Thomas Dykes Beasley.

A Tramp Through the Bret Harte Country

Chapter I

Reminiscences of Bret Harte.  “Plain Language From Truthfulful James.”  The Glamour of the Old Mining Towns

It is forty-four years since the writer met the author of “The Luck of Roaring Camp” — that wonderful blending within the limits of a short story of humor, pathos and tragedy — which, incredible as it may seem, met with but a cold reception from the local press, and was even branded as “indecent” and “immodest!”

On the occasion referred to, I was strolling on Rincon Hill — at that time the fashionable residence quarter of San Francisco — in company with Mr. J. H. Wildes, whose cousin, the late Admiral Frank Wildes, achieved fame in the battle of Manila Bay.  Mr. Wildes called my attention to an approaching figure and said:  “Here comes Bret Harte, a man of unusual literary ability.  He is having a hard struggle now, but only needs the opportunity, to make a name for himself.”

That opportunity arrived almost immediately.  In the September number of the Overland Monthly, 1870, of which magazine Mr. Harte was then editor, appeared “Plain Language from Truthful James,” or “The Heathen Chinee,” as the poem was afterwards called.  A few weeks later, to my amazement, while turning the pages of Punch in the Mercantile Library, I came across “The Heathen Chinee;” an unique compliment so far as my recollection of Punch serves.  To this generous and instantaneous recognition of genius may be attributed in no small measure the rapid distinction won by Bret Harte in the world of letters.

Mr. Harte read his “Heathen Chinee” to Mrs. Wildes, some time before it was published.  This lady, a woman of brilliant attainments and one who had a host of friends in old San Francisco, possessed the keenest sense of humor.  Mr. Harte greatly valued her critical judgment.  He was in the habit of reading his stories and poems to her for her opinion and decision, before publication, and it may well be that her hearty laughter and warm approval helped to strengthen his wavering opinion of the lines which convulsed Anglo-Saxondom; for no one was more surprised than he at the sensation they created.  He had even offered the poem for publication to Mr. Ambrose Bierce, then editing the San Francisco News Letter; but Mr. Bierce, recognizing its merit, returned it to Mr. Harte and prevailed upon him to publish it in his own magazine.

Had one at that time encountered Mr. Harte in Piccadilly or Fifth Avenue, he would simply have been aware of a man dressed in perfect taste, but in the height of the prevailing fashion.  On the streets of San Francisco, however, Bret Harte was always a notable figure, from the fact that the average man wore “slops,” devoid alike of style or cut, and usually of shiny broadcloth.  Broad-brimmed black felt hats were the customary headgear, completing a most funereal costume.