DAVY'S BEND.
It was generally agreed among the people of Davy's Bend--a thousand in
number, the census said; six hundred they said themselves, for they
changed the rule, and exaggerated their own situation unfavorably--that
the town possessed more natural advantages than any other in the world.
They demonstrated this with great cleverness, by means of maps drawn on
brown wrapping-paper inside of the stores, and, after looking at their
maps, they triumphantly exclaimed, with a whack of their fists on the
counter, "There are the figures; and figures won't lie." But in spite of
their maps showing valleys occupied with railroads (which Capital
neglected to build), Ben's City, below them, continued to prosper,
whereas Davy's Bend continued to go steadily down the hill.
The people did little else than wonder at this, and curse Capital
because it did not locate in a town where nature was lavish in the
matter of location, instead of going to a place where it would always
find the necessity of contending against odds confronting it. Such a
town was Ben's City, in the estimation of those living at Davy's Bend;
but they must have been mistaken, for great houses and institutions grew
up where little had been planted, and men with money trampled upon each
other in their mad haste to take advantage of the prosperity that seemed
to be in the air. Those who drew the maps declared that a crash was soon
to come, when the capitalists who did not know their own interests would
trample upon each other in their haste to get away; but those who bought
Ben's City property, no difference at what price, soon sold out again at
an advance; and the prosperity of the place was quite phenomenal.
Never was Capital so thoroughly hated as in Davy's Bend. It was cursed a
thousand times a day, and shown to be fickle and foolish and ungrateful;
for evidences of these weaknesses on the part of Capital abounded on
every hand. There were railroads to be built out of Davy's Bend that
would pay immensely, as had been demonstrated times without number by
the local paper; but Capital stubbornly refused to build them,
preferring to earn a beggarly per cent elsewhere. There were
manufactories to be built in Davy's Bend that would make their owners
rich, as every child knew; but Capital, after a full investigation, was
so dull that it could not see the opportunity. The town was alive with
opportunities for profitable investments, but Capital, with a mean and
dogged indifference, refused to come to Davy's Bend; therefore Capital
was hated, and bullied, and cursed, and denounced; and it was generally
agreed that it deserved no better fate than to go to ruin in the general
crash that would finally overtake Ben's City.
The people of Davy's Bend were a good deal like a grumbling and idle
man, who spends the time which should be devoted to improving his
condition to grumbling about his own ill luck and the good luck of his
industrious rival, who is steadily prospering; and as men frequently
believe that the fates are against them when they are themselves their
only opposition, so it was generally believed in this wretched little
town that some sort of a powerful and alert goddess was in league with
Ben's City. While they readily admitted their own points of advantage,
even to the extent of giving themselves more credit than they deserved,
they refused to be equally fair with their competitor, as men do, and
contended, with an ignorant persistency, that Ben's City was prosperous
because of "luck," whereas they should have known that there is no such
thing, either good or bad.
But, in course of time, when they found that they would always be in the
rear, no difference whether they liked it or not, the people of the
Bend, in order to more thoroughly denounce their own town for its lack
of ability to attract Capital, began to exaggerate the importance of
Ben's City. A four-story building there became seven stories high, and
those who visited the place vied with each other in giving vivid and
untruthful accounts of its growth and prosperity on their return; all of
which their acquaintances repeated over and over, though they knew it to
be untrue, even adding to the exaggerated statements, in order to bully
their own meek town.
Probably they were not proud of the greatness of their rival; for they
talked of it as a cowardly man might exaggerate the strength of the
fellow who had whipped him, using it as an excuse for defeat. Indeed,
they were proud of nothing, except their own accounts of the greatness
of Davy's Bend a long while before, when the huge warehouses were
occupied, and before Capital had combined against it; of this they
talked in a boastful way, magnifying everything so much that many of the
listeners who had not heard the beginning of the conversation imagined
that they were talking of Ben's City; but of bettering their present
condition they had no thought,--by common consent it was so very bad
that attempts to become prosperous again were useless, so the Bend was a
little worse off every year, like an old and unsuccessful man.
Most of the business men of Davy's Bend had been clerks in the days of
the town's prosperity, making their own terms when their energetic
employers wanted to get away, and in spite of the general dullness and
lack of success, they entertained very good opinions of themselves; for
no difference what a citizen's misfortunes were, he loaded them all on
the town, and thus apologized for his own lack of ability. But for the
circumstance that he was tied to Davy's Bend, he would have been great
and distinguished; they all said the same thing, and in order to get his
own story believed, every man found it necessary to accept the
explanations of the others, or pretend to; so it happened that the
people did not hold themselves responsible for anything,--the town in
which they lived was to blame for everything that was disagreeable, and
was denounced accordingly.
The esteem with which the people regarded themselves was largely due to
the manner in which they were referred to in the local paper, a ribald
folio appearing once a week. None of the business men were advertisers,
but they all gave the publisher free pardon if he referred to them in
complimentary terms in his reading columns, and sent in his bill. Thus,
the merchant who did not own the few goods he displayed was often
referred to as a merchant prince, with an exceedingly shrewd business
head on his shoulders. Sometimes notices of this character were left
standing from week to week by the shiftless editor; a great number of
them would occasionally get together on the same page, referring to
different men as the shrewdest, the wisest, the most energetic, etc.;
and it was very ridiculous, except to the persons concerned, who
believed that the people read the notices with great pleasure.
So great was the passion for puffery among them that designing men who
heard of it came along quite frequently, and wrote the people up in
special publications devoted to that kind of literature. There would be
a pretence that the special edition was to be devoted to the town, but
it really consisted of a few lines at the beginning, stating that Davy's
Bend had more natural advantages than any other town in the world, and
four pages of puffs of the people, at so much per line; whereupon the
men made fun of all the notices except their own, believing that its
statements were true, and generally accepted as a part of the town's
history. A few of those who were able had engravings inserted, and the
puff writers, in order to make the notices and bills as large as
possible, told how long and how often the subjects had been married; how
many children they had, together with their names, where they came from,
and much other mild information of this character.
It was known that many of the complimentary sketches were written by the
persons to whom they referred; but while Harrisonfield, the grocer, gave
wide circulation to the fact that Porterfield, of the dry-goods store,
had referred to himself as an intellectual giant, and a business man of
such sterling ability that he had received flattering offers to remove
to Ben's City, he did not know that Porterfield was proving the same
indiscretion with reference to himself.
Every new man who wrote up the town in this manner was more profuse with
compliments of the people than his predecessor had been; and finally the
common language was inadequate to describe their greatness, and they
longed for somebody to come along who could "write," and who could fully
explain how much each one was doing for the town; but although they all
professed to be doing a great deal constantly for Davy's Bend, there was
no reason to believe that any of them were accomplishing anything in
this direction, for it could not have been duller than it was in the
year of our Lord just referred to.
But there was an exception to this rule, as there is said to be to all
others,--Thompson Benton, the merchant; the dealer in everything, as the
advertisements on his wrapping-paper stated, for he advertised nowhere
else. But he was reliable and sensible, as well as stout and surly; so
it was generally conceded that he was the foremost citizen of the Bend.
Not that he made a pretence to this distinction; old Thompson was modest
as well as capable, and whatever good was said of him came from the
people themselves. Had there been new people coming to Davy's Bend
occasionally, it is possible that old Thompson would not have been the
leading citizen, for it was said that he "improved on acquaintance," and
that people hated the ground he walked on until they had known him a
dozen years or more, and found out his sterling virtues; but they had
all known him a great many years, and therefore admired him in spite of
themselves.
Thompson Benton had been a resident of the town in the days of its
prosperity, and ranked with the best of those who had moved away; but he
preferred to remain, since he had become attached to his home, and
feared that he could not find one which would suit him equally well
elsewhere. Besides, he owned precious property in the Davy's Bend
cemetery, and lavished upon it the greatest care. Hard though he was in
his transactions with men, the memory of his wife was sacred to him; and
many believed that, had she lived, he would have been less plain-spoken
and matter-of-fact. This devotion was well known; and when the people
found it necessary to forgive him for a new eccentricity,--for it was
necessary to either forgive him or fight him,--they said he had never
recovered his spirits since the day a coffin was driven up to his house.
His store was always open at seven in the morning, and the proprietor
always opened it himself, with a great iron key that looked as venerable
and substantial as the hale old gentleman whose companion it had been so
many years; for it was not a key of the new sort, that might lock up a
trifling man's affairs, but a key that seemed to say as plainly as could
be that it had money and notes and valuable goods of many kinds in its
charge. At six in the evening his store was closed, and the proprietor
turned the key, and put it into his pocket. At noon he ate his frugal
dinner while seated on a high stool at his desk, and he had been heard
to say that he had not eaten at home at midday in fifteen years; for on
Sundays he dined in state at five o'clock.
There were no busy days in Davy's Bend, therefore he got along without a
clerk, and managed his affairs so well that, in spite of the dulness of
which there was such general complaint, he knew that he was a little
richer at the close of every day, and that he was probably doing better
than many of his old associates who were carrying on business with a
great deal of noise and display in Ben's City. Certainly he was reputed
to be rich, and those who were less industrious said that he should have
retired years before, and given others a chance.
Thompson Benton was known as a plain-spoken man, and if he thought one
of his customers had acted dishonestly with him, he said so at the first
opportunity, and gruffly hoped it wouldn't happen again; by which he was
understood to mean that if it _did_ happen again, there would be a
difficulty in which the right would triumph. Indeed, he had been known
to throw men out of the front door in a very rough manner, two and three
at a time; but the people always said he was right, and so it usually
turned out, for he was never offended without cause. If an impostor came
to the town, the people were fully revenged if he called at Benton's
store, for the proprietor told him what he thought of him, and in
language so plain that it was always understood.
Thompson Benton's principal peculiarity was his refusal to be a fool.
The men who threatened to leave the town because they were not
appreciated received no petting from him; indeed, he told them to go,
and try and find a place where they would not grumble so much. The
successors of the business men who had moved away were always trying to
invent new methods as an evidence of their ability, and some of them did
not pay their debts because that was an old, though respectable, custom;
they rejected everything old, no matter how acceptable it had proved
itself, and got along in an indifferent manner with methods invented by
themselves, though the methods of their inventing were usually lame and
unsatisfactory. For such foolishness as this old Thompson had no
charity, as he believed in using the experience of others to his own
profit; so he raised his voice against the customs of the town, and
though he was usually abused for it, it was finally acknowledged that he
was right.
But notwithstanding his austere manner, the people had confidence in old
Thompson, and many of the town disputes were left to him. If the people
had spare money, they asked the privilege of leaving it in his iron safe
(which had belonged to the last bank that moved away), and took his
receipt for it. When they wanted it again, it was always ready; and if
the Ben's City cracksmen ever came that way to look at the safe, they
concluded that the proprietor would prove an ugly customer, for it was
never disturbed.
His family consisted of a maiden sister almost as old and odd as
himself, and his daughter Annie, who had been motherless since she was
five years old. The people said that old Thompson never smiled during
the day except when his pretty daughter came in, and that his only
recreation was in her society during two hours in the evening, when she
read to him, or played, or sang. They were all certain that he was
"wrapped up" in her, and it was also agreed that this devotion was not
without cause; for a better girl or a prettier girl than Annie Benton
was not to be found in all the country round.
The house in which he lived was as stout as brick and mortar could make
it; for the people said that he inspected every brick and stick as it
was used; and when it was completed, his prudish sister, whom he
referred to as the "Ancient Maiden," was equally careful in the
furnishing, so that it was a very good house, and kept with scrupulous
neatness. The Ancient Maiden's drafts were always honored, for nothing
was too good for Thompson Benton's home; and those who went there never
forgot the air of elegant comfort which pervaded everything. Though
Thompson Benton went down town in the morning with the men who worked by
the day, and carried a lunch basket, he dined in the evening in state,
surrounded by silver and china both rich and rare; though he worked ten
hours a day, and ate a lunch at noon, he slept at night in a bed and in
a room which would have rested a king; and his house was as good as any
man's need be.
Very early in life Annie Benton learned, somehow, that it had been one
of her father's pleasures, when he came home at night, to listen to her
mother's piano-playing, when that excellent lady was alive; and,
resolving to supply the vacant place, she studied so industriously with
the poor teachers the town afforded that at fifteen she was complimented
by frequent invitations to play for the glum and plain-spoken merchant.
If she selected something frivolous, and played it in bad taste or time,
and was not invited to play again for a long while, she understood that
her music did not please him, and studied to remedy her fault. In course
of time she found out what he wanted, though he never gave her advice or
suggestion in reference to it; and he had amply repaid her for all the
pains she had been to by saying once, after she had played for him half
an hour in a dark room, while he rested on a sofa near her, that she was
growing more like her mother every day.
"There were few ladies like your mother, Annie," old Thompson would say,
when the girl thanked him for his appreciation. "It pleases me that you
remind me of her, and if you become as good a woman as she was, it will
be very remarkable, for you have had no mother, poor child, to direct
you in her way."
Annie would try harder than ever, after this, to imitate the virtues of
the dead woman, and bothered the Ancient Maiden a great deal to find out
what she was like. She was not a drone, that much was certain; therefore
the daughter was not, and tried to be as useful in the hive as she
imagined her mother had been, in every way in which a worthy woman
distinguishes herself.
In like manner the girl learned to read to please her father, and every
day he brought home with him something he had come into possession of
during the day, and which he wanted read; a book, a pamphlet, or a
marked paragraph in a newspaper,--he seemed to read nothing himself
except business letters; but none of these, or any mention of his
affairs, ever came into his home.
Annie Benton's mother had been organist in the big stone church near The
Locks, which the first residents had built in the days of their
prosperity, and the girl learned from family friends that her father
regularly attended both services on Sunday, to hear the music; perhaps
there were certain effects possible on the great organ which were not
possible on a more frivolous instrument; but it was certain that he
never attended after her death until two or three years after his
daughter became the organist, and after she was complimented on every
hand for her voluntaries before and after the services, and for her good
taste in rendering the hymns; for old Thompson was not a religious man,
though he practised the principles of religion much better than many of
those who made professions.
But one summer morning the girl saw her father come in, and occupy the
seat he had occupied before her mother's death, and regularly after that
he came early and went away late. Except to say to her once, as they
walked home together, that she was growing more like her mother every
day, he made no reference to the subject, though he pretended to wonder
what the matter was when she threw her arms about his neck after they
reached the house, and burst into tears.
One Sunday afternoon he had said to her that if she was going down to
the church to practise, he would accompany her, and after that, every
Sunday afternoon he was invited to go with her, although she never had
practised on Sunday afternoons before. Arriving there, an old negro
janitor pumped the organ, and the girl played until she thought her
father was tired, when they returned home again, where he spent the
remainder of the day alone; thinking, no doubt, of his property in the
cemetery, and of the sad day when it became necessary to make the
purchase.