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.
After all the praises that are deservedly given to the novelty of a
_subject_, or the beauty of _design_, the supreme merit of poetry, and
that which more especially immortalizes the writers of it, lies in the
_execution_. It is thus that the poets of the Augustan age have not
so properly excelled, as discredited, all the productions of their
predecessors; and that those of the age of Louis XIV^{th} not only
obscure, but will in process of time obliterate, the fame and memory of
the elder French writers. Or, to see the effect of masterly execution
in single instances, hence it is, that Lucilius not only yields to
Horace, but would be almost forgotten by us, if it had not been for
the honour his imitator has done him. And nobody needs be told the
advantage which Pope is likely to have over all our older satirists,
excellent as some of them are, and more entitled than he to the honour
of being inventors. We have here, then, an established _fact_. The
first essays of genius, though ever so original, are overlooked; while
the later productions of men, who had never risen to such distinction
but by means of the very originals they disgrace, obtain the applause
and admiration of all ages.
The solution of this _fact_, so notorious, and, at the same time, so
contrary, in appearance, to the honours which men are disposed to pay
to original invention, will open the mystery of that matter we are now
considering.
The faculties, or, as we may almost term them, the magic powers,
which _ope the palace of eternity_ to great writers, are a _confirmed
judgment_, and _ready invention_.
Now the _first_ is seen to most advantage, in selecting, out of all
preceding stores, the particulars that are most suited to the nature of
a poet’s work, and the ends of poetry. When true genius has exhausted,
as it were, the various _manners_, in which a work of art may be
conducted, and the various _topics_ which may be employed to adorn
it, _judgment_ is in its province, or rather sovereignty, when it
determines which of all these is to be preferred, and which neglected.
In this sense, as well as others, it will be most true, _Quòd artis
pars magna contineatur imitatione_.
Nay, by means of this discernment, the very _topic_ or method, which
had no effect, or perhaps an ill one, under one management, or in
one situation, shall charm every reader, in another. And by force of
_judging right_, the copier shall almost lose his title, and become an
inventor:
Tantum _de medio_ sumptis accedit honoris.
But imitation, though it give most room to the display of judgment,
does not exclude the exercise of the other faculty, _invention_. Nay,
it requires the most dextrous, perhaps the most difficult, exertion of
this faculty. For consider how the case stands. When we speak of an
_imitator_, we do not speak, as the poet says, of
A barren-spirited fellow, one who feeds
On abject orts, and imitations—
but of one, who, in aiming to be like, contends also to be equal to
his original. To attain to this _equality_, it is not enough that he
select the best of those stores which are ready prepared to his hand
(for thus he would be rather a skilful borrower, than a successful
imitator); but, in taking something from others, he must add much
of his own: he must improve the _expression_, where it is defective
or barely passable: he must throw fresh lights of fancy on a common
_image_: he must strike out new hints from a vulgar _sentiment_. Thus,
he will complete his original, where he finds it _imperfect_: he will
supply its _omissions_: he will emulate, or rather surpass, its highest
_beauties_. Or, in despair of this last, we shall find him taking a
different _route_; giving us an equivalent in a beauty of another
kind, which yet he extracts from some latent intimation of his author;
or, where his purpose requires the very same representation, giving it
a new form, perhaps a nobler, by the turn of his application.
But all this requires not only the truest judgment, but the most
delicate operation of inventive genius. And, where they both meet in
a supreme degree, we sometimes find an admired original, not only
excelled by his imitator, but almost discredited. Of which, if there
were no other, the sixth book of Virgil, I mean taking it in the light
of an _imitation_, is an immortal instance.
Thus much I could not forbear saying on the _merit_ of successful
imitation. As to the _necessity_ of the thing, hear the apology of
a great Poet, for himself. “All that is left us, says this original
writer, is to recommend our productions by the imitation of the
ancients: and it will be found true, that, in every age, the highest
character for sense and learning has been obtained by those who have
been the most indebted to them. For, to say truth, whatever is very
good sense, must have been common sense in all times; and what we call
learning is but the knowledge of our predecessors. Therefore they who
say our thoughts are not our own, because they resemble the ancients,
may as well say, our faces are not our own, because they are like our
fathers: and indeed it is very unreasonable, that people should expect
us to be scholars, and yet be angry to find us so[42].”
He adds, “_I fairly confess, that I have served myself all I could by
reading_:” where the good sense of the _practice_, is as conspicuous,
as the ingenuity, so becoming the greatness of his character, in
_confessing_ it. For, when a writer, who, as we have seen, is driven by
so many powerful motives to the imitation of preceding models, revolts
against them all, and determines, at any rate, to be _original_,
nothing can be expected but an aukward straining in every thing.
_Improper method_, _forced conceits_, and _affected expression_, are
the certain issue of such obstinacy. The business is to be _unlike_;
and this he may very possibly be, but at the expence of graceful ease
and true beauty. For he puts himself, at best, into a convulsed,
unnatural state; and it is well, if he be not forced, beside his
purpose, to leave _common sense_, as well as his _model_, behind him.
Like one who would break loose from an impediment, which holds him
fast; the very endeavour to get clear of it throws him into _uneasy
attitudes_, and _violent contorsions_; and, if he gain his liberty at
last, it is by an _effort_, which carries him much further than the
_point_ he would wish to stop at.
And, that the reader may not suspect me of asserting this without
experience, let me exemplify what has been here said in the case of a
very eminent person, who, with all the advantages of art and nature
that could be required to adorn the true poet, was ruined by this
single error. The person I mean was Sir WILLIAM D’AVENANT; whose
_Gondibert_ will remain a perpetual monument of the mischiefs, which
must ever arise from this affectation of originality in lettered and
polite poets.
The great author, when he projected his plan of an heroic poem, was
so far from intending to steer his course by _example_, that he sets
out, in his preface, with upbraiding the followers of Homer, as a
base and timorous crew of _coasters_, who would not adventure to
launch forth on the vast ocean of invention. For, speaking of this
poet, he observes, “that, as sea marks are chiefly used to coasters,
and serve not those who have the ambition of discoverers, that love
to sail in untried seas; so he hath rather proved a guide for those,
whose satisfied wit will not venture beyond the track of others; than
to them, who affect a new and remote way of thinking; who esteem it a
deficiency and meanness of mind, to stay and depend upon the authority
of example[43].”