THE MAKING OF BRET HARTE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2572, 1 July 1903, Page 79

THE MAKING OF BRET HARTE.

OLD 'FRISCO DAYS

All but half a centuiy has elapsed since Bret Harte, on the death of his father, and at the age of 17. "lesalved to go West in quest of the adventure and research for which his soul longed." That was in 1856, when San Francisco, whither the budding author came, was only seven years old, but was taking its first great leap forward into importance. It was in his first joyous struggles in 'Frisco that Bret Harte picked up the extraordinary knowledge of Far West life to which he gave inimitable expression in his stones.

THE SOU3MNITY OF 'FKISCO

And yet the Californian humour and recklessness which he has made familiar to us had little place in the city life- of those days. The 'Frisco newspapers were not the grotesquely libellous sheets one imagines them ; they were very sober and serious and respectable. Men went to business in black coats and with grave faces. A prize-fighter is said to have committed suicide in his cell under the depression he suffered during his dull and passionless trial. An atmosphere Df mingled squalor and poetry breathed over the young city Rotten wharves and derelict ships mingled with the newly-rising warehouses. In the original houses th> ceilings were covered by stretched cloth, on which the scampering rats could be seen on the sagging of the frail roof under their weight. Over all, "the strong breath of the ben, and the constant ->nset of tli3 trade winds, which helped to disinfect the deposit of dirt and grime, decay and wreckage, which were stirred up in the Liter evolutions of the city."

A TRACEDY .VCOR.DIVG TO ConCEIt

Decorous as the ordinary life of San Francisro seemed, it was not long before Bret Harto began to encounter the originals of his most famous characters. Of the many incident^ which prove this I select the following, told by Bret Harte in his own sketch, entitled, "Bohemian Days in San Francisco" — a sketch that I fancy has rather fallen out of tight. He was at that time living at the top of a house owned by a cousin, the lowest story of which was a kind of club. In this bu'ldmg he had a mysterious fellowlodger, who waF the hero of the following incident • "One morning . n s I was going out to mv very errly breakfast, at a cheap Italian cafe on Long Wharf, I was sur-

prised to find him also descending the staircase. He was scrupulously dressed, even at that early hour; but I was struck by tha fact that he was all in black, and his slight figure, buttoned to the throat in a tightlyfitting frock-coat, gave, I fancied, a singular melancholy to his pale Southern face. Nevertheless, he greeted me with more than his usual serene cordiality, and I remember that he looked up with a half-puzzled, half-amused expression at the rosy morning sky as he walked a few steps with me down the deserted street. I could not help saying that I was astonished to see him up so early, and he admitted that it was a break in his usual habifs; but added, with a smiling signiscanc2 I afterwards remembered, that it was 'an even chance if he did it again.' As we neared the street corner a man in a buggy drove up impatiently. In spite of the driv?r's evident ha«te my handsome acquaintance got in leisurely, and, lifting his glo^y hat to me with a pleasant smile, was diiven away. I have a very lasting impres c .on of his face and figure as the buggy disappeared down the empty street. I never saw him again. It was not until a week later that I knew that an hour after he left me that morning he was lying dead in a little hollow behind the Mission Dolores — shot through the hearc in a duel for which he had risen so early. "

A TRA.GED7 AVERTED.

"I recall another incident of that period," he continues, "equally characteristic, but less tragic in sequel. I was m the restaurant one morning talking to my cousin, when a man entered hastily and said something to him in a hurried whisper. My cousin contracted his eyebrows and uttered a suppressed oath. Then, with a gesture of warning to the man, he crossed the room quietly where a regular habitue of the restaurant was lazily finishing his breakfast. A large silver coffee-pot with a stiff wooden handle, stood on the table before him. My cousin leaned over the guest familiarly, and apparently made some hospitable inquiry as to his -via.nts Then — possibly because my curiosity having been excited I was watching him more intently than the others — I saw what probably no ona else saw, that he deliberately upset the coffee-pot and its contents over the guest's shirt and waistcoat. As the victim sprang up with an exclamation my cousin overwhelmed him with apologies for his carelessness, and, with protestations of sorrow for the accide.it, actually insisted on dragging the man upstairs into his own private room, where he furnished him with a shut and waistcoat of his own. The side door had scarcely closed upon them, and I was still lost in wonder at what- I had seen', when a man entered from the street. Re was one of the desperate set I have already spoken of, and thoroughly well known to those present. He cast a glance or two round the room, noHded to one or two of the guests, and then walked to a side table and tock up a newspaper. I was conscious at once that a singular restraint jiad come over the other guests, a nervous awkwardness that at last seemed to make itself known to the man himself, who, after an affected yawn oi two, laid down the paper and walked out. " ' That was a mighty close call,' said one of the guests with a sigh of relief. " ' You bet ! And the coffee-pot spill was the luckiest kind of accident for Peters,' remarked another.

" ' For both,' add«d the first speaker ; ' for Peters was armed, too, and would have seen him coma in !'

"A word or two explained all. Peters and the last comer had quarrelled a day or two before, and had separated \s ith the intention to 'shoot on si Ejht ' — that is-, wherever they met. a form )f duel com.non to those dtys. The accidental meeting in the restauiant would have been the occasion, with the usual sanguinary consequence, but for the woid of warning given_ to my cousin by :i passer-by who knew tiuit Peters'.s antagonist was coming to the restaurant to look at the papers. Hid my coumii repeated the .yarning to Peters him«elf, he would >nly have shirked, and so precipitated the affiav-

"The ruse of upsetting the enffee-pot, which everybody but myself thought an accident, was to get him out of the room before the other entered. I was too young then to venture to intrude upon my cousin's secret*, but two :>r three years afterwards I taxed him with the trick, and he admitted it regretfully. J .believe that a. strict interpietation >f the oode would have condemned his act as unsportsmanlike, if not unf dvV