“The usual reward of the great--well doing, ill report. Gridd was not the sort of man to forgive such a Samaritan,” I said. “They’ve torn me to pieces since I left them--not a doubt of it. But you don’t care, do you?” “I care very much,” he answered. “I care for my Institute; I care for my dear wife; I care for my family. And, what is more, I won’t suffer it if I can bring our sub-committee to see the outrage with my eyes. In the interests of reputation there are certain great ones daily gathered together amongst us for the express purpose of adjudicating between the quick and dead in these affairs; and many a startling, literary Nemesis and unexplained, quick-handed and providential act of justice is the direct result of our personal interest and personal power in such matters. Where our reputations are concerned, we are in fact permitted some supernatural indulgences. This is a case in point, and if ever a literary ghost had a grievance, I take it that I who speak to you am that spirit. Come with me immediately; the sub-committee is sitting at this moment. It consists of Mr. Ben Jonson in the chair, Doctor Johnson and Mr. Carlyle. The last clamoured to be put on it so unceasingly after the little matter of Mr. Froude that we had to meet his wishes, and Virgil resigned in his favour. You see Virgil’s contemporaries have come by their own now, and it was right that the recent generations should have a modern representative.” In another moment we stood before the three great shades. “Welcome, Master Parkinson; what would you?” asked immortal Ben. “Be brief, sir, for we are busy to-day,” added Doctor Johnson. “I beg therefore that you will unfold your purpose with as little flux of words as may be necessary to its elucidation.” Carlyle did not speak, but thrust out his chin, as he does in the picture by Watts, and listened. The Professor thereupon introduced me and related my black news. Jonson shook his head and seemed to find a humorous side to the tragedy; Carlyle thundered his indignation and went from a generalisation upon all biography into personal matters not necessary to set down here; while Doctor Johnson defended biography with some slashing blows. “You are to remember, sir,” he said to Mr. Carlyle, “that it is most unphilosophic to frame general theories upon the trumpery foundation of a personal experience. You, sir, have permitted us to gather that you are incensed against the literary record of your own career--a very good book in the judgment of many persons. To found general principles upon this solitary example is at once short-sighted, narrow-minded and absurd. No, sir; the thing can be very well done and has been very well done.” “Nevertheless we cannot all come by a Boswell, Doctor,” said Mr. Jonson.