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THE AUTHORSHIP OF "MY LIFE IS LIKE THE SUMMER ROSE."*

BY J. WOOD DAVIDSON.

Wilde vs. O'Kelly, Alcaeus, La Ruse, et al.

On the appearance of a communication in the 22d number of the Examiner, signed D, and dated "Williamsburg, May 15," it was not fully my intention to again take up the subject in reply, though one was rather directly challenged at the hands of MoNos, which nom de guerre then stood at the head of this series of papers. Circumstances in which the public can have no interest prevented my attending to it just then. My purpose now is to touch in passing a few points in that communication, and then submit certain considerations, facts, and papers, which bear directly upon the point at issue, to wit, the authorship of My Life is like the Summer Rose."

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I certainly did understand our friend D, in his letter to the Pee Dee Times, to take ground against Mr. Wilde. I am glad to hear from him that it was not so. The language from which I received that impression is this: "The young Irishman published the original, and the only difference was, I believe, that Mr. Wilde located the scene in Florida, while the ORI GINAL located it on the shores of the Lake of Killarney." This seemed to me to savor of accusation; but the writer disclaims such intention, and I give it now merely to account for my then impression. But that is entirely immateriallet it pass. I may, however, be permitted to mention that it was not upon the shores of the Lake of Killarney that O'Kelly located his appropriation, but upon "Lahinch's desert strand," in the county of Clare, where there is a tide. Again, my critical friend-speaking of the direct charge made in 1833-says: "It is a little remarkable that the accusation was not met and contradicted at the time by Mr. Wilde or any of his friends; or, if contradicted, I do not recollect to have seen or heard of it." The tone of this is too manifestive of the writer's

impression to be susceptible of misconstruction. But I waive. The following letter, which I clip from the Georgia Journal of about the first of February, 1835, will serve as information on that point, which, however, was due something over twenty years ago. I quote the letter entire:

To the Editor of the State Rights' Sentinel :

SIR; Some friends whose opinions are entitled to deference, deem it incumbent on me to avow or disavow the authorship of a dozen couplets, lately become a matter of grave and high controversy. Though supposed for twenty years past to be mine, they have recently been ascribed, by sundry acute critics, first to O'KELLY and then to Alcaeus. Disdaining heretofore, to notice such charges of plagiarism, from a perfect confidence in the ultimate power of TRUTH, and a contempt for this petty species of annoyance, my silence is now broken only in compliance with the wishes of those whom I esteem. Valuing these rhymes very differently from others, it becomes me on so unimportant a subject, merely to avow myself the author. The lines in question, then, good or bad, are mine alone; neither Alcaeus nor O'Kelly has the smallest right to them. Originally intended as a part of a longer poem-which, like the life of him for whose sake I projected it, was broken off unfinished-they were published without my knowledge or consent, and, however the contrary may have been assumed, contain no personal allusion. Whatever my life may be like, whether roses or thorns, the public is in no danger of being troubled with my confidence.

I am, sir, very respectfully, your obedient humble servant,

RICHARD IIENRY WILDE. Washington, 31st December, 1834.

My respondent farther states that "Mr. Wilde first published it in 1832." Now, Mr. Wilde never published it at all; and that it was published, and by whom, and when, will appear from the letter of Wil

* From the Columbia, (S. C.) Examiner.

liam C. Wilde, Esq., of New Orleans, which will be found below, and that of R. Shelton Mackenzie, Esq., to both of which I am permitted to refer him and my read

ers.

The lyric has an eventful history. Let us glance at it, giving the facts connectedly, the proofs apart. It was written by HON. RICHARD HENRY WILDE about 1813. This date rests upon the testimony of Dr. Meigs, of Philadelphia. It was first published by a friend of the author about 1818. The North American Magazine of 1834, speaking of it, says: "Ten or twelve years since a little poem appeared which was attributed to the Hon. R. H. Wilde, M. C., of Georgia; and it has probably been republished through a hundred different media." This dates it back to 1823; but is entirely general in its numbers. As nearly as I can gather, the following is

THE ORIGINAL.

"My life is like the summer rose

That opens to the morning sky, But ere the shades of evening close, Is scattered on the ground to die; But on the rose's humble bed The sweetest dews of night are shed, As if she wept such waste to seeBut none shall weep a tear for me.

My life is like the autumn's leaf
That trembles in the moon's pale ray,
Its hold is frail, its date is brief-

Restless and soon to pass away;
Yet ere that leaf shall fall and fade
All vestige of the human race,
The winds bewail the lifeless tree-
But none shall breathe a sigh for me.

My life is like the print which feet
Have left on Tampa's desert strand;
Soon as the rising tide shall beat,

This track shall vanish from the sand;
Yet still, as grieving to efface
The parent tree shall mourn its shade;
On that lone shore loud moans the sea.
But none shall e'er lament for me."

How many a heart has beat in responsive harmony with its genuine though melancholy inspiration! Soon after its publication here, it appeared in a Scottish collection of poems. It appeared in the Cork Mercantile Chronicle in 1823, credited to an American lawyer. Hence it circulated through Ireland; and after

awhile fell into the piratical hands of this Patrick O'Kelly-a sui generis, vagabond poetaster, with neither talents, taste, nor honesty-who, with the assistance of his prostituted muse-the Genia of hot whuskey punch, doubtless-retouched the lyric and claimed it as his own. It again took wing; and we soon find it in the refluent current of Irish feeling-in the columns of the New York Catholic Register and Diary, as follows:

"My life is like the summer rose,

That opens to the morning sky; But, ere the shades of evening close, Is scattered on the ground to die; But on the rose's humble bed The sweetest dews of night are shed, As if she wept such waste to see; But who, alas! shall weep for me?

My life is like the autumn leaf,
That trembles in the moon's pale ray:
Its hold is frail-its date is brief,

Restless-and soon to pass away!
Yet ere that leaf shall fall and fade,
The vestige of the human race,
The winds bewail the leafless tree;
But who shall then BEWAIL FOR me?

My life is like the print which feet
Have left on Lahinch's desert strand :
Soon as the rising tide shall beat,

The track will vanish from the sand! Yet, as if grieving to efface

The parent tree shall mourn its shade, On that lone shore loud moans the sea; Who but the NINE shall mourn for me?

The changes introduced are few, but are quite characteristic-the English being not quite as perfect as the self-conceit. This was O'Kelly's version. But, in the meantime, it was translated by a Georgian into Greek-as in his day several of Pope's minor poems were-and also into Latin. This Greek version was sent as an original fragment from Alcaeus to Mr. Bartlett, editor of the New York Albion. The Greek of the fragment was not purely Alcæan, and perhaps for this reason—a very good one, by the way,-Mr. Bartlett refused it a place in the Albion; but he handed it over to Mr. Fairchild, the editor of the North American Magazine, who advanced and elaborated the vapory claims of Alcæus with a degree of familiarity with the Aeolic dialect that

would have subjected a Sophomore to a reprimand. But his readers were less nice as critics of his Greek than eager for a novelty for a nine days' wonder. They had it. Mr. Blair, of the Globe, had received as genuine gospel all the prate of the Catholic Register and Diary on the claims of O'Kelly; but was much like the Dutch magistrate, and after hearing Mr. Fairchild in behalf of Alcaeus, he decided for the Greek-on the ignotum pro magnifico principle doubtless. During this general brouillerie, Mr. Noah, of the Evening Star, and Hon. J. K. Paulding, in the N. Y. Mirror, stood as the prominent representatives of the truth, attributing it to Mr. Wilde. These clashings occurred during the two or three years succeeding 1832. It was in December, 1834, that Mr. Wilde wrote the letter given above. After all this, in 1835 the Charleston Observer outstrips the whole posse of thief-hunters: the writer rejects the claims of Mr. Wilde, ridicules those of Mr. Alcaeus, hoots at Patrick O'Kelly, and battles manfully for a much-wronged individual of whom the world surely ought to have heard-an Irish gentleman, they say,—by the name of LA RUSE-Patrick La Ruse, I sup

pose.

I take pleasure in presenting the following letters. They may be fairly said to close the controversy. The first introduces the second, and appeared in the New Orleans Sunday Delta of July 13, 1856. The writer of the first, it will be perceived, is the son of the author of the piece in question, and is a resident of New Orleans. Mr. McKenzie is univer

sally known, and as widely appreciated.

The letters are as follows:

To the Editors of the Delta-GENTLEMEN: To establish O'Kelly's claim to the lines beginning "My life is like the Summer Rose," the volume is produced, in which it would appear he first published them. This book, as will be apparent to any one who will take the trouble to examine it, is a collection of four different editions of a number of poems either written or claimed by this individual. The first appears to have been printed in Dublin 1791, and in this is to be found Killarney and Poetical Miscellanies. The

second is without title-page, but apparently printed in 1824, and contains the Aonian Kaleidescope, (pray notice the title of these poems), the Eidophusicon. the Manoscope, the Eidoranium, the Diodod, etc. The third edition is printed in Dublin 1831, and includes the Hippocrene and other poems; and the fourth, without date, but to judge from the character of the type, apparently printed about the same time as the edition of 1831, which I have just now cited. In this last is to be found most of the poems that appear in the other compilations, with the farther addition of other novelties.

In the edition of 1791 the lines in dispute are not to be found, they only appear in the edition of 1831, and in the edition which has no date whatever attached to it. But the edition of 1824 has all the necessary internal evidence of being printed first, and we may therefore give it a priority of claim over the other until full proof to the contrary is exhibited. Hence, we may safely assume until it is proved otherwise, that O'Kelly did not publish his poem until 1824. Indeed, the answer of Mr. O'Leary to the "Simile," which is dated 21st May, 1825, would rather tend to establish the correctness of such an assumption.

Now, the lines "My life is like the Summer Rose" were published in the "Cork Mercantile Chronicle," as the poem of an American lawyer, as early as 1823. I have the word of one who saw them then, for my authority, which fixes precisely, I have no doubt, the exact date when O'Kelly stole them.

It would not be necessary to go beyond this to show that O'Kelly's authorship of these lines has not been established, but I would further add, that I have the written assertion of one of the first physicians of the country, Dr. Charles D. Meigs, of Philadelphia, that my late father, Hon. Richard H. Wilde, showed him these lines as he had written them possibly as early as 1812, certainly not later than 1813 or '14.

O'Kelly has appended no date to his appropriation of the "Simile;" but even if he had, unless the poem appears in some edition of his work prior to 1813 or '14, this would be no proof that he was the author of it. To the piece entitled "The Tear," which he has stolen from Moore, he has had the impudence to affix the date 1768, which was twelve years only before Moore was born. See edition without date, 131.

The following letter from a scholar and most estimable gentleman, will afford a

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the case a little more clear, I shall not content myself with giving you this permission alone; use, if you think fit, any part or the whole, of that chapter in my Bits of Blarney,' "" in which I have sketched the career and given the character of O'Kelly.

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Some five or six weeks ago I was favored with a note from a gentleman connected with a paper in South Carolina, in which he requests me to communicate, for publication, whatever I know respecting O'Kelly's non-authorship of the poem. This I should have willingly and immediately done, but the letter got mislaid; and though I recollect that it was dated from Winnsboro', S. C., I have quite forgotten the writer's name. Therefore, I was unable to answer him, and much desire him to know how unintentional was the neglect.

In my notice of O'Kelly, in "Bits of Blarney," I alluded to his Poems having first been published in 1831. That collection, called "The Hippocrene," did appear in that year, and was in my possession in England. But I have lately found it stated, by the late Mr. Crofton Croker, (in his "Popular Songs of Ireland,") that O'Kelly published his Giant's Causeway and Killarney (including his doggerels, called "The Litany for Ďoneraile," in 1808; that his Eudoxologist," including a series of attacks on a rival poet who had defended Doneraile, appeared in 1812; and that The Aonian Kaleidoscope," which contained a recantation of the abuse of Doneraile, was published in 1824, at Cork. The volume of 1831, which I possessed, was made up, I believe, from the previous publications.

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In some cases, one can pretty accurately judge from what a man has done, what he could not do. O'Kelly dedicated his "Hippocrene" to the Marquis of Anglesea in the following quatrain:

O dulce decus! thou art mine,
What can I more or less say?
Presidium! pillar of the NINE,

Illustrious chief ANGLESEA!!

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May all the thieves that rob and steal,
The gallows meet in Doneraile.

And so on for pages. Now compare these miserable doggerels, (badly rhymed as they are all through,) with even the first stanza of the poem in dispute—

My life is like the summer rose

That opens to the morning sky;
But ere the shades of evening close,
Is scattered on the ground to die.

Yet on the rose's humble bed

The sweetest dews of night are shed,
As if she wept the waste to see-

But none shall shed a tear for me!

and can any person imagine that the vulgar jingle of the first, and the tender sentiment, as well as the pure poetry of the latter, could have emanated from one mind?

Let it be remembered also, that O'Kelly was in the habit of "conveying" odds and ends of other men's productions and passing them off as his own. In "The Hippocrene" of 1831, not only has he thus coolly appropriated scraps from O'Leary, Sharkey, the late J. A. Shea, and other Cork poets, but he actually printed as his own a lyric out of Little's Poem's, (to be found in Galignani's edition of Moore,) and this, the wellknown one commencing, "On beds of snow the moonbeams slept." This of itself, even were Mr. Wilde's liberal scholarship and noted power of poetical

expression, delicate and thoughtful sentiment, and high personal character wholly unconsidered, ought to settle the question. Mr. Wilde's classical attainments and thorough mastery of Italian literature are undoubted; O'Kelly, as the quoted specimens will show, did not know even how to pronounce the English language. Mr. Wilde's poetry, from first to last, exhibits delicate thought and refined sentiment; O'Kelly was a vulgar fellow, whose literary labors, on the "black mail" principle, were worthless, save when, as now, he appropriated the work of other minds. He who would steal an entire poem from a writer so well known as Tom Moore, certainly would not hesitate to thieve from a poet so unknown and remote as Mr. Wilde was.

As early as 1823, while I was in my fifteenth year, just freed from school, and delighting in poetry more than I do now, "My life is like the Summer Rose" was published in the Cork Mercantile Chronicle, a paper in which the young literati of Cork wrote largely, for the honor of appearing in print. In company with this poem were the stanzas, by Mr. St. George Tucker, commencing,

"Days of my youth, ye have glided away." There was a brief editorial preface saying that both poems were written by American lawyers; and my own particular reason for remembering the publication is that, there and then, I got both poems by heart, (being what actors call "a quick study,") and have borne them in my mind with some thirty thousand lines of other poetry, to this day.

In the hope of one day making your personal acquaintance, I am, dear sir, your faithful servant,

R. SHELTON MACKENZIE.
WILLIAM CUMMING WILDE, ESQ.

P. S. Since writing the above, I have seen the New Orleans Sunday Delta of June 22, in which O'Kelly's version of Mr. Wilde's poem is quoted from the edition of 1831, referred to by me, in "Bits of Blarney." It leaves the question as it was, or rather it shows how (to use Sheridan's simile) the thief acted like the gipsies, who disfigure the children

which they steal to prevent paternal recognition. It is quite an O'Kellyism to change the venue from Tampa, in the Gulf of Mexico, to Lahinch, in the county of Clare. O'Kelly making the sea loudly roar on the fond shore, while the Nine were to be the only parties roaring for himself, is a change certainly; but scarcely an improvement. Compare the last four lines, in their absurdity, with the first four, beautiful even in O'Kelly's own version, and judge whether one mind could have composed both.

In a forthcoming work of mine-the Poets and Poetry of Ireland-I certainly did not think of including that wretched bardling, O'Kelly. The idea that he who stole could have written your father's poem, shall be properly and fully discussed and disposed of in that work, however; not on his account, but in order to expose the most audacious case of literary larceny I ever encountered. R. S. M.

I do not feel the necessity of adding to this a single word farther. The case needs no elaboration at my hands; the facts need no marshalling of logical tactics; and the simple truth needs no aid of rhetoric. Those disposed to pursue the subject farther, or in different phases, may see a more elaborate article from the highest and most competent authority-so I am advised—in an early

number of the London Notes and Queries, perhaps during the month of August. Or they will find in Mr. Mackenzie's forthcoming work-the Poets and Poetry of Ireland-a yet other presentment of the matter. This author, already so favorably and so extensively known among us, will present this case in a more permanent form than it has yet had; and our literature, in his work, will receive a very valuable and much needed contribution; of its ability those who know its source cannot doubt. After all this, will not even "Thomas, one of the twelve, called Didymus," be ready to adjourn his doubts? WINNSBORO', S. C.

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