Written as a parody of Swinburne's "Atalanta" and
published under the above title in The Overland, this
poem was soon being reprinted and republished across the
country as "The Heathen Chinee." Its sensational popularity
made Bret Harte the most celebrated literary man in America
in 1870. |
Here, in addition to Harte's text, are the illustrations from three different paperback republications of the poem, all titled The Heathen Chinee. The first, with drawings by S. Eytinge, was brought out by Harte's official publisher: James R. Osgood & Co, Boston, 1871. |
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Next, an "edition" of the poem that consisted of 9 loose pages, printed on stiffened paper, sold in an engraved envelope and perhaps suitable for framing. Tellingly, Hull's penultimate drawing elaborates what the poem refers to as "the scene that ensued" into something like a race riot; mob violence against the Chinese was a recurring event in western cities like San Francisco and Denver. Harte wrote sentimentally about the victim of a white mob in "Wan Lee." These illustrations are by Joseph Hull. Chicago: Western News Company, 1870. |
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This third set of illustrations is from a pocket-sized blue paperback pamphlet that is using Harte's popular poem to advertise both "the West" and the ease with which you can get there on the "Rock Island Line." Chicago: Chicago, Rock Island & Pacific Railroad, 1872. |
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Which I wish to remark, And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar, Which the same I would rise to explain. Ah Sin was his name; And I shall not deny, In regard to the same, What that name might imply; But his smile it was pensive and childlike, As I frequent remarked to Bill Nye. It was August the third, And quite soft was the skies; Which it might be inferred That Ah Sin was likewise; Yet he played it that day upon William And me in a way I despise. Which we had a small game, And Ah Sin took a hand: It was Euchre. The same He did not understand; But he smiled as he sat by the table, With the smile that was childlike and bland. Yet the cards they were stocked In a way that I grieve, And my feelings were shocked At the state of Nye's sleeve, Which was stuffed full of aces and bowers, And the same with intent to deceive. But the hands that were played By that heathen Chinee, And the points that he made, Were quite frightful to see, -- Till at last he put down a right bower, Which the same Nye had dealt unto me. Then I looked up at Nye, And he gazed upon me; And he rose with a sigh, And said, "Can this be? We are ruined by Chinese cheap labor," -- And he went for that heathen Chinee. In the scene that ensued I did not take a hand, But the floor it was strewed Like the leaves on the strand With the cards that Ah Sin had been hiding, In the game "he did not understand." In his sleeves, which were long, He had twenty-four packs, -- Which was coming it strong, Yet I state but the facts; And we found on his nails, which were taper, What is frequent in tapers, -- that's wax. Which is why I remark, And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar, -- Which the same I am free to maintain. |