Thomas Dyce

“ By this time you might have been in the diplomatic service, you might have been in Parliament. Are you going to waste your whole life?"
"That depends on the view one takes of life," said Dyce, in a philosophical tone which he sometimes adopted—generally after dinner. "Why should one always be thinking about 'getting on?' It's the vice of the time. Why should I elbow and hustle in a vulgar crowd? A friend of mine, Lord Dymchurch—"
"What! You have made friends with a lord?" cried Mrs. Lashmar, her face illumined. ”

“ She likes to know everybody who is, or is going to be, somebody. She'll ask you, no doubt, to her house in Pont Street, where you'll meet a great many fools and some reasonable people. She herself, I may tell you, is no fool, but she has a good deal more patience with that sort than I ever had, and so, of course, has many more friends. She's what they call a leader of Society, yet she doesn't grudge leaving London for a day or two in the beginning of the Season to do me a service."
"I seem to know her name," said Dyce. ”

“ We might go on indeed to weary the reader with absurdities, and it would only be following out Mr Dyce’s chronological idea in all its collateral branches; for, getting warm in riding his hobby, his heated imagination looks out for inconceivable vanishing points, which recede as fast as he finds them, till he sees in the unbounded space of art, which he thinks he has himself created, arts and sciences flying about in every direction, and crossing each other like so many dancing comets. ”

“ Among the many possibilities of life which lie before a young and intelligent man, one never presented itself to Dyce Lashmar's meditation. The thought of simply earning his living by conscientious and useful work, satisfied with whatever distinction might come to him in the natural order of things, had never entered his mind. Every project he formed took for granted his unlaborious pre-eminence in a toiling world. His natural superiority to mankind at large was, with Dyce, axiomatic. ”

“ Dyck poured himself a glass of port, held it up, sniffed the aroma, and looked through the beautiful red tinge of the wine with a happy and critical eye.
"Well, the world could be remade in a lot of ways," he declared. "I shouldn't mind seeing a bit of a revolution in Ireland—but in England first," he hastened to add. "They're a more outcast folk than the Irish." His father scoffed.
"Look out, Dyck, or they'll drop you in jail if you talk like that!" he chided, his red face growing redder, his fingers nervously feeling the buttons on his picturesque silk waistcoat. ”

“ Lashmar's way of receiving her at the vicarage, it stirred in her heart and mind (already prone to bitterness) a resentment which, of all things, she shrank from betraying.
"Is Lady Ogram approachable?" Dyce asked, when his companion had walked a few paces without speaking. "Does she care to make new acquaintances?"
"It depends. She likes to know interesting people."
"Well"—Dyce murmured a laugh—"perhaps she might think me interesting, in a way. Her subject is mine. I'm working at sociology; have been for a long time. I'm getting my ideas into shape, and I like to talk about them." ”

“ Neither of these reputed poetesses appears in the present volume, for the simple reason that I do not believe in them. Even on his own ground Dyce might have been surpassed by somebody standing on Dyce’s shoulders. But had his work been perfect, a hundred years, which have seen the prime of the three greatest of English poetesses, have passed since he published it. I may at this point acknowledge my debt to him, although the poems I have taken from him are very few. ”

“ At a little distance, a person not in the habit of hearing either of them speak frequently, might readily have mistaken one voice for the other.
"I fancy, sir," said the Captain, "that Miss Winter is never so happy as when at Heron Dyke. She strikes me as being one of those exceptional young ladies who care but little for the gaieties and distractions of London life." ”

“ Dyce is, that in this beautifully printed volume, he has reared imperishable columns to the honour of the sex, without a questionable trophy. His “specimens” are an assemblage so individually charming, that the mind is delighted by every part whereon the eye rests, and scrupulosity itself cannot make a single rejection on pretence of inadequate merit. He comes as a rightful herald, marshalling the perfections of each poetess, and discriminating with so much delicacy, that each of his pages is a page of honour to a high-born grace, or dignified beauty. ”

“ But I haven’t yet seen my silver and tortoise-shell pin tray.”
Then all at once Emmie heard or thought she heard voices saying Anthony’s name. It was like that semi-illusion of the flat—the imagined voices of strangers talking about him. “Dyke—yes, Dyke.” These people just ahead of her were saying the words. She moved towards them, listening.
“Yes, found by the relief party.... Yes, Dyke. Anthony Dyke, the explorer.... Extraordinary. Given up by everybody. Risen from the dead, as it were. If he has a wife and children, what must be their feelings?” ”

“ Sure enough, when Sir Dyce had forced his way with two others into the open, there on the jungle's edge lay what was left of the unlucky animal. [Pg 643] "Hurrah!" cried the enthusiastic Englishman; "she can not be far away. Get together, all of you, quickly. Beat the bush on the other side of us—yonder, across the clearing."
Sir Dyce left his elephant, and joined on foot the excited natives. The open was crossed. Wild cries and shouts, the clanging of the cymbals and tam-tams, filled the morning air. The bush was thoroughly beat, every eye and ear on the alert. ”

“ Lashmar's disposition, held no correspondence with the vicar of Alverholme; his wife had never been on friendly terms with Mrs. Lashmar. How Dyce thought of that singular incident it was impossible to infer from his demeanour; Constance might well have supposed that he had forgotten all about it.
"Is your work interesting?" were his next words. "What does Lady Ogram go in for?"
"Many things."
"You prefer it to the other work?"
"It isn't so hard, and it's much more profitable."
"By the bye, who is Lady Ogram?" asked Dyce, with a smiling glance. ”

“ Dyce began to laugh forbearingly.
"Come, come," he said, "what's all this wrangling about? How did it begin? That's the extraordinary thing with women; one gets so easily off the track, and runs one doesn't know where. What was I saying? Oh, simply that I couldn't be sure, yet, whether Hollingford would suit me. Let us keep to the higher plane. It's safer than too familiar detail." ”

“ The heart of Hermas was like a lump of ice in his bosom. He rose slowly to his feet, lifting Athenais with him.
"It is in vain," he said; "there is nothing for us to do. Long ago I knew something. I think it would have helped us. But I have forgotten it. It is all gone. But I would give all that I have, if I could bring it back again now, at this hour, in this time of our bitter trouble."
A slave entered the room while he was speaking, and approached hesitatingly.
"Master," he said, "John of Antioch, whom we were forbidden to admit to the house, has come again. He would take no denial. ”

“ On this very evening, while these ladies were on their way to London, a strange thing happened at Heron Dyke.
It was about eight o'clock. Fitch the saddler had come up from Nullington about some little matter of business, and Aaron Frost sent one of the housemaids to fetch him a certain whip that was hanging up in the hall. As Martha left the room with her candle she met her fellow-servant, Ann, and the latter turned to accompany her. The girls never cared to go about the big house singly after dark. They went along chattering merrily, and thinking of anything rather than unpleasant subjects. ”

“ The sea was invisible from the lower windows of the Hall, but there was a fine view of it from the dormer windows in the north wing; and here Ella Winter had had a room fitted up especially for herself. Had you ever slept at Heron Dyke on a winter night, when a strong landward breeze was blowing, you would have been hushed to rest by one of nature's most majestic monotones. ”

“ That day when the sermon was ended the great throng that filled the valley and the hillsides, gathering about the baptismal pool he himself had fashioned, sang Uncle Dyke’s favorite hymn. Their voices blending like the notes of a giant organ swelled and filled the deep valley:
Uncle Dyke chose also his own grave site in the family burying ground overlooking the house where he’d lived seventy-one years. ”

“ Lashmar to the soul; at times she turned in anger against the young man himself, accusing him of ungrateful supineness, but more often eased her injured feelings by accusation of all such persons as, by any possibility, might have aided Dyce to a career. One of these was Lady Susan Harrop, a very remote relative of hers. Twice or thrice a year, for half-a-dozen years at least, Mrs. Lashmar had urged upon Lady Susan the claims of her son to social countenance and more practical forms of advancement; hitherto with no result—save, indeed, that Dyce dined once every season at the Harrops' table. ”

“ When I'm in new places, I always walk. Miss Bride and I are going to Wales this summer, and we shall walk a great deal. Do you know Brecknock? Few people do, but they tell me it's very fine. Perhaps you are one of the people who always go abroad? I prefer my own country. What did you think of the way from Hollingford?"
To this question she seemed to expect an answer, and Dyce, who was beginning to command himself, met her gaze steadily as he spoke.
"There's very little to see till you come to Shawe. It's a pretty village—or rather, it was, before someone built that hideous paper-mill." ”

“ Lord Dymchurch sat in his usual corner of the library, and, on Lashmar's approach, smiled his wonted greeting. After preliminary gossip, Dyce commanded himself to courageous utterance.
"I have been asked to come forward as Liberal candidate for a little borough in the Midlands—Hollingford. It's a Tory seat, and I don't know whether I shall stand any chance, but local people want to fight it, and they seem to think that I may be the man for them." ”

“ That patronizing parenthesis about Dyce, without a word of acknowledgment, is the one reference in his preface to a man on whose labours he battened. Half his book—it might be very well if he admitted it, for Dyce was competent—came bodily out of Dyce. That was the only part of it worth printing. Dyce did all his research for him; the rest of his huge book was filled with the maundering prettinesses of early nineteenth-century writers. His notes on the old poetesses are Dyce’s rewritten, often not even that ”

“ In the moments when Dyce Lashmar was neither aware of being observed nor consciously occupied with the pressing problems of his own existence, his face expressed a natural amiability, inclining to pensiveness. The features were in no way remarkable; they missed the vigour of his father's type without attaining the regularity which had given his mother a claim to good looks. Such a visage falls to the lot of numberless men born to keep themselves alive and to propagate their insignificance. ”

“ Aunt Sallie’s eyes blazed. “They forded the creek no tellin’ how many times. They got chilled to the bone. When they got there Dyke stumbled into the house as fast as his cold, stiff legs could pack him, fell on his knees ’longside Dessie’s bed and begun to pray with all his might. Then he tried to sing a hymn, but still never a word nor a moan out of Dessie, covered over from head to foot in the bed. Directly John reached over to lay a hand on her shoulder. ‘Dessie, honey,’ he coaxed, ‘Brother Dyke Garrett’s come to pray with you!’ He shook the heap of covers. ”

“ And yet Mr Dyce, in his scheme of government for the National Gallery, looks to some one “coming man.” “Some officer should be appointed to take charge of all business relating to the National Gallery, to be responsible for the immediate management, and to whom the public should look for the success or failure of the undertaking.” He must be a very wonderful man indeed: if Mr Dyce has any such in his eye, he ought to have named him; for no one besides ever saw a man on earth equal to so much ”

“ He began to look cheerful.
"Nothing could please me better."
"Go on, then," said Lady Ogram, drily. "You were saying—"
"I wish to use complete frankness with you," Dyce resumed. "As I think you know, I always prefer the simple, natural way of looking at things. So, for instance, in my relations with women I have always aimed at fair and candid behaviour; I have tried to treat women as they themselves, justly enough, wish to be treated, without affectation, without insincerity. Constance knew my views, and she approved them. ”

“ There was laughter—the man called Martinez laughing gruffly and the woman shrilly. Then the voices ceased, and Dyke understood that all three of them had gone into the kitchen and that they were still talking of him out there.
They returned, and the woman came to the inner room to fetch the coffee-pot and cups.
“Good trade to-night,” said Dyke, smiling at her. “Plenty of custom all of a sudden. That’s fine for you.”
“One never knows,” she said, darting her eyes here and there. “People come and they go. Strange people sometimes—like you two” ”