Complete Works of Ambrose Bierce (Delphi Classics)
Page 305
COLUMBUS
CONCERNING PICTURES
COUNSEL FOR THE DEFENSE
CRIME AND ITS CORRECTIVES
DECADENCE OF THE AMERICAN FOOT
DETHRONEMENT OF THE ATOM
DID WE EAT ONE ANOTHER?
DISINTRODUCTIONS
DOGS FOR THE KLONDIKE
EDWIN MARKHAM’S POEMS
EMANCIPATED WOMAN
EMANCIPATED WOMAN
EMMA FRANCES DAWSON
ENGLAND’S LAUREATE
ENTER A TROUPE OF ANCIENTS, DANCING
EPIGRAMS OF A CYNIC
FAT BABIES AND FATE
FETISHISM
FIN DE SIECLE
FOR BREVITY AND CLARITY
FOR LAST WORDS
FOR STANDING ROOM
FOUR DAYS IN DIXIE
GENIUS AS A PROVOCATION
GEORGE THE MADE-OVER
GODS IN CHICAGO
HALL CAINE ON HALL CAINING
HOW TO GROW GREAT
HYPNOTISM
IMMORTALITY
IMMORTALITY
IN THE BOTTOM OF THE CRUCIBLE
IN THE INFANCY OF “TRUSTS”
INDUSTRIAL DISCONTENT
JAPAN WEAR AND BOMBAY DUCKS
JOHN SMITH’S ANCESTORS
LA BOULANGERE
LUST, QUOTH’A!
MALFEASANCE IN OFFICE
MARIE BASHKIRTSEFF
MODERN WARFARE
MONSTERS AND EGGS
MONTAGUES AND CAPULETS
MORTUARY ELECTROPLATING
MUSIC
NATURA BENIGNA
NEWSPAPERS
ON A MOUNTAIN
ON BLACK SOLDIERING
ON KNOWING ONE’S BUSINESS — AN INSTANCE
ON LITERARY CRITICISM
ON POSTHUMOUS RENOWN
ON PUTTING ONE’S HEAD INTO ONE’S BELLY
ON READING NEW BOOKS
ON THE USES OF EUTHANASIA
OPPORTUNITY
OUR AUDIBLE SISTERS
OUR GRANDMOTHERS’ LEGS
OUR SACROSANCT ORTHOGRAPHY
PECTOLITE
POETRY AND VERSE
PORTRAITS OF ELDERLY AUTHORS
POVERTY, CRIME AND VICE
RELIGION
REVISION DOWNWARD
SLEEP
SOME ASPECTS OF EDUCATION
SOME DISADVANTAGES OF GENIUS
SOME FEATURES OF THE LAW
SOME PRIVATIONS OF THE COMING MAN
STAGE ILLUSION
SYMBOLS AND FETISHES
THANKSGIVING DAY
THE AGE ROMANTIC
THE AMERICAN CHAIR
THE AMERICAN SYCOPHANT
THE ANCESTRAL BOND
THE ART OF CONTROVERSY
THE AUTHOR AS AN OPPORTUNITY
THE BACILLUS OF CRIME
THE BATTLE OF NASHVILLE
THE BEATING OF THE BLOOD
THE BLACKLIST
THE CHAIR OF LITTLE EASE
THE CLOTHING OF GHOSTS
THE CRIME AT PICKETT’S MILL
THE CRIME OF INATTENTION
THE DEATH PENALTY
THE DEATH PENALTY
THE DEATH PENALTY
THE GAME OF BUTTON
THE GAME OF POLITICS
THE GIFT O’ GAB
THE HOUR AND THE MAN
THE JAMAICAN MONGOOSE
THE JEW
THE KREUTZER SONATA
THE LATE LAMENTED
THE LION’S DEN
THE LOVE OF COUNTY
THE MATTER OF MANNER
THE MIRAGE
THE MOON IN LETTERS
THE NATURE OF WAR
THE NEW PENOLOGY
THE NOVEL
THE OPPOSING SEX
THE PASSING OF SATIRE
THE PASSING OF THE HORSE
THE PRUDE IN LETTERS AND LIFE
THE RAVAGES OF SHAKSPEARITIS
THE REIGN OF THE RING
THE RELIGION OF THE TABLE
THE RIGHT TO TAKE ONESELF OFF
THE RIGHT TO WORK
THE RURAL PRESS
THE S. P. W.
THE SCOURGE OF LAUGHTER
THE SHADOW ON THE DIAL
THE SHORT STORY
THE SOCIALIST — WHAT HE IS, AND WHY
THE TURKO-GRECIAN WAR
THE TURN OF THE TIDE
THE TYRANNY OF FASHION
THE VALUE OF TRUTH
THE WAR EVERLASTING
THERE ARE CORNS IN EGYPT
THEY ALL DANCE
THOUGHT AND FEELING
TIMOTHY H. REARDEN
TO ELEVATE THE STAGE
TO TRAIN A WRITER
VISIONS OF THE NIGHT
WARLIKE AMERICA
WAY DOWN IN ALABAM
WHAT I SAW OF SHILOH
WHAT OCCURRED AT FRANKLIN
WHO ARE GREAT?
WHY THE HUMAN NOSE HAS A WESTERN EXPOSURE
WIT AND HUMOR
WORD CHANGES AND SLANG
WORKING FOR AN EMPRESS
WRITERS OF DIALECT
The Letters
Bierce, c. 1895
THE LETTERS OF AMBROSE BIERCE
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION by Bertha Clark Pope
A MEMOIR OF AMBROSE BIERCE by George Sterling
THE LETTERS OF AMBROSE BIERCE
1892.
1893.
1894.
1901.
1902.
1903.
1904.
1905.
1906.
1907.
1908.
1909.
1910.
1911.
1912.
1913.
Swinnerton’s conception of Bierce
INTRODUCTION by Bertha Clark Pope
“The question that starts to the lips of ninety-nine readers out of a hundred,” says Arnold Bennett, in a review in the London New Age in 1909, “even the best informed, will assuredly be: ‘Who is Ambrose Bierce?’ I scarcely know, but I will say that among what I may term ‘underground reputations’ that of Ambrose Bierce is perhaps the most striking example. You may wander for years through literary circles and never meet anybody who has heard of Ambrose Bierce, and then you may hear some erudite student whisper in an awed voice: ‘Ambrose Bierce is the greatest living prose writer.’ I have heard such an opinion expressed.”
Bierce himself shows his recognition of the “underground” quality of his reputation in a letter to George Sterling: “How many times, and during a period of how many years must one’s unexplainable obscurity be pointed out to constitute fame? Not knowing, I am almost disposed to consider myself the most famous of authors. I have pretty nearly ceased to be ‘discovered,’ but my notoriety as an obscurian may be said to be worldwide and everlasting.”
Anything which would throw light on such a figure, at once obscure and famous, is valuable. These letters of Ambrose Bierce, here printed for the first time, are therefore of unusual interest. They are the informal literary work — the term is used advisedly — of a man esteemed great by a small but acutely critical group, read enthusiastically by a somewhat larger number to whom critical examination of what they read seldom occurs, and ignored by the vast majority of readers; a man at once more hated and more adored than any on the Pacific Coast; a man not ten years off the scene yet already become a tradition and a legend; whose life, no less than his death, held elements of mystery, baffling contradictions, problems for puzzled conjecture, motives and meanings not vouchsafed to outsiders.
Were Ambrose Bierce as well known as he deserves to be, the introduction to these letters could be slight; we should not have to stop to inquire who he was and what he did. As it is, we must.
Ambrose Bierce, the son of Marcus Aurelius and Laura (Sherwood) Bierce, born in Meiggs County, Ohio, June 24, 1842, was at the outbreak of the Civil War a youth without formal education, but with a mind already trained. “My father was a poor farmer,” he once said to a friend, “and
could give me no general education, but he had a good library, and to his books I owe all that I have.” He promptly volunteered in 1861 and served throughout the war. Twice, at the risk of his life, he rescued wounded companions from the battlefield, and at Kenesaw Mountain was himself severely wounded in the head. He was brevetted Major for distinguished services; but in after life never permitted the title to be used in addressing him. There is a story that when the war was over he tossed up a coin to determine what should be his career. Whatever the determining auguries, he came at once to San Francisco to join his favorite brother Albert — there were ten brothers and sisters to choose from — and for a short time worked with him in the Mint; he soon began writing paragraphs for the weeklies, particularly the ARGONAUT and the NEWS LETTER.
“I was a slovenly writer in those days,” he observes in a letter forty years later, “though enough better than my neighbors to have attracted my own attention. My knowledge of English was imperfect ‘a whole lot.’ Indeed, my intellectual status (whatever it may be, and God knows it’s enough to make me blush) was of slow growth — as was my moral. I mean, I had not literary sincerity.” Apparently, attention other than his own was attracted, for he was presently editing the NEWS LETTER.
In 1872 he went to London and for four years was on the staff of FUN. In London Bierce found congenial and stimulating associates. The great man of his circle was George Augustus Sala, “one of the most skilful, finished journalists ever known,” a keen satiric wit, and the author of a ballad of which it is said that Swift might have been proud. Another notable figure was Tom Hood the younger, mordantly humorous. The satiric style in journalism was popular then; and “personal” journals were so personal that one “Jimmy” Davis, editor of the CUCKOO and the BAT successively, found it healthful to remain some years in exile in France. Bierce contributed to several of these and to FIGARO, the editor of which was James Mortimer. To this gentleman Bierce owed what he designated as the distinction of being “probably the only American journalist who was ever employed by an Empress in so congenial a pursuit as the pursuit of another journalist.” This other journalist was M. Henri Rochefort, communard, formerly editor of LA LANTERNE in Paris, in which he had made incessant war upon the Empire and all its personnel, particularly the Empress. When, an exile, Rochefort announced his intention of renewing LA LANTERNE in London, the exiled Empress circumvented him by secretly copyrighting the title, THE LANTERN, and proceeding to publish a periodical under that name with the purpose of undermining his influence. Two numbers were enough; M. Rochefort fled to Belgium. Bierce said that in “the field of chromatic journalism” it was the finest thing that ever came from a press, but of the literary excellence of the twelve pages he felt less qualified for judgment as he had written every line.
This was in 1874. Two years earlier, under his journalistic pseudonym of “Dod Grile,” he had published his first books — two small volumes, largely made up of his articles in the San Francisco NEWS LETTER, called The Fiend’s Delight, and Nuggets And Dust Panned Out In California. Now, he used the same pseudonym on the title-page of a third volume, Cobwebs from an Empty Skull. The Cobwebs were selections from his work in FUN — satirical tales and fables, often inspired by weird old woodcuts given him by the editors with the request that he write something to fit. His journalistic associates praised these volumes liberally, and a more distinguished admirer was Gladstone, who, discovering the Cobwebs in a second-hand bookshop, voiced his delight in their cleverness, and by his praise gave a certain currency to Bierce’s name among the London elect. But despite so distinguished a sponsor, the books remained generally unknown.
Congenial tasks and association with the brilliant journalists of the day did not prevent Bierce from being undeniably hard up at times. In 1876 he returned to San Francisco, where he remained for twenty-one years, save for a brief but eventful career as general manager of a mining company near Deadwood, South Dakota. All this time he got his living by writing special articles — for the WASP, a weekly whose general temper may be accurately surmised from its name, and, beginning in 1886, for the EXAMINER, in which he conducted every Sunday on the editorial page a department to which he gave the title he had used for a similar column in THE LANTERN — Prattle. A partial explanation of a mode of feeling and a choice of themes which Bierce developed more and more, ultimately to the practical exclusion of all others, is to be found in the particular phase through which California journalism was just then passing.
In the evolution of the comic spirit the lowest stage, that of delight in inflicting pain on others, is clearly manifest in savages, small boys, and early American journalism. It was exhibited in all parts of America — Mark Twain gives a vivid example in his Journalistic Wild Oats of what it was in Tennessee — but with particular intensity in San Francisco. As a community, San Francisco exalted personal courage, directness of encounter, straight and effective shooting. The social group was so small and so homogeneous that any news of importance would be well known before it could be reported, set up in type, printed, and circulated. It was isolated by so great distances from the rest of the world that for years no pretense was made of furnishing adequate news from the outside. So the newspapers came to rely on other sorts of interest. They were pamphlets for the dissemination of the opinions of the groups controlling them, and weapons for doing battle, if need be, for those opinions. And there was abundant occasion: municipal affairs were corrupt, courts weak or venal, or both. Editors and readers enjoyed a good fight; they also wanted humorous entertainment; they happily combined the two. In the creative dawn of 1847 when the foundations of the journalistic earth were laid and those two morning stars, the CALIFORNIAN of Monterey and the CALIFORNIA STAR of San Francisco, sang together, we find the editors attacking the community generally, and each other particularly, with the utmost ferocity, laying about them right and left with verbal broad-axes, crow-bars, and such other weapons as might be immediately at hand. The CALIFORNIA STAR’S introduction to the public of what would, in our less direct day, be known as its “esteemed contemporary” is typical:
“We have received two late numbers of the CALIFORNIAN, a dim, dirty little paper printed in Monterey on the worn-out materials of one of the old California WAR PRESSES. It is published and edited by Walter Colton and Robert Semple, the one a WHINING SYCOPHANT, and the other an OVER-GROWN LICK-SPITTLE. At the top of one of the papers we find the words ‘please exchange.’ This would be considered in almost any other country a bare-faced attempt to swindle us. We should consider it so now were it not for the peculiar situation of our country which induces us to do a great deal for others in order for them to do us a little good.... We have concluded to give our paper to them this year, so as to afford them some insight into the manner in which a Republican newspaper should be conducted. They appear now to be awfully verdant.”
Down through the seventies and eighties the tradition persisted, newspapers being bought and read, as a historian of journalism asserts, not so much for news as to see who was getting “lambasted” that day. It is not strange, then, that journals of redoubtable pugnacity were popular, or that editors favored writers who were likely to excel in the gladiatorial style. It is significant that public praise first came to Bierce through his articles in the caustic NEWS LETTER, widely read on the Pacific Coast during the seventies. Once launched in this line, he became locally famous for his fierce and witty articles in the ARGONAUNT and the WASP, and for many years his column Prattle in the EXAMINER was, in the words of Mr. Bailey Millard, “the most wickedly clever, the most audaciously personal, and the most eagerly devoured column of causerie that ever was printed in this country.”
In 1896 Bierce was sent to Washington to fight, through the Hearst newspapers, the “refunding bill” which Collis P. Huntington was trying to get passed, releasing his Central Pacific Railroad from its obligations to the government. A year later he went again to Washington, where he remained during the rest of his journalistic career, as correspondent for
the New York AMERICAN, conducting also for some years a department in the COSMOPOLITAN.
Much of Bierce’s best work was done in those years in San Francisco. Through the columns of the WASP and the EXAMINER his wit played free; he wielded an extraordinary influence; his trenchant criticism made and unmade reputations — literary and otherwise. But this to Bierce was mostly “journalism, a thing so low that it cannot be mentioned in the same breath with literature.” His real interest lay elsewhere. Throughout the early eighties he devoted himself to writing stories; all were rejected by the magazine editors to whom he offered them. When finally in 1890 he gathered these stories together into book form and offered them to the leading publishers of the country, they too, would have none of them. “These men,” writes Mr. Bailey Millard, “admitted the purity of his diction and the magic of his haunting power, but the stories were regarded as revolting.”
At last, in 1891, his first book of stories, Tales of Soldiers and Civilians, saw the reluctant light of day. It had this for foreword:
“Denied existence by the chief publishing houses of the country, this book owes itself to Mr. E. L. G. Steele, merchant, of this city, [San Francisco]. In attesting Mr. Steele’s faith in his judgment and his friend, it will serve its author’s main and best ambition.”
There is Biercean pugnacity in these words; the author flings down the gauntlet with a confident gesture. But it cannot be said that anything much happened to discomfit the publishing houses of little faith. Apparently, Bierce had thought to appeal past the dull and unjust verdict of such lower courts to the higher tribunal of the critics and possibly an elect group of general readers who might be expected to recognize and welcome something rare. But judgment was scarcely reversed. Only a few critics were discerning, and the book had no vogue. When The Monk and the Hangman’s Daughter was published by F. J. Schulte and Company, Chicago, the next year, and Can Such Things Be by The Cassell Publishing Company, the year following, a few enthusiastic critics could find no words strong enough to describe Bierce’s vivid imagination, his uncanny divination of atavistic terrors in man’s consciousness, his chiseled perfection of style; but the critics who disapproved had even more trouble in finding words strong enough for their purposes and, as before, there was no general appreciation.