On plagiarism, originality, and assemblage

I borrow; forgive me:

From T.S. Eliot, The Sacred Wood: Essays on Poetry and Criticism


We turn first to the parallel quotations from Massinger and Shakespeare collocated by Mr. Cruickshank to make manifest Massinger's indebtedness. One of the surest of tests is the way in which a poet borrows. Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different. The good poet welds his theft into a whole of feeling which is unique, utterly different from that from which it was torn; the bad poet throws it into something which has no cohesion. A good poet will usually borrow from authors remote in time, or alien in language, or diverse in interest. Chapman borrowed from Seneca; Shakespeare and Webster from Montaigne. The two great followers of Shakespeare, Webster and Tourneur, in their mature work do not borrow from him; he is too close to them to be of use to them in this way. Massinger, as Mr. Cruickshank shows, borrows from Shakespeare a good deal. Let us profit by some of the quotations with which he has provided us—

Massinger:

Can I call back yesterday, with all their aids
That bow unto my sceptre? or restore
My mind to that tranquillity and peace
It then enjoyed?

Shakespeare:

Not poppy, nor mandragora,
Nor all the drowsy syrops of the world
Shall ever medecine thee to that sweet sleep
Which thou owedst yesterday.


Massinger's is a general rhetorical question, the language just and pure, but colourless. Shakespeare's has particular significance; and the adjective "drowsy" and the verb "medecine" infuse a precise vigour. This is, on Massinger's part, an echo, rather than an imitation or a plagiarism—the basest, because least conscious form of borrowing. "Drowsy syrop" is a condensation of meaning frequent in Shakespeare, but rare in Massinger.


Massinger: Thou didst not borrow of Vice her indirect,
Crooked, and abject means.

Shakespeare: God knows, my son,
By what by-paths and indirect crook'd ways
I met this crown.



T. S. Eliot seems to be inferring that imitation is a lesser art; yet still an art, indeed. Imitation is the classical method of learning. And if we ascribe to dialogism per Bakhtin, it seems perfectly legitimate to cut and paste. Haas was making the point with writing interns that it is perfectly ok if they look at one another's work--re: their letters to perspective employers, their resumes and borrow---put into use--one another's ideas. She was saying that in the university, we have these rules, but that's not how they work in the real world where people collaborate, share, help one another.