any twenty-dollar contribution, nor any accompanying benediction and
compliment–these are all inventions. [General buzz and hum of
astonishment and delight.] Allow me to tell my story–it will take
but a word or two. I passed through your town at a certain time,
and received a deep offence which I had not earned. Any other man
would have been content to kill one or two of you and call it
square, but to me that would have been a trivial revenge, and
inadequate; for the dead do not SUFFER. Besides I could not kill you
all–and, anyway, made as I am, even that would not have satisfied
me. I wanted to damage every man in the place, and every woman–and
not in their bodies or in their estate, but in their vanity–the
place where feeble and foolish people are most vulnerable. So I
disguised myself and came back and studied you. You were easy game.
You had an old and lofty reputation for honesty, and naturally you
were proud of it–it was your treasure of treasures, the very apple
of your eye. As soon as I found out that you carefully and
vigilantly kept yourselves and your children OUT OF TEMPTATION, I
knew how to proceed. Why, you simple creatures, the weakest of all
weak things is a virtue which has not been tested in the fire. I
laid a plan, and gathered a list of names. My project was to
corrupt Hadleyburg the Incorruptible. My idea was to make liars and
thieves of nearly half a hundred smirchless men and women who had
never in their lives uttered a lie or stolen a penny. I was afraid
of Goodson. He was neither born nor reared in Hadleyburg. I was
afraid that if I started to operate my scheme by getting my letter
laid before you, you would say to yourselves, ‘Goodson is the only
man among us who would give away twenty dollars to a poor devil’–
and then you might not bite at my bait. But heaven took Goodson;
then I knew I was safe, and I set my trap and baited it. It may be
that I shall not catch all the men to whom I mailed the pretended
test-secret, but I shall catch the most of them, if I know
Hadleyburg nature. [Voices. “Right–he got every last one of
them.”] I believe they will even steal ostensible GAMBLE-money,
rather than miss, poor, tempted, and mistrained fellows. I am
hoping to eternally and everlastingly squelch your vanity and give
Hadleyburg a new renown–one that will STICK–and spread far. If I
have succeeded, open the sack and summon the Committee on
Propagation and Preservation of the Hadleyburg Reputation.'”
A Cyclone of Voices. “Open it! Open it! The Eighteen to the
front! Committee on Propagation of the Tradition! Forward–the
Incorruptibles!”
The Chair ripped the sack wide, and gathered up a handful of bright,
broad, yellow coins, shook them together, then examined them.
“Friends, they are only gilded disks of lead!”
There was a crashing outbreak of delight over this news, and when
the noise had subsided, the tanner called out:
“By right of apparent seniority in this business, Mr. Wilson is
Chairman of the Committee on Propagation of the Tradition. I
suggest that he step forward on behalf of his pals, and receive in
trust the money.”
A Hundred Voices. “Wilson! Wilson! Wilson! Speech! Speech!”
Wilson [in a voice trembling with anger]. “You will allow me to
say, and without apologies for my language, DAMN the money!”
A Voice. “Oh, and him a Baptist!”
A Voice. “Seventeen Symbols left! Step up, gentlemen, and assume
your trust!”
There was a pause–no response.
The Saddler. “Mr. Chairman, we’ve got ONE clean man left, anyway,
out of the late aristocracy; and he needs money, and deserves it. I
move that you appoint Jack Halliday to get up there and auction off
that sack of gilt twenty-dollar pieces, and give the result to the
right man–the man whom Hadleyburg delights to honour–Edward
Richards.”
This was received with great enthusiasm, the dog taking a hand
again; the saddler started the bids at a dollar, the Brixton folk
and Barnum’s representative fought hard for it, the people cheered