To multiply instances, when every poet in every page is at hand to furnish them, were egregious trifling. In all cases of this sort, the known character, in conjunction with the circumstances of the person described, determines the particular action or employment, for the most part, so absolutely, that it requires some industry to mistake it. In saying which, I do not forget, what many have, perhaps, been ready to object to me long since, “that what is natural is not therefore of necessity obvious: All the amazing flights of Homer’s or Shakespear’s fancy are found agreeable to nature, when contemplated by the capable reader; but who will say, that, therefore, they must have presented themselves to the generality of writers? The office of judgment is one thing, and of invention, another.”
Properly speaking, what we call invention in poetry is, in respect of the matter of it, simply, observation. And it is in the arrangement, use, and application of his materials, not in the investigation of them, that the exercise of the poet’s genius principally consists. In the case of immediate and direct imagery, which is the subject at present, nothing more is requisite, than to paint truly, what nature presents to the eye, or common sense suggests to the mind of the writer. A vivacity of thought will, indeed, be necessary to run over the several circumstances of any appearance, and a just discernment will be wanting, out of a number, to select such peculiar circumstances, as are most adapted to strike the imagination. It is not therefore pretended, that the same images must occur to all. Sluggish, unactive understandings, which seldom look abroad into living nature, or, when they do, have not curiosity or vigour enough to direct their attention to the nicer particularities of her beauties, will unavoidably overlook the commonest appearances: Or, wanting that just perception of what is beautiful, which we call taste, will as often mistake in the choice of those circumstances, which they may have happened to contemplate. But quick, perceptive, intelligent minds (and of such only I can be thought to speak) will hardly fail of seeing nature in the same light, and of noting the same distinct features and proportions. The superiority of Homer and Shakespear to other poets doth not lie in their discovery of new sentiments or images, but in the forceable manner, in which their sublime genius taught them to convey and impress old ones.
And to inforce what is here said of the familiarity of this class of the poet’s materials, one may, further, appeal to the case of the other mimetic arts, which have no assistance from narration. Certain gestures, looks, or attitudes, are so immediately declarative of the internal actuating causes, that, on the slightest view of the picture or statue, we collect the real state of the persons represented. This figure, we say, strongly expresses the passion of grief; that, of anger; that, of joy; and so of all the other affections. Or, again, when the particular passion is characterized, the general temper and disposition, which we call the manners, is clearly discernible. There is a liberal and graceful air, which discovers a fine temperature of the affections, in one; a close and sullen aspect, declaring a narrow contracted selfishness in another. In short, there is scarcely any mark or feature of the human mind, any peculiarity of disposition or character, which the artist does not set off and make appear at once, to the view, by some certain turn or conformation of the outward figure. Now this effect of his art would be impossible, were it not, that regular and constant observation hath found such external signs consociated with the correspondent internal workings. A heaven overhung with clouds, the tossing of waves, and intermingled flashes of lightning are not surer indications of a storm, than the gloomy face, distorted limb, and indignant eye are of the outrage of conflicting passion. The simplest spectator is capable of observing this. And the artist deceives himself, or would reflect a false honour on his art, who suspects there is any mystery in making such discoveries.
It is true, some great painters have thought it convenient to explain the design of their works by inscriptions. We find this expedient to have been practised of old by Polygnotus, as may be gathered from the description given us, of two of his pictures by Pausanias; and the same thing is observable of some of the best modern masters. But their intention was only to signify the names of the principal persons, and to declare the general scope of their pictures. And so far, this usage may not be amiss in large compositions, and especially on new or uncommon subjects. But should an artist borrow the assistance of words to tell us the meaning of airs and attitudes, and to interpret to us the expression of each figure, such a piece of intelligence must needs be thought very impertinent; since they must be very unqualified to pass their judgment on works of this sort, who had not, from their own observation, collected the visible signs, usually attendant on any character or passion; and whom therefore the representation of these signs, would not lead to a certain knowledge of the character or passion intended.
Nay there is one advantage which painting hath, in this respect, over narration, and even poetry itself. For though poetry represent the same objects, the same sensible marks of the internal movements, as painting, yet it doth it with less particularity and exactness. My meaning will be understood in reflecting, that words can only give us, even when most expressive, the general image. The pencil touches its smallest and minutest specialities. And this will explain the reason why any remarkable correspondency of air, feature, attitude, &c. in two pictures, will, commonly and with good reason, convict one or both of them of imitation: whereas this conclusion is by no means so certain from a correspondency of description in two poems. For the odds are prodigious against such exactness of similitude, when the slightest trace of the pencil forms a sensible difference: But poets, who do not convey ideas with the same precision and distinctness, cannot be justly liable to this imputation, even where the general image represented happens to be the same. Virgil, one would think, on a very affecting occasion, might have given the following representation of his hero,
Multa gemens largoque humectat flumine vultum;
without any suspicion of communicating with Homer, who had said, in like manner, of his,
Ἵστατο δακρυχέων, ὥστε κρήνη μελάνυδρος.
But had two painters, in presenting this image, agreed in the same particularities of posture, inclination of the head, air of the face, &c. no one could doubt a moment, that the one was stolen from the other. Which single observation, if attended to, will greatly abate the prejudice, usually entertained on this subject. We think it incredible, amidst the infinite diversity of the poet’s materials, that any two should accord in the choice of the very same; more especially when described with the same circumstances. But we forget, that the same materials are left in common to all poets, and that the very circumstances, alledged, can be, in words, but very generally and imperfectly delineated.
3, Of the calmer sentiments, which come within the province of poetry, and, breaking forth into outward act, furnish matter to description, the most remarkable in their operations are those of religion. It is certain, that the principal of those rites and ceremonies, of those outward acts of homage, which have prevailed in different ages and countries, and constituted the public religion of mankind, had their rise in our common nature, and were the genuine product of the workings of the human mind[28]. For it is the mere illusion of this inveterate error concerning imitation, in general, which hath misled some great names to imagine them traductive from each other. But the occasion does not require us to take the matter so deep. The office of poetry, in describing the solemnity of her religious ritual is to look no farther, than the established modes of the age and country, whose manners it would represent. If these should be the same at different times in two religions, or the religion itself continue unchanged, it necessarily follows, that the representations of them by different writers will agree to the minutest resemblance. Not only the general rite or ceremony will be the same; but the very peculiarities of its performance, which are prescribed by rule, remain unaltered. Thus, if religious sentiments usually express themselves, in all men, by a certain posture of the body, direction of the hands, turn of the countenance, &c. these signs are uniformly and faithfully pictured in all devotional portraits. So again, if by the genius of any particular religion, to which the poet is carefully to adhere, the practice of sacrifices, auguries, omens, lustrations, &c. be required in its established ceremonial, the draught of this diversity of superstitions, and of their minutest particulars, will have a necessary place in any work, professing to delineate such religion; whatever resemblance its descriptions may be foreseen to have to those of any other.