In this poem, Samuel Butler takes plagiarist to task; or does he?
WHY should the world be so averse
To plagiary privateers,
That all men's sense and fancy seize,
And make free prize of what they please?
As if, because they huff and swell,
Like pilferers full of what they steal,
Others might equal pow'r assume,
To pay 'em with as hard a doom;
To shut them up, like beasts in pounds,
For breaking into others' grounds;
Mark 'em with characters and brands,
Like other forgers of men's hands;
And in effigy hang and draw
The poor delinquents by club-law;
When no indictment justly lies,
But where the theft will bear a price.
For though wit never can be learn'd,
It may b' assumed, and own'd, and earn'd;
And, like our noblest fruits, improved,
By being transplanted and removed:
And, as it bears no certain rate,
Nor pays one penny to the State,
With which it turns no more t' account
Than virtue, faith, and merit's wont;
Is neither moveable, nor rent,
Nor chattel, goods, nor tenement;
Nor was it ever pass'd b' e?ntail,
Nor settled upon heirs-male;
Or if it were, like ill-got land,
Did never fall t' a second hand:
So 'tis no more to be engross'd
Than sunshine, or the air enclosed;
Or to propriety confined,
Than th' uncontroll?d and scatter'd wind.
For why should that which Nature meant
To owe its being to its vent;
That has no value of its own,
But as it is divulged and known,
Is perishable and destroy'd,
As long as it lies unenjoy'd
Be scanted of that lib'ral use,
Which all mankind is free to choose,
And idly hoarded where 'twas bred,
Instead of being dispersed and spread?
And the more lavish and profuse,
'Tis of the nobler general use;
As riots, though supply'd by stealth,
Are wholesome to the commonwealth;
And men spend freelier what they win,
Than what they 've freely coming in.
The world 's as full of curious wit,
Which those that father never writ,
As 'tis of bastards, which the sot
And cuckold owns, that ne'er begot;
Yet pass as well as if the one
And th' other by-blow were their own.
For why should he that's impotent
To judge and fancy, and invent,
For that impediment be stopt
To own, and challenge, and adopt,
At least th' exposed and fatherless
Poor orphans of the pen, and press,
Whose parents are obscure, or dead,
Or in far countries born and bred?
As none but king?s have pow?r to raise
A levy, which the subject pays,
And though they call that tax a loan,
Yet, when 'tis gather'd, 'tis their o?wn
So he that's able to impose
A wit-excise on verse or prose,
And still the abler authors are,
Can make them pay the greater share,
Is prince of poets of his time,
And they his vassals that supply him;
Can judge more justly what he takes
Than any of the best he makes;
And more impartially conceive
What's fit to choose, and what to leave.
For men reject more strictly 'pon
The sense of others than their own;
And wit, that's made of wit and sleight,
Is richer than the plain downright:
As salt that's made of salt's more fine,
Than when it first came from the brine,
And spirit's of a nobler nature,
Drawn from the dull ingredient matter.
Hence mighty Virgil's said of old,
From dung(2) to have extracted gold
(As many a lout and silly clown
By his instructions since has done),
And grew more lofty that means,
Than by his livery oats and beans;
When from his carts and country' farms
He rose a mighty man at arms;
To whom th' Heroics ever since
Have sworn allegiance as their prince,
And faithfully have in all times
Observed his customs in their rhymes.
'Twas counted learning once, and wit,
To void but what some author writ;
And what men understood by rote,
By as implicit sense to quote:
Then many a magisterial clerk
Was taught, like singing-birds i' th' dark;
And understood as much of things,
As th' ablest blackbird what it sings;
And yet was honour'd and renown'd,
For grave, and solid, and profound.
Then why should those, who pick and choose
The best of all the best compose,
And join it by Mosaic art,
In graceful order, part to part,
To make the whole in beauty suit,
Not merit as complete repute
As those who, with less art and pains,
Can do it with their native brains;
And make the home-spun business fit
As freely with their mother wit?
Since what by Nature was deny'd,
By Art and Industry's supply'd;
Both which are more our own, and brave,
Than all the alms that Nature gave.
For what w' acquire by pains and art
Is only due t' our own desert;
While all th' endowments she confers
Are not so much our own as hers,
That, like good fortune, unawares
Fall not t' our virtue, but our shares;
And all we can pretend to merit
We do not purchase, but inherit.
Thus all the great'st inventions, when
They first were found out, were so mean,
That th' authors of them are unknown,
As little things they scorn?d to own;
Until by men of nobler thought
'l'h' were to their full perfection brought.
This proves that wit does but rough-hew,
Leaves Art to polish and review;
And that a wit at second hand
Has greatest int'rest and command:
For to improve, dispose, and judge,
Is nobler than t' invent, and drudge.
Invention's humorous and nice,
And never at cornmand applies;
Disdains t' obey the proudest wit,
Unless it chance to b' in the fit;
(Like Prophecy, that can presage
Successes of the latest age,
Yet is not able to tell when
It next shall prophesy again);
Makes all her suitors course aud wait,
Like a proud minister of state,
And, when she's serious, in some freak,
Extravagant, and vain, and weak,
Attend her silly, lazy pleasure,
Until she chance to be at leisure;
When 'tis more easy to steal wit.
To clip, and forge, and counterfeit,
Is both the business and delight,
Like hunting sports, of those that write;
For thievery is but one sort,
The learned say, of hunting sport.
Hence 'tis, that some, who set up first,
As raw, and wretched, and unversed;
And open'd with a stock as poor
As a healthy beggar with one sore;
That never writ in prose or verse,
But pick'd, or cut it, like a purse;
And at the best could but commit
The petty larceny of wit;
To whom to write was to purloin,
And printing but to stamp false coin;
Yet, after long and sturdy 'ndeavours
Of being painful wit-receivers,
With gath'ring rags and scraps of wit,
As paper's made on which 'tis writ,
Have gone forth authors, and acquired
The right? or wrong ? to be admired;
And, arm'd with confidence, incurr'd
The fool's good luck, to be preferr'd.
For as a banker can dispose
Of greater sums, he only owes.
Than he who honestly is known
To deal in nothing but his own;
So whosoe'er can take up most,
May greatest fame and credit boast.
(1) Butler"s Poetical Works, Vol II, Appleton & Co. New York, 1854, pp 206.(poem written ca 1661)
It is not improbable that Butler, in this satire, or sneering apology for plagiary, obliquely hints at Sir John Denham, (a prominent favorite of Charles II who had several failings including the "perhaps" poisoning of his wife and going mad (wood).) whom he directly attacked in another poem:
"And with so much advantage, some have guess'd,
Your after-wit is like to be your best;
And now expect far greater matters of ye,
Than the bought Cooper's Hill, or borrow'd Sophy;"
(2)'Dung:' In Virgil's 'Georgics.'
In Scarronides a mock heroic poem in Hudibrastic fashion, Charles Cotton made light of Virgil's Aeneis as one who by "backward" blow caused great winds to flow, and casting of dung was often practiced.
Note: The poem is organized as four line couplets in the fashion of Thomas Green Fessenden, for the benefit of the reader. Fessenden apologies for this structuring, but no apologies are necessary as it serves a very useful function. "I have divided the poetry, although of the Hudibrastic kind, into four linestanzas. For this singularity I am not positive I can justify myself. The division appeared to me to give the work an apophthegmatical appearance, and to facilitate the reading, and by (if I may be allowed an Americanism) locating each line with more precision than would otherwise be done, to assist the memory of the reader." Democracy Unveiled; or Tyranny stripped of the Garb of Patriotism 2nd Edition, Boston, 1805, Printed by David Carlisle for the Author, pp vii. ****
Joe Wortham's Home Page, About Joe Wortham, Directory of Web Pages
Questions? Comments? [email protected]