Princess lloyal, and also by the Princess Alice, displaying a power which many a professional artist might justly covet. The Crown Princess has frequently presented drawings or paints ings to expositions or fancy fairs, held at Berlin, for the benefit of benevolent institutions. Her first contribution of this kind in her own country we are glad to be able to recall, by presenting a copy of the picture painted by her for " The Patriotic Fund."
When the proposal was made to hold an art bazaar in aid of the fund for the •widows and orphans of the soldiers who fell in the Crimean war, she was asked if she intended to send a contribution. I Diffident of her own powers, she exclaimed, "What! send a picture to a public exhibition? Of course not." But when it was explained that it would be productive of great good to the cause if she did, since many people would go to see her work who, but for such an inducement, would probably not go near , the place, and that the shillings so collected would add largely to the sum for the charity, while the sale of the picture would realize enough to help some widow lady in her distress, she at once agreed, on condition that the Queen had no objection. The Queen gave her consent •willingly, but, with her usual prudence, added that it must be on the understanding that the picture should be of such a nature that no one could pervert or twist it into any political significance. The Princess made a sketch of a wounded warrior and a wcman, both the figures being of ancient classic model. It is said to have been a composition of much power, and expressing deep feeling; but it was suggested that the idea would tell better, ami go home with quicker sympathy to the heart, if a British soldier were represented. The result was the touching picture of the dead guardsman, and the widow weeping over his body on the battle-field. There was nothing political in this, but the artistic statement of a fact, alas! too true, that many of the bravest and best soldiers that ever went to battle had fallen in the Crimea. The expression of this sad fact, and the charitable design of aiding the widows of those who had fallen, were happily combined in the composition of the picture. No one seemed to have had an
idea of the great talent for original design possessed by the Princess Royal, until this drawing surprised and deeply affected all who saw it.
The story of the picture, after it reached the exhibition at Burlington House, is worth recording. The Princess had put a very modest value on her work, and offered to dispose of it privately for a small sum, which she wished to enter as her subscription. She was assured that this would greatly frustrate the aim of the fund, and that the picture would fetch a handsome sum. The first offer, made immediately the doors of the exhibition were opened, was eighty guineas, followed by another of one hundred guineas. The names were entered in the book, it having been previously arranged that the highest offer, up to a certain day at noon, was to obtain the picture. At the appointed time two hundred guineas had been offered by a gentleman who was present to hear the clock strike twelve. Just before the hour, he said, "Well, I am surprised that there is not more appreciation of so fine a work of art; and, that it may not be said that it was sold for only two hundred guineas, I offer two hundred and fifty;" for which sum he wrote out a cheque as the clock struck. The result of the sale surprised the Princess, who had too much good sense, however, to be elated by any foolish vanity, while rejoicing in the success of her effort for the good of the fund.
Pictures were also exhibited by H. R. H. the Prince of Wales, the Princess Alice, and the Princess Helena. Prince Alfred, not liking to be left out, also did his best; so that the names of five contributors of the Royal Family conspicuously appeared. These contributions were sold for £25 each. When the collection of pictures for the exhibition was commenced, several titled ladies had contributed, and had marked their names
with initials only, as Lady W , and
so on. But when the Princess Royal signed her name at full length on her painting, and the other royal names appeared, the anonymous amateiu's followed the fashion, and, in subsequent editions of the catalogue, a goodly array of aristocratic contributors was displayed, to the enlightenment of the public, the