Part 11

For 1. There are in every language some current and authorized forms of speech, which can hardly be avoided by a writer without affectation. They are such as express the most obvious sentiments, and which the ordinary occasions of life are perpetually obtruding on us. Now these, as by common agreement, we chuse to deliver to one another in the same _form_ of words. Convenience dictates this to one set of writers, and politeness renders it sacred in another. Thus it will be true of certain _phrases_ (as, universally, of the _words_, in any language), that they are left in common to all writers, and can be claimed as matter of _property_, by none. Not that such phraseology will be frequent in nobler compositions, as the familiarity of its usage takes from their natural reserve and dignity. Yet on certain _occasions_, which justify this negligence, or in certain _authors_, who are not over-sollicitous about these indecorums, we may expect to meet with it. Hamlet says of his father,

_He was a man, take him for all in all_; I shall not look upon his like again.

which may be suspected of being stolen from Sophocles, who has the following passage in the TRACHINIAE.

Πάντων ἄριστον ἄνδρα τῶν ἐπὶ χθονὶ Κτείνασ’, ΟΠΟΙΟΝ ΑΛΛΟΝ ΟΥΚ ΟΨΕΙ ΠΟΤΕ. v. 824.

The sentiment being one of the commonest, that offers itself to the mind, the sole ground of suspicion must lie in the _expression_, “_I shall not look upon his like again_,” to which the Greek so exactly answers. But these were the ordinary expressions of such sentiment, in the two languages; and neither the characters of the great poets, nor the situation of the speakers, would suffer the _affectation_ of departing from common usage.

What is here said of the _situation of the speakers_ reminds me of another _class_ of expressions, which will often be _similar_ in all poets. _Nature_, under the _same_ conjunctures, gives birth to the _same_ conceptions; and if they be of such a kind, as to exclude all thought of artifice, and the tricks of eloquence (as on occasions of deep anxiety and distress) they run, of themselves, into the _same_ form of expression. The wretched Priam, in his lamentation of Hector, lets drop the following words:

οὗ μ’ ἄχος ὀξὺ κατοίσεται ἄïδος εἴσω:

“This line, says his translator, is particularly tender, and almost, word for word, the same with that of the Patriarch _Jacob_; who, upon a like occasion, breaks out in the same complaint, and tells his children, that, if they deprive him of his son _Benjamin, they will bring down his grey hairs with sorrow to the grave_.”

We may, further, except, under this head, certain privileged forms of speech, which the peculiar idioms of _different_ languages make necessary in them, and which poetry consecrates in _all_. But this is easily observed, and its effect is not very considerable.

2. In pleading this _identity of expression_, regard must be had to the _language_, from which the _theft_ is supposed to be made. If from the _same_ language (setting aside the exceptions, just mentioned) _the same arrangement of the same words_ is admitted as a certain argument of _plagiarism_: nay, less than this will do in some instances, as where the _imitated expression_ is pretty _singular_, or so remarkable, on any account, as to be _well known_, &c. But if from _another_ language, the matter is not so easy. It can rarely happen, indeed, but by design, that there should be the _same order or composition_ of words, in two languages. But that which passes even for _literal translation_, is but _a similar composition of corresponding words_. And what does this imply, but that the writers conceived of their _object_ in the same _manner_, and had occasion to set it in the same light? An occasion, which is perpetually recurring to all authors. As may be gathered from that frequent and strong resemblance in the _expression_ of moral sentiments, observable in the writers of every age and country. Can there be a commoner reflexion, or which more constantly occurs to the mind under the same appearance, than _that_ of our great poet, who, speaking of the state after death, calls it

_That undiscovered country, from whose bourn No traveller returns_.

Shall we call this a translation of the Latin poet;

_Nunc it per_ iter tenebricosum Illuc, unde negant redire quenquam. CATUL. III. v. 11.

Or, doth it amount to any more than this, that the terms employed by the two writers in expressing the same obvious thought are _correspondent_? But _correspondency_ and _identity_ are different things. The _latter_ is only, where the words are _numerically_ the same, which can only happen in one and the same language: the other is effected by _different sets of words_, which are numerous in every language, and are therefore no convincing proof (abstractedly from other circumstances) of _imitation_.

From these general reflexions on _language_, without refining too far, or prying too curiously into the mysteries of it, the same conclusion meets us, as before. The _expression_ of two writers may be _similar_, and sometimes even _identical_, and yet be _original_ in both. Which shews the necessity there was to lead the reader through this long investigation of the general sources of _similitude_ in works of INVENTION, in order to put him into a condition of judging truly and equitably of those of IMITATION. For if _similarity_, even in this province of _words_, which the reason of the thing shews to be most free from the constraint of general rules, be no argument of _theft_ in all cases; much less can it be pretended of the other _subjects_ of this inquiry, which from the necessary uniformity of _nature_ in all her appearances, and of _common sense_ in its operations upon them, must give frequent and unavoidable occasion to such _similarity_. But then this is all I would insinuate.

For, after the proper allowances, which candid criticism requires to be made on this head, it will still be true (and nothing in this Essay attempts to contradict it) “that coincidences of a certain _kind_, and in a certain _degree_, cannot fail to convict a writer of _imitation_.” What these _are_, the impatient reader, I suppose, is ready to enquire. And, not entirely to disappoint him, I have thrown together, at the close of this volume, some remarks which, perhaps, will be of use in solving that difficult question[33]. In the mean time, it seemed of importance to free the mind from the perversion of that early prejudice, which is so prompt to mistake _resemblance_ universally for _imitation_. And what other method of effecting this, than by taking a view of the extent and influence of the genuine powers of _nature_, which, when rightly apprehended, make it an easier task to detect, in particular instances, the intervention of _design_?

Allowing then (what this previous inquiry not only no way contradicts but even assists us in perceiving more clearly) that certain _resemblances_ may be urged as undoubted proofs of _imitation_, it remains only to the integrity of this discourse, to satisfy that other question, “_how far the credit of the imitator is concerned in the discovery_;” or, in other words, (since the praise of _invention_ is of the highest value to the poet) “how far the concession of his having borrowed from others, may be justly thought to detract from him in that respect.” An _inquiry_, which, though for its consequences to the fame of all great writers, since the time of Homer, of much importance, may yet be dispatched in few words.

SECTION II.

In entering on this apology for _professed imitators_, I shall not be suspected of undervaluing the proper merits of _invention_, which unquestionably holds the first place in the _virtutes_ of a poet, and is that power, which, of all others, enables him to give the highest entertainment to the reader. Much less will it be thought, that I am here pleading the cause of those base and abject spirits, who have not the courage or ability to attempt any thing of themselves, and can barely make a shift, as a great poet of our own expresses it, _to creep servilely after the sense of_ some other. These I readily resign to the shame and censure, which have so justly followed them in all ages; as subscribing to the truth of that remark, “_Imitatio per se ipsa non sufficit_, vel _quia pigri est ingenii, contentum esse iis, quae sunt ab aliis inventa_.” My concern is only with those, whose talent of original genius is not disputed, but the _degree_ of strength and vigour, with which it prevails in them, somewhat lowered in the general estimation, from this imputed crime of PLAGIARISM. And, with respect to such as these, something, I conceive, may be said, not undeserving the notice of the candid reader.

1. The most universal cause, inducing _imitation_ in great writers, is, the force of early _discipline and education_. Were it true, that poets took their _descriptions and images_ immediately from common nature, one might expect, indeed, a general _similitude_ in their works, but such, as could seldom or never, in all its circumstances, amount to a strict and rigorous correspondency. The _properties_ of things are so numerous, and the _lights_ in which they shew themselves to a mind uninfluenced by former prejudices, so different, that some grace of novelty, some tincture of original beauty, would constantly infuse itself into all their delineations. But the case is far otherwise. Strong as the bent of the imagination may be to contemplate living forms, and to gaze with delight on this grand theatre of _nature_, its attention is soon taken off, and arrested, on all sides, by those infinite mirrors, and reflexions of things, which it every where meets with in the world of _imitation_. We are habituated to a survey of this _secondary and derivative nature_; as presented in the admired works of _art_, through the entire course of our education. The writings of the best poets are put into our hands, to instruct us in the knowledge of _men and things_, as soon as we are capable of apprehending them. Nay, we are taught to lisp their very _words_, in our tenderest infancy. Some quick and transient glances we cannot chuse but cast, at times, on the phænomena of living beauty; but its forms are rarely contemplated by us with diligence, but in these _mirrors_, which are the constant furniture of our schools and closets. And no wonder, were we even left to ourselves, that such should be our _proper_ choice and determination. For, by the prodigious and almost magical operations of _fancy_ on original objects, they even shew fairer, and are made to look more attractive, in these artificial representations, than in their own rude and native aspects. Thus, by the united powers of _discipline_ and _inclination_, we are almost necessitated to _see_ nature in the same _light_, and to know her only in the _dress_, in which her happier suitors and favourites first gave her to observation.

The effect of this early bias of the mind, which insensibly grows into the inveteracy of habit, needs not be insisted on. When the poet, thus tutored in the works of _imitation_, comes to address himself to _invention_, these familiar images, which he hath so often and so fondly admired, immediately step in and intercept his observation of their great _original_. Or, if he has power to hold them off, and turn his eye directly on the _primary object_, he still inclines to view it only on that side and in those _lights_, in which he has been accustomed to study it. Nor let it be said, that this is the _infirmity_, only, of weak minds. It belongs to our very natures, and the utmost vigour of genius is no security against it. _Custom_, in this as in every thing else, moulds, at pleasure, the soft and ductile matter of a _minute_ spirit, and by degrees can even bend the elastic metal of the _greatest_.

And if the force of habit can thus determine a writer knowingly, to _imitation_, it cannot be thought strange, that it should frequently carry him into _resemblance_, when himself perhaps is not aware of it. Great readers, who have their memories fraught with the stores of ancient and modern poetry, unavoidably employ the _sentiments_, and sometimes the very _words_, of other writers, without any distinct remembrance of them, or so much as the suspicion of having seen them. At the least, their general cast of thinking or turn of expression will be much affected by them. For the most original writer as certainly takes a _tincture_ from the authors in which he has been most conversant; as water, from the beds of earths or minerals, it hath happened to run over. Especially such authors, as are studied and even got by heart by us in our early youth, leave a lasting impression, which is hardly ever effaced out of the mind. Hence a certain constrained and unoriginal air, in some degree or other, in every genius, throughly disciplined by a _course of learned education_. Which, by the way, leads to a question, not very absurd in itself, however it may pass with most readers for paradoxical, viz. “_Whether the usual forms of learning be not rather injurious to the true poet, than really assisting to him?_” It should seem to be so for a _natural reason_. For the faculty of _invention_, as all our other powers, is much improved and strengthened by exercise. And great reading prevents this, by demanding the perpetual exercise of the _memory_. Thus the mind becomes not only indisposed, but, for want of use, really unqualified, to turn itself to other views, than such as habitual recollection easily presents to it. And this, I am persuaded, hath been the case with many a fine genius, and especially with _one_ of our own country[34]; who, as appears from some original efforts in the sublime allegorical way, had no want of natural talents for the greater poetry; which yet were so restrained and disabled by his constant and superstitious study of the old classics, that he was, in fact, but a very ordinary poet.

2. But were early _habit_ of less power to incline the mind to _imitation_, than it really is, yet the high hand of _authority_ would compel it. For the first originals in the several species of poetry, like the Autocthones of old, were deemed to have come into the world by a kind of miracle. They were perfect prodigies, at least reputed so by the admiring multitude, from their first appearance. So that their authority, in a short time, became sacred; and succeeding writers were obliged, at the hazard of their fame, and as they dreaded the charge of a presumptuous and _prophane libertinism_ in poetry, to take them for their guides and models. Which is said even without the licence of a figure; at least of _one_ of them; whom Cicero calls _the fountain and origin of all_ DIVINE _institutions_[35]; and another, of elder and more reverend estimation, pronounces to be ὁ θεὸς καὶ θεῶν προφήτης[36]·

And what is here observed of the _influence_ of these master spirits, whom the admiration of antiquity hath placed at the head of the poetic world, will, with some allowance, hold also, of _that_ of later, though less original writers, whose uncommon merits have given them a distinguished rank in it.

3. _Next_, (as it usually comes to pass in other instances) what was, at first, imposed by the rigour of _authority_, soon grew respectable in _itself_, and was chosen for its own sake, as a _virtue_, which deserved no small commendation. For, when sober and enlightened criticism began to inspect, at leisure, these miracles of early invention, it presently acknowledged them for the _best_, as well as the most _ancient_, poetic models, and accordingly recommended, or more properly enjoined them by rule, to the imitation of all ages. The effect of this criticism was clearly seen in the works of all succeeding poets in the _same_ language. But, when a new and different one was to be furnished with fresh _models_, it became much more conspicuous. For, besides the same or a still higher veneration of their _inventions_, which the distance of place and time insensibly procured to them, the grace of _novelty_, which they would appear to have in another _language_, was, now, a further inducement to copy them. Hence we find it to be the utmost pride of the _Roman_ writers, such I mean as came the nearest to them in the divinity of their genius, to follow the practice, and emulate the virtues, of the _Grecian_.

_Libera per vacuum posui vestigia princeps, Non aliena meo pressi pede_—

says _one_ of the best of those writers, who yet was only treading in the _footsteps_ of his Grecian masters.

But _another_ was less reserved, and seemed desirous of being taken notice of, as an express _imitator_, without so much as laying in his claim to this sort of originality, in a new language—in multis versibus Virgilius fecit—non surripiendi causâ, sed _palam_ imitandi, _hoc animo ut vellet agnosci_. _Sen. Suasor._ III.

And, on the revival of these arts in later times and more barbarous languages, the same spirit appeared again, or rather superior honours were paid to successful _imitation_. So that what a polite French writer declares on this head is, now, become the fixed opinion of the learned in all countries. “C’est même donner une grace à ses ouvrages, que de les orner de fragmens antiques. Des vers d’Horace et de Virgile bien traduits, et mis en œuvre à propos dans un poëme François, y font le même effet que les statuës antiques font dans la gallerie de Versailles. Les lecteurs retrouvent avec plaisir, sous une nouvelle forme, la pensée, qui leur plût autrefois en Latin[37].”

It should, further, be added, that this praise of borrowing from the originals of _Greece_ and _Rome_ is now extended to the imitation of great _modern_ authors. Every body applauds this practice, where the imitation is of approved writers in _different_ languages. And even in the _same_ languages, when this liberty is taken with the most ancient and venerable, it is not denied to have its _grace_ and merit.

4. But, besides these several incitements, _similarity of genius_, alone, will, almost necessarily determine a writer to the studious emulation of some other. For, though it is with the _minds_, as the _faces_ of men, that no two are exactly and in every feature alike; yet the general cast of their genius, as well as the air and turn of the countenance, will frequently be very _similar_ in different persons. When two such spirits approach, they run together with eagerness and rapidity: the instinctive bias of the mind towards _imitation_ being now quickened by _passion_. This is chiefly said in respect of that uniformity of _style and manner_, which, whenever we observe it in two writers, we almost constantly charge to the account of _imitation_. Indeed, where the resemblance holds to the last degree of _minuteness_, or where the _peculiarities_, only, of the model are taken, there is ground enough for this suspicion. For every original genius, however consonant, in the main, to any other, has still some distinct marks and characters of his own, by which he may be distinguished; and to copy _peculiarities_, when there is no appearance of the same original spirit, which gave birth to them, is manifest affectation. But the question is put of such, whose _manner_ hath only a _general_, though strong, resemblance to that of some other, and whose true genius is above the suspicion of falling into the trap of what Horace happily calls, EXEMPLAR VITIIS IMITABILE. And of these it is perhaps juster to say, that a previous correspondency of _character_ impelled to _imitate_, than that imitation itself produced that correspondency of _character_. At least (which is all my concern it present) it will be allowed to incline a writer strongly to _imitation_; and where a congenial spirit appears to provoke him to it, a candid critic will not be forward to turn this circumstance to the dishonour of his _invention_.

5. Lastly, were every other consideration out of the way, yet, oftentimes, the _very nature of the poet’s theme_ would oblige him to a diligent _imitation_ of preceding writers. I do not mean this of such subjects, as suggest and produce a necessary conformity of description, whether purposely intended or not. This hath been fully considered. But my meaning is, that, when the greater provinces of poetry have been, already, occupied, and its most interesting scenes exhausted; or, rather, their application to the uses of poetry determined by great masters, it becomes, thenceforward, unavoidable for succeeding writers to draw from their sources. The law of probability exacts this at their hands; and one may almost affirm, that to _copy_ them closely is to paint after _nature_. I shall explain myself by an instance or two.

With regard to the religious opinions and ceremonies of the Pagan world, the writings of Homer, it is said and very truly, were “_the standard of private belief, and the grand directory of public worship_[38].” Whatever liberty might have been taken with the rites and gods of Paganism before his time, yet, when he had given an exact description of _both_, and had formed, to the satisfaction of all, the established religion into a kind of _system_, succeeding poets were obliged, of course, to take their theology from him; and could no longer be thought to write _justly and naturally_ of their Gods, than whilst their _descriptions_ conformed to the _authentic_ delineations of _Homer_. His relations, and even the _fictions_, which his genius had raised on the popular creed of elder Paganism, were now the proper archetype of all _religious representations_. And to speak of _these_, as given _truly and originally_, is, in effect, to say, that they were borrowed or rather transcribed from the page of _that poet_.

And the same may be observed of _historical facts_, as of _religious traditions_. For not unfrequently, where the subject is taken from authentic history, the authority of a preceding poet is so prevalent, as to render _any_ account of the matter improbable, which is not fashioned and regulated after his ideas. A succeeding writer is neither at liberty to relate matters of fact, which no one thinks _credible_, nor to _feign_ afresh for himself. In this case, again, all that the most original genius has to do, is to _imitate_. We have been told that the _second book of the_ AENEIS was translated from Pisander[39]. Another thinks, it was taken from the LITTLE ILIAD[40]. Or, why confine him to either of these, when METRODORUS, SYAGRUS, HEGESIANAX, ARATUS, and others, wrote poems on _the taking_ of TROY? But granting the poet (as is most likely) to have had these originals before him, what shall we infer from it? Only this, that he took his principal facts and circumstances (as we see he was obliged to do for the sake of _probability_) from these writers. And why should this be thought a greater crime in him, than in POLYGNOTUS; who, in his famous picture on this subject, was under the necessity, and for the same reason, of collecting his _subject-matter_ from several poets[41]?

It follows, from these considerations, that we cannot justify ourselves in thinking so hardly, as we commonly do, of the class of _imitators_; which is, now, by the concurrence of various circumstances, become the necessary character of almost all poets. Nor let it be any concern to the _true_ poet, that it is so. For _imitations_, when real and confessed, may still have their merit; nay, I presume to add, sometimes a _greater_ merit, than the very originals on which they are formed: And, with the reader’s leave (though I am hastening to a conclusion of this long discourse), I will detain him, one moment, with the reasons of this opinion.