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The life of Bret Harte divides itself, without adventitious
forcing, into four quite distinct parts. First, we have the
precocious boyhood, with its eager response to the intellectual
stimulation of cultured parents; young Bret Harte assimilated Greek
with amazing facility; devoured voraciously the works of
Shakespeare, Dickens, Irving, Froissart, Cervantes, Fielding; and,
with creditable success, attempted various forms of composition.
Then, compelled by economic necessity, he left school at thirteen,
and for three years worked first in a lawyer's office, and then in
a merchant's counting house.
The second period, that of his migration to California, includes
all that is permanently valuable of Harte's literary output.
Arriving in California in 1854, he was, successively, a school-
teacher, drug-store clerk, express messenger, typesetter, and
itinerant journalist. He worked for a while on the NORTHERN
CALIFORNIA (from which he was dismissed for objecting editorially
to the contemporary California sport of murdering Indians), then on
the GOLDEN ERA, 1857, where he achieved his first moderate acclaim.
In this latter year he married Anne Griswold of New York. In 1864
he was given the secretaryship of the California mint, a virtual
sinecure, and he was enabled do a great deal of writing. The first
volume of his poems, THE LOST GALLEON AND OTHER TALES, CONDENSED
NOVELS (much underrated parodies), and THE BOHEMIAN PAPERS were
published in 1867. One year later, THE OVERLAND MONTHLY, which had
aspirations of becoming "the ATLANTIC MONTHLY of the West," was
established, and Harte was appointed its first editor. For it, he
wrote most of what still remains valid as literature--THE LUCK OF
ROARING CAMP, THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT, PLAIN LANGUAGE FROM
TRUTHFUL JAMES, among others. The combination of Irvingesque
romantic glamor and Dickensian bitter-sweet humor, applied to
picturesquely novel material, with the addition of a trick ending,
was fantastically popular. Editors began to clamor for his
stories; the University of California appointed him Professor of
recent literature; and the ATLANTIC MONTHLY offered him the
practically unprecedented sum of $10,000 for exclusive rights to
one year's literary output. Harte's star was, briefly, in the
ascendant.
However, Harte had accumulated a number of debts, and his editorial
policies, excellent in themselves, but undiplomatically executed,
were the cause of a series of arguments with the publisher of the
OVERLAND MONTHLY. Fairly assured of profitable pickings in the
East, he left California (permanently, as it proved). The East,
however, was financially unappreciative. Harte wrote an
unsuccessful novel and collaborated with Mark Twain on an
unremunerative play. His attempts to increase his income by
lecturing were even less rewarding. From his departure from
California in 1872 to his death thirty years later, Harte's
struggles to regain financial stability were unremitting: and to
these efforts is due the relinquishment of his early ideal of "a
peculiarly characteristic Western American literature." Henceforth
Harte accepted, as Prof. Hicks remarks, "the role of entertainer,
and as an entertainer he survived for thirty years his death as an
artist."
The final period extends from 1878, when he managed to get himself
appointed consul to Crefeld in Germany, to 1902, when he died of a
throat cancer. He left for Crefeld without his wife or son--
perhaps intending, as his letters indicate, to call them to him
when circumstances allowed; but save for a few years prior to his
death, the separation, for whatever complex of reasons, remained
permanent. Harte, however, continued to provide for them as
liberally as he was able. In Crefeld Harte wrote A LEGEND OF
SAMMERSTANDT, VIEWS FROM A GERMAN SPION, and UNSER KARL. In 1880
he transferred to the more lucrative consulship of Glasgow, and
ROBIN GRAY, a tale of Scottish life, is the product of his stay
there. In 1885 he was dismissed from his consulship, probably for
political reasons, though neglect of duty was charged against him.
He removed to London where he remained, for most part, until his
death.
Bret Harte never really knew the life of the mining camp. His
mining experiences were too fragmentary, and consequently his
portraits of mining life are wholly impressionistic. "No one,"
Mark Twain wrote, "can talk the quartz dialect correctly without
learning it with pick and shovel and drill and fuse." Yet, Twain
added elsewhere, "Bret Harte got his California and his
Californians by unconscious absorption, and put both of them into
his tales alive." That is, perhaps, the final comment. Much could
be urged against Harte's stories: the glamor they throw over the
life they depict is largely fictitious; their pathetic endings are
obviously stylized; their technique is overwhelmingly derivative.
Nevertheless, so excellent a critic as Chesterton maintained that
"There are more than nine hundred and ninety-nine excellent reasons
which we could all have for admiring the work of Bret Harte." The
figure is perhaps exaggerated, but there are many reasons for
admiration. First, Harte originated a new and incalculably
influential type of story: the romantically picturesque "human-
interest" story. "He created the local color story," Prof.
Blankenship remarks, "or at least popularized it, and he gave new
form and intent to the short story." Character motivating action
is central to this type of story, rather than mood dominating
incident. Again Harte's style is really an eminently skilful one,
admirably suited to his subjects. He can manage the humorous or
the pathetic excellently, and his restraint in each is more
remarkable than his excesses. His sentences have both force and
flow; his backgrounds are crisply but carefully sketched; his
characters and caricatures have their own logical consistency.
Finally, granted the desirability of the theatric finale, it is
necessary to admit that Harte always rings down his curtain
dramatically and effectively.
ARTHUR ZEIGER, M.A.
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