Oliver Onions

Oliver Onions

Summary

Portrait of Oliver Onions Oliver Onions Widdershins — Hic Jacet (1911)

Flashing and life-like as was the presentation on the canvas (mind you, I was not looking at it, but all the time at my own hand) , it was dead paint by comparison with that mental image which I saw (if I may so use a term of which custom has restricted the meaning to one kind of seeing) as plainly as I ever saw Andriaovsky in his life. I know now that it was by virtue of that essential essence that bound us heart and brain and soul together that I so saw him, eyes glittering, head sardonically wagging, fine mouth shaping phrases of insight and irony.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Oliver Onions Oliver Onions Widdershins — Hic Jacet (1911)

Besides myself, only Maschka had been there; and I had been thankful for the summons that had called her for a moment out of the room. I had still retained his already cold hand; his brow had worked with that dreadful struggle; and his eyes had been closed.
But suddenly he had opened them, and the next moment had sat up on his pillow. He had striven to draw his hand from mine.
"Who are you?" he had suddenly demanded, not knowing me.
I had come close to him. "You know me, AndriaovskyHarrison?" I had asked sorrowfully.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Oliver Onions Oliver Onions Widdershins — Hic Jacet (1911)

The crowning of Andriaovsky involved my own annihilation; his "Life" would be my "Hic Jacet." And yet I was prepared, nay, resolved, to write it. I had started, and I would go forward. I would not be spewed with the lukewarm out of the mouth of that Spirit from which proceeds all that is bright and pure and true. The vehemence with which I had rejected its divine bidding should at least be correspondent with my adoration of it. The snivelling claims of the Schofields I spurned. If, as they urged, "an artist must live," he must live royally or starve with a tight mouth.
Source: Wikisource

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