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Updated: May 2, 2025
She has passed out of that mysterious misuse of oil paint, that arid glazing of terre verte, and has come into her possession of eternal life, into the immortality of Pater's prose. Degas is wilting already; year after year he will wither, until one day some great prose writer will arise and transfer his spirit into its proper medium literature.
That Pater's philosophy could ever have been misunderstood is not to be entertained with patience by any one who has read him with even ordinary attention; that it may have been misapplied, in spite of all his care, is, of course, possible; but if a writer is to be called to account for all the misapplications, or distortions, of his philosophy, writing may as well come to an end.
"She is very unusual looking." "Her face," Miss Scrotton pursued, ignoring her companion's trite comments, "embodies the thoughts and dreams of many races. It makes me always think of Pater's Mona Lisa you remember: 'Hers is the head upon which all the ends of the world are come and the eyelids are a little weary. She is, of course, a profoundly tragic person." "Has she been very unfortunate?"
At once he began flicking away the melted snow, and then rubbed Major Pater's bald head dry. All the time he continued to talk to the military academy instructor: "I grant you that it looks very awkward on Tucker's part. But, you see, Mr. er ?" "Ma Major Pater!" stammered Tommy Tucker. "Quite so. Major, of course.
This lesson has taught with unvarying reiteration that acts are to be judged by their consequences; that all purposes are constructive, and so far as wise fitted into the building of civilization; that experience itself, in Pater's sense, is possible only as a fruit of experience.
"I'd be angry with you if you weren't so terribly amusing, Allen," she replied, smiling again after the first shock of his outburst. "Truly, you don't know how funny you are when you try to be serious. It doesn't fit." Allen bit his lip. "I'm a joke still, am I?" he asked, without looking at her. "I thought it was the pater's prerogative to consider me that, but I see he didn't get it patented."
I'd hate to risk the pater's neck with a greenhorn." "Come to think of it, he used to run old Cragin's car for quite some time. Had an accident, and was discharged; but some people said Hank wasn't to blame; that it came about because the old man was too stingy to buy the right kind of tires, and always picked up job lots." "Glad to hear it. He won't have that fault to find with the governor.
Compared with the rich, capricious, wilful, lingering by the way of Lamb's manner, Pater's is precise, demure and over-grave, Wilde's fantastic and over-provocative, Ruskin's intolerably rhetorical. Into what other prose style could the magic of Shakespeare's "little touches" be drawn, or the high melancholy of Milton's imagery be led, without producing a frightful sense of the incongruous?
"This," said Bulldog, with a shrewd glance, "is mair than ordinary modesty; we 'ill take another witness. Ernest Molyneux, what have ye got to say?" "Cosh called my father names, and ... I lost my t-temper, and ... and ... I said things ... the pater's ill, sir, so I ... and Cosh stwuck me once or twice but I don't mind that; only Peter, you see, sir, wanted to help me.
On the other hand, if on other more reliable evidence it can be found that Oscar Wilde was one of those "young men" misled by Pater's book, for whose spiritual safety Pater, as we have seen, was so solicitous, one can only remind oneself again of the phrase quoted above in regard to "that soil of human nature" into which a writer casts his seed.
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