Ohio History Journal

SONG WRITERS OF OHIO. TWO SONGS INSPIRED IN OHIO. BY C. B. GALBREATH. While much has been said and written of the achievements of Ohio's men, the public has not fully appreciated, perhaps, the extent of the influence of the gifted women of the state. This is due, doubtless, to the fact that this influence is often exerted in ways somewhat obscure and indirect. A gifted woman, of course, is a creature of physical and intellectual beauty, endued with the power to lift man to the heights of fame or drive him to despair and - poetry. The lovers of song owe something to Lorena and that other Ohio maiden with the eyes of "delicious blue." COATES KINNEY. Author of "Rain on the Roof." A few months ago a stranger in Cincinnati might have met on one of the streets of that city a man in civilian dress with the martial bearing and elastic step of an officer temporarily off

duty.  The only evidence of ad- vanced age was hair and beard of im- maculate white. Such was Coates Kinney to the world,--a militant spirit with much of the exclusiveness and taciturnity that belong to the professional war- rior.  Such he was by nature and education. By birth a Puritan and by happy chance a disciple of Horace Mann, he was in walk and conversa- tion something of an aristocrat. But like his famous preceptor, he was not to be judged by the austerity of his manners or the rigidity of his classic

standards. At heart he was tenderly affectionate. The inner (428)

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Song Writers of Ohio.                429

man, as revealed by his writings, was thoroughly democratic and

humanitarian.

In his ideal social state, man was dominant by intellectual

prowess alone. In the language of Caius Marius his question

was ever, "What can make a difference between one man and

another but the qualities of the mind?" In the rising power of

wealth, he saw the supreme menace to the Republic. He had

ambitions in the direction of the public service, but "practical

politics" were not to his liking. He had small patience with

apologies for modern commercialism. Corruption felt the rapier

thrust of his scathing denunciation.

Though born in New York, he reached manhood in Ohio.

To the state of his adoption he was passionately devoted, and

with it he was identified throughout his literary career.

To be chronologically and biographically specific, Coates

Kinney was born at Kinney's Corners, Yates Co., N. Y., Novem-

ber 24, 1826. He came with his parents, Giles and Myra (Cor-

nell) Kinney, to Ohio in 1840, and later taught school in Warren

and Logan counties. While in the latter he studied law in the

office of Judge Lawrence, at Bellefontaine, and for a time edited

the West Liberty Banner. In 1849, he wrote his famous lyric,

Rain on the Roof. Later he was admitted to the bar in Cincinnati.

He spent one year in Antioch College, but was not graduated.

After resigning a professorship in Judson College, Mt. Palatine,

Ill., he returned to Ohio to become associate editor of the Genius

of the West, a literary magazine founded by Howard Durham.

William T. Coggeshall succeeded Durham in the partnership.

Elected captain of a local company at the breaking out of the

Civil War, Kinney, on the recommendation of Salmon P. Chase,

was appointed paymaster with the rank of major. After four

years' service, he was retired with the brevet of lieutenant-colonel.

Before entering the service he was editor of the Xenia News.

After the war, he edited the Xenia Torchlight, and wrote for

the Cincinnati Times and the Ohio State Journal. In 1884 he

became chief owner and editor of the Globe Republic of Spring-

field, Ohio. He served one term in the state senate and was an

unsuccessful candidate for nomination to congress. He was

twice married. A wife and three daughters survive.

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430        Ohio Arch. and Hist. Society Publications.

 

While he wrote much prose, he is best known and will be

longest remembered as a poet. He left three books of verse,

"Keeuka," "Lyrics of the Ideal and the Real," and "Mists of

Fire." One of his earliest compositions, written fifty years before

the publication of his last volume, was the well-known and ever

popular song, Rain on the Roof. Fortunately he has left a record

of the circumstances under which it was written. It was com-

posed while he was visiting his old home at Spring Valley,

Greene Co., O. In a letter to his friend, Dr. Wm. H. Ven-

able, he says:

 

"I slept one night next the roof in the little farm cottage which

our folks lived in, and which has since been torn away and replaced. In

the evening there came up a gentle rain, which pattered on the shingle

roof, two or three feet above my head, all the part of the night during

which I was awake. Here I lay and conceived the lyric, and then went

to sleep. It haunted me the next day, which was bright and green, and

glorious; and, on a walk from Spring Valley down to Mt. Holly-

three miles-where I went to visit my uncle's folks, I composed most

of the poem, finishing it the same afternoon during a sequestration of

myself and a ramble in the woods just adjoining the town-woods now

long since cleared away. It was the easiest production I ever wrote.

It cost me no labor  ....

"I sent it to the Great West, which was then edited by the novelist

of Indians, Emerson Bennett. I was personally acquainted with Bennett,

and he knew me as a writer, for I had contributed to a little literary

paper of his. It was so long before the poem appeared that I had given

it up as unaccepted. But finally it did appear, September 22, 1849. . . .

I learned later, from E. Penrose Jones, who was publisher of the Great

West, that the poem escaped oblivion through an accidental discovery of

his. He was looking through Bennett's rejected manuscript drawer, and

found it. Bennett had thought it not quite up to the standard of

Indian-novelist literature, and had tossed it into that drawer."

 

The song as it appears in the second edition of his poem is

as follows:

RAIN ON THE ROOF.

When the humid shadows hover

Over all the starry spheres

And the melancholy darkness

Gently weeps in rainy tears,

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Song Writers of Ohio.                     431

 

What a bliss to press the pillow

Of a cottage-chamber bed

And lie listening to the patter

Of the soft rain overhead!

 

Every tinkle on the shingles

Has an echo in the heart;

And a thousand dreamy fancies

Into busy being start,

And a thousand recollections

Weave their air-threads into woof,

As I listen to the patter

Of the rain upon the roof.

 

Now in memory comes my mother,

As she used in years agone,

To regard the darling dreamers

Ere she left them till the dawn:

O! I feel her fond look on me

As I list to this refrain

Which is played upon the shingles

By the patter of the rain.

 

Then my little seraph-sister,

With her wings and waving hair,

And her star-eyed cherub brother-

A serene angelic pair-

Glide around my wakeful pillow,

With their praise or mild reproof,

As I listen to the murmur

Of the soft rain on the roof.

 

And another comes, to thrill me

With her eyes' delicious blue;

And I mind not, musing on her,

That her heart was all untrue:

I remember but to love her

With a passion kin to pain,

And my heart's quick pulses quiver

To the patter of the rain.

 

Art hath naught of tone or cadence

That can work with such a spell

In the soul's mysterious fountains,

Whence the tears of rapture well,

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432       Ohio Arch. and Hist. Society Publications.

 

As that melody of Nature,

That subdued, subduing strain

Which is played upon the shingles

By the patter of the rain.

 

The poem as here presented contains a number of verbal

variations from the original. The most of them were made by

the author in his later years. There is no change in sentiment,

however.

Much has been written in praise of this lyric. A production

so perfectly rhythmical, so full of tender sentiment and so expres-

sive of the emotions of the universal heart, was, of course, soon

set to music. For it a number of appropriate melodies have been

composed.

Who was the maid that thrilled him "with her eyes delicious

blue?" Local tradition has no definite answer, and of course the

Colonel was too gallant to tell. Many of his earlier poems glow

with the Sappho flame and reveal the fact that he felt the tender

passion whose power it is the especial mission of the poet to ex-

press.

Another song, written, as will be seen, to the tune of John

Brown's Body lies Mouldering in the Grave, celebrated the lib-

eration of the bondsmen;

 

FREEDMEN'S BATTLE HYMN.

0, to the Lord be glory! halleluiah to the Lord!

He hath stricken off our shackles and hath given us the sword

To do the righteous judgment of his everlasting Word,

As we go marching on.

Glory, glory Halleluiah!

 

We had waited for his token of deliverance so long

That we feared he had forgotten our two hundred years of wrong;

But at last we hear his signal in the battle-bugle's song,

As we go marching on.

 

Ho! fathers, brothers, slaving in the cotton and the corn!

0! wives and daughters wishing that ye never had been born!

We are your armed redeemers, and we lead the hope-forlorn,

As we go marching on.

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Song Writers of Ohio.                    433

 

For God hath made this people by the light of battle see

That death is on the Nation if the bond do not go free -

That by the sword of Freedmen shall the land regenerate be;

And we go marching on.

 

Then watch and pray, dear kindred - when ye hear the battle-cry

Look for Freedom's Dark Crusaders where the Union-banners fly,

And to the Lord give glory! for his kingdom cometh nigh,

As we go marching on.

Glory, glory Halleluiah!

 

No adequate sketch of the life and work of Kinney has yet

been written. He breathed his last in Cincinnati, January 25,

1904. Except in the local papers, slight mention was made of

his demise. In the obituary notices of the reference year books

his name seldom appears. This accident recalls the well-known

line of his early poem:

Our graves are leveled soon, and we on earth forgot.

But as Julian Hawthorne declared, "What Kinney has written

will live." Among the "heroes of the pen" he has a place. With-

out intending to do so, he long ago declared his own title to

victor over time:

Hurra for the true! of old or new,

Who heroes lived or fell-

Thermopylae's immortal few!

Hurra for the Switzer Tell!

Upvoice to sky the brave Gracchi!

Hurra for the Pole and the Hun!

For the men who made the Great July!

Hurra for Washington!

Yet old Time Past would triumph at last-

But hurra, and hurra again,

For the heroes who triumph over Time!

The Heroes of the Pen.

 

 

H. D. L. WEBSTER,

Author of "Lorena."

About sixty years ago a young man came from the state of

Connecticut and enrolled in the Collegiate Institute of Columbus,

Vol. XIV.- 28.

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434       Ohio Arch. and Hist. Society Publications.

0., one of the schools of higher learning that in a comparatively

brief time rose, flourished and passed away. With fair intellectual

capacity, a warm heart and a buoyant, optimistic spirit, he pur-

sued his studies with zeal and entered with zest into the innocent

diversions of the little circle of self-dependent students among

whom his lot was cast. Like many a youth thus environed, in

his more serious moments he had visions of the future and the

part that he was to play in life's drama. Air-castles he built,

but they did not rise to the regions of the unattainable. His am-

bition was rational and altogether worthy. He hoped to become

a minister in the Universalist church.

For his chosen calling he seemed peculiarly fitted. To the

qualities already enumerated were added a fine presence and a

pleasing address. His was the gift of eloquence, and the well-

rounded periods and glowing metaphors that fell from his lips

as he bore the message of salvation to all mankind made him

friends even among those who had no sympathy with the distinc-

tive tenets of his faith.

Soon after entering upon the active duties of the ministry,

he was called to the little church at Zanesville. The leading

spirit of the congregation there was a wealthy manufacturer.

His liberal contributions were its main support. He was capti-

vated by the brilliant young minister. He felt that the cause

to which he was ardently devoted and to which he had given

freely of his means was about to be substantially advanced in

the community. Outside of the pulpit the gifted young advo-

cate soon became a favorite with his people. His broad sympa-

thies, love of nature, poetic temperament and conversational

powers made him a welcome guest wherever he went. The door

of his patron, the wealthy manufacturer, was of course open to

him. Young Paul Vane1 was happy. The people were coming

out in large numbers to hear his sermons. The congregation

was more than satisfied. The future was crescent with hope.

The church had a choir. The purpose of this desirable

accessory is the dispensation of harmony. It is sometimes inti-

 

1Rev. H. D. L. Webster. The pseudonym Paul Vane is used in

this sketch because it is assumed by Webster himself in one of his songs.

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Song Writers of Ohio.                435

 

mated that the thing dispensed so freely often does not rule the

band of sweet singers. Hence, occasional discords that are mat-

ters of serious concern to the good minister and officers of the

church. Paul Vane was fortunate in his choir. The members

were congenial as well as musical. Among them was a young

lady with sweet and cultivated voice, the beautiful Lorena², sis-

ter to the wife of the chief pillar of the church. By degrees the

young minister became conscious of her presence there.

Sometimes in his pulpit when words responsive to this

thought flowed freely and held in magic thrall his delighted audi-

tors, he somehow felt the spell of two lustrous eyes from the

direction of the choir, which on meeting his own modestly re-

treated behind long, downcast lashes that but revealed more

clearly the secret they sought to hide. In the language of one

who knew her then, "She was nineteen, short in stature and

petite, with blue eyes, light brown hair, and features that took

hold upon 'the poetry of heaven.' " Small wonder that she lin-

gered in his thoughts as he walked to his humble rooms alone.

It followed as a matter of course that his calls were more

frequent at the residence of his wealthy parishioner. Church

business of the most trivial character took on new importance

and was the occasion of numerous visits to the mansion. At

such times he was almost certain to meet Lorena. If she learned

to recognize his approaching step, in spite of her modest nature

she did not flee. The two became good friends. Sometimes they

walked with companions to view nature on the beautiful banks

of the Muskingum. Sometimes they wandered forth oblivious

to all things except the blessed thought that they were alone.

Had the stream of affection moved joyfully on to the ocean

of connubial bliss, this chapter of romantic history would never

have been written. But smiling fortune gradually took on the

sterner form of relentless fate. Lorena, as we have already inti-

mated, had a sister, an elder sister.

The wife of the manufacturer, at least so runs the testimony

of the friends of Paul Vane -and the relatives of Lorena are

silent on the subject - as she saw the friendship of the two ripen

 

2Her real name was Miss Ella Blocksom.

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436       Ohio Arch. and Hist. Society Publications.

into fonder attachment, became seriously concerned. The young

minister with his attractive personality did not fit into the future

that she had planned for her beautiful and accomplished sister.

The salary that he could command in any denomination must

be meager. Especially would that be true of the Universalist

church whose membership was comparatively small. Judged

by financial and other standards, she herself had made a most

fortunate matrimonial venture. She desired as much for her

sister. Paul Vane did not meet the requirements. The union

must be averted.

The view of the elder sister was gradually unfolded to the

youthful Lorena. One writer tells us that she was not only

poetical and romantic but indecisive and submissive. However

that may be, it seems that after many tears and vain regrets she

saw that she and Paul must part.

The day of separation came. It was a cloudless Sabbath

in May. After church they together slowly ascended the hill¹

and lingered in the gathering twilight. Of that evening Paul

wrote in after years:

 

'Twas flowery May

When up the hilly slope we climbed

To watch the dying of the day

And hear the distant church bells chimed.

 

In the gathering darkness he learned his fate. On the fol-

lowing day they parted forever. In a letter of farewell, Lorena,

among other things, wrote: "If we try, we may forget."

The young minister's position was no longer tenable. He

could not look for inspiration to the choir. He could not continue

to be dependent upon his present source of support. He re-

signed and disappeared from the scene of his triumph and de-

feat.

For the dear sakes of all lovers of eternal constancy in af-

fairs of the heart, it would be gratifying to relate that the twain

 

1 Some writers state the reference is to Putnam Hill, but it was

probably Hamline Hill, now thickly covered with houses. On this eminence

the home of the wealthy manufacturer still stands.

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Song Writers of Ohio.                  437

 

pined away under the weight of their affliction, or lived to old

age nor found in other lives a comfort for the aching void that

followed separation. Such tragedies there have been outside of

the realm of fiction, but stern history must here record a dif-

ferent sequel.

About the "Town of Zane," matters resumed their normal

sway. The young minister's place was filled in the pulpit. The

sun declined as in days gone by. The seasons came and went.

In due time a brilliant young lawyer of moderate means but high

ambitions and qualities that even then held forth the promise

of the ermine that he later wore, led the blushing Lorena to the

altar.

The years rolled by. Where was Paul Vane? Through the

silence that had closed between him and his former world there

came at times a vague rumor that in the far west he was trying

"to forget."

In the year 1860, when the voice of discord was loud in

the land and opposing hosts were marshalling for the fray, a

sentimental song appeared that became quite popular. It was

sung throughout the United States and in England. It became

a favorite in the camps of the Union and the Confederate armies.

The words ran as follows:

LORENA.

The years creep slowly by, Lorena;

The snow is on the grass again;

The sun's low down the sky, Lorena,

The frost is where the flowers have been.

But the heart throbs on as warmly now

As when the summer days were nigh;

Oh! the sun can never dip so low

Adown affection's cloudless sky.

 

A hundred months have passed, Lorena,

Since last I held that hand in mine,

And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena,

Though mine beat, faster far than thine;

A hundred months-'twas flowery May.

When up that hilly slope we climbed

To watch the dying of the day

And hear the distant church bells chimed.

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438        Ohio Arch. and Hist. Society Publications,

 

We loved each other then, Lorena,

More than we ever cared to tell;

And what we might have been, Lorena,

Had but our lovings prospered well.

But then 'tis past, the years are gone,

I'll not call up their shadowy forms;

I'll say to them - lost years sleep on-

Sleep on, nor heed life's pelting storms.

 

The story of the past, Lorena,

Alas! I care not to repeat;

The hopes that could not last, Lorena,

They lived, but only lived to cheat.

I would not cause e'en one regret

To rankle in your bosom now;

For "if we try, we may forget,"

Were words of thine long years ago.

 

Yes, these were words of thine, Lorena,

They burn within my memory yet;

They touched some tender chord, Lorena,

That thrills and trembles with regret.

'Twas not thy woman's heart that spoke-

Thy heart was always true to me;

A duty, stern and pressing, broke

The tie that linked my soul to thee.

 

It matters little now, Lorena,

The past is in the eternal past;

Our heads will soon lie low, Lorena,

Life's tide is ebbing out so fast.

There is a future! Oh, thank God!

Of life, this is so small a part!

'Tis dust to dust beneath the sod;

But there--up there, 'tis heart to heart.

 

Paul Vane had broken the long silence.        On the frontier

among the primeval solitudes, he did not "forget."       He sought

and found relief in poetry.     According to his own testimony,

one hundred months after the rending of ties that bound fond

hearts the touching ballad was written.       Two or three years

later the manuscript was given to a musical composer who pub-

lished it to the world. In the original the name Bertha was used

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Song Writers of Ohio.                     439

 

where Lorena now appears. The change was made at the sug-

gestion of the composer.

The song was on the way to fame before Lorena recognized

it as a message to her. Three years after its publication appeared

another song, Lorena's reply:

 

PAUL VANE.

The years are creeping slowly by, dear Paul,

The winters come and go;

The wind sweeps past with mournful cry, dear Paul,

And pelts my face with snow.

But there's no snow upon the heart, dear Paul,

'Tis summer always there;

Those early loves throw sunshine over all

And sweeten memories dear.

 

I thought it easy to forget, dear Paul,

Life glowed with youthful hope;

The glorious future gleamed yet, dear Paul

And bade us clamber up.

They frowning said, "It must not - cannot be;

Break now the hopeless bands!"

And, Paul, you know how well that bitter day

I bent to their commands.

 

I've kept you ever in my heart, dear Paul,

Through years of good and ill;

Our souls could not be torn apart, dear Paul,

They're bound together still.

I never knew how dear you were to me,

'Till I was left alone;

I thought my poor, poor heart would break, the day

They told me you were gone.

 

Perhaps we'll never, never meet, dear Paul,

Upon this earth again;

But there, where happy angels greet, dear Paul,

You'll meet Lorena there.

Together up the ever shining way

We'll press with hoping heart-

Together through the bright eternal day,

And nevermore to part.

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440       Ohio Arch. and Hist. Society Publications.

Strange to relate, the reply was written by none other than

Paul Vane himself. The first song had been a financial success,

and as no reply was forthcoming from the fair occasion of the

effusion the minister penned these verses.

The whole affair had been discussed pro and con by experts

in such matters, but they have arrived at no substantial agree-

ment. One insists that the writer of the song should have as-

sumed the name of Vain, as he verifies the opinion of the satirist

that wounded love is largely a matter of personal vanity. An-

other declares that he chose the correct orthography, as he was

blown about pretty freely by the winds of time. In support of

this view, the fact is pointed out that he himself, like Lorena,

found consolation in matrimony. To the suggestion that regard

for the first lady of his choice should have prevented him from

pouring forth former woes into the ears of the world, a third

expert replies that after the cruel experience through which he

passed it was perfectly right for him to cry aloud to all who

cared to listen. Paul has also been accused of being a bit insincere

-of playing to the galleries. To this a clerical gentleman takes

partial exception. "Ministers," he declares, "seldom play to the

galleries, because they rarely have them; and when they do, the

galleries are not well patronized." The historian must therefore

leave this delicate question where he found it.

The song, though in large measure displaced by later favor-

ites, is still sung and enjoyed. Because it was written, many a

lady has borne and will yet bear the euphonious name, Lorena.

The beautiful air was composed by J. P. Webster, who, by the

way, was not related to the author of the words. Pathos and

rhythm and music will perpetuate the ballad and the story of its

inspiration.

Paul Vane was fairly prosperous and happy in the West.

From Racine, Wis., he moved to Neenah in the same state,

where in the latter seventies he edited a paper, the Neenah

Gazette. But in the midst of business cares and other diversions

he did not wholly "forget." As late as 1882 he wrote to a friend

in Zanesville, and referring to his sad experience there said: "I

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Song Writers of Ohio.                   441

 

doubt if all the dark lines are erased from my heart yet." Some

years ago he died.¹ His wife still lives in the city of Chicago.

The young lawyer who won the hand of Lorena rose rapidly

in his profession. His home for many years was in Ironton, O.

He was finally elected Judge of the Supreme Court of Ohio. He

died full of honors, admired and universally respected, March 2,

1887.

In the city of Zanesville, surrounded by the scenes of her

girlhood days, still lives Lorena in her widowed age. The hill

that she climbed in the flowery May of long ago is now hidden

from sight by the intrusive growth of the flourishing city. Of

her little family, she alone remains. The sun is slowly declining

toward life's quiet twilight.

Still flows as of old the Muskingum, turbid and historic.

The changing panorama of its banks has sometimes led the ad-

miring stranger to exclaim, "The Hudson of the middle west."

Through these scenes a steamer comes and goes, laden at times

with joyous throngs in holiday attire. There is laughter and

music and song. And the vessel that wends her way over the

rippling waters bears right proudly a name forever linked with

the river - Lorena.

 

1Rev. H. D. L. Webster was born at Stamford, Conn., August

29, 1824. He was educated in Columbus, O.; preached at Zanesville,

O.; left the latter city about 1848; was married February 14, 1850

to Sarah L. Willmot; to them two children were born, both of whom

are still living. After the death of his first wife he married Mary M.

Skinner at Racine, Wis., December 31, 1867; to them   were born

two children, one of whom is still living. Rev. Webster commenced

preaching at the age of twenty-two years. He was well liked as a

minister and thoroughly devoted to his work. He organized the first

Universalist society at Tarpon Springs, Fla., and preached there without

pay till his health began to fail. He died in Chicago, November 4, 1896.

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