第1章

ThemostextraordinarydreamIeverhadwasoneinwhichIfanciedthat，asIwasgoingintoatheater，thecloak—roomattendantstoppedmeinthelobbyandinsistedonmyleavingmylegsbehindme。

Iwasnotsurprised；indeed，myacquaintanceshipwiththeaterharpieswouldpreventmyfeelinganysurpriseatsuchademand，eveninmywakingmoments；butIwas，Imusthonestlyconfess，considerablyannoyed。Itwasnotthepaymentofthecloak—roomfeethatIsomuchminded——Iofferedtogivethattothemanthenandthere。ItwasthepartingwithmylegsthatIobjectedto。

IsaidIhadneverheardofsucharulebeingattemptedtobeputinforceatanyrespectabletheaterbefore，andthatIconsidereditamostabsurdandvexatiousregulation。IalsosaidIshouldwritetoTheTimesaboutit。

Themanrepliedthathewasverysorry，butthatthosewerehisinstructions。Peoplecomplainedthattheycouldnotgettoandfromtheirseatscomfortably，becauseotherpeople’slegswerealwaysintheway；andithad，therefore，beendecidedthat，infuture，everybodyshouldleavetheirlegsoutside。

Itseemedtomethatthemanagement，inmakingthisorder，hadclearlygonebeyondtheirlegalright；and，underordinarycircumstances，I

shouldhavedisputedit。Beingpresent，however，moreinthecharacterofaguestthaninthatofapatron，Ihardlyliketomakeadisturbance；andsoIsatdownandmeeklypreparedtocomplywiththedemand。

Ihadneverbeforeknownthatthehumanlegdidunscrew。Ihadalwaysthoughtitwasafixture。Butthemanshowedmehowtoundothem，andIfoundthattheycameoffquiteeasily。

ThediscoverydidnotsurprisemeanymorethantheoriginalrequestthatIshouldtakethemoffhaddone。Nothingdoessurpriseoneinadream。

IdreamedoncethatIwasgoingtobehanged；butIwasnotatallsurprisedaboutit。Nobodywas。Myrelationscametoseemeoff，I

thought，andtowishme"Good—by！"Theyallcame，andwereallverypleasant；buttheywerenotintheleastastonished——notoneofthem。

Everybodyappearedtoregardthecomingtragedyasoneofthemost—naturally—to—be—expectedthingsintheworld。

Theyborethecalamity，besides，withanamountofstoicismthatwouldhavedonecredittoaSpartanfather。Therewasnofuss，noscene。

Onthecontrary，anatmosphereofmildcheerfulnessprevailed。

Yettheywereverykind。Somebody——anuncle，Ithink——leftmeapacketofsandwichesandalittlesomethinginaflask，incase，ashesaid，Ishouldfeelpeckishonthescaffold。

Itis"thosetwin—jailersofthedaring"thought，KnowledgeandExperience，thatteachussurprise。Wearesurprisedandincredulouswhen，innovelsandplays，wecomeacrossgoodmenandwomen，becauseKnowledgeandExperiencehavetaughtushowrareandproblematicalistheexistenceofsuchpeople。Inwakinglife，myfriendsandrelationswould，ofcourse，havebeensurprisedathearingthatIhadcommittedamurder，andwas，inconsequence，abouttobehanged，becauseKnowledgeandExperiencewouldhavetaughtthemthat，inacountrywherethelawispowerfulandthepolicealert，theChristiancitizenisusuallyprettysuccessfulinwithstandingthevoiceoftemptation，promptinghimtocommitcrimeofanillegalcharacter。

ButintoDreamland，KnowledgeandExperiencedonotenter。Theystaywithout，togetherwiththedull，deadclayofwhichtheyformapart；

whilethefreedbrain，releasedfromtheirnarrowingtutelage，stealssoftlypasttheebongate，towantonatitsownsweetwillamongthemazypathsthatwindthroughthegardenofPersephone。

Nothingthatitmeetswithinthateternallandastonishesitbecause，unfetteredbythedenseconvictionofourwakingmind，thatnoughtoutsidethekenofourownvisioncaninthisuniversebe，allthingstoitarepossibleandevenprobable。Indreams，weflyandwondernot——exceptthatweneverflewbefore。Wegonaked，yetarenotashamed，thoughwemildlywonderwhatthepoliceareaboutthattheydonotstopus。Weconversewithourdead，andthinkitwasunkindthattheydidnotcomebacktousbefore。Indreams，therehappensthatwhichhumanlanguagecannottell。Indreams，wesee"thelightthatneverwasonseaorland，"wehearthesoundsthatneveryetwereheardbywakingears。

Itisonlyinsleepthattrueimaginationeverstirswithinus。

Awake，weneverimagineanything；wemerelyalter，vary，ortranspose。

Wegiveanothertwisttothekaleidoscopeofthethingsweseearoundus，andobtainanotherpattern；butnotoneofushaseveraddedonetiniestpieceofnewglasstothetoy。

ADeanSwiftseesoneraceofpeoplesmaller，andanotherraceofpeoplelargerthantheraceofpeoplethatlivedownhisownstreets。

Andhealsoseesalandwherethehorsestaketheplaceofmen。A

BulwerLyttonlaysthesceneofoneofhisnovelsinsidetheearthinsteadofoutside。ARiderHaggardintroducesustoaladywhoseageisafewyearsmorethantheaveragewomanwouldcaretoconfessto；

andpicturescrabslargerthantheusualshillingoreighteen—pennysize。Thenumberofsocalledimaginativewriterswhovisitthemoonislegion，andforallthenoveltythattheyfind，whentheygetthere，theymightjustaswellhavegonetoPutney。Othersarecontinuallydrawingforusvisionsoftheworldonehundredoronethousandyearshence。Thereisalwaysadepressingabsenceofhumannatureabouttheplace；somuchso，thatonefeelsgreatconsolationinthethought，whilereading，thatweourselvesshallbecomfortablydeadandburiedbeforethepicturecanberealized。IntheseprophesiedUtopiaseverybodyispainfullygoodandcleanandhappy，andalltheworkisdonebyelectricity。

Thereissomewhattoomuchelectricity，formytaste，intheseworldstocome。Oneisremindedofthosepictorialenamel—paintadvertisementsthatoneseesaboutsooftennow，inwhichallthemembersofanextensivehouseholdarerepresentedasgatheredtogetherinoneroom，spreadingenamel—paintovereverythingtheycanlaytheirhandsupon。Theoldmanisonastep—ladder，daubingthewallsandceilingwith"cuckoo’s—egggreen，"whiletheparlor—maidandthecookareontheirknees，paintingthefloorwith"sealing—waxred。"Theoldladyisdoingthepictureframesin"terracotta。"Theeldestdaughterandheryoungmanaremakingslyloveinacorneroverapotof"highartyellow，"withwhich，sosoonastheyhavefinishedwastingtheirtime，theywill，itismanifest，proceedtoelevatethepiano。Youngerbrothersandsistersarebusyfresheningupthechairsandtableswith"strawberry—jampink"and"jubileemagenta。"Everyblessedthinginthatroomisbeingcoatedwithenamelpaint，fromthesofatothefire—irons，fromthesideboardtotheeight—dayclock。Ifthereisanypaintleftover，itwillbeusedupforthefamilyBibleandthecanary。

Itisclaimedforthisinventionthatalittlechildcanmakeasmuchmesswithitascanagrown—upperson，andsoallthechildrenofthefamilyarerepresentedinthepictureashardatwork，enamelingwhateverfewarticlesoffurnitureandhouseholdusethegraspingselfishnessoftheireldershassparedtothem。Oneispaintingthetoastingforkina"skim—milkblue，"whileanotherisgivingaestheticalvaluetotheDutchovenbymeansofanewshadeofartgreen。Thebootjackisbeingrenovatedin"oldgold，"andthebabyissittingonthefloor，smotheringitsowncradlewith"flush—upon—a—maiden’scheekpeachcolor。"

Onefeelsthatthethingisbeingoverdone。Thatfamily，beforeanothermonthisgone，willbeamongthestrongestopponentsofenamelpaintthatthecenturyhasproduced。Enamelpaintwillbetheruinofthatoncehappyhome。Enamelpainthasacold，glassy，cynicalappearance。Itspresenceeverywhereabouttheplacewillbegintoirritatetheoldmaninthecourseofaweekorso。Hewillcallit，"Thisdamn’dstickystuff！"andwilltellthewifethathewondersshedidn’tpaintherselfandthechildrenwithitwhileshewasaboutit。

Shewillreply，inanexasperatinglyquiettoneofvoice，thatshedoeslikethat。Perhapshewillsaynext，thatshedidnotwarnhimagainstit，andtellhimwhatanidiothewasmakingofhimself，spoilingthewholehousewithhisfoolishfads。Eachonewillpersistthatitwastheotheronewhofirstsuggestedtheabsurdity，andtheywillsitupinbedandquarrelaboutiteverynightforamonth。

Thechildrenhavingacquiredatasteforsmudgingtheconcoctionabout，andtherebeingnothingelseleftuntouchedinthehouse，willtrytoenamelthecat；andthentherewillbebloodshed，andbrokenwindows，andspoiledinfants，andsorrowsandyells。Thesmellofthepaintwillmakeeverybodyill；andtheservantswillgivenotice。

Tradesmen’sboyswillleanupagainstplacesthatarenotdryandgettheirclothesenameledandclaimcompensation。Andthebabywillsuckthepaintoffitscradleandhavefits。

Butthepersonthatwillsuffermostwill，ofcourse，betheeldestdaughter’syoungman。Theeldestdaughter’syoungmanisalwaysunfortunate。Hemeanswell，andhetrieshard。Hisgreatambitionistomakethefamilylovehim。Butfateiseveragainsthim，andheonlysucceedsingainingtheirundisguisedcontempt。Thefactofhisbeing"gone"ontheirEmilyis，ofitself，naturallysufficienttostamphimasanimbecileintheeyesofEmily’sbrothersandsisters。

Thefatherfindshimslow，andthinksthegirlmighthavedonebetter；

whilethebestthathisfuturemother—in—law（hissolesupporter）cansayforhimis，thatheseemssteady。

Thereisonlyonethingthatpromptsthefamilytotoleratehim，andthatisthereflectionthatheisgoingtotakeEmilyawayfromthem。

Onthatunderstandingtheyputupwithhim。

Theeldestdaughter’syoungman，inthisparticularcase，will，youmaydependuponit，choosethatexactmomentwhenthebaby’slifeishoveringinthebalance，andthecookiswaitingforherwageswithherboxinthehall，andacoal—heaverisatthefrontdoorwithapoliceman，makingarowaboutthedamagetohistrousers，tocomein，smiling，withaspecimenpotofsomenewhighart，squashed—tomato—shadeenamelpaint，andsuggestthattheyshouldtryitontheoldman’spipe。

ThenEmilywillgooffintohysterics，andEmily’smaleprogenitorwillfirmlybutquietlyleadthatill—starredyettrue—heartedyoungmantothepublicsideofthegarden—gate；andtheengagementwillbe"off。"

Toomuchofanythingisamistake，asthemansaidwhenhiswifepresentedhimwithfournewhealthychildreninoneday。Weshouldpracticemoderationinallmatters。Alittleenamelpaintwouldhavebeengood。Theymighthaveenameledthehouseinsideandout，andhaveleftthefurniturealone。Ortheymighthavecoloredthefurniture，andletthehousebe。Butanentirelyandcompletelyenameledhome——ahome，suchasenamel—paintmanufacturerslovetopictureontheiradvertisements，overwhichtheyearningeyewandersinvain，seekingonesinglesquareinchofun—enameledmatter——is，I

amconvinced，amistake。Itmaybeahomethat，asthetestimonialsassureus，willeasilywash。Itmaybean"artistic"home；buttheaveragemanisnotyeteducateduptotheappreciationofit。Theaveragemandoesnotcareforhighart。Atacertainpoint，theaveragemangetssickofhighart。

So，inthesecomingUtopias，inwhichoutunhappygrandchildrenwillhavetodragouttheircolorlessexistence，therewillbetoomuchelectricity。Theywillgrowtoloatheelectricity。

Electricityisgoingtolightthem，warmthem，carrythem，doctorthem，cookforthem，executethem，ifnecessary。Theyaregoingtobeweanedonelectricity，rockedintheircradlesbyelectricity，slappedbyelectricity，ruledandregulatedandguidedbyelectricity，buriedbyelectricity。Imaybewrong，butIratherthinktheyaregoingtobehatchedbyelectricity。

Inthenewworldofourprogressionistteachers，itiselectricitythatistherealmotive—power。Themenandwomenareonlymarionettes——workedbyelectricity。

Butitwasnottospeakoftheelectricityinthem，butoftheoriginalityinthem，thatIreferredtotheseworksoffiction。Thereisnooriginalityinthemwhatever。Humanthoughtisincapableoforiginality。Nomaneveryetimaginedanewthing——onlysomevariationorextensionofanoldthing。

Thesailor，whenhewasaskedwhathewoulddowithafortune，promptlyreplied：

"Buyalltherumand’baccythereisintheworld。"

"Andwhatafterthat？"theyaskedhim。

"Eh？"

"Whatwouldyoubuyafterthat——afteryouhadboughtupalltherumandtobaccotherewasintheworld——whatwouldyoubuythen？"

"Afterthat？Oh！’um！"（alongpause）。"Oh！"（withinspiration）"why，more’baccy！"

Rumandtobaccoheknewsomethingof，andcouldthereforeimagineabout。Hedidnotknowanyotherluxuries，thereforehecouldnotconceiveofanyothers。

SoifyouaskoneoftheseUtopian—dreaminggentrywhat，aftertheyhadsecuredfortheirworldalltheelectricitytherewasintheUniverse，andaftereverymortalthingintheiridealParadise，wasdoneandsaidandthoughtbyelectricity，theycouldimagineasfurthernecessarytohumanhappiness，theywouldprobablymuseforawhile，andthenreply，"Moreelectricity。"

Theyknowelectricity。Theyhaveseentheelectriclight，andheardofelectricboatsandomnibuses。Theyhavepossiblyhadanelectricshockatarailwaystationforapenny。

Therefore，knowingthatelectricitydoesthreethings，theycangoonand"imagine"electricitydoingthreehundredthings，andtheverygreatonesamongthemcanimagineitdoingthreethousandthings；butforthem，oranybodyelse，toimagineanewforce，totallyunconnectedwithanddifferentfromanythingyetknowninnature，wouldbeutterlyimpossible。

Humanthoughtisnotafirework，evershootingofffreshformsandshapesasitburns；itisatree，growingveryslowly——youcanwatchitlongandseenomovement——verysilently，unnoticed。Itwasplantedintheworldmanythousandyearsago，atiny，sicklyplant。Andmenguardeditandtendedit，andgaveuplifeandfametoaiditsgrowth。

Inthehotdaysoftheiryouth，theycametothegateofthegardenandknocked，beggingtobeletin，andtobecountedamongthegardeners。Andtheiryoungcompanionswithoutcalledtothemtocomeback，andplaythemanwithbowandspear，andwinsweetsmilesfromrosylips，andtaketheirpartamidthefeast，anddance，notstoopwithwrinkledbrows，atweaklings’work。Andthepassersbymockedthemandcalledshame，andotherscriedouttostonethem。Andstilltheystayedtherelaboring，thatthetreemightgrowalittle，andtheydiedandwereforgotten。

Andthetreegrewfairandstrong。Thestormsofignorancepassedoverit，andharmeditnot。Thefiercefiresofsuperstitionsoaredaroundit；butmenleapedintotheflamesandbeatthemback，perishing，andthetreegrew。Withthesweatoftheirbrowhavemennourisheditsgreenleaves。Theirtearshavemoistenedtheearthaboutit。Withtheirbloodtheyhavewatereditsroots。

Theseasonshavecomeandpassed，andthetreehasgrownandflourished。Anditsbrancheshavespreadfarandhigh，andeverfreshshootsareburstingforth，andevernewleavesunfoldingtothelight。

Buttheyareallpartoftheonetree——thetreethatwasplantedonthefirstbirthdayofthehumanrace。Thestemthatbearsthemspringsfromthegnarledoldtrunkthatwasgreenandsoftwhenwhite—hairedTimewasalittlechild；thesapthatfeedsthemisdrawnupthroughtherootsthattwineandtwistaboutthebonesoftheagesthataredead。

Thehumanmindcannomoreproduceanoriginalthoughtthanatreecanbearanoriginalfruit。Aswellmightonecryforanoriginalnoteinmusicasexpectanoriginalideafromahumanbrain。

Onewishesourfriends，thecritics，wouldgraspthissimpletruth，andleaveoffclamoringfortheimpossible，andbeingshockedbecausetheydonotgetit。Whenanewbookiswritten，thehigh—classcriticopensitwithfeelingsoffainthope，temperedbystrongconvictionofcomingdisappointment。Asheporesoverthepages，hisbrowdarkenswithvirtuousindignation，andhislipcurlswiththeGodlikecontemptthattheexceptionallygreatcriticeverfeelsforeverybodyinthisworld，whoisnotyetdead。Buoyedupbyatouching，buttotallyfallacious，beliefthatheisperformingapublicduty，andthattherestofthecommunityiswaitinginbreathlesssuspensetolearnhisopinionoftheworkinquestion，beforeforminganyjudgmentconcerningitthemselves，he，nevertheless，wearilystrugglesthroughaboutathirdofit。Thenhislong—sufferingsoulrevolts，andheflingsitasidewithacryofdespair。

"Why，thereisnooriginalitywhateverinthis，"hesays。"ThisbookistakenbodilyfromtheOldTestament。ItisthestoryofAdamandEvealloveragain。Theheroisamereman！withtwoarms，twolegs，andahead（socalled）。Why，itisonlyMoses’sAdamunderanothername！Andtheheroineisnothingbutawoman！andsheisdescribedasbeautiful，andashavinglonghair。Theauthormaycallher’Angelina，’oranyothernamehechooses；buthehasevidently，whetherheacknowledgesitornot，copiedherdirectfromEve。ThecharactersarebarefacedplagiarismsfromthebookofGenesis！Oh！tofindanauthorwithoriginality！"

OnespringIwentawalkingtourinthecountry。Itwasagloriousspring。Notthesortofspringtheygiveusinthesemiserabletimes，underthisshamelessgovernment——amixtureofeastwind，blizzard，snow，rain，slush，fog，frost，hail，sleetandthunder—storms——butasunny，blue—sky’d，joyousspring，suchasweusedtohaveregularlyeveryyearwhenIwasayoungman，andthingsweredifferent。

Itwasanexceptionallybeautifulspring，evenforthosegoldendays；

andasIwanderedthroughthewakingland，andsawthedawningofthecominggreen，andwatchedtheblushuponthehawthornhedge，deepeningeachdaybeneaththekissesofthesun，andlookedupattheproudoldmothertrees，dandlingtheirmyriadbabybudsupontheirstrongfondarms，holdingthemhighforthesoftwestwindtocaressashepassedlaughingby，andmarkedtheprimroseyellowcreepacrossthecarpetofthewoods，andsawthenewflushofthefieldandsawthenewlightonthehills，andheardthenew—foundgladnessofthebirds，andheardfromcopseandfarmandmeadowthetimidcallingsofthelittlenew—bornthings，wonderingtofindthemselvesalive，andsmeltthefreshnessoftheearth，andfeltthepromiseintheair，andfeltastronghandinthewind，myspiritrosewithinme。Springhadcometomealso，andstirredmewithastrangenewlife，withastrangenewhopeI，too，waspartofnature，anditwasspring！Tenderleavesandblossomswereunfoldingfrommyheart。Brightflowersofloveandgratitudewereopeningrounditsroots。Ifeltnewstrengthinallmylimbs。Newbloodwaspulsingthroughmyveins。Noblerthoughtsandnoblerlongingswerethrobbingthroughmybrain。

AsIwalked，Naturecameandtalkedbesideme，andshowedmetheworldandmyself，andthewaysofGodseemedclearer。

Itseemedtomeapitythatallthebeautifulandpreciousthoughtsandideasthatwerecrowdinginuponmeshouldbelosttomyfellow—men，andsoIpitchedmytentatalittlecottage，andsettoworktowritethemdownthenandthereastheycametome。

"Ithasbeencomplainedofme，"Isaidtomyself，"thatIdonotwriteliteraryandhighclasswork——atleast，notworkthatisexceptionallyliteraryandhigh—class。Thisreproachshallberemoved。Iwillwriteanarticlethatshallbeaclassic。Ihaveworkedfortheordinary，every—dayreader。ItisrightthatIshoulddosomethingnowtoimprovetheliteratureofmybelovedcountry。"

AndIwroteagrandessay——thoughIsayitwhoshouldnot，thoughI

don’tseewhyIshouldn’t——allaboutspring，andthewayitmadeyoufeel，andwhatitmadeyouthink。Itwassimplycrowdedwithelevatedthoughtsandhigh—classideasandculturedwit，wasthatessay。Therewasonlyonefaultaboutthatessay：itwastoobrilliant。Iwantedcommonplacerelief。Itwouldhaveexhaustedtheaveragereader；somuchclevernesswouldhaveweariedhim。

IwishIcouldremembersomeofthebeautifulthingsinthatessay，andheresetthemdown；becausethenyouwouldbeabletoseewhattheywerelikeforyourselves，andthatwouldbesomuchmoresimplerthanmyexplainingtoyouhowbeautifultheywere。Unfortunately，however，Icannotnowcalltomindanyofthem。

Iwasveryproudofthisessay，andwhenIgotbacktotownIcalledonaverysuperiorfriendofmine，acritic，andreadittohim。Idonotcareforhimtoseeanyofmyusualwork，becausehereallyisaverysuperiorpersonindeed，andtheperusalofitappearstogivehimpainsinside。Butthisarticle，Ithought，woulddohimgood。

"Whatdoyouthinkofit？"Iasked，whenIhadfinished。

"Splendid，"hereplied，"excellentlyarranged。Ineverknewyouweresowellacquaintedwiththeworksoftheoldwriters。Why，thereisscarcelyaclassicofanynotethatyouhavenotquotedfrom。Butwhere——where，"headded，musing，"didyougetthatlastideabuttwofrom？It’stheonlyoneIdon’tseemtoremember。Itisn’tabitofyourown，isit？"

Hesaidthat，ifso，heshouldadvisemetoleaveitout。Notthatitwasaltogetherbad，butthattheinterpolationofamodernthoughtamongsouniqueacollectionofpassagesfromtheancientsseemedtospoilthescheme。

Andheenumeratedthevariousdead—and—buriedgentlemenfromwhomheappearedtothinkIhadcollatedmyarticle。

"But，"Ireplied，whenIhadrecoveredmyastonishmentsufficientlytospeak，"itisn’tacollectionatall。Itisalloriginal。Iwrotethethoughtsdownastheycametome。Ihaveneverreadanyofthesepeopleyoumention，exceptShakespeare。"

OfcourseShakespearewasboundtobeamongthem。Iamgettingtodislikethatmanso。Heisalwaysbeingheldupbeforeusyoungauthorsasamodel，andIdohatemodels。Therewasamodelboyatourschool，Iremember，HenrySummers；anditwasjustthesamethere。

Itwascontinually，"LookatHenrySummers！hedoesn’tputtheprepositionbeforetheverb，andspellbusinessb—i—z！"or，"Whycan’tyouwritelikeHenrySummers？Hedoesn’tgettheinkalloverthecopy—bookandhalf—wayuphisback！"Wegottiredofthiseverlasting"LookatHenrySummers！"afterawhile，andso，oneafternoon，onthewayhome，afewofusluredHenrySummersupadarkcourt；andwhenhecameoutagainhewasnotworthlookingat。

Nowitisperpetually，"LookatShakespeare！""Whydon’tyouwritelikeShakespeare？""Shakespearenevermadethatjoke。Whydon’tyoujokelikeShakespeare？"

Ifyouareintheplay—writinglineitisstillworseforyou。"Whydon’tyouwriteplayslikeShakespeare’s？"theyindignantlysay。

"Shakespearenevermadehiscomicmanapennysteamboatcaptain。"

"Shakespearenevermadehisheroaddressthegirlas’ducky。’Whydon’tyoucopyShakespeare？"IfyoudotrytocopyShakespeare，theytellyouthatyoumustbeafooltoattempttoimitateShakespeare。

Oh，shouldn’tIliketogetShakespeareupourstreet，andpunchhim！

"Icannothelpthat，"repliedmycriticalfriend——toreturntoourpreviousquestion——"thegermofeverythoughtandideayouhavegotinthatarticlecanbetracedbacktothewritersIhavenamed。Ifyoudoubtit，Iwillgetdownthebooks，andshowyouthepassagesforyourself。"

ButIdeclinedtheoffer。IsaidIwouldtakehiswordforit，andwouldrathernotseethepassagesreferredto。Ifeltindignant。

"If，"asIsaid，"thesemen——thesePlatosandSocratesesandCicerosandSophoclesesandAristophanesesandAristotlesandtherestofthemhadbeentakingadvantageofmyabsencetogoabouttheworldspoilingmybusinessforme，Iwouldrathernothearanymoreaboutthem。"

AndIputonmyhatandcameout，andIhavenevertriedtowriteanythingoriginalsince。

Idreamedadreamonce。（Itisthesortofthingamanwoulddream。

Youcannotverywelldreamanythingelse，Iknow。Butthephrasesoundspoeticalandbiblical，andsoIuseit。）IdreamedthatIwasinastrangecountry——indeed，onemightsayanextraordinarycountry。

Itwasruledentirelybycritics。

Thepeopleinthisstrangelandhadaveryhighopinionofcritics——nearlyashighanopinionofcriticsasthecriticsthemselveshad，butnot，ofcourse，quite——thatnotbeingpracticable——andtheyhadagreedtobeguidedinallthingsbythecritics。Istayedsomeyearsinthatland。Butitwasnotacheerfulplacetolivein，soIdreamed。

Therewereauthorsinthiscountry，atfirst，andtheywrotebooks。

Butthecriticscouldfindnothingoriginalinthebookswhatever，andsaiditwasapitythatmen，whomightbeusefullyemployedhoeingpotatoes，shouldwastetheirtimeandthetimeofthecritics，whichwasofstillmoreimportance，instringingtogetheracollectionofplatitudes，familiartoeveryschool—boy，anddishingupoldplotsandstoriesthathadalreadybeencookedandrecookedforthepublicuntileverybodyhadbeensurfeitedwiththem。

Andthewritersreadwhatthecriticssaidandsighed，andgaveupwritingbooks，andwentoffandhoedpotatoes；asadvised。Theyhadhadnoexperienceinhoeingpotatoes，andtheyhoedverybadly；andthepeoplewhosepotatoestheyhoedstronglyrecommendedthemtoleavehoeingpotatoes，andtogobackandwritebooks。Butyoucan’tdowhateverybodyadvises。

Therewereartistsalsointhisstrangeworld，atfirst，andtheypaintedpictures，whichthecriticscameandlookedatthrougheyeglasses。

"Nothingwhateveroriginalinthem，"saidthecritics；"sameoldcolors，sameoldperspectiveandform，sameoldsunset，sameoldseaandland，andskyandfigures。Whydothesepoormenwastetheirtime，paintingpictures，whentheymightbesomuchmoresatisfactorilyemployedonladderspaintinghouses？"

Nothing，bytheby，youmayhavenoticed，troublesyourcriticmorethantheideathattheartistiswastinghistime。Itisthewasteoftimethatvexesthecritic；hehassuchanexaltedideaofthevalueofotherpeople’stime。"Dear，dearme！"hesaystohimself，"why，inthetimethemanmusthavetakentopaintthispictureortowritethisbook，hemighthaveblackedfifteenthousandpairsofboots，orhavecarriedfifteenthousandhodsofmortarupaladder。Thisishowthetimeoftheworldislost！"

Itneveroccurstohimthat，butforthatpictureorbook，theartistwould，inallprobability，havebeenmouchingaboutwithapipeinhismouth，gettingintotrouble。

ItremindsmeofthewaypeopleusedtotalktomewhenIwasaboy。

Iwouldbesitting，asgoodasgold，reading"ThePirate’sLair，"whensomeculturedrelativewouldlookovermyshoulderandsay："Bah！

whatareyouwastingyourtimewithrubbishfor？Whydon’tyougoanddosomethinguseful？"andwouldtakethebookawayfromme。UponwhichIwouldgetup，andgooutto"dosomethinguseful；"andwouldcomehomeanhourafterward，lookinglikeabitoutofabattlepicture，havingtumbledthroughtheroofofFarmerBate’sgreenhouseandkilledacactus，thoughtotallyunabletoexplainhowIcametobeontheroofofFarmerBate’sgreenhouse。Theyhadmuchbetterhaveleftmealone，lostin"ThePirate’sLair！"

TheartistsinthislandofwhichIdreamedleftoffpaintingpictures，afterhearingwhatthecriticssaid，andpurchasedladders，andwentoffandpaintedhouses。

Because，yousee，thiscountryofwhichIdreamedwasnotoneofthosevulgar，ordinarycountries，suchasexistinthewakingworld，wherepeopleletthecriticstalkasmuchasevertheylike，andnobodypaystheslightestattentiontowhattheysay。Here，inthisstrangeland，thecriticsweretakenseriously，andtheiradvicefollowed。

Asforthepoetsandsculptors，theywereverysoonshutup。TheideaofanyeducatedpersonwantingtoreadmodernpoetrywhenhecouldobtainHomer，orcaringtolookatanyotherstatuewhiletherewasstillsomeoftheVenusdeMedicisleft，wastooabsurd。PoetsandsculptorswereonlywastingtheirtimeWhatnewoccupationtheywererecommendedtoadopt，Iforget。Somecallingtheyknewnothingwhateverabout，andthattheyweretotallyunfittedfor，ofcourse。

Themusicianstriedtheirartforalittlewhile，butthey，too，wereofnouse。"Merelyarepetitionofthesamenotesindifferentcombinations，"saidthecritics。"Whywillpeoplewastetheirtimewritingunoriginalmusic，whentheymightbesweepingcrossings？"

Onemanhadwrittenaplay。Iaskedwhatthecriticshadsaidabouthim。Theyshowedmehistomb。

Then，therebeingnomoreartistsor_litterateurs_ordramatistsormusiciansleftfortheirbelovedcriticstocriticise，thegeneralpublicofthisenlightenedlandsaidtothemselves，"Whyshouldnotourcriticscomeandcriticiseus？Criticismisusefultoaman。

Havewenotoftenbeentoldso？Lookhowusefulithasbeentotheartistsandwriters——savedthepoorfellowsfromwastingtheirtime？

Whyshouldn’twehavesomeofitsbenefits？"

Theysuggestedtheideatothecritics，andthecriticsthoughtitanexcellentone，andsaidtheywouldundertakethejobwithpleasure。

Onemustsayforthecriticsthattheynevershirkwork。Theywillsitandcriticiseforeighteenhoursaday，ifnecessary，oreven，ifquiteunnecessary，forthematterofthat。Youcan’tgivethemtoomuchtocriticise。Theywillcriticiseeverythingandeverybodyinthisworld。Theywillcriticiseeverythinginthenextworld，too，whentheygetthere。IexpectpooroldPlutohasalivelytimewiththemall，asitis。

So，whenamanbuiltahouse，orafarm—yardhenlaidanegg，thecriticswereaskedintocommentonit。Theyfoundthatnoneofthehouseswereoriginal。Oneveryfloorwerepassagesthatseemedmerecopiesfrompassagesinotherhouses。Theywereallbuiltonthesamehackneyedplan；cellarsunderneath，groundfloorlevelwiththestreet，atticatthetop。Nooriginalityanywhere！

So，likewisewiththeeggs。Everyeggsuggestedreminiscencesofothereggs。

Itwasheartrendingwork。

Thecriticscriticisedallthings。Whenayoungcouplefellinlove，theyeach，beforethinkingofmarriage，calleduponthecriticsforacriticismoftheotherone。

Needlesstosaythat，intheresult，nomarriageevercameofit。

"Mydearyounglady，"thecriticswouldsay，aftertheinspectionhadtakenplace，"Icandiscovernothingnewwhateverabouttheyoungman。

Youwouldsimplybewastingyourtimeinmarryinghim。"

Or，totheyoungman，itwouldbe：

"Oh，dear，no！Nothingattractiveaboutthegirlatall。Whoonearthgaveyouthatnotion？Simplyalovelyfaceandfigure，angelicdisposition，beautifulmind，stanchheart，noblecharacter。Why，theremusthavebeennearlyadozensuchgirlsbornintotheworldsinceitscreation。Youwouldbeonlywastingyourtimelovingher。"

Theycriticisedthebirdsfortheirhackneyedstyleofsinging，andtheflowersfortheirhackneyedscentsandcolors。Theycomplainedoftheweatherthatitlackedoriginality——（true，theyhadnotlivedoutanEnglishspring）——andfoundfaultwiththeSunbecauseofthesamenessofhismethods。

Theycriticisedthebabies。Whenafreshinfantwaspublishedinahouse，thecriticswouldcallinabodytopasstheirjudgmentuponit，andtheyoungmotherwouldbringitdownforthemtosample。

"Didyoueverseeachildanythinglikethatinthisworldbefore？"

shewouldsay，holdingitouttothem。"Isn’titawonderfulbaby？

_You_neversawachildwithlegslikethat，Iknow。Nursesayshe’sthemostextraordinarybabysheeverattended。Blesshim！"

Butthecriticsdidnotthinkanythingofit。

"Tut，tut，"theywouldreply，"thereisnothingextraordinaryaboutthatchild——nooriginalitywhatever。Why，it’sexactlylikeeveryotherbaby——baldhead，redface，bigmouth，andstumpynose。Why，that’sonlyaweakimitationofthebabynextdoor。It’saplagiarism，that’swhatthatchildis。You’vebeenwastingyourtime，madam。Ifyoucan’tdoanythingmoreoriginalthanthat，weshouldadviseyoutogiveupthebusinessaltogether。"

Thatwastheendofcriticisminthatstrangeland。

"Oh！lookhere，we’vehadenoughofyouandyouroriginality，"saidthepeopletothecritics，afterthat。"Why，_you_arenotoriginal，whenonecomestothinkofit，andyourcriticismsarenotoriginal。

You’veallofyoubeensayingexactlythesamethingeversincethetimeofSolomon。Wearegoingtodrownyouandhavealittlepeace。"

"What，drownacritic！"criedthecritics，"neverheardofsuchamonstrousproceedinginourlives！"

"No，weflatterourselvesitisanoriginalidea，"repliedthepublic，brutally。"Yououghttobecharmedwithit。Outyoucome！"

Sotheytookthecriticsoutanddrownedthem，andthenpassedashortact，makingcriticismacapitaloffense。

Afterthat，theartandliteratureofthecountryfollowed，somewhat，themethodsofthequaintandcuriousschool，buttheland，notwithstanding，wasamuchmorecheerfulplacetolivein，Idreamed。

ButIneverfinishedtellingyouaboutthedreaminwhichIthoughtI

leftmylegsbehindmewhenIwentintoacertaintheater。

IdreamedthattheticketthemangavemeformylegswasNo。19，andIwasworriedallthroughtheperformanceforfearNo。61shouldgetholdofthem，andleavemehisinstead。Mineareratherafinepairoflegs，andIam，Iconfess，alittleproudofthem——atallevents，I

preferthemtoanybodyelse’s。Besides，numbersixty—one’smightbeaskinnypair，andnotfitme。

Itquitespoiledmyevening，frettingaboutthis。

AnotherextraordinarydreamIhadwasoneinwhichIdreamedthatI

wasengagedtobemarriedtomyAuntJane。Thatwasnot，however，theextraordinarypartofit；Ihaveoftenknownpeopletodreamthingslikethat。Iknewamanwhooncedreamedthathewasactuallymarriedtohisownmother—in—law！Hetoldmethatneverinhislifehadhelovedthealarmclockwithmoredeepandgratefultendernessthanhedidthatmorning。Thedreamalmostreconciledhimtobeingmarriedtohisrealwife。Theylivedquitehappilytogetherforafewdays，afterthatdream。

No；theextraordinarypartofmydreamwas，thatIknewitwasadream。"Whatonearthwillunclesaytothisengagement？"Ithoughttomyself，inmydream。"There’sboundtobearowaboutit。Weshallhaveadealoftroublewithuncle，Ifeelsure。"Andthisthoughtquitetroubledmeuntilthesweetreflectioncame："Ah！well，it’sonlyadream。"

AndImadeupmymindthatIwouldwakeupassoonasunclefoundoutabouttheengagement，andleavehimandAuntJanetofightthematteroutbetweenthemselves。

Itisaverygreatcomfort，whenthedreamgrowstroubledandalarming，tofeelthatitisonlyadream，andtoknowthatweshallawakesoonandbenonetheworseforit。Wecandreamoutthefoolishperplexitywithasmilethen。

Sometimesthedreamoflifegrowsstrangelytroubledandperplexing，andthenhewhomeetsdismaythebravestishewhofeelsthatthefretfulplayisbutadream——abrief，uneasydreamofthreescoreyearsandten，orthereabouts，fromwhich，inalittlewhile，hewillawake——atleast，hedreamsso。

Howdull，howimpossiblelifewouldbewithoutdreams——wakingdreams，Imean——thedreamsthatwecall"castlesintheair，"builtbythekindlyhandsofHope！Wereitnotforthemirageoftheoasis，drawinghisfootstepseveronward，thewearytravelerwouldliedowninthedesertsandanddie。Itisthemirageofdistantsuccess，ofhappinessthat，likethebunchofcarrotsfastenedaninchbeyondthedonkey’snose，seemsalwaysjustwithinourreach，ifonlywewillgallopfastenough，thatmakesusrunsoeagerlyalongtheroadofLife。

Providence，likeafatherwithatiredchild，luresuseveralongthewaywithtalesandpromises，until，atthefrowninggatethatendstheroad，weshrinkback，frightened。Then，promisesstillmoresweethestoopsandwhispersinourear，andtimidyetpartlyreassured，andtryingtohideourfears，wegatherupallthatisleftofourlittlestockofhopeand，trustingyethalfafraid，pushoutourgropingfeetintothedarkness。