It would seem that Victor Daley, known until lately to but a comparatively few literary students, has by his lamented death bred quite an army of adulators, who either knew him, ate with him, got into a state of paralytic intoxication in his company, or never knew him at all, but still pretend to have done. The grief of those who were really friends of Daley is not likely to prompt them to use their acquaintaince with the Australian poet for advertising purposes; but among the army of adulators there seems to be a sufficiency of those who desire to slobber over a dead man's verses and his past -- to claim, as it were, a part of the poet's fame for themselves and warm themselves in a ray or two of the sun which has risen over the dead man's grave.
The latest comment through the columns of a much-read weekly is that "Vic." (which contraction of the poet's Christian name discloses how intimate must the writer of the worship-wash have been with the poet!) once handed the writer of the article some of his MS.S., and he (the writer of the article, not of the poem), on perusing it, "immediately fell down and worshipped." It is probable that, as usual, the public of Australia will be pelted with such pebbles of reminiscence on Daley for months to come.
First published in the Barrier Miner, 30 January 1906.
Note: Victor Daley died on 5 December 1905.
[Thanks to the National Library of Australia's newspaper digitisation project for this piece.]
