CHARLIE FAIRFAX.

 

            I SAY "Charlie," but in truth had he gone to England and claimed his title, he would have been Lord Charles Fairfax, for he was a lineal descendant of the House of Fairfax, and at the time he lived was entitled to be the head of the house, though he was born in Virginia and was of the third or fourth generation of Virginian Colfaxes.

            He showed his lineage in three or four characteristics. He was handsome and every look was of a high-born race. There is an old belief that it requires seven generations of colts to breed up from a cold-blooded dam a thoroughbred. If the same rule applies to men, then Charlie Fairfax had only thoroughbred ancestors for quite five hundred years ; for when himself he was the most absolutely natural gentleman that I ever saw. He had a grace of action, a natural courtesy; a thoughtfulness for guests and a way of making men feel that he had a solicitude for their well-being and happiness that could not be imitated by any man that I ever met.

            Behind it all he held within his breast a lion's heart, that no danger could appall- -he was absolutely without fear. He would have ridden beside Cardigan at Balaklava, or Pickett at Gettysburg, and one to have seen his face would have thought he was on the way to a picnic.

            With these qualities it may be asked why he did not make himself a great name. We suspect it was because of his training in part, and also in part certain qualities of his mind which made success impossible. From earliest childhood he was taught that he must keep his honor pure ; that he must never fail in courage, and never for a moment forget that his ancestors for many generations had all been gentlemen.

            He was given a good education, but slaves did the work around him and he never had the least business training ; was never taught even to think of the everyday duties of life, or the value of money, or that the day might come when cares would enter his life or the need of honest work on his part

38 AS I REMEMBER THEM.

would be a duty. He was brought up on a farm in Virginia ; he was an expert with firearms of all kinds ; he loved to hunt and could lure fish from the streams, but he never held a plough or swung an axe why should he? Why should he undertake to compete with slaves?

            What could such a man as that do in a land such as California was in those first days, when there was a wilderness to subdue, an empire to create, and when progress was driven on by an energy as tireless as that which keeps the stars moving in their processions?

            He was elected clerk of the Supreme court of California, which, it was said, paid a salary of $30,000 per annum. But he saved nothing from it. What was the difference whether he had a few thousands on hand or owed a few thousands in debts? A multitude of anecdotes were told of him in those days. He had a beautiful wife -- his home was a dream -- but when, as he did sometimes, go home intoxicated, his wife would not scold, but would cry. One summer night, in Sacramento, he started home in that condition. It was about 2 :30 a. m. Not a drop of rain had fallen for four months in Sacramento, and there was no prospect of a drop falling for four months to come. But Charlie banged away at the door of a dry goods store until finally a sleepy clerk responded and opened the door. Fairfax bought an umbrella and went home. He admitted himself as softly as he could, ascended noiselessly to his wife's apartments, where the gas was turned half-down; sat down and raised the umbrella over his head. By this time his wife had awakened, and, sitting up in bed, she said sharply : "Charles Fairfax! What are you doing? Have you gone crazy." "No, Ada, dear," was the reply; "just waiting for the shower."

            He was going home about 4 :30 one morning when, passing an open stand on the corner it would be called a "buffet" nowadays; it was called "pigsfoot corner" then -- Fairfax stopped at the counter and ordered a cup of hot coffee and a sandwich. When they were disposed of he felt in all his pockets, but had not a penny. He explained how things were to the old German who kept the place ; told him who he was and

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that he would bring the money when he came up town next day. But that was not satisfactory. The German came around the counter, took him by the arm and said : "Dere's too many your kinds of cusses dese days; you gums inside and stays mit me till dot bill vos zettled." Charlie quietly went around the counter and took a seat in full view of the street. An hour later an early-awake merchant came hurriedly down the street on his way to business. Glancing over the counter he saw Fairfax ; stopped and said : "Fairfax, what in the Lord's name are you doing there." "I'm in jail," said Charlie; "I am in arrears to this gentleman in the sum of twenty cents ; he has served a restraining order on me and threatens to make it a perpetual injunction." At last the matter was explained, the merchant advanced the twenty cents and Charlie was permitted to go home. But on leaving, Charlie took off his hat and with a courtly grace bowed to the bewildered pigs foot vendor and assured him that he had never tasted finer coffee and sandwiches.

            He had another experience in San Francisco. He had been in the city two or three days, and woke one morning to find that he had not a penny in his clothes. He went out on Montgomery street and there met an old friend, who said : "Fairfax, have you been to breakfast?' He answered, "No," whereupon the friend said :  "I wish you would ask me to breakfast, for last night I hit a faro bank and went broke inside of twenty minutes." "But I have not a cent, either," said Fairfax. Both laughed and were discussing how they were going to manage to get breakfast, when a mutual friend of both came up, and said : "Gentlemen, just around on Sacramento street is the finest restaurant in the world. Come and have breakfast with me!"

            After proper hesitation they accepted. A superb breakfast was ordered, but when nearly finished the friend said : "There's my old friend Hastings at the door. I must see him ; please excuse me one moment."

            He did not return. They nibbled at the remnants of the breakfast for five minutes or more and then Fairfax said : "He's gone: what are we going to do?" "Blamed if I know,"

40 AS I REMEMBER THEM.

was the reply. Fairfax called a waiter and said : 'Is it time for spring chickens yet?' The waiter replied that they had some exceptionally fine ones.

            'Well," said Charlie, "broil us two, and look, ye, I want them broiled slowly until they take on just the right brown. I would rather wait than have them hurriedly cooked."

            The chickens were brought on. They had been slowly cooked and were slowly eaten. Just as the final crisis was imminent a Sacramento friend of Fairfax came in. In a word Fairfax explained the desperation of the case ; the friend laughed, and saying, T must get a hurried breakfast for I am busy today," held out his hand which had a twenty-dollar piece in it, which in the handshake was transferred ; then Charlie settled the bill, tipped the waiter and the two went out. Just beside the door stood the friend who had asked the two to breakfast. In a rage, Fairfax demanded why he had played a trick like that upon them. 'You see," said the friend, "I had not had a morsel of food for two days and I was hungry." Then they all laughed and Fairfax gave the man $5 of the $20 he had just borrowed ; $5 to the other friend, and said, 'That leaves me $4, and I can get home with that."

            After some years in California, Fairfax went back to Virginia to visit his father and mother.

            In his absence, his father had become a fanatical prohibitionist ; brought out all his wines and liquors and poured them on the ground. Charlie had written that he was coming and was therefore expected. He reached the old home one morning and found his mother in the living room. After the excitement of the meeting had subsided a little the mother said : "Charlie, you know how papa is about all kinds of liquor, so when you wrote that you were coming I got a bottle of the best for sale in Richmond; it is in the cabinet and whenever you want a little you will find it." "Well, mother, inasmuch as I have not seen you for a good while I believe I will drink your health now," said Charlie, and he did. Then he went up to meet his father in the library, where his mother said he would find him. There were warm greetings, but after a few minutes the father said : "Charlie, you know what my senti-

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merits are about all alcoholic drinks, but you have been out west, and so when I heard you were coming, I quietly sent for a bottle of the best Bourbon. It is in that bookcase, the third from the door, and when you want a drink I will turn my back on you so as not to see you."

            "Well, father," said Charlie, "it is seven years since I've been home; I believe it is my duty to drink to your long life," and with that he went to the bookcase, found the bottle and got outside the drink. Then he asked where Jeff was (the old colored servant), who had been his playmate in childhood.

            He was told that Jeff was probably in the carriage house or stables, and Charlie started out to find him. Jeff was wild with delight and expressed his joy in exaggerated antics. But, cooling down a little after awhile, he said, "Massie Charlie, yo knows how crazy old Massie has got on de liker business, but I heard you wuz comin', and Ah says, young Massie is not goin' ter be cheated. I stole seben dozen eggs, sold 'em and got der finest bottle you eber tasted and it's heah in der hay- mow." Charlie took a drink with Jeff. After awhile he asked for Steve, the gardener. He found him trailing a grape vine. Steve was a quiet old darkie, but after awhile he said, "Massie Charlie, I knowd yo was comin' and what old Massie thinks 'bout drinkin', so look a heah!" There, under a leaf in the cabbage patch, was another bottle and Charlie drank with Steve.

            All his life thereafter he declared that there was nothing else so perilous to perfect sobriety as to visit a prohibition ranch before breakfast in the morning.

            Fairfax spent some time in Virginia City, Nev.

            One night a gentleman was escorting his own wife and Mrs. Fairfax to some entertainment when they met a notorious ruffian, who, on seeing them, loaded the air with imprecations and anathemas aimed at them.

            It was heard by others who when, three hours later, they saw Fairfax coming down the street, knew by his manner that something serious was on, caught him and begged him not to mind what the ruffian had said, that he was drinking and a most brutal and dangerous man ; to which Fairfax replied :

42 AS I REMEMBER THEM.

            "What do I care for that thug? I want to find the man who permitted him to insult my wife and his own wife and did not kill him."

            One clay on the street in Sacramento Fairfax became engaged in an altercation with a man who at one time had been a deputy clerk under Fairfax. The quarrel grew fierce and they proceeded to blows, when the man drew a sword from the cane he was carrying and drove it through the shoulder of Fairfax below the clavicle. Fairfax, who was a dead shot, drew a deringer from his vest pocket, cocked it and aimed it at the man ; then he dropped his arm and said : 'You are a cowardly murderer ; you have killed me, but you have a wife and children and I will spare your life," and then sank fainting into the arms of a friend.

            It was thought the wound was fatal, but at last he rallied from its effects and lived eleven years. When he died, a post-mortem was held and the surgeon said to one of the friends of Fairfax :  "Do you say this wound was received eleven years ago?" When answered in the affirmative, the surgeon said: "Then God must have interposed to save his life. Save where the blade entered and made its exit the wound is as fresh and unhealed as though made but an hour ago. It is the most astonishing thing in the history of wounds."

            The memory of Charlie Fairfax lingers with only a few old-time friends now, whereas his name should have had a national and international fame ; for he had abundant talent, the splendid prestige of an honored name. A little discipline in youth and something high to call out his manhood as he went out into the world, would have brought unmeasured honors to him; but he never would take life seriously and seemed to care nothing about the name he was to leave, except that no taint of dishonor should attach to it.