the matter is so plain, that it will hardly be called into question.
The difficulty is to account for the similarity of _metaphor and_
COMPARISON (that is, of _imagery_, which comes in obliquely, and for
the purpose of illustrating some other, and, frequently, very remote
and distinct subject) observable in all writers. Here it may not seem
quite so easy to make out an original claim; for, though descriptions
of the _same object_, when it occurs, must needs be similar, yet it
remains to shew how the same object comes, in this case, to occur
at all. Before an answer can be given to this question, it must be
observed 1. that there is in the mind of man, not only a strong natural
love of _imitation_, but of _comparison_. We are not only fond of
_copying_ single objects, as they present themselves, but we delight
to set two objects together, and contemplate their mutual aspects and
appearances. The _pleasure_ we find in this exercise of the imagination
is the main source of that perpetual usage of _indirect and allusive
imagery_ in the writings of the poets; for I need not here consider
the _necessity_ of the thing, and the unavoidable introduction of
sensible images into all language. 2. This work of _comparison_ is
not gone about by the mind _causelessly and capriciously_. There are
certain obvious and striking resemblances in nature, which the poet is
carried necessarily to observe, and which offer themselves to him on
the slightest exercise and exertion of his _comparing_ powers. It may
be difficult to explain the causes of this established relationship
in all cases; or to shew distinctly, what these secret ties and
connexions are, which link the objects of sense together, and draw
the imagination thus insensibly from one subject to another. The most
obvious and natural is that of _actual similitude_, whether in _shape_,
_attitude_, _colour_, or _aspect_. As when _heroes_ are compared to
_gods_,—_a hero in act to strike at his foe_, to _a faulcon stooping
at a dove_,—_blood running down the skin_, to _the staining of
ivory_,—_corn waving with the wind_, to _water in motion_. Sometimes
the associating cause lies in the _effect_. As when the _return of a
good prince to his country_ is compared _to the sun_—a _fresh gale
to mariners_, to _the timely coming of a general to his troops_, &c.
more commonly, in some _property_, _attribute_, or _circumstance_. Thus
an _intrepid_ hero suggests the idea of a _rock_, on account of _its
firmness and stability_;—of _a lion_, for his _fierceness_,—_of a
deer encompassed_ with wolves, for his _situation when surrounded with
enemies_. In short, for I pretend not to make a complete enumeration of
the _grounds_ of connexion, whatever the mind observes in any object,
that bears an analogy to something in any other, becomes the _occasion_
of comparison betwixt them; and the fancy, which is ever, in a great
genius, quick at espying these _traits_ of resemblance, and delights to
survey them, lets dip no opportunity of setting them over against each
other, and producing them to observation.
But whatever be the _causes_, which associate the ideas of the poet,
and how fantastic soever or even casual, may sometimes appear to be
the _ground_ of such association, yet, in respect of the greater works
of genius, there will still be found the most exact _uniformity_ of
allusion, the same ideas and aspects of things constantly admonishing
the poet of the same _resemblances and relations_. I say, in _the
greater works of genius_, which must be attended to; for the folly of
taking _resemblances_ for _imitations_, in this province of _allusion_,
hath arisen from hence; that the poet is believed to have all art
and nature before him, and to be at liberty to fetch his _hints_ of
similitude and correspondence from every distant and obscure corner
of the universe. That is, the genius of the epic, dramatic, and
universally, of the greater, poetry hath not been comprehended, nor
their distinct laws and characters distinguished from those of an
inferior species.
The _mutual habitudes and relations_ (at least what the mind is capable
of regarding as _such_), subsisting between those innumerable objects
of thought and sense, which make up the entire natural and intellectual
world, are indeed infinite; and if the poet be allowed to associate and
bring together all those ideas, wherein the ingenuity of the mind can
perceive any remote sign or glimpse of _resemblance_, it were truly
wonderful, that, in any number of images and allusions, there should
be found a close conformity of them with those of any other writer.
But this is far from being the case. For 1. the more august poetry
disclaims, as unsuited to its state and dignity, that inquisitive and
anxious diligence, which pries into nature’s retirements; and searches
through all her secret and hidden haunts, to detect a forbidden
commerce, and expose to light some strange unexpected conjunction of
ideas. This quaint combination of remote, unallied imagery, constitutes
a species of entertainment, which, for its _novelty_, may amuse and
divert the mind in other compositions; but is wholly inconsistent with
the reserve and solemnity of the _graver_ forms. There is too much
curiosity of art, too solicitous an affectation of _pleasing_, in these
ingenious exercises of the fancy, to suit with the simple majesty of
the _epos_ or _drama_; which disclaims to cast about for forced and
tortured allusions, and aims only to expose, in the fairest light,
such as are most obvious and natural. And here, by the way, it may
be worth observing, in honour of a great Poet of the last century, I
mean Dr. DONNE, that, though agreeably to the turn of his genius, and
taste of his age, he was fonder, than ever poet was, of these _secret
and hidden ways_ in his lesser poetry; yet when he had projected his
great work “_On the progress of the soul_” (of which we have only the
beginning) his good sense brought him out into the freer _spaces_ of
nature and open day-light.
Largior hic compos æther, et lumine vestit
Purpureo: solemque suum, sua sidera norunt.
In this, the author of GONDIBERT, and another writer of credit, a
contemporary of DONNE, Sir FULK GREVIL, were not so happy. 2. This
work of _indirect imagery_ is intended, not so much to illustrate and
enforce the original thought, to which it is applied, as to amuse
and entertain the fancy, by holding up to view, in these occasional
digressive representations, the pictures of pleasing scenes and
objects. But this _end_ of allusion (which is principal in the sublimer
works of genius) restrains the poet to the use of a few select images,
for the most part taken from obvious common nature; these being always
most illustrious in themselves, and therefore most apt to seize and
captivate the imagination of the reader. Thus is the poet confined, by
the very nature of his work, to a very moderate compass of allusion, on
both these accounts; _first_, as he must employ the easiest and most
apparent resemblances: and _secondly_, of _these_, such as impress the
most delightful images on the fancy.
This being the case, it cannot but happen, that the allusions of
different poets, of the higher class, though writing without any
communication with each other, will, of course, be much the same on
similar occasions. There are fixed and real analogies between different
_material objects_; between these objects, and the _inward workings_
of the mind; and, again, between these, and the _external signs_ of
them. Such, on every occasion, do not so properly offer themselves
to the searching eye of the poet, as force themselves upon him; so
that, if he submit to be guided by the most natural views of things,
he cannot avoid a very remarkable correspondence of imagery with his
predecessors. And we find this conclusion verified in fact; as appears
not only from comparing together the great ancient and modern writers,
who are known to have held an intimate correspondence with each other,
but those, who cannot be suspected of this commerce. Several critics,
I observed, have taken great pains to illustrate the sentiments of
Homer from similar instances in the sacred writers. The same design
might easily be carried on, in respect of _allusive imagery_; it being
obvious to common observation, that numberless of the most beautiful
_comparisons_ in the Greek poet are to be met with in the Hebrew
prophets. Nay, the remark may be extended to the undisciplined writers
and speakers of the farthest _west_ and _east_, whom nature instructs
to beautify and adorn their conceptions with the same imagery. So
little doth it argue an inferiority of genius in Virgil, if it be true,
as the excellent translator of Homer says, “that he has scarcely any
_comparisons_, which are not drawn from his master.”
The truth is, the _nature_ of the two subjects, which the Greek poet
had taken upon himself to adorn, was such, that it led him through
every circumstance and situation of human life; which his quick
attentive observation readily found the means of shewing to advantage
under the cover of the most fit and proper imagery. Succeeding writers,
who had _not_ contemplated his pictures, yet, drawing from one common
original, have unknowingly hit upon the very same. And those, who
_had_, with all their endeavours after _novelty_, and the utmost
efforts of genius to strike out original lights, have never been able
to succeed in their attempts. Our _Milton_, who was most ambitious of
this fame of _invention_, and whose vast and universal genius could
not have missed of new _analogies_, had nature’s self been able to
furnish them, is a glaring instance to our purpose. He was so averse
from resting in the old imagery of Homer, and the other epic poets,
that he appears to have taken infinite pains in the investigation of
new _allusions_, which he picked up out of the rubbish of every silly
legend or romance, that had come to his knowledge, or extracted from
the dry and rugged materials of the sciences, and even the mechanic
arts. Yet, in comparison of the genuine treasures of nature, which he
found himself obliged to make use of, in common with other writers,
his own proper stock of _images_, imported from the regions of _art_,
is very poor and scanty; and, as might be expected, makes the least
agreeable part of his divine work.
What is here said of the epic holds, as I hinted, of all the more
serious kinds of poetry. In works of a lighter cast, there is greater
liberty and a larger field of allusion permitted to the poet. All
the appearances in _art_ and _nature_, betwixt which there is any
resemblance, may be employed here to surprize and divert the fancy. The
further and more remote from vulgar apprehension these analogies lie,
so much the fitter for his purpose, which is not so much to illustrate
his ideas, as to place them in new and uncommon lights, and entertain
the mind by that odd fantastic conjunction, or opposition of ideas,
which we know by the name of _wit_. Nay, the _lowest_, as well as the
least obvious imagery will be, oftentimes, the most proper; his view
being not to ennoble and raise his subject by the means of _allusion_,
but to sink and debase it by every art, that hath a tendency to
excite the mirth and provoke the ridicule of the reader. Here then we
may expect a much more original air, than in the higher designs of
invention. When all nature is before the poet, and the genius of his
work allows him to seize her, as the shepherd did Proteus, in every
dirty form, into which she can possibly twist herself, it were, indeed,
a wonder, if he should _chance_ to coincide, in his imagery, with any
other, from whom he had not expressly copied. They who are conversant
in works of _wit and humour_, more especially of these later times,
will know this to be the case, in _fact_. There is not perhaps a single
comparison in the inimitable TELEMAQUE, which had not, before, been
employed by some or other of the poets. Can any thing, like this, be
said of RABELAIS, BUTLER, MARVEL, SWIFT, &c.?
III. It only remains to consider the EXPRESSION. And in this are to
be found the surest and least equivocal marks of _imitation_. We may
regard it in _two_ lights; either 1. as it respects the _general_ turn
or manner of writing, which we call a _style_; or 2. the peculiarities
of _phrase and diction_.
1. A _style_ in writing, if not formed in express imitation of some
certain _model_, is the pure result of the disposition of the mind, and
takes its character from the predominant _quality_ of the writer. Thus
a _short and compact_, and a _diffused and flowing_ expression are the
proper consequences of certain corresponding characters of the human
genius. One has a vigorous comprehensive conception, and therefore
collects his sense into few words. Another, whose imagination is more
languid, contemplates his objects leisurely, and so displays their
beauties in a greater compass of words, and with more circumstance and
parade of language. A polite and elegant humour delights in the grace
of ease and perspicuity. A severe and melancholic spirit inspires
a forcible but involved expression. There are many other nicer
differences and peculiarities of _manner_, which, though not reducible,
perhaps, to general heads, the critic of true taste easily understands.
2. As men of different tempers and dispositions assume a different
cast of expression, so may the same observation be applied, still more
_generally_, to different _countries and times_. It may be difficult
to explain the _efficient causes_ of this diversity, which I have no
concern with at present. The _fact_ is, that the eloquence of the
_eastern_ world has, at all times, been of another strain from that of
the _western_. And, also, in the several provinces of _each_, there
has been some peculiar _note_ of variation. The _Asiatic_, of old, had
its proper stamp, which distinguished it from the _Attic_; just as
the _Italian_, _French_, and _Spanish_ wits have, each, their several
characteristic manners of expression.
A different state of _times_ has produced the like effect; which a late
writer accounts for, not unaptly, from what he calls a _progression of
life and manners_. That which cannot be disputed is, that the _modes_
of writing undergo a perpetual change or variation in every country.
And it is further observable, that these _changes_ in one country,
under similar circumstances, have a signal correspondence to those,
which the incessant rotation of taste brings about in every other.
Of near affinity to this last consideration is _another_ arising from
the _corresponding genius_ of two people, however remote from each
other in time and place. And, as it happens, the application may be
made directly to ourselves in a very important instance. “Languages,
says one, always take their character from the genius of a people.
So that two the most distant states, thinking and acting with the
same generous love of mankind, must needs have very near the same
combinations of ideas.—And it is our boast that in this conformity
we approach the nearest to ancient Greece and Italy.” I quote these
words from a tract[32], which the author perhaps may consider with the
same neglect, as Cicero did his earlier compositions on _Rhetoric_;
but which the curious will regard with reverence, as a fine essay of
his genius, and a prelude to the great things he was afterwards seen
capable of producing. But to come to the use we may make of this
fine observation. The corresponding state of the English and Roman
people has produced very near the same _combinations of ideas_. May
we not carry the conclusion still further on the same principle, that
it produced very near the same _combinations of words_? The fact is,
as the same writer observes, That “we have a language that is brief,
comprehensive, nervous, and majestic.” The very character which an old
Roman would give us of his own language. And when the same general
character of language prevails, is it any thing strange that the
different modifications of it, or _peculiar styles_, arising from
the various turns and dispositions of writers (which, too, in such
circumstances will be corresponding) should therefore be very similar
in the productions of the two states? Or, in other words, can we
wonder that some of our best writers bear a nearer resemblance, I mean
independently of direct imitation, to the Latin classics, than those of
any other people in modern times?
But let it suffice to leave these remarks without further comment or
explanation.
The use the discerning reader will make of them is, that if different
writers agree in the same _general disposition_, or in the same
_national character_; live together in the _same period of time_; or
in corresponding periods of the _progression of manners_, or are under
the influence of a corresponding genius of _policy and government_;
in every of these cases, some _considerable similarity_ of expression
may be occasioned by the agency of _general principles_, without any
suspicion of studied or designed _imitation_.
II. An _identity of phrase and diction_, is a much surer note of
_plagiarism_. For considering the vast variety of _words_, which
any language, and especially the more copious ones furnish, and
the infinite possible combinations of them into all the forms of
_phraseology_, it would be very strange, if two persons should hit on
the same identical _terms_, and much more should they agree in the same
precise arrangement of them in whole sentences.
There is no defending _coincidences_ of this kind; and whatever
writers themselves may pretend, or their friends for them, no one can
doubt a moment of such _identity_ being a clear and decisive proof of
_imitation_.
Yet this must be understood with some limitations.
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_?