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?