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The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg by Mark Twain (Samuel L. Clemens), the Pennsylvania State
University, Jim Manis, Faculty Editor, Hazleton, PA 18201-1291 is a Portable Document File produced
as part of an ongoing student publication project to bring classical works of literature, in English, to
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Copyright © 1998 The Pennsylvania State University
The Pennsylvania State University is an equal opportunity University.
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IT WAS MANY YEARS AGO. Hadleyburg was the most honest
and upright town in all the region round about. It had
kept that reputation unsmirched during three generations,
and was prouder of it than of any other of its possessions.
It was so proud of it, and so anxious to insure its perpetu-
ation, that it began to teach the principles of honest deal-
ing to its babies in the cradle, and made the like teachings
the staple of their culture thenceforward through all the
years devoted to their education. Also, throughout the for-
mative years temptations were kept out of the way of the
young people, so that their honesty could have every chance
to harden and solidify, and become a part of their very
bone. The neighbouring towns were jealous of this
honourable supremacy, and affected to sneer at Hadleyburg’s
pride in it and call it vanity; but all the same they were
obliged to acknowledge that Hadleyburg was in reality an
incorruptible town; and if pressed they would also acknowl-
edge that the mere fact that a young man hailed from
Hadleyburg was all the recommendation he needed when
he went forth from his natal town to seek for responsible
employment.
But at last, in the drift of time, Hadleyburg had the ill
luck to offend a passing stranger— possibly without know-
ing it, certainly without caring, for Hadleyburg was suffi-
cient unto itself, and cared not a rap for strangers or their
opinions. Still, it would have been well to make an excep-
tion in this one’s case, for he was a bitter man, and re-
vengeful. All through his wanderings during a whole year
he kept his injury in mind, and gave all his leisure mo-
ments to trying to invent a compensating satisfaction for
it. He contrived many plans, and all of them were good,
but none of them was quite sweeping enough: the poorest
of them would hurt a great many individuals, but what he
“The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg” - Mark Twain
3
wanted was a plan which would comprehend the entire
town, and not let so much as one person escape unhurt. At
last he had a fortunate idea, and when it fell into his brain
it lit up his whole head with an evil joy. He began to form
a plan at once, saying to himself “That is the thing to do—
I will corrupt the town.”
Six months later he went to Hadleyburg, and arrived in
a buggy at the house of the old cashier of the bank about
ten at night. He got a sack out of the buggy, shouldered it,
and staggered with it through the cottage yard, and knocked
at the door. A woman’s voice said “Come in,” and he en-
tered, and set his sack behind the stove in the parlour, say-
ing politely to the old lady who sat reading the “Mission-
ary Herald” by the lamp:
“Pray keep your seat, madam, I will not disturb you.
There—now it is pretty well concealed; one would hardly
know it was there. Can I see your husband a moment,
madam?”
No, he was gone to Brixton, and might not return be-
fore morning.
“Very well, madam, it is no matter. I merely wanted to
leave that sack in his care, to be delivered to the rightful
owner when he shall be found. I am a stranger; he does not
know me; I am merely passing through the town to-night
to discharge a matter which has been long in my mind. My
errand is now completed, and I go pleased and a little proud,
and you will never see me again. There is a paper attached
to the sack which will explain everything. Good-night,
madam.”
The old lady was afraid of the mysterious big stranger,
and was glad to see him go. But her curiosity was roused,
and she went straight to the sack and brought away the
paper. It began as follows:
“To be published, or, the right man sought out by private
inquiry—either will answer. This sack contains gold coin
weighing a hundred and sixty pounds four ounces—“
“Mercy on us, and the door not locked!”
Mrs. Richards flew to it all in a tremble and locked it,
then pulled down the window-shades and stood frightened,
worried, and wondering if there was anything else she could
do toward making herself and the money more safe. She
listened awhile for burglars, then surrendered to curiosity,
“The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg” - Mark Twain
4
and went back to the lamp and finished reading the paper:
“I am a foreigner, and am presently going back to my
own country, to remain there permanently. I am grateful
to America for what I have received at her hands during
my long stay under her flag; and to one of her citizens—a
citizen of Hadleyburg—I am especially grateful for a great
kindness done me a year or two ago. Two great kindnesses
in fact. I will explain. I was a gambler. I say I was. I was a
ruined gambler. I arrived in this village at night, hungry
and without a penny. I asked for help—in the dark; I was
ashamed to beg in the light. I begged of the right man. He
gave me twenty dollars—that is to say, he gave me life, as
I considered it. He also gave me fortune; for out of that
money I have made myself rich at the gaming-table. And
finally, a remark which he made to me has remained with
me to this day, and has at last conquered me; and in con-
quering has saved the remnant of my morals: I shall gamble
no more. Now I have no idea who that man was, but I
want him found, and I want him to have this money, to
give away, throw away, or keep, as he pleases. It is merely
my way of testifying my gratitude to him. If I could stay, I
would find him myself; but no matter, he will be found.
This is an honest town, an incorruptible town, and I know
I can trust it without fear. This man can be identified by
the remark which he made to me; I feel persuaded that he
will remember it.
“And now my plan is this: If you prefer to conduct the
inquiry privately, do so. Tell the contents of this present
writing to any one who is likely to be the right man. If he
shall answer, ‘I am the man; the remark I made was so-
and-so,’ apply the test—to wit: open the sack, and in it
you will find a sealed envelope containing that remark. If
the remark mentioned by the candidate tallies with it, give
him the money, and ask no further questions, for he is cer-
tainly the right man.
“But if you shall prefer a public inquiry, then publish
this present writing in the local paper—with these instruc-
tions added, to wit: Thirty days from now, let the candi-
date appear at the town-hall at eight in the evening (Fri-
day), and hand his remark, in a sealed envelope, to the Rev.
Mr. Burgess (if he will be kind enough to act); and let Mr.
Burgess there and then destroy the seals of the sack, open
“The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg” - Mark Twain
5
it, and see if the remark is correct: if correct, let the money
be delivered, with my sincere gratitude, to my benefactor
thus identified.”
Mrs. Richards sat down, gently quivering with excite-
ment, and was soon lost in thinkings—after this pattern:
“What a strange thing it is! … And what a fortune for that
kind man who set his bread afloat upon the waters! … If it
had only been my husband that did it!—for we are so poor,
so old and poor! …” Then, with a sigh— “But it was not
my Edward; no, it was not he that gave a stranger twenty
dollars. It is a pity too; I see it now…” Then, with a shud-
der— “But it is gamblers’ money! the wages of sin; we
couldn’t take it; we couldn’t touch it. I don’t like to be near
it; it seems a defilement.” She moved to a farther chair…
“I wish Edward would come, and take it to the bank; a
burglar might come at any moment; it is dreadful to be
here all alone with it.”
At eleven Mr. Richards arrived, and while his wife was
saying “I am so glad you’ve come!” he was saying, “I am so
tired—tired clear out; it is dreadful to be poor, and have to
make these dismal journeys at my time of life. Always at
the grind, grind, grind, on a salary—another man’s slave,
and he sitting at home in his slippers, rich and comfort-
able.”
“I am so sorry for you, Edward, you know that; but be
comforted; we have our livelihood; we have our good name—”
“Yes, Mary, and that is everything. Don’t mind my talk—
it’s just a moment’s irritation and doesn’t mean anything.
Kiss me—there, it’s all gone now, and I am not complain-
ing any more. What have you been getting? What’s in the
sack?”
Then his wife told him the great secret. It dazed him for
a moment; then he said:
“It weighs a hundred and sixty pounds? Why, Mary, it’s
for-ty thousand dollars—think of it—a whole fortune! Not
ten men in this village are worth that much. Give me the
paper.”
He skimmed through it and said:
“Isn’t it an adventure! Why, it’s a romance; it’s like the
impossible things one reads about in books, and never sees
in life.” He was well stirred up now; cheerful, even gleeful.
He tapped his old wife on the cheek, and said humorously,
“The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg” - Mark Twain
6
“Why, we’re rich, Mary, rich; all we’ve got to do is to bury
the money and burn the papers. If the gambler ever comes
to inquire, we’ll merely look coldly upon him and say: ‘What
is this nonsense you are talking? We have never heard of
you and your sack of gold before;’ and then he would look
foolish, and—”
“And in the meantime, while you are running on with
your jokes, the money is still here, and it is fast getting
along toward burglar-time.”
“True. Very well, what shall we do—make the inquiry
private? No, not that; it would spoil the romance. The pub-
lic method is better. Think what a noise it will make! And
it will make all the other towns jealous; for no stranger
would trust such a thing to any town but Hadleyburg, and
they know it. It’s a great card for us. I must get to the print-
ing-office now, or I shall be too late.”
“But stop—stop—don’t leave me here alone with it, Ed-
ward!”
But he was gone. For only a little while, however. Not
far from his own house he met the editor—proprietor of
the paper, and gave him the document, and said “Here is a
good thing for you, Cox—put it in.”
“It may be too late, Mr. Richards, but I’ll see.”
At home again, he and his wife sat down to talk the
charming mystery over; they were in no condition for sleep.
The first question was, Who could the citizen have been
who gave the stranger the twenty dollars? It seemed a simple
one; both answered it in the same breath —
“Barclay Goodson.”
“Yes,” said Richards, “he could have done it, and it would
have been like him, but there’s not another in the town.”
“Everybody will grant that, Edward—grant it privately,
anyway. For six months, now, the village has been its own
proper self once more—honest, narrow, self-righteous, and
stingy.”
“It is what he always called it, to the day of his death—
said it right out publicly, too.”
“Yes, and he was hated for it.”
“Oh, of course; but he didn’t care. I reckon he was the
best-hated man among us, except the Reverend Burgess.”
“Well, Burgess deserves it—he will never get another con-
gregation here. Mean as the town is, it knows how to esti-
“The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg” - Mark Twain
7
mate him. Edward, doesn’t it seem odd that the stranger
should appoint Burgess to deliver the money?”
“Well, yes—it does. That is—that is—”
“Why so much that-is-ing? Would you select him?”
“Mary, maybe the stranger knows him better than this
village does.”
“Much that would help Burgess!”
The husband seemed perplexed for an answer; the wife
kept a steady eye upon him, and waited. Finally Richards
said, with the hesitancy of one who is making a statement
which is likely to encounter doubt, “Mary, Burgess is not a
bad man.”
His wife was certainly surprised.
“Nonsense!” she exclaimed.
“He is not a bad man. I know. The whole of his un-
popularity had its foundation in that one thing—the thing
that made so much noise.”
“That ‘one thing,’ indeed! As if that ‘one thing’ wasn’t
enough, all by itself.”
“Plenty. Plenty. Only he wasn’t guilty of it.”
“How you talk! Not guilty of it! Everybody knows he
was guilty.”
“Mary, I give you my word—he was innocent.”
“I can’t believe it and I don’t. How do you know?”
“It is a confession. I am ashamed, but I will make it. I
was the only man who knew he was innocent. I could have
saved him, and—and—well, you know how the town was
wrought up—I hadn’t the pluck to do it. It would have
turned everybody against me. I felt mean, ever so mean; ut
I didn’t dare; I hadn’t the manliness to face that.”
Mary looked troubled, and for a while was silent. Then
she said stammeringly:
“I—I don’t think it would have done for you to - to—
One mustn’t – er—public opinion—one has to be so care-
ful—so—” It was a difficult road, and she got mired; but
after a little she got started again. “It was a great pity, but—
Why, we couldn’t afford it, Edward—we couldn’t indeed.
Oh, I wouldn’t have had you do it for anything!”
“It would have lost us the good-will of so many people,
Mary; and then—and then—”
“What troubles me now is, what he thinks of us, Ed-
ward.”
“The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg” - Mark Twain
8
“He? He doesn’t suspect that I could have saved him.”
“Oh,” exclaimed the wife, in a tone of relief, “I am glad
of that. As long as he doesn’t know that you could have
saved him, he - he—well that makes it a great deal better.
Why, I might have known he didn’t know, because he is
always trying to be friendly with us, as little encourage-
ment as we give him. More than once people have twitted
me with it. There’s the Wilsons, and the Wilcoxes, and the
Harknesses, they take a mean pleasure in saying ‘Your friend
Burgess,’ because they know it pesters me. I wish he wouldn’t
persist in liking us so; I can’t think why he keeps it up.”
“I can explain it. It’s another confession. When the thing
was new and hot, and the town made a plan to ride him on
a rail, my conscience hurt me so that I couldn’t stand it,
and I went privately and gave him notice, and he got out
of the town and stayed out till it was safe to come back.”
“Edward! If the town had found it out—”
“Don’t! It scares me yet, to think of it. I repented of it the
minute it was done; and I was even afraid to tell you lest
your face might betray it to somebody. I didn’t sleep any
that night, for worrying. But after a few days I saw that no
one was going to suspect me, and after that I got to feeling
glad I did it. And I feel glad yet, Mary—glad through and
through.”
“So do I, now, for it would have been a dreadful way to
treat him. Yes, I’m glad; for really you did owe him that,
you know. But, Edward, suppose it should come out yet,
some day!”
“It won’t.”
“Why?”
“Because everybody thinks it was Goodson.”
“Of course they would!”
“Certainly. And of course he didn’t care. They persuaded
poor old Sawlsberry to go and charge it on him, and he
went blustering over there and did it. Goodson looked him
over, like as if he was hunting for a place on him that he
could despise the most; then he says, ‘So you are the Com-
mittee of Inquiry, are you?’ Sawlsberry said that was about
what he was. ‘H’m. Do they require particulars, or do you
reckon a kind of a general answer will do?’ ‘If they require
particulars, I will come back, Mr. Goodson; I will take the
general answer first.’ ‘Very well, then, tell them to go to
“The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg” - Mark Twain
9
hell—I reckon that’s general enough. And I’ll give you some
advice, Sawlsberry; when you come back for the particu-
lars, fetch a basket to carry what is left of yourself home
in.’”
“Just like Goodson; it’s got all the marks. He had only
one vanity; he thought he could give advice better than any
other person.”
“It settled the business, and saved us, Mary. The subject
was dropped.”
“Bless you, I’m not doubting that.”
Then they took up the gold-sack mystery again, with
strong interest. Soon the conversation began to suffer
breaks—interruptions caused by absorbed thinkings. The
breaks grew more and more frequent. At last Richards lost
himself wholly in thought. He sat long, gazing vacantly at
the floor, and by-and-by he began to punctuate his thoughts
with little nervous movements of his hands that seemed to
indicate vexation. Meantime his wife too had relapsed into
a thoughtful silence, and her movements were beginning
to show a troubled discomfort. Finally Richards got up
and strode aimlessly about the room, ploughing his hands
through his hair, much as a somnambulist might do who
was having a bad dream. Then he seemed to arrive at a
definite purpose; and without a word he put on his hat and
passed quickly out of the house. His wife sat brooding,
with a drawn face, and did not seem to be aware that she
was alone. Now and then she murmured, “Lead us not
into t … but—but—we are so poor, so poor! … Lead us
not into … Ah, who would be hurt by it?—and no one
would ever know … Lead us …” The voice died out in
mumblings. After a little she glanced up and muttered in a
half-frightened, half-glad way—
“He is gone! But, oh dear, he may be too late—too late
… Maybe not—maybe there is still time.” She rose and
stood thinking, nervously clasping and unclasping her
hands. A slight shudder shook her frame, and she said, out
of a dry throat, “God forgive me—it’s awful to think such
things—but … Lord, how we are made—how strangely
we are made!”
She turned the light low, and slipped stealthily over and
knelt down by the sack and felt of its ridgy sides with her
hands, and fondled them lovingly; and there was a gloat-
“The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg” - Mark Twain
10
ing light in her poor old eyes. She fell into fits of absence;
and came half out of them at times to mutter “If we had
only waited!—oh, if we had only waited a little, and not
been in such a hurry!”
Meantime Cox had gone home from his office and told
his wife all about the strange thing that had happened, and
they had talked it over eagerly, and guessed that the late
Goodson was the only man in the town who could have
helped a suffering stranger with so noble a sum as twenty
dollars. Then there was a pause, and the two became
thoughtful and silent. And by-and-by nervous and fidgety.
At last the wife said, as if to herself,
“Nobody knows this secret but the Richardses … and us
… nobody.”
The husband came out of his thinkings with a slight
start, and gazed wistfully at his wife, whose face was be-
come very pale; then he hesitatingly rose, and glanced fur-
tively at his hat, then at his wife—a sort of mute inquiry.
Mrs. Cox swallowed once or twice, with
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