omes
a sacred duty to pad a Life out with dull and stodgy documents; it is all
so utterly inartistic and decorous and stupid. A biography ought to be well
seasoned with faults and foibles. That is the one encouraging thing about
life, that a man can have plenty of failings and still make a fine business
out of it all. Yet it is regarded as almost treacherous to hint at
imperfections. Now if I had had our friend the general merchant to
biographise, I would have taken careful notes of his talk while
undressing--there's something picturesque about that! I would have told how
he spent his day, how he looked and moved, ate and drank. A real portrait
of an uninteresting man might be quite a treasure."

"Yes, but you know it wouldn't do," said Barthrop; "his friends would be
out at you like a swarm of wasps."

"Oh, I know that," said Father Payne. "It is all this infernal
sentimentality which spoils everything; as long as we think of the dead as
elderly angels hovering over us while we pray, there is nothing to be done.
If we really believe that we migrate out of life into an atmosphere of mild
piety, and lose all our individuality at once, then, of course, the less
said the better. As long as we hold that, then death must remain as the
worst of catastrophes for everyone concerned. The result of it all is that
a bad biography is the worst of books, because it quenches our interest in
life, and makes life insupportably dull. The first point is that the
biographer is infinitely more important than his subject. Look what an
enchanting book Carlyle made out of the Life of Sterling. Sterling was a
man of real charm who could only talk. He couldn't write a line. His
writings are pitiful. Carlyle put them all aside with a delicious irony;
and yet he managed to depict a swift, restless, delicate, radiant creature,
whom one loves and admires. It is one of the loveliest books ever written.
But, on the other hand, there are hundreds of fine creatures who have been
hopelessly buried for ever and ever under their biographies--the sepulchre
made sure, the stone sealed, and the watch set."

"But there are some good biographies?" said Barthrop.

"About a dozen," said Father Payne. "I won't give a list of them, or I
should become like our friend the merchant. I feel it coming on, by Jove--I
feel like accounting for things and talking you all up to my bedroom."

"But what can be done about it all?" I said.

"Nothing whatever, my boy," said