In order to appreciate the fame which Bierce soon attained with his “Town Crier” copy, one must keep constantly in mind the significance of “Western humor.” The book stacks of London were flooded with wild, irresponsible stories in booklet form about the gold mines of California. The West, particularly California, soon became a fantastic place in the eyes of every Englishman. He was in a mood to believe anything that he heard about the country and its inhabitants. So that the “wild” and “ferocious” satire of Bierce, along with the broad, rough, fun of Twain, was accepted abroad with enthusiam. It will be remembered, too, that Joaquin Miller first attained fame and recognition in England, for none of his countrymen would take the old braggart seriously until England had pronounced him a great poet. Western humor, with its coupling of exaggeration and excessive understatement, found a large audience in England. The copy had great novelty about it then, and it is not surprising to find that Bierce’s paragraphs, unreadable as they are to-day, were quoted in the Glasgow and London and New York papers. As a writer once put it in the New York Arcadian: “In 1867 or 1868, I forget which, The News-Letter in San Francisco contained every now and then queer, irregular paragraphs, each pungent and striking and all pervaded by a new and puzzling flavor that was a combination of eccentric wit and utterly unconventional form. All that could be ascertained of their authorship was that a clerk in the San Francisco Mint was the author and that he ‘threw them off — just for the fun of it.’”
A few further quotations will suffice to show that Bierce was really attaining a considerable fame with his “Town Crier” work and that it was being appreciated for its true worth. The uncertainty about Bierce, the misunderstanding that has only increased with the years, was largely due to this early interruption in his literary career. The New York Nation wrote of his work: “One main quality of the humorist — a Rabelaisian audacity which stands abashed at but very few things indeed — the ‘Town Crier’ possesses in fullness; if he is not the most impudent and most irreverential person on the Pacific Coast, then he must have the steady assistance of his most admired friends, for a newspaper page that exhibits less respect for constituted authority of whatever kind than his page parades is not printed in English.” And Every Saturday, published in New York, contained this comment: “It is possible that some of our readers are not familiar with this candid voice of the Pacific Coast, though his fame has reached England, where his homicidal paragraphs are quoted by such journals as the Saturday Review and the Spectator.” But, just at the height of this early fame, Bierce left for England, and during his absence was forgotten.
As editor of The News-Letter, Bierce came in contact with many of the early journalists and writers on the coast. Foremost amongst these were, of course, Mark Twain and Bret Harte, neither of whom had as yet attained to any great national fame. Bierce was fond of telling about the first time he ever saw Mark Twain. Bierce was working one afternoon, in the offices of The News-Letter, when a tall, lanky fellow, who talked with a drawl, came into the room. He stood, bare-headed, in the middle of the room and looked slowly and deliberately all around the barren walls, allowing his eyes to finally come to rest on the youthful editor at the desk. “Young man,” the voice drawled, “this room is so nude I should think you and the owner would be ashamed of yourselves.” Bierce made some comment and kept on working. The man with the drawl spoke again: “Young man, where is the owner?” Bierce replied that Marriott was somewhere about town and would return soon.
“Young man,” Twain said, looking intently at Bierce, “are you sure he is not in that next room drunk?”
Bierce was still mystified, but explained that Marriott was actually away and asked Twain what he wanted. Twain explained that he had come in to repay a loan, and Bierce then suggested that Twain pay the money to him.
“Young man,” the voice drawled again, and the man fixed Bierce intently with his eyes, his whole expression assuming a grave and serious mien, “look me in the eyes and speak as though you were talking to your God: if I gave you that money are you sure your employer would ever see it?”
In those days Bierce had, I think, a high regard for Twain, whom he later came to know well in London. He had occasion to say of Twain in later years that he had “suffused our country with a peculiar glory by never trying to write a line of poetry.” What he thought of Twain’s work at this early time is not known, although in later years he was careful to admonish George Sterling to re-read “Huckleberry Finn” and said: “See if you don’t find more there than mere funning.” He was, however, disgusted when Twain married a rich woman and wrote rather sharply of the matter in The News-Letter. In his “Town Crier” page of February 19th, 1870, we find this: “Mark Twain, who, whenever he has been long enough sober to permit an estimate, has been uniformly found to bear a spotless character, has got married. It was not the act of a desperate man — it was not committed while laboring under temporary insanity; his insanity is not of that type, nor does he ever labor — it was the cool, methodical, cumulative, culmination of human nature working in the heart of an orphan hankering for some one with a fortune to love — some one with a bank account to caress. For years he has felt this matrimony coming on. Ever since he left California there has been an undertone of despair running through all his letters like the subdued wail of a pig in a wash-tub.” The sentiment was rather harsh, considering the fact that Bierce was himself soon to marry and to marry, also, a rich man’s daughter. Twain never mentioned Bierce except to refer to him in a casual way in his “Autobiography,” and his collection of “Humor Stories,” and in both cases Twain’s references were erroneous. He says in the “Autobiography” that Ralph Keeler, Bret Harte, Charles Warren Stoddard, Prentice Mulford, and Bierce, all contributed to Joe Lawrence’s literary magazine The Golden Era. This is, in all probability, an error as far as Bierce’s name is concerned. In his “Dictionary of Humor” he refers to Bierce as the author of “Bierciana,” a collection of wit published in England. In this he was in error also. Later in London, as will appear in a subsequent chapter, Bierce and Twain met often and became quite good friends.
Bierce’s relations with Bret Harte are better known. In The Examiner, March 3, 1889, Bierce said that Harte never thought much of his celebrated “The Heathen Chinee,” and that, in fact, Harte offered the manuscript to Bierce for publication in The News-Letter, saying he had written it to fill a place in The Overland Monthly, but thought it too trivial. Bierce wanted it for The News-Letter, but had the unprofessional candor to tell Harte that it really belonged in the Overland, and there Harte published it, although reluctantly. Upon its publication, of course, it made the name and fame of Brete Harte.
The relations of the men were strained, after Harte became a national figure and went east. There was much dissent on the part of his friends, but there seems to have been a general and abiding dissatisfaction with Harte’s attitude, which had apparently changed with success. This did not, however, change Bierce’s admiration for his style. He would occasionally damn him, in later years, for a careless circumlocution, but he would usually end his remarks with some such statement as this: “The flight of his genius is always in one direction, but it beats the air with as strong a wing as when it first sprang away.” He was one of the first to praise Harte’s “incomparable humor.”
He also had some friendly relations with Harte as contributor and editor, for Bierce wrote the “Grizzly Papers,” signed “Ursus,” that appeared in The Overland Monthly, in Number I issue of that periodical in January of 1871, and that followed for the next three issues, down to April of 1871, by which time Bierce had left San Francisco for England. Some of the views expressed in these early papers are interesting, for most of the work that Bierce was doing for The News-Letter at this time was nonsensical “funning” that is negligible to-day. In fact, in the issue of February, 1871, we find Bierce setting forth, tentatively, his creed and ambition as a writer which he was to follow so steadfastly in the years to come, in these words: “I
f any man of true wit shall seriously, sharply and pointedly assail folly, cant, hypocrisy, and villainy in the persons of their representatives, being not too particular in the suppression of names, he shall win for himself a great applause from those who will look coldly on while he runs a tilt against a possibly foolish, but certainly insignificant habit of thought or expression, or impales the inoffensive moon.”
As I have said, his News-Letter work was negligible, although it did give him an opportunity to try his wit on the enemies of the paper and to keep a lively interest centered on his column of abuse. Occasionally wearying of restraint, he would have at some local statesmen with a bludgeon. He wrote of one forgotten unworthy: “Of all the donkeys in our State Legislature, and the number is limited only by the State Constitution, Mr. Henry of Sonoma can bray the loudest, longest and with the most elaborate monotony.” Once an antagonist wrote some witty verses aimed at “B* * * * *,” which might have meant Bierce, Bowman, or Barnes. Bierce, not to be outdone, replied:
“Young man, when next you wag your pen,
Discretion should assist it;
When next you use uncertain words,
Your B shall stand for Biscuit;
When next you have an asterisk,
Think twice before you risk it.”
It was after Bierce became editor of The News-Letter that he first met Mary Ellen Day, or “Mollie Day,” as she was known. Mollie Day was the only daughter of Captain Holland Hines Day, a Forty-Niner, who had crossed the plains from Galena, Illinois, where Mollie was born. He won his title of “Captain” as an Indian fighter in the Middle West prior to leaving for California. His brother, James L. Day, was a prominent mining man in the West, having discovered the “Emma” mine. He was a millionaire and the famous “James L. Day” steamship was named after him. Captain Day had mined in Trinity and Placer counties until the discovery of gold in Nevada. He opened the Savage Mine and was later superintendent of the Ophir, one of the famous Western mines, and of the Central. He later became interested in mining properties in Utah, particularly one mine “The Tintic,” and was so highly regarded in Salt Lake that his name was once proposed for the office of United States Senator. He was a fine, kindly old gentleman. Mr. Thomas Beer would, however, have called his wife a “Titaness.” She was full of pretense and determination, and was quite a figure in early San Francisco society. The romance of their only daughter with a nondescript journalist, of whom no one knew anything and none dared ask for information, was not met at first with warm approval. When it became apparent, however, that Mollie was determined to marry “The Town Crier,” they offered no opposition to the match.
Mollie Day was a very beautiful girl. She had wit and verve and excellent taste. She played the piano and sang and was excessively romantic. Along with her friend, Miss Riemer, she was one of the most popular girls in San Francisco society of the times. Mollie lived for years in the handsome residence of the Days’ on Vallejo Street, but she had spent a great deal of time in Nevada, visiting her uncle and father, and also her friend Fanny Fee at Virginia City. There, too, she came to know the Sam Davis family. Disappointing as the fact will be to those writers who have always referred to her as a “lovely Irish girl,” Mollie Day was, on both sides of her family, of Dutch blood. The Days had once lived in New York and came to Illinois from that state. When Bierce first met her, she was an extremely sentimental young lady, as is shown by her letters, and was done up, so to speak, in furbelows and ribbons. A note that she once wrote her mother, accompanying some presents for the latter’s birthday, is indicative of her nature: “Darling Mother, this is your birthday, will you accept of these simple presents that I now offer you, with the best love of your daughter, and always think of me as, your loving child, Mollie Day.” Bierce had been stricken with recurrent attacks of asthma soon after he arrived in San Francisco, and had been forced to seek relief in San Rafael, across the bay, in Marin County. It was quite a popular summer resort in those days, and the Days spent much time there. It was thus that Bierce met his future wife. They had a group of friends that went on boating and picnicking expeditions, among whom were Ina Coolbrith and Charles Warren Stoddard. The group was frequently invited to Miss Day’s home. Once Stoddard failed to appear to keep an appointment and Bierce wrote him: “I had arranged a nice card party with the ladies and you don’t know how much beauty and youth, and virtue, and similar stuff you missed by not remaining another night.” The letter is postmarked from San Rafael and refers to “Miss Day.” The Major, after he became editor of The News-Letter, began to be quite well known. He was one of the organizers of the Lotus Club, the first yachting club to be formed on the coast, and he used to take Mollie Day for boat rides around the bay in the yacht of Capt. Moody. At the time the club was organized there were no by-laws. Later, when asked to sign the by-laws, Bierce refused because he noticed that they contained a clause against the use of intoxicating liquors while on the seas! When they were not picnicking in Marin County, or boating, they attended such dazzling affairs (and amusing) as the Sharon Reception and the Calico Ball. These gorgeous social gatherings impressed San Francisco as being easily the equivalent to court life on the continent. Then, too, there were expeditions to Woodward’s Gardens to gaze at sea shells!
It was not long until their engagement was announced and on December 26th, 1871, the following notice appeared in the Daily Evening Bulletin: “In this city, married, December 25th, by Rev. Horatio Stebbins, Ambrose G. Bierce and Mary E. Day.” Bierce had unmercifully ragged this same Horatio Stebbins in The News-Letter, and was often to satirize him in the future. In fact, he once suggested to Rabbi Nieto that he should have dedicated “Black Beetles in Amber” to Horatio Stebbins because he had performed the marriage ceremony. But this was only in later years, after their separation; it was then, too, that he wrote the lines:
“They stood before the altar and supplied
The fire themselves in which their fat was fried.
In vain the sacrifice! — no god will claim
An offering burnt with an unholy flame.”
A later issue of the Evening Bulletin announced that the marriage ceremony was performed at the home of the bride’s father and mother, and that “all of San Francisco attended,” which probably meant that several friends were present. On December 30th, 1871, a news story appeared in The News-Letter which purported to be a resolution of a Woman’s Suffrage Association announcing their glee over the marriage of the Town Crier who had always reviled their sex.
The young couple did not leave immediately for England on their honeymoon, but took up a residence in San Rafael. There is in existence a letter from Bierce to Stoddard under date of January 5th, 1872, from San Rafael, acknowledging in a friendly way Stoddard’s felicitations and closing with the statement: “We are living cosily. My regards to Ina,” meaning, of course, Ina Coolbrith. They lived in San Rafael until their departure for England in the spring. But on March 9th, 1872, Bierce bid farewell to the readers of the Town Crier page and made this valedictory:
The present writer’s connection with this paper ceases for at least a brief season, with this issue, be the same longer or shorter. Since December, 1868, he has, with one or two weeks’ intermission, conducted this page. The Town Crier does not seek a wider field for his talents. The only talents that he has are a knack at hating hypocrisy, cant, and all sham, and a trick of expressing his hatred. What wider field than San Francisco does God’s green earth present? Gentlemen, — Ah! and you, too, darlings, we came near overlooking you — a large, comprehensive and warm farewell! Be as decent as you can. Don’t believe without evidence. Treat things divine with marked respect — don’t have anything to do with them. Do not trust humanity without collateral security; it will play you some scurvy trick. Remember that it hurts no one to be treated as an enemy entitled to respect until he shall prove himself a friend worthy of affection. Cultivate a taste for distasteful truths. And, finally, most important of all, endeavor to see things as they are, n
ot as they ought to be. Then shall the Town Crier not have cried in vain; and if ever again he shall resume the whip of the satirist, it shall fall upon your shoulders as a snowflake settles against the rocky side of Mt. Shasta.”
Some of the eastern papers read that The Town Crier was to leave The News-Letter and commented on the fact. The Critic contained these lines:
“Noos Lettah, so fierce Has lost his Bierce,
And doesn’t know where to find him;
Left all alone
He must weep and groan
And tuck in his tail behind him.”
It was not long after the marriage that “Sandy” Bowers, an old friend of Captain Day, gave a reception for the young couple. “Sandy” had been just a common Irish day laborer until he made a fortune in mining. The reception was one of the most unique events in early San Francisco’s social life. The Bowers had pieces of Italian statuary through the house and on the figures of some of the models, Mrs. Bowers, with a sense of modesty that has perhaps never been paralleled, had draped pink cloth to hide any suggestion of the improper. In the library old “Sandy” had a picture or bust of the various authors over each section so that he might know whose books he was pointing at since he could not read the titles.
It was about this time that Bierce and his bride left for England on a honeymoon, as their passport was issued on April 30th, 1872. The yellowing document gives an interesting picture of Bierce, rather suggestive of the description of General L. V. Bierce: “Age 30; five feet four; forehead, medium; eyes, grey; nose, large; mouth, medium; skin, medium; hair, light; complexion, florid.” The trip was financed by Captain Day and was in the nature of a wedding present. Mr. Marriott of The News-Letter fortified Bierce with letters of introduction to various Fleet Street luminaries. And thus, with money and the open sesame to his chosen field of journalism, Bierce left for England. It is undeniable that Bierce personally wanted to go to London. His acquaintance with Marriott and Watkins had fired his ambition to become a “London journalist”: all others were as trash; even New York was provincial. He had received some letters from England about his Town Crier work and it had been frequently quoted in the English press, so that he thought he would have no difficulty in securing a place on the staff of some periodical.
Delphi Complete Works of Ambrose Bierce (Illustrated) Page 346