Western Classics No. Three Tennessee's Partner "Both were fearless types of a civilization that in the seventeenthcentury would have been called heroic, but in the nineteenth simply'reckless. '" Tennessee's Partner By Bret Harte, Including An Introduction By William Dallam Armes. The Introduction When Marshall's discovery caused a sudden influx of thousands ofadventurers from all classes and almost all countries, the conditions ofgovernment in California were almost the worst possible. Though theMexican system was unpopular and the Mexican law practically unknown, until other provision was made by congress, they had to continue inforce. But the free and slave states were equal in number; Californiawould turn the scale; there was a battle royal as to which pan shoulddescend, a battle that the congresses of 1848 and 1849 left unsettled onadjourning. Under these circumstances, it might be supposed that the worst elementswould get the upper hand, crime become common, and anarchy result. Precisely the opposite happened. The de facto government was accepted asa necessity, and under its direction "alcaldes" and "ayuntamientos" wereelected. But the mining-camps, which were in a part of the country thathad not been settled by the Mexicans and were occupied by men who knewnothing of their system or laws, were left to work out their ownsalvation. The preponderating element was the Anglo-Saxon, and itsgenius for law and order asserted itself. Each camp elected its ownofficers, recognized the customary laws and adopted special ones, andpunished lawbreakers. Naturally theft was considered a more seriouscrime than it is in ordinary communities. As there were no jails orjailors, flogging and expulsion were the usual punishment, but inaggravated cases it was death. Even after the state government had beenorganized, indeed, the law for a short while permitted a jury toprescribe the death penalty for grand larceny, and, in fact, severalnotorious thieves were legally executed. The testimony of all observers is that the camps were surprisinglyorderly, that crime was infrequent, and that its punishment, thoughswift and certain, leaned to mercy rather than rigor. Bayard Taylor, forexample, who was in the mines in '50 and '51, writes: "In a region fivehundred miles long, inhabited by a hundred thousand people, who hadneither locks, bolts, regular laws of government, military or civilprotection, there was as much security to life and property as in anystate of the Union. " As these "miners' courts" were allowed after the organization of thestate to retain jurisdiction in all questions that concerned theappropriation of claims, the miners but slowly appreciated that they hadbeen shorn of their criminal jurisdiction. But that they did come torecognize that "the old order changeth, yielding place to new, " is, infact, shown by the very incident on which Harte based his of a lynching. Spite of the autobiographic method that leads the casual reader to thinkthat Harte was intimately connected with this early pioneer life andderived the material for his sketches from personal observation andexperience, his is, in truth, only hearsay evidence. The heroic age waswith Iram and all his rose ere he landed in 1854, a lad of eighteen. With no especial equipment for battling with the world, he had to turnhis hand to many things, and naturally tried mining. But finding thereturns incommensurate with the labor, he soon gave it up and soughtmore congenial occupations, mainly in the towns of the valleys and theseacoast. Before he was twenty-three, he had been school-teacher, express-messenger, deputy tax-collector, and druggist's assistant; andhad risen from "printer's devil" to assistant editor of a countrynewspaper. In 1859 he was back in San Francisco, utilizing the trade hehad picked up, as a compositor on The Golden Era. To this he contributedpoems and local sketches that soon led to his appointment as assistanteditor. His writings made him friends, one of whom, Thomas Starr King, in 1864, obtained for him the position of secretary to thesuperintendent of the Mint. His duties were not arduous, and his roomsbecame the resort of his literary associates and of men from "thediggings, " whose mines, like the meadows of Concord, yielded a two-foldcrop: gold-dust for the superintendent to turn into bullion, and storiesfor his young secretary later to turn into literature. By 1868 hisreputation was so great that when Mr. A. Roman established The OverlandMonthly, he was made its first editor. Mr. Roman impressed upon him the literary possibilities of the life ofthe miners, and furnished him with incidents, tales, and pictures. "TheLuck of Roaring Camp, " his first venture in this hitherto almostuntouched field, proved that Bret Harte had come into his own. His localsketches and Mexican legends had been imitative of Irving, his storiesof Dickens; but for this he had evolved a method and a style distinctlypersonal. His first success was followed up by "The Outcasts of PokerFlat" and (in October, 1869) by the tale here reprinted; and when, in1870, an Eastern house published his sketches in book form, his fame wassecure. In 1871 he left California, and after a few years in the Eastthat added little to his reputation as a writer, or as a man, secured aconsulate in Germany. In 1878 he left America forever. Till his death in1902 he wrote on, frequently recurring to the claim where he first "gotthe color, " but never equaling his work during the year and a half thathe was editor of the Overland. In 1866 Harte heard, from one who had been present, the incident thatinspired "Tennessee's Partner. " Eleven years before, at Second Garrote, a newcomer had committed a capital crime. The miners organized a court, appointed counsel, and gave the miscreant a trial. He confessed hisguilt, and the cry arose, "Hang him!"' But "Old Man Chaffee" steppedforward, drew a bag of gold-dust from his bosom, and said that he wouldgive his "pile" rather than have a lynching occur in a camp that, spiteits name, had never been so disgraced. He begged the crowd to turn theprisoner over to the authorities and let the law take its course. Suchwas the fervor of his appeal and so great were the respect and affectionfor the old man that his proposal was adopted with a cheer for theadvocate of law and order, and the culprit taken to the jail atColumbia. Chaffee's partner, Chamberlain, seems to have had no part in thisaffair; but the two were united by a love like that of his partner forTennessee. And long after the Second Garrote had become but a memory, the two octogenarians lived on in their little cabin, Chaffee seekingwith primitive pick, shovel, and pan the more and more elusive gold, andChamberlain contributing to the common purse by cultivating a small"ranch, " the best crop of which was the campers who came to chat ofbygone days with "the original of Tennessee's Partner. " At last, in1903, their partnership of fifty-four years was ended by the death ofChaffee. Within eight weeks he was followed by Chamberlain. Their lastdays were made easy by the bounty of Professor W. E. Magee, of the StateUniversity, to whom I am indebted for the authority for some of thesestatements, --Chamberlain's journal. From this simple material the imagination of Bret Harte spun thecharacters, incidents, and motives that his genius wove into anexquisite fabric, an idyl of blind, unreasoning love of man for man. Hewas not writing history; and the complaint of those who were part of thelife he depicted, that he misstated the facts, rests on the same failureto appreciate his purpose and method that leads Eastern and Englishcritics to consider his realism reality and to mistake hisverisimilitude for the truth itself. The fact is that Bret Harte was aconsummate literary artist, who used facts with all an artist's freedom. His genius "imbalm'd and treasur'd up on purpose to a life beyond life, "however, many an actual incident that otherwise would lie buried 'neaththe poppy that the iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth. William Dallam Armes. Tennessee's Partner I do not think that we ever knew his real name. Our ignorance of itcertainly never gave us any social inconvenience, for at Sandy Bar in1854 most men were christened anew. Sometimes these appellatives werederived from some distinctiveness of dress, as in the case of "DungareeJack"; or from some peculiarity of habit, as shown in "Saleratus Bill, "so called from an undue proportion of that chemical in his daily bread;or from some unlucky slip, as exhibited in "The Iron Pirate, " a mild, inoffensive man, who earned that baleful title by his unfortunatemispronunciation of the term "iron pyrites. " Perhaps this may have beenthe beginning of a rude heraldry; but I am constrained to think that itwas because a man's real name in that day rested solely upon his ownunsupported statement. "Call yourself Clifford, do you?" said Boston, addressing a timid newcomer with infinite scorn; "hell is full of suchCliffords!" He then introduced the unfortunate man, whose name happenedto be really Clifford, as "Jaybird Charley, "--an unhallowed inspirationof the moment that clung to him ever after. But to return to Tennessee's Partner, whom we never knew by any otherthan this relative title; that he had ever existed as a separate anddistinct individuality we only learned later. It seems that in 1853 heleft Poker Flat to go to San Francisco, ostensibly to procure a wife. Henever got any farther than Stockton. At that place he was attracted by ayoung person who waited upon the table at the hotel where he took hismeals. One morning he said something to her which caused her to smilenot unkindly, to somewhat coquettishly break a plate of toast over hisupturned, serious, simple face, and to retreat to the kitchen. Hefollowed her, and emerged a few moments later, covered with more toastand victory. That day week they were married by a Justice of the Peace, and returned to Poker Flat. I am aware that something more might be madeof this episode, but I prefer to tell it as it was current at SandyBar, --in the gulches and barrooms, --where all sentiment was modified by astrong sense of humor. Of their married felicity but little is known, perhaps for the reasonthat Tennessee, then living with his partner, one day took occasion tosay something to the bride on his own account, at which, it is said, shesmiled not unkindly, and chastely retreated, this time as far asMarysville, where Tennessee followed her, and where they went tohousekeeping without the aid of a Justice of the Peace. Tennessee'sPartner took the loss of his wife simply and seriously, as was hisfashion. But to everybody's surprise, when Tennessee one day returnedfrom Marysville, without his partner's wife, --she having smiled andretreated with somebody else, --Tennessee's Partner was the first man toshake his hand and greet him with affection. The boys who had gatheredin the cañon to see the shooting were naturally indignant. Theirindignation might have found vent in sarcasm but for a certain look inTennessee's Partner's eye that indicated a lack of humorousappreciation. In fact, he was a grave man, with a steady application topractical detail which was unpleasant in a difficulty. Meanwhile a popular feeling against Tennessee had grown up on the Bar. He was known to be a gambler; he was suspected to be a thief. In thesesuspicions Tennessee's Partner was equally compromised; his continuedintimacy with Tennessee after the affair above quoted could only beaccounted for on the hypothesis of a copartnership of crime. At lastTennessee's guilt became flagrant. One day he overtook a stranger on hisway to Red Dog. The stranger afterward related that Tennessee beguiledthe time with interesting anecdote and reminiscence, but illogicallyconcluded the interview in the following words: "And now, young man, I'll trouble you for your knife, your pistols, and your money. You seeyour weppings might get you into trouble at Red Dog, and your money's atemptation to the evilly disposed. I think you said your address was SanFrancisco. I shall endeavor to call. " It may be stated here thatTennessee had a fine flow of humor, which no business preoccupationcould wholly subdue. This exploit was his last. Red Dog and Sandy Bar made common causeagainst the highwayman. Tennessee was hunted in very much the samefashion as his prototype, the grizzly. As the toils closed around him, he made a desperate dash through the Bar, emptying his revolver at thecrowd before the Arcade Saloon, and so on up Grizzly Cañon; but at itsfarther extremity he was stopped by a small man on a gray horse. The menlooked at each other a moment in silence. Both were fearless, bothself-possessed and independent, and both types of a civilization that inthe seventeenth century would have been called heroic, but in thenineteenth simply "reckless. " "What have you got there?--I call, " saidTennessee see, quietly. "Two bowers and an ace, " said the stranger, asquietly, showing two revolvers and a bowie-knife. "That takes me, "returned Tennessee; and, with this gambler's epigram, he threw away hisuseless pistol, and rode back with his captor. It was a warm night. The cool breeze which usually sprang up with thegoing down of the sun behind the chaparral-crested mountain was thatevening withheld from Sandy Bar. The little cañon was stifling withheated resinous odors, and the decaying driftwood on the Bar sent forthfaint, sickening exhalations. The feverishness of day and its fiercepassions still filled the camp. Lights moved restlessly along the bankof the river, striking no answering reflection from its tawny current. Against the blackness of the pines the windows of the old loft above theexpress-office stood out staringly bright; and through their curtainlesspanes, the loungers below could see the forms of those who were eventhen deciding the fate of Tennessee. And above all this, etched on thedark firmament, rose the Sierra, remote and passionless, crowned withremoter passionless stars. The trial of Tennessee was conducted as fairly as was consistent with ajudge and jury who felt themselves to some extent obliged to justify, intheir verdict, the previous irregularities of arrest and indictment. Thelaw of Sandy Bar was implacable, but not vengeful. The excitement andpersonal feeling of the chase were over; with Tennessee safe in theirhands they were ready to listen patiently to any defense, which theywere already satisfied was insufficient. There being no doubt in theirown minds, they were willing to give the prisoner the benefit of anythat might exist. Secure in the hypothesis that he ought to be hanged, on general principles, they indulged him with more latitude of defensethan his reckless hardihood seemed to ask. The Judge appeared to be moreanxious than the prisoner, who, otherwise unconcerned, evidently took agrim pleasure in the responsibility he had created. "I don't take anyhand in this yer game, " had been his invariable but good-humored replyto all questions. The Judge--who was also his captor--for a momentvaguely regretted that he had not shot him "on sight, " that morning, butpresently dismissed this human weakness as unworthy of the judicialmind. Nevertheless, when there was a tap at the door, and it was saidthat Tennessee's Partner was there on behalf of the prisoner, he wasadmitted at once without question. Perhaps the younger members of thejury, to whom the proceedings were becoming irksomely thoughtful, hailedhim as a relief. For he was not, certainly, an imposing figure. Short and stout, with asquare face, sunburned into a preternatural redness, clad in a looseduck "jumper" and trousers streaked and splashed with red soil, hisaspect under any circumstances would have been quaint, and was now evenridiculous. As he stooped to deposit at his feet a heavy carpet-bag hewas carrying, it became obvious, from partially developed legends andinscriptions, that the material with which his trousers had been patchedhad been originally intended for a less ambitious covering. Yet headvanced with great gravity, and after shaking the hand of each personin the room with labored cordiality, he wiped his serious, perplexedface on a red bandanna handkerchief, a shade lighter than hiscomplexion, laid his powerful hand upon the table to steady himself, andthus addressed the Judge:--"I was passin' by, " he began, by way ofapology, "and I thought I'd just step in and see how things was gittin'on with Tennessee thar, --my pardner. It's a hot night. I disrememberany sich weather before on the Bar. " He paused a moment, but nobody volunteering any other meteorologicalrecollection, he again had recourse to his pocket-handkerchief, and forsome moments mopped his face diligently. "Have you anything to say on behalf of the prisoner?"' said the Judge, finally. "Thet's it, " said Tennessee's Partner, in a tone of relief. "I come yaras Tennessee's pardner, knowing him nigh on four year, off and on, wetand dry, in luck and out o' luck. His ways ain't allers my ways, butthar ain't any p'ints in that young man, thar ain't any liveliness ashe's been up to, as I don't know. And you sez to me, sezyou, --confidential-like, and between man and man, --sez you, 'Do you knowanything in his behalf?' and I sez to you, sez I, --confidential-like, as between man and man, --'What should a man know of his pardner?'" "Is this all you have to say? asked the Judge impatiently, feeling, perhaps, that a dangerous sympathy of humor was beginning to humanizethe court. "Thet's so, " continued Tennessee's Partner. "It ain't for me to sayanything agin' him. And now, what's the case? Here's Tennessee wantsmoney, wants it bad, and doesn't like to ask it of his old pardner. Well, what does Tennessee do? He lays for a stranger, and he fetchesthat stranger; and you lays for him, and you fetches him; and the honorsis easy. And I put it to you, bein' a far-minded man, and to you, gentlemen all, as far-minded men, ef this is isn't so. " "Prisoner, " said the Judge, interrupting, "have you any questions to askthis man?" "No! no!" continued Tennessee's Partner hastily. "I play this yer handalone. To come down to the bedrock, it's just this: Tennessee, thar, hasplayed it pretty rough and expensive-like on a stranger, and on this yercamp. And now, what's the fair thing? Some would say more; some wouldsay less. Here's seventeen hundred dollars in coarse gold and awatch, --it's about all my pile, --and call it square!" And before a handcould be raised to prevent him, he had emptied the contents of thecarpet-bag upon the table. For a moment his life was in jeopardy. One or two men sprang to theirfeet, several hands groped for hidden weapons, and a suggestion to"throw him from the window, " was only overridden by a gesture from theJudge. Tennessee laughed. And apparently oblivious of the excitement, Tennessee's Partner improved the opportunity to mop his face again withhis handkerchief. When order was restored, and the man was made to understand, by the useof forcible figures and rhetoric, that Tennessee's offense could not becondoned by money, his face took a more serious and sanguinary hue, andthose who were nearest to him noticed that his rough hand trembledslightly on the table. He hesitated a moment as he slowly returned thegold to the carpetbag, as if he had not yet entirely caught the elevatedsense of justice which swayed the tribunal, and was perplexed with thebelief that he had not offered enough. Then he turned to the Judge, andsaying, "This yer is a lone hand, played alone, and without my pardner, "he bowed to the jury and was about to withdraw, when the Judge calledhim back. "If you have anything to say to Tennessee, you had better sayit now. " For the first time that evening the eyes of the prisoner andhis strange advocate met. Tennessee smiled, showed his white teeth, andsaying, "Euchred, old man!" held out his hand. Tennessee's Partner tookit in his own, and saying, "I just dropped in as I was passin' to seehow things was gettin' on, " let the hand passively fall, and adding that"it was a warm night, " I again mopped his face with his handkerchief, and without another word withdrew. The two men never again met each other alive. For the unparalleledinsult of a bribe offered to Judge Lynch--who, whether bigoted, weak, or narrow, was at least incorruptible--firmly fixed in the mind of thatmythical personage any wavering determination of Tennessee's fate; andat the break of day he was marched, closely guarded, to meet it at thetop of Marley's Hill. How he met it, how cool he was, how he refused to say anything, howperfect were the arrangements of the committee, were all duly reported, with the addition of a warning moral and example to all futureevil-doers, in the Red Dog Clarion, by its editor, who was present, andto whose vigorous English I cheerfully refer the reader. But the beautyof that midsummer morning, the blessed amity of earth and air and sky, the awakened life of the free woods and hills, the joyous renewal andpromise of Nature, and, above all, the infinite serenity that thrilledthrough each, was not reported, as not being a part of the sociallesson. And yet, when the weak and foolish deed was done, and a life, with its possibilities and responsibilities, had passed out of themisshapen thing that dangled between earth and sky, the birds sang, theflowers bloomed, the sun shone, as cheerily as before; and possibly theRed Dog Clarion was right. Tennessee's Partner was not in the group that surrounded the ominoustree. But as they turned to disperse, attention was drawn to thesingular appearance of a motionless donkey-cart halted at the side ofthe road. As they approached, they at once recognized the venerableJenny and the two-wheeled cart as the property of Tennessee'sPartner, --used by him in carrying dirt from his claim; and a few pacesdistant, the owner of the equipage himself, sitting under a buckeye tree, wiping the perspiration from his glowing face. In answer to an inquiry, he said he had come for the body of the "diseased, " "if it was all thesame to the committee. " He didn't wish to "hurry anything"; he couldwait. He was not working that day; and when the gentlemen were done withthe "diseased" he would take him. "Ef thar is any present, " he added, inhis simple, serious way, "as would care to jine in the fun'l, they kincome. " Perhaps it was from a sense of humor, which I have alreadyintimated was a feature of Sandy Bar, --perhaps it was from somethingeven better than that; but two-thirds of the loungers accepted theinvitation at once. It was noon when the body of Tennessee was delivered into the hands ofhis partner. As the cart drew up to the fatal tree, we noticed that itcontained a rough oblong box, --apparently made from a section ofsluicing, --and half filled with bark and the tassels of pine. The cartwas further decorated with slips of willow, and made fragrant withbuckeye-blossoms. When the body was deposited in the box, Tennessee'sPartner drew over it a piece of tarred canvas, and gravely mounting thenarrow seat in front, with his feet upon the shafts, urged the littledonkey forward. The equipage moved slowly on, at that decorous pacewhich was habitual with Jenny even under less solemn circumstances. Themen--half curiously, have jestingly, but all good-humoredly--strolledalong beside the cart; some in advance, some a little in the rear, ofthe homely catafalque. But, whether from the narrowing of the road orsome present sense of decorum, as the cart passed on, the company fellto the rear in couples, keeping step, and otherwise assuming theexternal show of a formal procession. Jack Folinsbee, who had at theoutset played a funeral march in dumb show upon an imaginary trombone, desisted, from a lack of sympathy and appreciation, --not having, perhaps, your true humorist's capacity to be content with the enjoymentof his own fun. The way led through Grizzly Cañon, by this time clothed in funerealdrapery and shadows. The redwoods, burying their moccasined feet in thered soil, stood in Indian-file along the track, trailing an uncouthbenediction from their bending boughs upon the passing bier. A hare, surprised into helpless inactivity, sat upright and pulsating in theferns by the roadside, as the cortège went by. Squirrels hastened togain a secure outlook from higher boughs; and the blue-jays, spreadingtheir wings, fluttered before them like outriders, until the outskirtsof Sandy Bar were reached, and the solitary cabin of Tennessee'sPartner. Viewed under more favorable circumstances, it would not have been acheerful place. The unpicturesque site, the rude and unlovely outlines, the unsavory details, which distinguish the nest-building of theCalifornia miner, were all here, with the dreariness of decaysuperadded. A few paces from the cabin there was a rough enclosure, which, in the brief days of Tennessee's Partner's matrimonial felicity, had been used as a garden, but was now overgrown with fern. As weapproached it we were surprised to find that what we had taken for arecent attempt at cultivation was the broken soil about an open grave. The cart was halted before the enclosure; and rejecting the offers ofassistance with the same air of simple self-reliance he had displayedthroughout, Tennessee's Partner lifted the rough coffin on his back, anddeposited it, unaided, within the shallow grave. He then nailed down theboard which served as a lid, and, mounting the little mound of earthbeside it, took off his hat, and slowly mopped his face with hishandkerchief. This the crowd felt was a preliminary to speech; and theydisposed themselves variously on stumps and boulders, and sat expectant. "When a man, " began Tennessee's Partner slowly, "has been running freeall day, what's the natural thing for him to do? Why, to come home. Andif he ain't in a condition to go home, what can his best friend do? Why, bring him home! And here's Tennessee has been running free, and webrings him home from his wandering. " He paused, and picked up a fragmentof quartz, rubbed it thoughtfully on his sleeve, and went on: "It ain'tthe first time that I've packed him on my back, as you see'd me now. Itain't the first time that I brought him to this yer cabin when hecouldn't help himself; it ain't the first time that I and Jinny havewaited for him on yon hill, and picked him up and so fetched him home, when he couldn't speak, and didn't know me. And now that it's the lasttime, why"--he paused, and rubbed the quartz gently on his sleeve--"yousee it's sort of rough on his pardner. And now, gentlemen, " he addedabruptly, picking up his long handled shovel, "the fun'l's over; and mythanks, and Tennessee's thanks, to you for your trouble. " Resisting any proffers of assistance, he began to fill in the grave, turning his back upon the crowd, that, after a few moments' hesitation, gradually withdrew. As they crossed the little ridge that hid Sandy Barfrom view, some, looking back, thought they could see Tennessee'sPartner, his work done, sitting upon the grave, his shovel between hisknees, and his face buried in his red bandanna handkerchief. But it wasargued by others that you couldn't tell his face from his handkerchiefat that distance; and this point remained undecided. In the reaction that followed the feverish excitement of that day, Tennessee's Partner was not forgotten. A secret investigation hadcleared him of any complicity in Tennessee's guilt, and left only asuspicion of his general sanity. Sandy Bar made a point of calling onhim, and proffering various uncouth but well-meant kindnesses. But fromthat day his rude health and great strength seemed visibly to decline;and when the rainy season fairly set in, and the tiny grass-blades werebeginning to peep from the rocky mound above Tennessee's grave, he tookto his bed. One night, when the pines beside the cabin were swaying in the storm, and trailing their slender fingers over the roof, and the roar and rushof the swollen river were heard below, Tennessee's Partner lifted hishead from the Pillow, saying, "It is time to go for Tennessee; I mustput Jinny in the cart;" and would have risen from his bed but for therestraint of his attendant. Struggling, he still pursued his singularfancy: "There, now, steady, Jinny, --steady, old girl. How dark it is!Look out for the ruts, --and look out for him, too, old gal. Sometimes, you know, when he's blind drunk, he drops down right in the trail. Keepon straight up to the pine on the top of the hill. Thar! I told youso!--thar he is, --coming this way, too, --all by himself, sober, and hisface a-shining. Tennessee! Pardner!" And so they met. Here ends No. Three of the western classics, Being Tennessee's Partnerby Bret Harte, the introduction by William Dallam Armes. Thephotogravure frontispiece by Albertine Randall Wheelan. Of this FirstEdition One Thousand Copies have been issued, printed upon Fabrianohandmade paper. The typography designed by J. H. Nash. Published by PaulElder and Company, and done into a book for them at the Tomoye Press, New York City, in the year Nineteen Hundred and Seven.