Whentwooftheseassesmet，therewouldbeananxious\"Haveyougotyourlantern？\"andagratified\"Yes!\"Thatwastheshibboleth，andveryneedfultoo；for，asitwastheruletokeepourglorycontained，nonecouldrecognisealantern-bearer，unless(likethepolecat)bythesmell。Fourorfivewouldsometimesclimbintothebellyofaten-manlugger，withnothingbutthethwartsabovethem-forthecabinwasusuallylocked，orchooseoutsomehollowofthelinkswherethewindmightwhistleoverhead。Therethecoatswouldbeunbuttonedandthebull\'s-eyesdiscovered；andinthechequeringglimmer，underthehugewindyhallofthenight，andcheeredbyarichsteamoftoastingtinware，thesefortunateyounggentlemenwouldcrouchtogetherinthecoldsandofthelinksoronthescalybilgesofthefishing-boat，anddelightthemselveswithinappropriatetalk。WoeismethatImaynotgivesomespecimens-
someoftheirforesightsoflife，ordeepinquiriesintotherudimentsofmanandnature，theseweresofieryandsoinnocent，theyweresorichlysilly，soromanticallyyoung。Butthetalk，atanyrate，wasbutacondiment；andthesegatheringsthemselvesonlyaccidentsinthecareerofthelantern-bearer。Theessenceofthisblisswastowalkbyyourselfintheblacknight；theslideshut，thetop-coatbuttoned；notarayescaping，whethertoconductyourfootstepsortomakeyourglorypublic:amerepillarofdarknessinthedark；andallthewhile，deepdownintheprivacyofyourfool\'sheart，toknowyouhadabull\'s-eyeatyourbelt，andtoexultandsingovertheknowledge。
II
Itissaidthatapoethasdiedyounginthebreastofthemoststolid。Itmaybecontended，rather，thatthis(somewhatminor)
bardinalmosteverycasesurvives，andisthespiceoflifetohispossessor。Justiceisnotdonetotheversatilityandtheunplumbedchildishnessofman\'simagination。Hislifefromwithoutmayseembutarudemoundofmud；therewillbesomegoldenchamberattheheartofit，inwhichhedwellsdelighted；andforasdarkashispathwayseemstotheobserver，hewillhavesomekindofabull\'s-eyeathisbelt。
ItwouldbehardtopickoutacareermorecheerlessthanthatofDancer，themiser，ashefiguresinthe\"OldBaileyReports，\"apreytothemostsordidpersecutions，thebuttofhisneighbourhood，betrayedbyhishiredman，hishousebeleagueredbytheimpishschoolboy，andhehimselfgrindingandfumingandimpotentlyfleeingtothelawagainstthesepin-pricks。Youmarvelatfirstthatanyoneshouldwillinglyprolongalifesodestituteofcharmanddignity；andthenyoucalltomemorythathadhechosen，hadheceasedtobeamiser，hecouldhavebeenfreedatoncefromthesetrials，andmighthavebuilthimselfacastleandgoneescortedbyasquadron。Fortheloveofmorereconditejoys，whichwecannotestimate，which，itmaybe，weshouldenvy，themanhadwillinglyforgonebothcomfortandconsideration。\"Hismindtohimakingdomwas\"；andsureenough，diggingintothatmind，whichseemsatfirstadust-heap，weunearthsomepricelessjewels。ForDancermusthavehadtheloveofpowerandthedisdainofusingit，anoblecharacterinitself；disdainofmanypleasures，achiefpartofwhatiscommonlycalledwisdom；disdainoftheinevitableend，thatfinesttraitofmankind；scornofmen\'sopinions，anotherelementofvirtue；andatthebackofall，aconsciencejustlikeyoursandmine，whininglikeacur，swindlinglikeathimble-
rigger，butstillpointing(thereorthere-about)tosomeconventionalstandard。HerewereacabinetportraittowhichHawthorneperhapshaddonejustice；andyetnotHawthorneeither，forhewasmildlyminded，anditlaynotinhimtocreateforusthatthrobofthemiser\'spulse，hisfretfulenergyofgusto，hisvastarmsofambitionclutchinginheknowsnotwhat:insatiable，insane，agodwithamuck-rake。Thus，atleast，lookinginthebosomofthemiser，considerationdetectsthepoetinthefulltideoflife，withmore，indeed，ofthepoeticfirethanusuallygoestoepics；andtracingthatmeanmanabouthiscoldhearth，andtoandfroinhisdiscomfortablehouse，spieswithinhimablazingbonfireofdelight。Andsowithothers，whodonotlivebybreadalone，butbysomecherishedandperhapsfantasticpleasure；whoaremeatsalesmentotheexternaleye，andpossiblytothemselvesareShakespeares，Napoleons，orBeethovens；whohavenotonevirtuetorubagainstanotherinthefieldofactivelife，andyetperhaps，inthelifeofcontemplation，sitwiththesaints。Weseethemonthestreet，andwecancounttheirbuttons；butheavenknowsinwhattheypridethemselves!heavenknowswheretheyhavesettheirtreasure!
Thereisonefablethattouchesverynearthequickoflife:thefableofthemonkwhopassedintothewoods，heardabirdbreakintosong，hearkenedforatrillortwo，andfoundhimselfonhisreturnastrangerathisconventgates；forhehadbeenabsentfiftyyears，andofallhiscomradestheresurvivedbutonetorecognisehim。Itisnotonlyinthewoodsthatthisenchantercarols，thoughperhapsheisnativethere。Hesingsinthemostdolefulplaces。Themiserhearshimandchuckles，andthedaysaremoments。Withnomoreapparatusthananill-smellinglanternI
haveevokedhimonthenakedlinks。Alllifethatisnotmerelymechanicalisspunoutoftwostrands:seekingforthatbirdandhearinghim。Anditisjustthisthatmakeslifesohardtovalue，andthedelightofeachsoincommunicable。Andjustaknowledgeofthis，andaremembranceofthosefortunatehoursinwhichthebirdhassungtous，thatfillsuswithsuchwonderwhenweturnthepagesoftherealist。There，tobesure，wefindapictureoflifeinsofarasitconsistsofmudandofoldiron，cheapdesiresandcheapfears，thatwhichweareashamedtorememberandthatwhichwearecarelesswhetherweforget；butofthenoteofthattime-
devouringnightingalewehearnonews。
Thecaseofthesewritersofromanceismostobscure。Theyhavebeenboysandyouths；theyhavelingeredoutsidethewindowofthebeloved，whowasthenmostprobablywritingtosomeoneelse；theyhavesatbeforeasheetofpaper，andfeltthemselvesmerecontinentsofcongestedpoetry，notonelineofwhichwouldflow；
theyhavewalkedaloneinthewoods，theyhavewalkedincitiesunderthecountlesslamps；theyhavebeentosea，theyhavehated，theyhavefeared，theyhavelongedtoknifeaman，andmaybedoneit；thewildtasteoflifehasstungtheirpalate。Or，ifyoudenythemalltherest，onepleasureatleasttheyhavetastedtothefull-theirbooksaretheretoproveit-thekeenpleasureofsuccessfulliterarycomposition。Andyettheyfilltheglobewithvolumes，whoseclevernessinspiresmewithdespairingadmiration，andwhoseconsistentfalsitytoallIcaretocallexistence，withdespairingwrath。IfIhadnobetterhopethantocontinuetorevolveamongthedrearyandpettybusinesses，andtobemovedbythepaltryhopesandfearswithwhichtheysurroundandanimatetheirheroes，IdeclareIwoulddienow。Buttherehasneveranhourofminegonequitesodullyyet；ifitwerespentwaitingatarailwayjunction，Iwouldhavesomescatteringthoughts，Icouldcountsomegrainsofmemory，comparedtowhichthewholeofoneoftheseromancesseemsbutdross。
Thesewriterswouldretort(ifItakethemproperly)thatthiswasverytrue；thatitwasthesamewiththemselvesandotherpersonsof(whattheycall)theartistictemperament；thatinthiswewereexceptional，andshouldapparentlybeashamedofourselves；butthatourworksmustdealexclusivelywith(whattheycall)theaverageman，whowasaprodigiousdullfellow，andquitedeadtoallbutthepaltriestconsiderations。Iaccepttheissue。Wecanonlyknowothersbyourselves。Theartistictemperament(aplagueontheexpression!)doesnotmakeusdifferentfromourfellowmen，oritwouldmakeusincapableofwritingnovels；andtheaverageman(amurrainontheword!)isjustlikeyouandme，orhewouldnotbeaverage。ItwasWhitmanwhostampedakindofBirminghamsacrednessuponthelatterphrase；butWhitmanknewverywell，andshowedverynobly，thattheaveragemanwasfullofjoysandfullofapoetryofhisown。Andthisharpingonlife\'sdulnessandman\'smeannessisaloudprofessionofincompetence；itisoneoftwothings:thecryoftheblindeye，ICANNOTSEE，orthecomplaintofthedumbtongue，ICANNOTUTTER。TodrawalifewithoutdelightsistoproveIhavenotrealisedit。Topictureamanwithoutsomesortofpoetry-well，itgoesneartoprovemycase，foritshowsanauthormayhavelittleenough。ToseeDanceronlyasadirty，old，small-minded，impotentlyfumingman，inadirtyhouse，besiegedbyHarrowboys，andprobablybesetbysmallattorneys，istoshowmyselfaskeenanobserveras……theHarrowboys。Buttheseyounggentlemen(withamorebecomingmodesty)werecontenttopluckDancerbythecoat-tails；theydidnotsupposetheyhadsurprisedhissecretorcouldputhimlivinginabook:anditistheremyerrorwouldhavelain。Orsaythatinthesameromance-Icontinuetocallthesebooksromances，inthehopeofgivingpain-saythatinthesameromance，whichnowbeginsreallytotakeshape，IshouldleavetospeakofDancer，andfollowinsteadtheHarrowboys；andsaythatIcameonsomesuchbusinessasthatofmylantern-bearersonthelinks；anddescribedtheboysasverycold，spatuponbyflurriesofrain，anddrearilysurrounded，allofwhichtheywere；andtheirtalkassillyandindecent，whichitcertainlywas。Imightupontheselines，andhadIZola\'sgenius，turnout，inapageorso，agemofliteraryart，renderthelantern-lightwiththetouchesofamaster，andlayontheindecencywiththeungrudginghandoflove；andwhenallwasdone，whatatriumphwouldmypicturebeofshallownessanddulness!howitwouldhavemissedthepoint!howitwouldhavebeliedtheboys!Totheearofthestenographer，thetalkismerelysillyandindecent；butasktheboysthemselves，andtheyarediscussing(asitishighlypropertheyshould)thepossibilitiesofexistence。Totheeyeoftheobservertheyarewetandcoldanddrearilysurrounded；butaskthemselves，andtheyareintheheavenofareconditepleasure，thegroundofwhichisanill-smellinglantern。
III
For，torepeat，thegroundofaman\'sjoyisoftenhardtohit。Itmayhingeattimesuponamereaccessory，likethelantern；itmayreside，likeDancer\'s，inthemysteriousinwardsofpsychology。Itmayconsistwithperpetualfailure，andfindexerciseinthecontinuedchase。Ithassolittlebondwithexternals(suchastheobserverscribblesinhisnote-book)thatitmayeventouchthemnot；andtheman\'struelife，forwhichheconsentstolive，liealtogetherinthefieldoffancy。Theclergyman，inhissparehours，maybewinningbattles，thefarmersailingships，thebankerreapingtriumphinthearts:allleadinganotherlife，plyinganothertradefromthattheychose；likethepoet\'shousebuilder，who，afterall，iscasedinstone，\"Byhisfireside，asimpotentfancyprompts。
Rebuildsittohisliking。\"
Insuchacasethepoetryrunsunderground。Theobserver(poorsoul，withhisdocuments!)isallabroad。Fortolookatthemanisbuttocourtdeception。Weshallseethetrunkfromwhichhedrawshisnourishment；buthehimselfisaboveandabroadinthegreendomeoffoliage，hummedthroughbywindsandnestedinbynightingales。Andthetruerealismwerethatofthepoets，toclimbupafterhimlikeasquirrel，andcatchsomeglimpseoftheheavenforwhichhelives。
And，thetruerealism，alwaysandeverywhere，isthatofthepoets:
tofindoutwherejoyresides，andgiveitavoicefarbeyondsinging。
Fortomissthejoyistomissall。Inthejoyoftheactorsliesthesenseofanyaction。Thatistheexplanation，thattheexcuse。
Toonewhohasnotthesecretofthelanterns，thesceneuponthelinksismeaningless。Andhencethehauntingandtrulyspectralunrealityofrealisticbooks。Hence，whenwereadtheEnglishrealists，theincredulouswonderwithwhichweobservethehero\'sconstancyunderthesubmergingtideofdulness，andhowhebearsupwithhisjibbingsweetheart，andenduresthechatterofidiotgirls，andstandsbyhiswholeunfeaturedwildernessofanexistence，insteadofseekingreliefindrinkorforeigntravel。
HenceintheFrench，inthatmeat-marketofmiddle-agedsensuality，thedisgustedsurprisewithwhichweseetheherodriftsidelong，andpracticallyquiteuntempted，intoeverydescriptionofmisconductanddishonour。Ineach，wemissthepersonalpoetry，theenchantedatmosphere，thatrainbowworkoffancythatclotheswhatisnakedandseemstoennoblewhatisbase；ineach，lifefallsdeadlikedough，insteadofsoaringawaylikeaballoonintothecoloursofthesunset；eachistrue，eachinconceivable；fornomanlivesintheexternaltruth，amongsaltsandacids，butinthewarm，phantasmagoricchamberofhisbrain，withthepaintedwindowsandthestoriedwalls。
Ofthisfalsitywehavehadarecentexamplefromamanwhoknowsfarbetter-Tolstoi\'sPOWERSOFDARKNESS。Hereisapiecefullofforceandtruth，yetquiteuntrue。ForbeforeMikitawasledintosodireasituationhewastempted，andtemptationsarebeautifulatleastinpart；andaworkwhichdwellsontheuglinessofcrimeandgivesnohintofanylovelinessinthetemptation，sinsagainstthemodestyoflife，andevenwhenaTolstoiwritesit，sinkstomelodrama。Thepeasantsarenotunderstood；theysawtheirlifeinfairercolours；eventhedeafgirlwasclothedinpoetryforMikita，orhehadneverfallen。Andso，onceagain，evenanOldBaileymelodrama，withoutsomebrightnessofpoetryandlustreofexistence，fallsintotheinconceivableandrankswithfairytales。
IV
Innoblerbookswearemovedwithsomethingliketheemotionsoflife；andthisemotionisveryvariouslyprovoked。WearesomovedwhenLevinelaboursinthefield，whenAndresinksbeyondemotion，whenRichardFeverelandLucyDesboroughmeetbesidetheriver，whenAntony，\"notcowardly，putsoffhishelmet，\"whenKenthasinfinitepityonthedyingLear，when，inDostoieffky\'sDESPISED
ANDREJECTED，theuncomplainingherodrainshiscupofsufferingandvirtue。Thesearenotesthatpleasethegreatheartofman。
Notonlylove，andthefields，andthebrightfaceofdanger，butsacrificeanddeathandunmeritedsufferinghumblysupported，touchinustheveinofthepoetic。Welovetothinkofthem，welongtotrythem，wearehumblyhopefulthatwemayproveheroesalso。
Wehaveheard，perhaps，toomuchoflessermatters。Hereisthedoor，hereistheopenair。ITURINANTIQUAMSILVAM。
CHAPTERVIII-ACHAPTERONDREAMS
THEpastisallofonetexture-whetherfeignedorsuffered-
whetheractedoutinthreedimensions，oronlywitnessedinthatsmalltheatreofthebrainwhichwekeepbrightlylightedallnightlong，afterthejetsaredown，anddarknessandsleepreignundisturbedintheremainderofthebody。Thereisnodistinctiononthefaceofourexperiences；oneisvividindeed，andonedull，andonepleasant，andanotheragonisingtoremember；butwhichofthemiswhatwecalltrue，andwhichadream，thereisnotonehairtoprove。Thepaststandsonaprecariousfooting；anotherstrawsplitinthefieldofmetaphysic，andbeholdusrobbedofit。
Thereisscarceafamilythatcancountfourgenerationsbutlaysaclaimtosomedormanttitleorsomecastleandestate:aclaimnotprosecutableinanycourtoflaw，butflatteringtothefancyandagreatalleviationofidlehours。Aman\'sclaimtohisownpastisyetlessvalid。Apapermightturnup(inproperstory-bookfashion)inthesecretdrawerofanoldebonysecretary，andrestoreyourfamilytoitsancienthonours，andreinstatemineinacertainWestIndianislet(notfarfromSt。Kitt\'s，asbelovedtraditionhummedinmyyoungears)whichwasonceours，andisnowunjustlysomeoneelse\'s，andforthatmatter(inthestateofthesugartrade)isnotworthanythingtoanybody。Idonotsaythattheserevolutionsarelikely；onlynomancandenythattheyarepossible；andthepast，ontheotherbaud，is，lostforever:ourolddaysanddeeds，ouroldselves，too，andtheveryworldinwhichthesesceneswereacted，allbroughtdowntothesamefaintresiduumasalastnight\'sdream，tosomeincontinuousimages，andanechointhechambersofthebrain。Notanhour，notamood，notaglanceoftheeye，canwerevoke；itisallgone，pastconjuring。
Andyetconceiveusrobbedofit，conceivethatlittlethreadofmemorythatwetrailbehindusbrokenatthepocket\'sedge；andinwhatnakednullityshouldwebeleft!forweonlyguideourselves，andonlyknowourselves，bytheseair-paintedpicturesofthepast。
Uponthesegrounds，therearesomeamonguswhoclaimtohavelivedlongerandmorerichlythantheirneighbours；whentheylayasleeptheyclaimtheywerestillactive；andamongthetreasuresofmemorythatallmenreviewfortheiramusement，thesecountinnosecondplacetheharvestsoftheirdreams。ThereisoneofthiskindwhomIhaveinmyeye，andwhosecaseisperhapsunusualenoughtobedescribed。Hewasfromachildanardentanduncomfortabledreamer。Whenhehadatouchoffeveratnight，andtheroomswelledandshrank，andhisclothes，hangingonanail，nowloomedupinstanttothebignessofachurch，andnowdrewawayintoahorrorofinfinitedistanceandinfinitelittleness，thepoorsoulwasverywellawareofwhatmustfollow，andstruggledhardagainsttheapproachesofthatslumberwhichwasthebeginningofsorrows。
Buthisstruggleswereinvain；soonerorlaterthenight-hagwouldhavehimbythethroat，andpluckhimstranglingandscreaming，fromhissleep。Hisdreamswereattimescommonplaceenough，attimesverystrange，attimestheywerealmostformless:hewouldbehaunted，forinstance，bynothingmoredefinitethanacertainhueofbrown，whichhedidnotmindintheleastwhilehewasawake，butfearedandloathedwhilehewasdreaming；attimes，again，theytookoneverydetailofcircumstance，aswhenoncehesupposedhemustswallowthepopulousworld，andawokescreamingwiththehorrorofthethought。Thetwochieftroublesofhisverynarrowexistence-thepracticalandeverydaytroubleofschooltasksandtheultimateandairyoneofhellandjudgment-wereoftenconfoundedtogetherintooneappallingnightmare。HeseemedtohimselftostandbeforetheGreatWhiteThrone；hewascalledon，poorlittledevil，torecitesomeformofwords，onwhichhisdestinydepended；histonguestuck，hismemorywasblank，hellgapedforhim；andhewouldawake，clingingtothecurtain-rodwithhiskneestohischin。
Thesewereextremelypoorexperiences，onthewhole；andatthattimeoflifemydreamerwouldhaveverywillinglypartedwithhispowerofdreams。Butpresently，inthecourseofhisgrowth，thecriesandphysicalcontortionspassedaway，seeminglyforever；hisvisionswerestillforthemostpartmiserable，buttheyweremoreconstantlysupported；andhewouldawakewithnomoreextremesymptomthanaflyingheart，afreezingscalp，coldsweats，andthespeechlessmidnightfear。Hisdreams，too，asbefittedamindbetterstockedwithparticulars，becamemorecircumstantial，andhadmoretheairandcontinuityoflife。Thelookoftheworldbeginningtotakeholdonhisattention，scenerycametoplayapartinhissleepingaswellasinhiswakingthoughts，sothathewouldtakelong，uneventfuljourneysandseestrangetownsandbeautifulplacesashelayinbed。And，whatismoresignificant，anoddtastethathehadfortheGeorgiancostumeandforstorieslaidinthatperiodofEnglishhistory，begantorulethefeaturesofhisdreams；sothathemasqueradedthereinathree-corneredhatandwasmuchengagedwithJacobiteconspiracybetweenthehourforbedandthatforbreakfast。Aboutthesametime，hebegantoreadinhisdreams-tales，forthemostpart，andforthemostpartafterthemannerofG。P。R。James，butsoincrediblymorevividandmovingthananyprintedbook，thathehaseversincebeenmalcontentwithliterature。
Andthen，whilehewasyetastudent，therecametohimadream-
adventurewhichhehasnoanxietytorepeat；hebegan，thatistosay，todreaminsequenceandthustoleadadoublelife-oneoftheday，oneofthenight-onethathehadeveryreasontobelievewasthetrueone，anotherthathehadnomeansofprovingtobefalse。Ishouldhavesaidhestudied，orwasbywayofstudying，atEdinburghCollege，which(itmaybesupposed)washowIcametoknowhim。Well，inhisdream-life，hepassedalongdayinthesurgicaltheatre，hisheartinhismouth，histeethonedge，seeingmonstrousmalformationsandtheabhorreddexterityofsurgeons。Inaheavy，rainy，foggyeveninghecameforthintotheSouthBridge，turneduptheHighStreet，andenteredthedoorofatallLAND，atthetopofwhichhesupposedhimselftolodge。Allnightlong，inhiswetclothes，heclimbedthestairs，stairafterstairinendlessseries，andateverysecondflightaflaringlampwithareflector。Allnightlong，hebrushedbysinglepersonspassingdownward-beggarlywomenofthestreet，great，weary，muddylabourers，poorscarecrowsofmen，paleparodiesofwomen-butalldrowsyandwearylikehimself，andallsingle，andallbrushingagainsthimastheypassed。Intheend，outofanorthernwindow，hewouldseedaybeginningtowhitenovertheFirth，giveuptheascent，turntodescend，andinabreathbebackagainuponthestreets，inhiswetclothes，inthewet，haggarddawn，trudgingtoanotherdayofmonstrositiesandoperations。Timewentquickerinthelifeofdreams，somesevenhours(asnearashecanguess)toone；anditwent，besides，moreintensely，sothatthegloomofthesefanciedexperiencescloudedtheday，andhehadnotshakenofftheirshadowereitwastimetoliedownandtorenewthem。I