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    Pudd'nhead Wilson
    Pudd'nhead Wilson
    Pudd'nhead Wilson
    Ebook239 pages4 hours

    Pudd'nhead Wilson

    By Mark Twain

    3/5

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    About this ebook

    Enriched Classics offer readers accessible editions of great works of literature enhanced by helpful notes and commentary. Each book includes educational tools alongside the text, enabling students and readers alike to gain a deeper and more developed understanding of the writer and their work.

    Mark Twain's darkly comic short classic set in the antebellum South stands as a literary condemnation of slavery and racial inequality.

    This edition includes:
    -A concise introduction that gives readers important background information
    -A chronology of the author's life and work
    -A timeline of significant events that provides the book's historical context
    -An outline of key themes and plot points to help readers form their own interpretations
    -Detailed explanatory notes
    -Critical analysis, including contemporary and modern perspectives on the work
    -Discussion questions to promote lively classroom and book group interaction
    -A list of recommended related books and films to broaden the reader's experience

    Enriched Classics offer readers affordable editions of great works of literature enhanced by helpful notes and insightful commentary. The scholarship provided in Enriched Classics enables readers to appreciate, understand, and enjoy the world's finest books to their full potential.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSimon & Schuster
    Release dateMay 24, 2016
    ISBN9781439117132
    Author

    Mark Twain

    Samuel Langhorne Clemens was born in Missouri in 1835, the son of a lawyer. Early in his childhood, the family moved to Hannibal, Missouri – a town which would provide the inspiration for St Petersburg in Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. After a period spent as a travelling printer, Clemens became a river pilot on the Mississippi: a time he would look back upon as his happiest. When he turned to writing in his thirties, he adopted the pseudonym Mark Twain ('Mark Twain' is the cry of a Mississippi boatman taking depth measurements, and means 'two fathoms'), and a number of highly successful publications followed, including The Prince and the Pauper (1882), Huckleberry Finn (1884) and A Connecticut Yankee (1889). His later life, however, was marked by personal tragedy and sadness, as well as financial difficulty. In 1894, several businesses in which he had invested failed, and he was declared bankrupt. Over the next fifteen years – during which he managed to regain some measure of financial independence – he saw the deaths of two of his beloved daughters, and his wife. Increasingly bitter and depressed, Twain died in 1910, aged seventy-five.

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    Reviews for Pudd'nhead Wilson

    3/5

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    • 3/5
      It was not intentional that I read "Pudd'nhead Wilson" during Black History Month. Nonetheless, it was a perfect choice for its focus on race, especially in its central plot of switching a black baby (being only a thirty-second mixed-race) with a white one and all the subsequent issues springing from that event. It was the worst choice to have read out loud to my wife since the dialogue was so saturated with racial slurs--especially in its chief employ of the dreaded N-word. A white dude narrating to his white wife black dialect some other white dude wrote in the darker, later period of his career. For all her head-turning at each N-bomb, I had to stop at one point to say, "You know, you're going to get a sore neck." It was awkward to say the least. It was exploitative to say the most.I had a friend recently say that Twain was just being honest, even though he'd never read the book. And I'd get that if it were part of the natural tapestry of the greater narrative. But for its first half, the dialogue is so absolutely clogged with racial epithets that it actually seemed to throw off the story instead of lend it realism; a bent toward obsession versus faithful narration. And I think this speaks to Twain's tendency to radicalism in his later writing, which I greatly appreciate and one reason for which I have an affinity for his writing. However, overuse is overuse.The point of literature, fiction in particular, I believe, is to suspend disbelief--to willingly immerse yourself into the created world. If you've done that, then you've achieved something outside yourself. Whether in novels or movies or relating an incident to a friend, if you've lost the audience in rant or artifice, then you've lost it all. And all literature is artifice. Dialogue is a very particular artifice within that artifice. It's all faked. (If you don't believe me, record a conversation of any length and faithfully transcribe every word, pause, misstep, burp, overlap and twang and you'll find it's damn near unreadable. You don't have to read Alexander Block's poetry to realize this.) So, whenever the sheet is pulled back and you notice that artifice for what it is--namely, cold naked fakery--you've blown it, gone too far, led the reader down an alley with a flashlight bereft of batteries. For me, Twain did this in "Pudd'nhead Wilson".When I was a young man, I went through an exploitation movie phase: sexploitation, blaxploitation, Nazisploitation, nunsploitation, Giallo films, you name it. Maybe to right the balance of all the foreign and Hollywood films I'd seen up until then. In any case, sometimes a film would go one beat too far and momentarily lose me. But that's the point of exploitation in art--it's supposed to shock you outside of ordinary narration. But even when that went too far, I couldn't help but exclaim: "Jesus Christ, enough already." "Fight for Your Life" was one such example. A racist criminal breaks into the home of a black minister and his family, takes them hostage, throws out every racist barb he can stick, threats and violence, until the minister unleashes unholy Hell upon the redneck bigot. It was hard to watch--not so much for its physical brutality as much as the pervasiveness of its brutal language. Twain didn't go that far, but it felt closer to this than what he'd written in "Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" where the racism and language were a natural part of the story--part of its flow--not merely an insertion to get a rise (or faithfully record the era, whatever that means). Kind of like when Quentin Tarantino played the Australian miner in "Django Unchained" three-quarters of the way in. I mean, he couldn't get some other actor to play the role and give his mouth an N-bomb break?Not to say that I didn't enjoy "Pudd'nhead Wilson" at times. On the contrary, parts of it were whimsical and delightful (especially the scenes with the much underused title character). But there was a lot of wincing to be had. Next Black History Month I'll be sure to select a book written by an author who isn't white. Sometimes, we know how to fuck up a perfectly good story all too well.
    • 3/5
      While I liked the basic story, I don't feel that this is one of Twain's better efforts. I am surprised that it is on the Guardian's list of 1000 novels everyone should read instead of The Prince and the Pauper which I think is much better.
    • 5/5
      This book had been sitting on my shelves for many, and I mean many, years. I finally read it and what a pleasure! I was gripped by this "prince and pauper" tale. It is a gripping story with fantastic characters. It addresses social issues (slavery), character flaws, family issues, and general difficulties faced by just being human. Twain opens each chapter with a couple of so-called entries to Pudd'nhead's personal calendar which are pithy quips. My two favorites appear at the beginning of the same chapter. First, "He is useless on top of the ground; he ought to be under it, inspiring the cabbages". Second, on April Fool's Day, "This is the day upon which we are reminded of what we are on the other three hundred and sixty-four". Additionally, my Signet edition has an afterword by the author in which he explains the evolution of the novella from an idea, and it is worth just reading this alone.....almost.
    • 4/5
      It's always difficult to review a classic, because it must be considered both for the modern reader as well as the audience for which it was written.Twain's commentary on race relations, as always, is top notch. His understanding of human nature shines out, and the taste of what life is like in a small town at this time is matchless. Also, as a historical side note, we find the first ever use in literature of fingerprinting as trial evidence.The story is not a mystery, but rather character study that is resolved in the way that a mystery novel is often resolved. Do not enter into the book expecting a modern mystery story, because those elements do not enter until the last few chapters.If you're a fan of Twain, read it. If you haven't explored him before, you should start with his better known works first, and move on from there.
    • 5/5
      Reviewed Dec. 1999 After the first reading of this book several years ago, I felt that this book (amongst others)should be required reading for Junior High School. and now after re-reading it again this December I find that I still feel this way. Twains grip of this era is wonderful, he eaves everything in...through reading the Negro speak is a bit difficult unless you do it fast. The mystery and suspense is as good as any modern mystery (accept the reader knows who did if from the beginning) but how the murderer is discovered is extremely entertaining. As a historical story it seems accurate while poking fun of the people at the time. the characters are very developed and interesting to read about. I had forgotten what a free-thinker Twain is, (could Twain have seen himself as Tom’s uncle?) Looking back almost 100 years to the customs and lifestyle of the time, a modern reader is flabbergasted by how far society has come. Puddenhead keeps us further entertained throughout with quips from his calender. “Nothing so needs reforming as other people’s habits.” And many more. 52-1999
    • 4/5
      Rather belabored plot, but funny and well-written--Puddin'head's chapter openers are Twain at his best
    • 5/5
      An unbelievable satire on American race relations and identity.
    • 5/5
      The Bantam Books edition has a fine introduction by Langston Hughes. This is a fascinating novel, with Twain taking on the questions of race and of nature/nurture head on. It was the first novel to bring finger-printing into the plot. The Norton Critical edition is very good, too.
    • 4/5
      Mark Twain never fails to bring a smile to my face. This isn't his best work, but it's still darned good. It's another book about the American South (I had a class) but this one isn't so obsessed with the South's fall (because it hadn't happened yet) as the Faulkner or the Welty. It is concerned, like those two, with the provinciality and callow nature of the Southern small town, and the consequences this has for a select group of elite. Pudd'nhead Wilson, the title character, is actually one of those elite. Twain's intellectual elite, Wilson, a wonderfully promising lawyer, has his career quashed by his townspeople when he makes a conversational flub and is dubbed "Pudd'nhead Wilson" permanently. This is the story of his revival, as told (oddly enough) by the culprit of the biggest crime the town has known. Beyond the immediate main character, this book is also a bitter condemnation of slavery and racial prejudice. It's well worth a read, and deserves all the time it's given. 8/10
    • 4/5
      A Mark Twain story I had never heard of! First published in 1894, it is the story of a slave woman, Roxy, who was as white as the rest of the town, but was 1/16th black, and so, in the times, was classified, "by a fiction of law and custom," Negro. Roxy has a baby son the same age as the nephew of her master, and one day, worried about her sons future, she decides to switch the babies. Pudd'nhead Wilson is a local attorney, whose hobby is studying fingerprints, a relatively new and untested forensic service at the time.What happens as these boys grow up, and how Pudd'nhead saves the day, is a fun story, with a good moral. The dialect was a little difficult to read, but still, a good book.
    • 2/5
      Two babies - one partial African American slave and one from the master are switched at birth.
    • 2/5
      The titular Wilson comes to a small town in Missouri and is categorized as an idiot (pudd’nhead) right from the start, and the name sticks. He gets used to it pretty quickly and the town gets used to his little quirks, like his interest in the nascent science of fingerprinting. Roxy is an enslaved woman who is only 1/16 black with pale skin and light eyes, but due to the one-drop law of the time, she is categorized as black and a slave. So is her son (though he’s only 1/32 black). At the same time as she is nursing her own son, she is also caring for the son of the master of the house, whose mother died in childbirth. Eventually she gets to thinking about her lot in life and that of her son’s, and then it hits her -- the two boys look like twins. No one will know if she switches them, ensuring that her son is raised as a white boy with all the riches and privileges that entails. Roxy is granted her freedom a few years later and makes a decent life for herself, until misfortune hits and she decides to let her true son know his origins so that she can gain a bit of his riches. Complication after complication hits: a pair of Italian twins arrive in town and cause quite a stir; there’s a thief ransacking the town; and a duel leads to deadly consequences. Can the Pudd’nhead sort this all out?As a product of its time, this book is full of racial slurs and stereotypes. However, it is also an indictment of the one-drop rule, which stated that so long as a person had a single black ancestor, no matter how far back in the family tree, that person would be considered fully black. There is also a thread of nature vs. nurture going through the story but it doesn’t really resolve cleanly. In truth, I found it a difficult read and put it down for several months before finishing. Of Twain’s works, this is not one that stands the test of time for me.
    • 5/5
      An excellent novel about slavery and the US Deep South
    • 4/5
      Every single critic (or reader) has accused Mark Twain of racism because of his representations in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, needs to read this book, which, while a lesser work of artistic achievement, savages American and Southern racism in their many forms. Roxy is a slave woman who is 1/16 African, and her infant son, who cannot be differentiated from the son of the master, is 1/32 African. On one occasion, Roxy fears that she and her son will be sold from Dawson's Landing, Missouri "down the river." Thus, she switches her son with the master's son, which means that the "slave" is raised as the "master" and vice versa. It takes detective work of a legitimate variety (the fingerprinting done by "Pudd'nhead") to solve the murder mystery that develops as the story goes along, but nothing is solved when the original mixup between the two infant boys is "corrected." The scars of racism run deep, as Mark Twain knows perfectly well.
    • 5/5
      A wonderful story by Mark Twain about a slave who believes she will be sold down the river. She switches her son with the judge's nephew when they are babies. She takes care of them. The tragedy of the judge's death comes to a head near the end of the story which is blamed on the foreign twins.
    • 3/5
      An odd mix of Twain’s work, Pudd’nhead Wilson combines the character swapping from The Prince and the Pauper and the race drama in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. It was not at all what I was expecting. The title character, Pudd’head, is actually the cleverest person in the book. Roxy is a slave, but is only 1/16th African. Her son is only 1/32nd African and in a moment of desperation she switches her son with her master’s child. The boys are almost identical and after the switch they are raised in their new lives with no knowledge of the past. Years later things become even more complicated as Roxy tried to reconcile the man her real son has become. The other major theme of the book is a very early look at the use of forensic evidence in detective work. It feels like common knowledge to us now, but at the time fingerprinting was a completely foreign concept. Throw in some twins from another country, a gambling problem and some bad choices and you’ve got a novel. It’s a strange book, one that doesn’t quite feel like Twain. It has some of his trademarks elements; a sharp wit, commentary on race relations, etc., but it’s unique in some other respects. It feels disjointed and a bit thrown together. I read a bit from Twain after I finished the book and he talked about how he set out to write one book and found himself in the midst of another. I think the plot reflects that and in the end it’s not one of his best. BOTTOM LINE: If you really like Twain, definitely check it out. If you’re new to his work I would check out Huck Finn or Tom Sawyer before this one. “When angry count four, when very angry swear.” 
    • 5/5
      I've never read this entire book before but have vague memories of references to it in discussions of other Twain novels or of general turn of the century literature. The one discussion I remember most vividly was a discussion of "courtroom drama" literature and how this particular book helped set up that format and in particular helped set up the presentation of evidence, especially the concept of using fingerprints to help solve crimes.Apart from the vague discussions about theme, I went into this novel fresh and really enjoyed it. I've always loved Twain's writing. Huckleberry Finn is one of my favorite all time books. In Pudd'nhead Wilson there is a lot of similar tone, setting, dialog and feel that made Huck Finn seem so real.This book is set in a Missouri town (Dawson's Landing) in the early 1800s and (although I'm not an expert on the 19th century South), it felt very authentic. Once again, Twain captures great elements of dialog and mannerism and does a great job of creating vivid environments and characters.The story is intriguing and feels at times like a Shakespearean "mistaken identity" play writ large. In the first few pages we're introduced to the townsfolk and shortly after introduction we watch a slave do the ol' switcher with two babies…her 'black' baby (1/32 black, and thus very easily confused as 'white') and her master's white baby. We stick with the worried mother Roxy for a few months and then fast forward through the childhood and adolescent lives of the switched boys. The story picks up with them in their early 20s and really kicks into overdrive as two twins arrive from Italy, vices of the switched "black" boy come to light, and murder is committed in the town. The story ends with the title character, Pudd'nhead, working to solve the crime and act as defense lawyer for the accused.There are many themes present throughout this book. They are all presented in Twain's subtle, ironic, humorous tones. Moreso even than in some of his other books, Twain keeps the various "morales" very subtly in the background. He never seems to overtly or explicitly condemn anyone for any of their crimes, prejudices or vices. Instead, he presents a variety of situations ranging from tragic to humorous to ridiculous and lets the reader make his/her own judgment call.So even though Roxy commits a crime in switching her black baby for her master's white baby, Twain never condemns her. He never makes any commentary on what he presents as the absolutely ridiculous practice that even a drop of "black blood" can make a person "black" and thus a slave, no matter how "white" that person really is. He doesn't even really speak out against slavery (even in the subtle way he did in Huck Finn or Tom Sawyer) though he does make is somewhat evident that he's not a fan just through the way the various interactions take place.The closest he comes to condemnation is through Roxy's dialog later in the book as she talks with her son and reveals his true heritage to him. Through Roxy, he condemns "Tom's" behavior…his despicable treatment of blacks, his many vices, his horrific act of selling "down the river" and more and more.Pudd'nhead acts almost as a counterpoint to Roxy's scathing comments. He seems sometimes to be the voice of reason or at least of calm, pensive thinking. Through his logical reasoning and his instinctive insight, we have a character who, although thought by his peers to be a dunce, is actually quite bright and has great wit and wisdom.As the full title (The TRAGEDY of Pudd'nhead Wilson) suggests, this book doesn't have a 'happy' ending per se. In the end, all the crimes are resolved and the innocent parties are restored to their freedom while the guilty parties are punished. However, the tragedy seems to be in how "matter of fact" the state of affairs is presented. After the trial is complete, the wrap up is somewhat disheartening. The white boy ('Chambers') who lived his life as black is now caught between worlds, not fitting into any place. The boy's uncle (Judge Driscoll) is dead and his estate now belongs to an out of place nephew newly restored to 'whiteness.' Roxy's punishment is almost a reward. And 'Tom', who should receive one major punishment is instead set "free" in terms of 'justice' but left a "slave" because of the value of a black man.This book is a very thoughtful and intriguing piece. It had in its underlying tone, much of the humor and irony that I really love about Twain's work. I really like the characters and the general story. I loved the presentation of the work and had a lot of fun reading this book. If I had to choose only one Twain, I'd still choose Huck, but this is another one that I'd recommend reading if you have any interest in Mark Twain, 19th century south, slavery, or American Literature in general. It's a great read.****4.5 out of 5 stars
    • 3/5
      Pudd'nhead Wilson is a novella, born of a longer novel that Twain cut in two; it is a great adventure story and also a satire on slavery and what makes a man a man; but its plot is so similar to The Prince and The Pauper that it at times seems unoriginal.The characters are certainly well-drawn, although we see little of Wilson. His calendar entries are exceedingly witty, and are worth reading several times over (I certainly have). However, by writing all of Roxana's dialog in a kind of phonetic mash, some segments of the book prove difficult reading; it is worth comparing how Kennedy Toole handled dialect in A Confederacy of Dunces, set in much the same part of the world.
    • 4/5
      By all rights, Pudd'nhead Wilson should not have been published. This isn't a novel. It is the best draft you're ever likely to read.It tells the story of Roxy, a slave who, in a moment of desperation, exchanges her infant son with the identical boy of her Master. Hence her child, now called Tom Driscoll, is raised free and privilaged. And consequently turns into a complete horror.That's about as much of the plot as one needs to know. It started as a farce about a different set of twins, but as he wrote it Twain was distracted by the secondary characters; so he re-wrote his novel as a tragedy without completely doing away with the old trappings.Consequently, Pudd'nhead Wilson is many things. It is quite unpredictable. The plot leaps from one thing to another without settling. Some parts of it are very tragic, full of cruel irony. At other points, the farce elements still come through (such as during the brief cameo from the Fire Department). Though stylistically inconsistent, the hodgepodge of moods and plot threads did keep me turning the pages.The writing herein is quite good, and Twain's wit is legendary. The cast is a fine set that interacts well, and he does an excellent job at crafting the community of Dawson's Landing. And yet all these elements never mesh into something more. I liked this novel, but perhaps my hopes were a little too high. I was certainly not expecting it to be this messy. Characters are used; they do not live, or if they do, Twain ignores them until he has a use for them. Luigi and Angelo are introduced as if they mean something, yet are given precious little to do. Rowena's view is given for two whole chapters, then she vanishes completely. Most surprisingly, the titular character is given little to do. He emerges only when needed, and cannot be described as the main character.The focus is placed heavily on Roxy and Tom, yet they aren't the main characters either. The true protagonist is the omniscient narrator (the author) who tells this odd little tale.Well, I did like this. It was engrossing, I smiled at the witticisms and was even moved from time to time, as Twain had a marvelous grasp of humanity. My favorite quote from the book was this:"When the forenoon was nearly gone, she recognized with a pang that this most splendid episode of her life was almost over, that nothing could prolong it, that nothing quite its equal could ever fall to her fortune again."It's a pity that this book, with all its sundry elements of greatness, was a rush job that switched horses in midstream. But nevertheless, I still found it very enjoyable.
    • 4/5
      The main character was nicknamed "Pudd'nhead" because of his common sense, tongue-in-cheek ironies, and innovative ideas that no one understood. Excellent specimen of Mark Twain's famous wit. I decided to read it because I had read so many fascinating quotes from it.
    • 4/5
      As I read more Mark Twain, I become a bigger fan. Sure, this book is not among his best works, but even mediocre Twain is above so much out there. Unlike Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn, in my mind, this book was a little confusing with what the message was regarding Twain's feelings on slavery. Whereas the other books had Jim as an uneducated, yet intelligent, honorable and very likeable character, the main black character in Pudd'nhead Wilson was detestable and even the secondary black character only allowed for partial sympathy regarding her actions. The plot outcome was very predictable, but it was still fun reading on as Twain took me there. The most enjoyable part of the book for me was the preface where Twain explained what the book had started as and who the main characters had been before the story ran in a different direction and the way he came up with disposing of the then-useless characters was a moment for actual laughter. That alone is worth giving the book a chance, if for nothing else than to read the preface.
    • 4/5
      Once I got past Twain's characteristic offensive language concerning slaves and persons with darker skin, I actually loved this book. It made it easier that the narrator's position regarding skin color was not derogatory, just how he referred to them, as was common in the 1890s when the book was written. The novel had Twain's usual wit and clever dialog. It had a fascinating premise, and the courtroom scene was so much fun! The whole thing was an engaging read! I'm surprised it's not as well known as some of Mark Twain's other works. Maybe since it wasn't a "children's book" it wasn't as popular, but I think it could stand it's own against The Adventure of Tom Sawyer or Huckleberry Finn.

      Would I recommend this to my fellow book lovers? Yes
      Would I recommend this to my teen daughter? Yes

      4.5 of 5 stars
    • 4/5
      This is a fun little book that I first read in tenth grade. In fact, I think it's the only Twain I've ever read, though I really ought to change that. I was recently perusing my shelves for a short book that was a change of pace from my other current reads, and when I spotted this one, I knew I'd found it.This is such a neat little story as far as plot goes. He lays everything out for the reader from the beginning, all in plain sight, and then proceeds to tell a nicely interwoven complex tale, and you're not entirely certain where it's going until it actually gets there. My favorite part is the whole use of fingerprints in the story, a fairly novel thing in the time and culture this was written. Twain also manages to delve into the topics of race and circumstances of blood and upbringing, and what makes a man who he is.A short and enjoyable tale I would recommend to anyone, and one I would reread (and have).
    • 4/5
      I really enjoyed this story that opens up the "nature vs. nurture" debate.
    • 4/5
      I liked this book. It was humorous and also interesting. Although somewhat predictable at points, I enjoyed the irony of the slave/free relationship and the "pudd'nhead" versus intelligence character of Wilson. It is impressive that Twain was able to blend comic, satire, moral comment, and societal comment without ackwardness.
    • 3/5
      This novel was intriguing, but I felt it was not as strong as Twain's usual writing. It was as if it was missing something fundamental, maybe in the structuring or theme, that escaped me and made the reading experience less vital than some of his other works. It's not a bad read, but I wouldn't necessarily recommend it.3 stars.
    • 4/5
      This entertaining American version of H.M.S Pinafore is a good book that suffers greatly from having to exist in the shadow of its more adventurous siblings, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. Like its English cousin, it uses the old switched-in-the-cradle plot device to explore the subject of class divides, in this case racial. Sadly it also reveals a good deal about what Mark Twain himself thought about the subject which, despite his commendably progressive attitudes, still reflects a belief in a physiological difference between races that has since been discredited.SPOILER ALERTAlthough the changeling angle makes up most of the story Twain also brings up the subject of fingerprinting. Although the science of fingerprinting has been around for centuries, it was not used as a criminal forensic tool until 1892, when it was used to solve a murder in Argentina. Twain may well have read of this and incorporated into Pudd’nHead Wilson, which was first published one year later, in 1893.Bottom line: This is not a perfect story so I can’t give it five stars but it is entertaining and it was also written by Mark Twain, who is one of those writers whose shopping list I would happily read. I definitely recommend this book.
    • 3/5
      Pudd'nhead Wilson received his nickname because many townspeople considered him a fool. Although Pudd'nhead is not the protagonist, he plays an integral part to the story. I guess a subtitle could be, "How He Got His Name Back."Mark Twain's tale involves a slave, 1/16th black, impregnated by the slave owner, Judge Driscoll. She gives birth to twins, now 1/32nd black, one to become the heir to the estate while the other to remain a slave. The mother switches the two at birth; therefore, the fate of the two are reversed. As the heir, Tom Driscoll grows to manhood, he engages in profligate living resulting in significant gambling debts. His outlook on life is worsened when his mother appears and reveals that Tom is actually black. Despondent, he disguising himself as a woman breaking into wealthy homes to address his gambling debts. However, matters only become worse.Much of this book satirizes racism since the mother and twins essentially appear white. Another theme involves nature versus nurture or "clothes make the man."One of the reasons that Pudd'nhead receives his nickname is that he has a hobby of collecting fingerprints, which plays an important part in the climax of the book. Since this book was published in 1893, it is worthy to note that fingerprinting as a forensic tool had only been introduced a year earlier by Inspector Eduardo Alvarez in Argentina and Mark Twain incorporated it into the plot of this book.A lesser known book of Mark Twain I was glad I read.

    Book preview

    Pudd'nhead Wilson - Mark Twain

    Chapter I

    PUDD’NHEAD WINS HIS NAME

    Tell the truth or trump—but get the trick.

    —Pudd’nhead Wilson’s Calendar

    THE SCENE OF THIS CHRONICLE is the town of Dawson’s Landing, on the Missouri side of the Mississippi,¹

    half a day’s journey, per steamboat, below St. Louis.

    In 1830 it was a snug little collection of modest one and two-story frame dwellings whose whitewashed exteriors were almost concealed from sight by climbing tangles of rose vines, honeysuckles, and morning-glories. Each of these pretty homes had a garden in front fenced with white palings, and opulently stocked with hollyhocks, marigolds, touch-me-nots, prince’s-feathers, and other old-fashioned flowers; while on the window-sills of the houses stood wooden boxes containing moss-rose plants and terra-cotta pots in which grew a breed of geranium whose spread of intensely red blossoms accented the prevailing pink tint of the rose-clad house-front like an explosion of flame. When there was room on the ledge outside of the pots and boxes for a cat, the cat was there—in sunny weather—stretched at full length, asleep and blissful, with her furry belly to the sun and a paw curved over her nose. Then that house was complete, and its contentment and peace were made manifest to the world by this symbol, whose testimony is infallible. A home without a cat—and a well-fed, well-petted and properly revered cat—may be a perfect home, perhaps, but how can it prove title?

    All along the streets, on both sides, at the outer edge of the brick sidewalks, stood locust-trees with trunks protected by wooden boxing, and these furnished shade for summer and a sweet fragrance in spring when the clusters of buds came forth. The main street, one block back from the river, and running parallel with it, was the sole business street. It was six blocks long, and in each block two or three brick stores three stories high towered above interjected bunches of little frame shops. Swinging signs creaked in the wind, the street’s whole length. The candy-striped pole, which indicates nobility proud and ancient along the palace-bordered canals of Venice, indicated merely the humble barber shop along the main street of Dawson’s Landing. On a chief corner stood a lofty unpainted pole wreathed from top to bottom with tin pots and pans and cups, the chief tinmonger’s noisy notice to the world (when the wind blew) that his shop was on hand for business at that corner.

    The hamlet’s front was washed by the clear waters of the great river; its body stretched itself rearward up a gentle incline; its most rearward border fringed itself out and scattered its houses about the baseline of the hills; the hills rose high, inclosing the town in a half-moon curve, clothed with forests from foot to summit.

    Steamboats passed up and down every hour or so. Those belonging to the little Cairo line and the little Memphis line always stopped; the big Orleans liners stopped for hails only,²

    or to land passengers or freight; and this was the case also with the great flotilla of transients. These latter came out of a dozen rivers—the Illinois, the Missouri, the Upper Mississippi, the Ohio, the Monongahela, the Tennessee, the Red River, the White River, and so on; and were bound every whither and stocked with every imaginable comfort or necessity which the Mississippi’s communities could want, from the frosty Falls of St. Anthony³

    down through nine climates to torrid New Orleans.

    Dawson’s Landing was a slaveholding town, with a rich slave-worked grain and pork country back of it. The town was sleepy and comfortable and contented. It was fifty years old, and was growing slowly—very slowly, in fact, but still it was growing.

    The chief citizen was York Leicester Driscoll, about forty years old, judge of the county court. He was very proud of his old Virginian ancestry, and in his hospitalities and his rather formal and stately manners he kept up its traditions. He was fine and just and generous. To be a gentleman—a gentleman without stain or blemish—was his only religion, and to it he was always faithful. He was respected, esteemed, and beloved by all the community. He was well off, and was gradually adding to his store. He and his wife were very nearly happy, but not quite, for they had no children. The longing for the treasure of a child had grown stronger and stronger as the years slipped away, but the blessing never came—and was never to come.

    With this pair lived the Judge’s widowed sister, Mrs. Rachel Pratt, and she also was childless—childless, and sorrowful for that reason, and not to be comforted. The women were good and commonplace people, and did their duty and had their reward in clear consciences and the community’s approbation. They were Presbyterians, the Judge was a free-thinker.⁴

    Pembroke Howard, lawyer and bachelor, aged about forty, was another old Virginian grandee with proved descent from the First Families.⁵

    He was a fine, brave, majestic creature, a gentleman according to the nicest requirements of the Virginia rule, a devoted Presbyterian, an authority on the code,⁶

    and a man always courteously ready to stand up before you in the field if any act or word of his had seemed doubtful or suspicious to you, and explain it with any weapon you might prefer from brad-awls to artillery. He was very popular with the people, and was the Judge’s dearest friend.

    Then there was Colonel Cecil Burleigh Essex, another F. F. V. of formidable caliber—however, with him we have no concern.

    Percy Northumberland Driscoll, brother to the Judge, and younger than he by five years, was a married man, and had had children around his hearthstone; but they were attacked in detail by measles, croup, and scarlet fever, and this had given the doctor a chance with his effective antediluvian methods; so the cradles were empty. He was a prosperous man, with a good head for speculations, and his fortune was growing. On the 1st of February, 1830, two boy babes were born in his house; one to him, the other to one of his slave girls, Roxana by name. Roxana was twenty years old. She was up and around the same day, with her hands full, for she was tending both babies.

    Mrs. Percy Driscoll died within the week. Roxy remained in charge of the children. She had her own way, for Mr. Driscoll soon absorbed himself in his speculations and left her to her own devices.

    In that same month of February, Dawson’s Landing gained a new citizen. This was Mr. David Wilson, a young fellow of Scotch parentage. He had wandered to this remote region from his birthplace in the interior of the state of New York, to seek his fortune. He was twenty-five years old, college-bred, and had finished a post-college course in an Eastern law school a couple of years before.

    He was a homely, freckled, sandy-haired young fellow, with an intelligent blue eye that had frankness and comradeship in it and a covert twinkle of a pleasant sort. But for an unfortunate remark of his, he would no doubt have entered at once upon a successful career at Dawson’s Landing. But he made his fatal remark the first day he spent in the village, and it gaged him. He had just made the acquaintance of a group of citizens when an invisible dog began to yelp and snarl and howl and make himself very comprehensively disagreeable, whereupon young Wilson said, much as one who is thinking aloud:

    I wish I owned half of that dog.

    Why? somebody asked.

    Because I would kill my half.

    The group searched his face with curiosity, with anxiety even, but found no light there, no expression that they could read. They fell away from him as from something uncanny, and went into privacy to discuss him. One said:

    ’Pears to be a fool.

    ’Pears? said another. "Is, I reckon you better say."

    "Said he wished he owned half of the dog, the idiot, said a third. What did he reckon would become of the other half if he killed his half? Do you reckon he thought it would live?"

    "Why, he must have thought it, unless he is the down-rightest fool in the world; because if he hadn’t thought it, he would have wanted to own the whole dog, knowing that if he killed his half and the other half died, he would be responsible for that half just the same as if he had killed that half instead of his own. Don’t it look that way to you, gents?"

    Yes, it does. If he owned one half of the general dog, it would be so; if he owned one end of the dog and another person owned the other end, it would be so, just the same; particularly in the first case, because if you kill one half of a general dog, there ain’t any man that can tell whose half it was, but if he owned one end of the dog, maybe he could kill his end of it and—

    No, he couldn’t, either; he couldn’t and not be responsible if the other end died, which it would. In my opinion the man ain’t in his right mind.

    "In my opinion he hain’t got any mind."

    No. 3 said: Well, he’s a lummox, anyway.

    That’s what he is, said No. 4, "he’s a labrick⁷

    —just a Simon-pure labrick, if ever there was one."

    Yes, sir, he’s a dam fool, that’s the way I put him up, said No. 5. Anybody can think different that wants to, but those are my sentiments.

    I’m with you, gentlemen, said No. 6. Perfect jackass—yes, and it ain’t going too far to say he is a pudd’nhead. If he ain’t a pudd’nhead, I ain’t no judge, that’s all.

    Mr. Wilson stood elected. The incident was told all over the town, and gravely discussed by everybody. Within a week he had lost his first name; Pudd’nhead took its place. In time he came to be liked, and well liked, too; but by that time the nickname had got well stuck on, and it stayed. That first day’s verdict made him a fool, and he was not able to get it set aside, or even modified. The nickname soon ceased to carry any harsh or unfriendly feeling with it, but it held its place, and was to continue to hold its place for twenty long years.

    Chapter II

    DRISCOLL SPARES HIS SLAVES

    Adam was but human—this explains it all. He did not want the apple for the apple’s sake, he wanted it only because it was forbidden. The mistake was in not forbidding the serpent: then he would have eaten the serpent.

    —Pudd’nhead Wilson’s Calendar

    PUDD’NHEAD WILSON had a trifle of money when he arrived, and he bought a small house on the extreme western verge of the town. Between it and Judge Driscoll’s house there was only a grassy yard, with a paling fence dividing the properties in the middle. He hired a small office down in the town and hung out a tin sign with these words on it:

    DAVID WILSON

    ATTORNEY AND COUNSELOR-AT-LAW

    SURVEYING, CONVEYANCING, ETC.

    But his deadly remark had ruined his chance—at least in the law. No clients came. He took down his sign after a while and put it up on his own house with the law features knocked out of it. It offered his services now in the humble capacities of land-surveyor and expert accountant. Now and then he got a job of surveying to do, and now and then a merchant got him to straighten out his books. With Scotch patience and pluck he resolved to live down his reputation and work his way into the legal field yet. Poor fellow! he could not foresee that it was going to take him such a weary long time to do it.

    He had a rich abundance of idle time, but it never hung heavy on his hands, for he interested himself in every new thing that was born into the universe of ideas, and studied it and experimented upon it at his house. One of his pet fads was palmistry.¹

    To another one he gave no name, neither would he explain to anybody what its purpose was, but merely said it was an amusement. In fact, he had found that his fads added to his reputation as a pudd’nhead; therefore he was growing chary of being too communicative about them. The fad without a name was one which dealt with people’s finger-marks. He carried in his coat pocket a shallow box with grooves in it, and in the grooves strips of glass five inches long and three inches wide. Along the lower edge of each strip was pasted a slip of white paper. He asked people to pass their hands through their hair (thus collecting upon them a thin coating of the natural oil) and then make a thumb-mark on a glass strip, following it with the mark of the ball of each finger in succession. Under this row of faint grease-prints he would write a record on the strip of white paper—thus:

    JOHN SMITH, right hand—.

    and add the day of the month and the year, then take Smith’s left hand on another glass strip, and add name and date and the words left hand. The strips were now returned to the grooved box, and took their place among what Wilson called his records.

    He often studied his records, examining and poring over them with absorbing interest until far into the night; but what he found there—if he found anything—he revealed to no one. Sometimes he copied on paper the involved and delicate pattern left by the ball of a finger, and then vastly enlarged it with a pantograph²

    so that he could examine its web of curving lines with ease and convenience.

    One sweltering afternoon—it was the first day of July, 1830—he was at work over a set of tangled account-books in his workroom, which looked westward over a stretch of vacant lots, when a conversation outside disturbed him. It was carried on in yells, which showed that the people engaged in it were not close together:

    Say, Roxy, how does yo’ baby come on? This from the distant voice.

    "Fust-rate; how does you come on, Jasper?" This yell was from close by.

    Oh, I’s middlin’; hain’t got noth’n’ to complain of. I’s gwine to come a-court’n’ you bimeby, Roxy.

    "You is, you black mudcat! Yah—yah—yah! I got somep’n’ better to do den ’sociat’n’ wid niggers as black as you is. Is ole Miss Cooper’s Nancy done give you de mitten?" Roxy followed this sally with another discharge of carefree

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