Mark Twain's novel The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. How Tom Sawyer came to be
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer Mark Twain
(estimates: 1
, average: 5,00
out of 5)
Title: The Adventures of Tom Sawyer
Author:
Year: 1876
Genre: Children's adventures, Foreign ancient literature, Foreign children's books, 19th century literature
Description of the book “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” by Mark Twain
First published in 1876, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer is perceived as a children's adventure story. What makes this book special is that it revolves around the adventures of a teenager in the mid-nineteenth century, but it appeals to everyone who reads this book, no matter their age. Adult readers will be reminded of their own childhood, while children will be amused by Tom's funny antics.
Tom Sawyer is a mischievous young boy with a rich imagination who lives with his Aunt Polly and stepbrother Sid in Mississippi. The story begins with Aunt Polly trying to find Tom to interrogate him about some missing jam. He gets into trouble at school, and as punishment, he has to spend his Saturday working - he has to whitewash a fence. But smart Tom convinces his friends that it's a fun job - and they end up bargaining with him for the chance to whitewash the fence.
A young girl, Becky Thatcher, moves to town and Tom falls in love with her. They fight and Tom goes to the town cemetery with his best friend Huckleberry Finn, where they witness the murder of Dr. Robinson by Injun Joe. However, the Indian blames his accomplice Potter for the murder. This is too much for young Tom, and he is afraid to tell what he knows. He, Huck and their friend Joe Harper decided to become pirates and set up camp on an island in the river. When they learn that Aunt Polly thinks they are all dead and a funeral is being planned, the friends return home in a hurry. Upon returning, Tom feels bolder and decides to testify against Injun Joe, who is eluding the law.
Mark Twain is a master of words and wit, and in his novel he shows Tom's moral, psychological and intellectual development. Tom Sawyer is a beautifully written novel that combines the past and the present. The book tells about life in the city on the Mississippi River, where Twain himself spent his youth. You can laugh a lot, experience nostalgia, remember your childhood, learn about American superstitions, murder, revenge and slavery. Mark Twain also wrote an equally interesting novel about Tom Sawyer's friend, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, where the fearless Huck tries to free the slave Jim. It's a must read if you enjoyed The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.
Chapter 1
There was no answer.
There was no answer.
“I don’t understand where this boy went!” Volume!
The old lady lowered her glasses and looked over them, looking around the room, then lifted her glasses and looked out from under them. Through her glasses she rarely or never looked at such a trifle as a boy, since it was her ceremonial pair, the pride of her heart, brought on for the sake of fashion, and not for use; she might as well have been looking through a pair of stove dampers.
She looked around in bewilderment for a minute, then said without anger, but loud enough for the furniture to hear:
- Well, if you come across me, I...
She did not finish, because at that moment she bent down to put the brush under the bed, and she had to take a breath, as if to put an end to her efforts. She only disturbed the cat.
“I’ll never get along with this boy.”
She walked to the open door and looked out into the garden, peering into the thickets of tomatoes and dope. Tom was not there. Then she raised her voice in anticipation of the long distance and shouted:
- That's it!
There was a slight noise behind her, and she turned around just in time to catch the little boy by the collar and prevent him from escaping.
- There you are! I forgot about the closet. What were you doing there?
- Nothing.
- Nothing?.. Look at your hands, look at your lips. What is it?
- I don’t know, aunt.
- I know. It's marmalade, that's what it is. How many times have I told you that if you touch the marmalade, I will rip you out. Give me the whip.
The whip flew into the air. The danger was imminent.
- Ay!.. Look back, auntie!
The old lady turned and mechanically grabbed her skirts, saving them, and the boy immediately gave up running, climbed the high fence and disappeared behind it. Aunt Polly stood perplexed for a minute, and then laughed benevolently.
“It’s time I knew this worthless boy.” How many times has he done similar things to distract my attention from himself? But old fools are incorrigible. You can't teach an old dog new things, the proverb says. And that’s to say, he invents something new every time, if you please keep up with him here. It’s as if he knows how long he can torture me before I get angry; He also knows that if he manages to make me laugh, then his job is done, and I don’t have the courage to give him a beating. I am not fulfilling my duty towards this boy, God knows, I am not fulfilling my duty. He who spares the rod destroys the child, says the wise book. I cultivate sin and destruction for both of us, it's like God is holy! The boy has a demon inside him, but what can I do? After all, he, poor thing, is the son of his late sister, and I don’t have the courage to flog him. Every time I let him down, my conscience torments me; and when I beat you, my old heart is ready to burst. Well, what can you do, a man born of a woman is short-lived and full of sorrows, says Scripture, and I think that’s how it is. He'll skip school tonight and I'll have to put him to work tomorrow as punishment. It’s cruel to force him to work on Saturday, when all the kids are out, but he hates work more than anything in the world, and I have to at least fulfill my duty towards him, otherwise I will ruin this child.
Tom skipped school and had a very fun day. He got home in time to help Jim, the colored boy, cut wood for the next day and splinter for supper—at least in time to tell Jim about his adventures while Jim was three-quarters of the way through the work. Tom's younger brother (or rather half-brother), Sid, had already finished his work (picking up wood chips), since he was a quiet boy, not a tomboy. While Tom was eating dinner and carrying sugar as much as possible, Aunt Polly asked him questions, full of cunning and extremely deep, as she hoped to extract important revelations from him. Like many simple-minded creatures, she was a little proud of her talent in dark and mysterious diplomacy and considered her most transparent hints to be miracles of subtle trickery.
“Tom,” she said, “was it quite hot at school?”
– It’s very hot, isn’t it?
“I suppose you wanted to take a bath, Tom?”
Tom perked up, a flash of suspicion flashed through his mind. He looked closely at Aunt Polly, but read nothing on her face. He replied:
- No... so-so, not very much.
The old lady reached out and felt Tom's shirt.
“But you’re not hot now, are you?”
She was flattered to think how cleverly she had made sure that his shirt was dry without letting anyone know that that was what she had in mind. But Tom had already realized which way the wind was blowing, and hastened to warn a new possible trick on her part.
“We doused our heads at the pump, and my hair wasn’t completely dry yet.” Here, feel it.
Aunt Polly was annoyed that she had lost sight of this small piece of material evidence and made a blunder. But then inspiration struck her again.
“Tom, you didn’t have to rip open your shirt collar to get your hair wet, did you?” So it stayed the same as I sewed it up. Unbutton your jacket!
All trace of worry disappeared from Tom's face. He unbuttoned his jacket. The collar turned out to be sewn.
- Just think!.. Well, go ahead. I was sure you skipped school and went swimming. But I forgive you. Tom, I see that you've come to your senses a little this time.
She was partly annoyed that her insight had failed her, but she was also pleased that Tom turned out to be an obedient boy for once.
But Sydney said:
- How can this be, after all, it seems that you sewed up his collar with white thread, but he has black thread.
- Yes, I sewed it up in white! Volume!
But Tom didn't wait for the consequences. At the door he said:
“Siddy, I’ll beat you up for this.”
Being in a safe place, he examined two needles pinned behind the cuff of his jacket - one with white thread, the other with black thread.
“If it weren’t for Sid, she wouldn’t have noticed anything,” he said. - Either she sews it up with white or black thread. I should keep an eye on this, but I always forget. But I’m going to blow Sid up. God kill me if I don't blow up.
He was not an exemplary boy of the village. However, he knew the exemplary boy very well and could not stand him.
Two minutes or less later, he had already forgotten about his failures. Not because they were less difficult and bitter for him than the failures of adults, but because a new and powerful interest took possession of him and drove them out of his soul; So, after all, the failures of adults are forgotten in the enthusiasm for new enterprises.
This new hobby related to the most interesting way of whistling, which a black man taught him. Now he wanted to experience it at his leisure and without interference. While whistling, you had to press your tongue to the roof of your mouth at short intervals - it came out just like a bird's, a long and ringing trill. The reader will probably remember how this is done if he was ever a boy. Tom's diligence and attention were soon crowned with success, and he walked down the street with music on his lips and admiration in his soul. He felt somewhat like an astronomer who had discovered a new planet. But without a doubt, the advantage of strong, deep, serene pleasure was on the side of the boy, and not the astronomer.
Summer evenings are long. It was still light. Suddenly Tom stopped whistling. In front of him stood an unfamiliar boy, slightly taller than him. A new face, of whatever age or gender, was a sensational phenomenon in the poor little village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed - too well for everyday life. Simply dazzling. A smart hat, a blue jacket, buttoned up with all the buttons, new and clean, and the same trousers. There are boots on your feet - and it was still Friday! Moreover, there was a tie with a bow on his neck. His urban appearance struck a chord with Tom. The longer Tom looked at this magnificent phenomenon, the higher his nose turned up at its panache and the more offensive he felt the unpresentability of his own appearance. Both boys were silent. When one moved, the other moved too, but sideways, along an oblique line. They remained face to face and did not take their eyes off each other. Finally Tom said:
- I'll crack you!
- I'll see how you do it.
- I can do it very simply.
– You simply can’t.
- But I can!
- But you can’t.
- No, I can.
- No, you can’t.
– You can’t.
Awkward silence. Tom then asked:
- What is your name?
- It's none of your business.
- If I want, it will be mine.
- No, it won’t.
“Talk again, you’ll see.”
- I say, I say, I say! Well, what are you doing?
- Oh, you think you're an important dandy? I can remove you with one hand if I want.
- Well, why don’t you clean up? After all, you say that you can do it.
“And I will if you decide to tease me.”
– Oh, yes – I’ve seen such beggars.
- Dandy! You think you're an important bird.
- Oh, what a hat!
- Come on, touch this hat if you don’t like it. Try to get it off me; whoever tries it, I'll break his nose!
- He’s like that!
“You’re a bully and a liar, and you don’t dare do anything.”
- Well, get lost.
“But if you keep bothering me, I’ll hit you on the head with a stone.”
- What can I say, enough is enough.
- Well, yes, I'll grab it.
- What was the matter? You talk and don't do anything. Because you're afraid.
- I'm not afraid.
- No, you're afraid.
- I'm not afraid.
- You're afraid.
Another pause, and even closer looking and walking around each other. Now they stood shoulder to shoulder. Tom said:
- Get out of here!
- Get out yourself!
- I won't go.
- And I won’t go.
They stood like that for some time, both with their legs at an angle for support, pushing each other with all their might and looking at each other with hatred. But no one managed to move the other. After a silent struggle, which lasted until both their faces were flushed with blood, they both carefully separated, and Tom said:
-You are a coward and a puppy. I’ll tell my older brother about you, and he can snap you with his little finger; and he will do so if I ask him.
“I’m very afraid of your older brother!” I have a brother, bigger than yours; he will throw it over this fence. (Both brothers existed only in the imagination.)
- Lies.
“It won’t be a lie just because you say it.”
Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe and said:
“Try to step over this line, I’ll beat you so hard you won’t get up.” Anyone who crosses will receive a beating.
The new boy quickly stepped over the line and said:
- Well, you said that you would beat me, let's see how you do it.
– Don’t bother me, better get away.
- No, you said that you would beat it off - try it.
“I’m not me if I don’t give it away for two cents.”
The unfamiliar boy took two coppers out of his pocket and held them out mockingly.
Tom threw them to the ground.
The next moment both boys were rolling and floundering in the dust, clutching like cats; for a minute they tore and pulled each other by the hair and clothes, scratched and broke each other's noses, becoming covered in dust and glory. Then the fight took on a more definite character; in the fog of battle, the figure of Tom stood out, sitting astride his opponent and punching him with his fists.
- Belly or death? - he asked.
The other boy just floundered, trying to free himself. He cried mainly from rage.
- Belly or death? – The massacre continued.
Finally the stranger muttered through tears:
“Belly!”, and Tom released him, saying:
- This is science for you. Look ahead to who you are contacting.
The smart boy left, shaking dust from his clothes, sobbing, snorting, looking back at Tom from time to time and promising to ask him if he came across him another time. Tom responded to this with ridicule and went his own way, triumphant in victory; but as soon as he turned his back to the new boy, the latter grabbed a stone, threw it, hit Tom between the shoulders and rushed off with the speed of an antelope. Tom chased him all the way home and thus found out where he lived. Here he stood for some time at the gate, inviting the enemy to come out, but the enemy only made faces at him from the window and rejected the call. Finally, the enemy’s mother appeared, called him an ugly, nasty, rude boy and demanded that he get out. Then he left, saying that he would still settle accounts with the boy.
He came home quite late at night, carefully climbed through the window and was ambushed, ending up in the hands of his aunt. When she examined the condition of his suit, her decision to turn Saturday into a day of captivity and painful labor for him acquired diamond hardness.
Twain M.
TOM PLAYS, FIGHTS, HIDES
- Volume!
No answer.
- Volume!
No answer.
- Where did he go, this boy?.. Tom!
No answer.
The old woman lowered her glasses to the tip of her nose and looked around the room over her glasses; then she pulled her glasses up onto her forehead and looked out from under them: she rarely looked through her glasses if she had to look for such a trifle as a boy, because these were her ceremonial glasses, the pride of her heart: she wore them only “for importance”; in fact, she didn’t need them at all; she might as well have been looking through the stove dampers. At first she seemed confused and said, not very angrily, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear her:
- Well, just get caught! I...
Without finishing her thought, the old woman bent down and began poking under the bed with a brush, stopping each time because she was short of breath. From under the bed she did not take anything out except the cat.
“I’ve never seen such a boy in my life!”
She went to the open door and, standing on the threshold, peered vigilantly into her garden - tomatoes overgrown with weeds. Tom wasn't there either. Then she raised her voice so that it could be heard further and shouted:
- That's it!
A slight rustling sound was heard behind me. She looked around and at the same second grabbed the boy, who was about to sneak away, by the edge of his jacket.
- Well, of course! And how could I forget about the closet! What were you doing there?
- Nothing.
- Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What did you stain your lips with?
- I don’t know, aunt!
- I know. It's jam, that's what it is. Forty times I told you: don’t you dare touch the jam, otherwise I’ll skin you! Give me this rod here.
The rod flew into the air - the danger was imminent.
- Ay! Aunt! What's that behind your back?
The old woman turned on her heel in fear and hurried to pick up her skirts in order to protect herself from a terrible disaster, and the boy at that very second started running, climbed onto a high plank fence - and was gone!
Aunt Polly was dumbfounded for a moment, and then began to laugh good-naturedly.
- What a boy! It seemed like it was time for me to get used to his tricks. Or did he not play enough tricks with me? Could have been smarter this time. But, apparently, there is no worse fool than an old fool. It’s not without reason that they say that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. However, my God, this boy’s things are all different: every day, then another - can you guess what’s on his mind? It’s as if he knows how long he can torment me until I lose patience. He knows that if he confuses me for a minute or makes me laugh, then my hands give up, and I am unable to whip him with the rod. I am not fulfilling my duty, what is true is true, may God forgive me. “Whoever does without a rod destroys a child,” says the sacred. I, a sinner, spoil him, and for this we will get it in the next world - both me and him. I know that he is a real devil, but what should I do? After all, he is the son of my late sister, a poor fellow, and I don’t have the heart to flog an orphan. Every time I let him evade beatings, my conscience torments me so much that I don’t even know how to give it, but if I whip him, my old heart is literally torn to pieces. It is true, it is true in scripture: the human age is short and full of sorrows. That's how it is! Today he did not go to school: he will be idle until the evening, and it is my duty to punish him, and I will fulfill my duty - I will make him work tomorrow. This, of course, is cruel, since tomorrow is a holiday for all the boys, but nothing can be done, more than anything in the world he hates working. I have no right to let him down this time, otherwise I will completely ruin the baby.
Tom really didn't go to school today and had a lot of fun. He barely had time to return home so that before dinner he could help Negro Jim cut wood and chop wood for tomorrow, or, more precisely, tell him about his adventures while he was doing three-quarters of the work. Tom's younger brother, Sid (not a brother, but a half-brother), by this time had already done everything that he was ordered (collected and carried all the chips), because he was an obedient quiet one: he did not play pranks and did not cause trouble for his elders.
While Tom was eating his dinner, taking every opportunity to steal a piece of sugar, Aunt Polly asked him various questions, full of deep slyness, hoping that he would fall into the traps she had set and spill the beans. Like all simple-minded people, she, not without pride, considered herself a subtle diplomat and saw miracles of malicious deceit in her most naive plans.
“Tom,” she said, “it must have been hot at school today?”
- Yes, .
- It's very hot, isn't it?
- Yes, 'm.
- And didn’t you really want to swim in the river, Tom?
It seemed to him that something evil was happening - a shadow of suspicion and fear touched his soul. He looked inquisitively into Aunt Polly's face, but it told him nothing. And he answered:
- No, ’m... not particularly.
Aunt Polly reached out and touched Tom's shirt.
“I didn’t even break a sweat,” she said.
And she thought smugly how cleverly she had managed to discover that Tom’s shirt was dry; It never occurred to anyone what kind of trick she had in mind. Tom, however, had already managed to figure out which way the wind was blowing, and warned further questions:
“We put our heads under the pump to freshen up.” My hair is still wet. Do you see?
Aunt Polly felt offended: how could she miss such important indirect evidence! But immediately a new thought struck her.
- Tom, in order to put your head under the pump, you didn’t have to rip your shirt collar in the place where I sewed it up? Come on, unbutton your jacket!
The anxiety disappeared from Tom's face. He opened his jacket. The collar of the shirt was sewn tightly.
- Well, okay, okay. You'll never understand. I was sure that you didn’t go to school and went swimming. Okay, I’m not angry with you: although you are a decent rogue, you still turned out to be better than you might think.
She was a little annoyed that her cunning had led to nothing, and at the same time pleased that Tom at least this time turned out to be a good boy.
But then Sid intervened.
“I remember something,” he said, “as if you were sewing up his collar with white thread, and here, look, it’s black!”
- Yes, of course, I sewed it up in white!.. Tom!..
But Tom did not wait for the conversation to continue. Running out of the room, he said quietly:
- Well, I’ll blow you up, Siddy!
Having taken refuge in a safe place, he examined two large needles, tucked into the lapel of his jacket and wrapped in thread. One had a white thread and the other had a black thread.
“She wouldn’t have noticed if it weren’t for Sid.” Damn it! Sometimes she sewed it up with white thread, sometimes with black thread. I’d better sew by myself, otherwise you’ll inevitably get confused... But I’m still going to blow Sid up - it’ll be a good lesson for him!
Tom was not a Model Boy that the whole town could be proud of. But he knew very well who was an exemplary boy, and he hated him.
However, after two minutes - and even sooner - he forgot all the troubles. Not because they were less difficult and bitter for him than the adversities that usually torment adults, but because at that moment a new powerful passion took possession of him and drove all worries out of his head. In the same way, adults are capable of forgetting their sorrows as soon as they are captivated by some new activity. Tom was currently fascinated by one precious novelty: he had adopted a special style of whistling from a negro friend, and he had long wanted to practice this art in the wild, so that no one would interfere. The black man whistled like a bird. He produced a melodious trill, interrupted by short pauses, for which he had to touch the roof of his mouth with his tongue often, often. The reader probably remembers how this is done - if he was ever a boy. Perseverance and diligence helped Tom quickly master all the techniques of this matter. He walked merrily down the street, his mouth full of sweet music and his soul full of gratitude. He felt like an astronomer who had discovered a new planet in the sky, only his joy was more immediate, fuller and deeper.
In summer the evenings are long. It was still light. Suddenly Tom stopped whistling. A stranger stood in front of him, a boy slightly larger than him. Any new face of any gender or age always attracted the attention of the residents of the wretched town. In addition, the boy was wearing a smart suit - a smart suit on a weekday! It was absolutely amazing. A very elegant hat; a neatly buttoned blue cloth jacket, new and clean, and exactly the same trousers. He had shoes on his feet, even though it was only Friday. He even had a tie - a very bright ribbon. In general, he had the appearance of a city dandy, and this infuriated Tom. The more Tom looked at this wondrous wonder, the more shabby his own miserable suit seemed to him and the higher he lifted his nose, showing how disgusted he was with such smart outfits. Both boys met in complete silence. As soon as one took a step, the other took a step, but only to the side, to the side, in a circle. Face to face and eye to eye - they moved like this for a very long time. Finally Tom said: 
- If you want, I'll blow you up!
- Try!
- And here I am, blowing it up!
- But you won’t blow it!
- I want to and I’ll swell!
- No, you won’t blow it!
- No, I'm bloating!
- No, you won’t blow it!
- I'll blow it up!
- You won’t blow it!
Painful silence. Finally Tom says:
- What is your name?
- What do you care?
- Here I will show you what I care!
- Well, show me. Why don't you show it?
- Say two more words and I’ll show you.
- Two words! Two words! Two words! Here you go! Well!
- Look how clever he is! Yes, if I wanted, I could give you pepper with one hand, and let them tie the other - I’ll describe it to me.
- Why don’t you ask? After all, you say that you can.
- And I will ask you if you pester me!
- Ay-yay-yay! We've seen these!
- You think, how dressed up he is, he’s such an important bird! Oh, what a hat!
- Don't like it? Knock it off my head, and you'll get your money's worth from me.
- You're lying!
- You yourself are lying!
- He’s just intimidating, but he’s a coward himself!
- Okay, get out!
- Hey, listen: if you don’t calm down, I’ll break your head!
- Why, you’ll break it! Oh-oh-oh!
- And I’ll break it!
- What are you waiting for? You scare, scare, but in reality there is nothing? Are you afraid, then?
- I don’t think so.
- No, you're afraid!
- No, I'm not afraid!
- No, you're afraid!
Silence again. They devour each other with their eyes, mark time and make a new circle. Finally they stand shoulder to shoulder. Tom says:
- Get out of here!
- Get out yourself!
- I don’t want to.
- And I don't want to.
So they stand face to face, each with one foot forward at the same angle. Looking at each other with hatred, they begin to push as hard as they can. But victory is not given to either one or the other. They push for a long time. Hot and red, they gradually weaken their onslaught, although everyone still remains on guard... And then Tom says:
- You are a coward and a puppy! So I’ll tell my older brother - he’ll beat you off with one little finger. I'll tell him - he'll beat him!
- I'm very afraid of your older brother! I myself have a brother, even older, and he could throw yours over that fence. (Both brothers are pure fiction).
- You're lying!
- You never know what you say!
Tom draws a line in the dust with his big toe and says:
- Just dare to step over this line! I'll give you such a beating that you won't get up! Woe to those who cross this line!
The strange boy immediately hurries to cross the line:
- Well, let's see how you inflate me.
- Leave me alone! I'm telling you: you better leave me alone!
- Yes, you said that you would beat me. Why don't you hit?
- Damn me if I don't beat you up for two cents!
The strange boy takes two large coppers out of his pocket and hands them to Tom with a grin.
Tom hits him on the hand, and the coppers fly to the ground. A minute later both boys are rolling around in the dust, clinging together like two cats. They pull each other's hair, jackets, pants, they pinch and scratch each other's noses, covering themselves in dust and glory. Finally, the indefinite mass takes on a distinct shape, and in the smoke of the battle it becomes clear that Tom is sitting astride the enemy and hammering him with his fists.
- Beg for mercy! - he demands.
But the boy tries to free himself and roars loudly - more from anger.
- Beg for mercy! - And the threshing continues.
Finally, the strange boy mutters indistinctly: “That’s enough!” - and Tom, releasing him, says:
- This is science for you. Next time, watch who you mess with.
The strange boy wandered away, shaking the dust off his suit, sobbing, sniffling, turning around from time to time, shaking his head and threatening to brutally deal with Tom “the next time he catches him.” Tom responded with ridicule and headed towards the house, proud of his victory. But as soon as he turned his back to the stranger, he threw a stone at him and hit him between the shoulder blades, and he began to run like an antelope. Tom chased the traitor all the way to the house and thus found out where he lived. He stood at the gate for a while, challenging the enemy to fight, but the enemy only made faces at him at the window and did not want to come out. Finally, the enemy’s mother appeared, called Tom a nasty, spoiled, rude boy and ordered him to get away.
Tom left, but as he left, he threatened that he would wander around and give her son a hard time.
He returned home late and, carefully climbing through the window, discovered that he had been ambushed: his aunt was standing in front of him; and when she saw what had become of his jacket and trousers, her determination to turn his holiday into hard labor became as hard as a diamond.
The work of the famous American publicist and writer Mark Twain about the adventures of two boys still remains the most beloved and read all over the world. And not only a favorite work for boys, but also for adults who remember their mischievous childhood. This is the story of young America, whose romanticism still touches boys all over the world.
The history of writing "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer"
The first work in the series of adventures of American boys was published in 1876, the author at that time was just over 30 years old. Obviously, this played a role in the brightness of the book’s images. America at the end of the 19th century had not yet gotten rid of slavery, half of the continent was “Indian territory,” and boys remained boys. According to many testimonies, Mark Twain described himself in Tom, not only his real self, but also all his dreams of adventure. The real feelings and emotions are described that worried the boy of that time, and which continue to worry the boys today.
The main characters are two friends, Tom, who is being raised by his lonely aunt, and Huck, a city street child. Inseparable in their fantasies and adventures, both boys are typical images, but the main character remains Tom Sawyer. He has a younger brother, more rational and obedient, he has school friends, and a boyish crush - Becky. And like any boy, the main events in life are connected with a thirst for adventure and first love. An ineradicable thirst constantly draws Tom and Huck into dangerous adventures, some of which, of course, are fictional by the author, some are real events. Things like running away from home or going to a cemetery at night are easy to believe. And these adventures, interspersed with descriptions of ordinary boyish everyday life, ordinary pranks, joys and annoyances, become reality thanks to the genius of the author. The description of American life at that time is impressive. What is lost in the modern world is democracy and the spirit of freedom.
Chronicle of Young America (plot and main idea)
A town on the banks of the Mississippi, in which residents mixed into a single society, despite differences in property, race and even age. Negro Jim, in slavery to Aunt Polly, mestizo Injun Joe, Judge Thacher and his daughter Becky, street child Huck and rascal Tom, Doctor Robenson and undertaker Potter. Tom's life is described with such humor and with such naturalness that the reader forgets in which country it happens, as if he is remembering what happened to himself.
The boy Tom Sawyer, together with his younger brother, who is clearly more positive than him, is raised by his old aunt after the death of his mother. He goes to school, plays on the street, fights, makes friends and falls in love with a beautiful peer, Becky. One day he met his old friend Huckleberry Fin on the streets, with whom they had a deep debate about ways to remove warts. Huck told a new method of mixing using a dead cat, but it is necessary to visit the cemetery at night. This is where all the significant adventures of these two tomboys began. Previous conflicts with his aunt, entrepreneurial ideas with receiving a bonus Bible at Sunday school, whitewashing the fence as a punishment for disobedience, which Tom successfully transformed into personal success, fade into the background. Everything except love for Becky.
Having witnessed a fight and a murder, two boys for a long time doubt the need to bring everything they saw to the attention of adults. Only sincere pity for the old drunkard Potter and a sense of universal justice force Tom to speak at the trial. By doing so, he saved the life of the accused and put his own life in mortal danger. Injun Joe's revenge is a very real threat for the boy, even under the protection of the law. Meanwhile, Tom and Becky's romance began to crack, and this distracted him from everything else for a long time. He suffered. It was finally decided to run away from home from unhappy love and become a pirate. It’s good that there is a friend like Huck who agrees to support any adventure. A school friend, Joe, also joined them.
This adventure ended as it should have. Tom's heart and Huck's rationality forced them to return to the town from the island on the river after they realized that the whole town was looking for them. The boys returned just in time for their own funeral. The joy of the adults was so great that the boys were not even given a beating. Several days of adventure brightened up the boys' lives with the memories of the author himself. After that, Tom was sick, and Becky went away for a long time and far away.
Before the start of the school year, Judge Thacher threw a luxurious party for the children in honor of the birthday of his returning daughter. A trip on a river boat, a picnic and a visit to caves, this is something even modern children could dream about. Here Tom's new adventure begins. Having made peace with Becky, the two of them run away from the company during a picnic and hide in a cave. They got lost in passages and grottoes, the torch that lit their way burned out, and they had no provisions with them. Tom behaved courageously, this reflected all his enterprise and responsibility as a growing man. Quite by accident, they came across Injun Joe hiding the stolen money. After wandering around the cave, Tom finds a way out. The children returned home to the joy of their parents.
The secret seen in the cave haunts me, Tom tells Huck everything, and they decide to check the Indian’s treasure. The boys go to the cave. After Tom and Becky safely got out of the maze, the city council decided to close the entrance to the cave. This became fatal for the mestizo; he died in the cave from hunger and thirst. Tom and Huck carried away a whole fortune. Since the treasure did not belong to anyone in particular, two boys became its owners. Huck received the protection of the widow Douglas, coming under her tutelage. Tom is also rich now. But Huck was able to endure the “high life” for no more than three weeks, and Tom, who met him on the shore near the barrel hut, openly declared that no wealth could keep him from becoming a “noble robber.” The romanticism of the two friends had not yet been suppressed by the “golden calf” and the conventions of society.
The main characters and their characters
All the main characters of the story are the thoughts and feelings of the author, his memories of childhood, his sense of that very American dream and universal human values. When Huck complained that he could not live in idleness, Tom answered him uncertainly: “But everyone lives like that, Huck.” In these boys, Mark Twain writes out his attitude to human values, to the value of freedom and understanding between people. Huck, who has seen more bad things, shares with Tom: “It’s just embarrassing for all people,” when he talks about the insincerity of relationships in high society. Against the romantic background of a story about childhood, written with good humor, the writer clearly outlines all the best qualities of a little person, and the hope that these qualities will remain for life.
A boy raised without a mother or father. The author does not reveal what happened to his parents. According to the story, one gets the impression that Tom gained all his best qualities on the street and at school. Aunt Poly's attempts to instill in him basic behavioral stereotypes cannot be crowned with success. Tom is the ideal boy and tomboy in the eyes of boys all over the world. On the one hand, this is hyperbole, but on the other hand, having a real prototype, Tom really carries within himself all the best that a growing man can carry within himself. He is brave, with a keen sense of justice. In many episodes, he displays precisely these qualities in difficult life situations. Another feature that cannot affect the feelings of an American. This is savvy and enterprise. All that remains is to remember the story of whitewashing the fence, which is also a far-reaching project. Burdened with various boyish prejudices, Tom looks like a completely ordinary boy, which captivates the reader. Everyone sees a small reflection of themselves in it.
A homeless child with a living father. The drunkard appears in the story only in conversations, but this already somehow characterizes the living conditions of this boy. Tom's constant friend and faithful companion in all adventures. And if Tom is a romantic and a leader in this company, then Huck is a sober mind and life experience, which is also necessary in this tandem. An attentive reader has the impression that Huck is described by the author as the other side of the coin of a growing person, a citizen of America. Personality is divided into two types - Tom and Huck, which are inseparable. In subsequent stories, the character of Huck will be revealed more fully, and often, in the reader’s soul, these two images are mixed and always receive sympathy.
Becky, Aunt Polly, Negro Jim and half-breed Injun Joe
These are all people with whom the best in the protagonist’s character is revealed. Tender love in a girl of the same age and real care for her in moments of danger. A respectful, although sometimes ironic, attitude towards the aunt, who spends all her strength to raise Tom as a real respectable citizen. A Negro slave, who is an indicator of America at that time and the attitude towards slavery of the entire progressive public, because Tom is friends with him, justifiably considering him an equal. The author’s, and therefore Tom’s, attitude towards Injun Joe is far from clear. The romance of the Indian world was not yet so idealized at that time. But internal pity for the mestizo who died of hunger in the cave characterizes not only the boy. The realities of the Wild West are visible in this image; a cunning and cruel mestizo takes revenge with his life on all whites. He is trying to survive in this world, and society allows him to do so. We do not see the deep condemnation that it would seem should have been for a thief and murderer.
Continuation of the epic adventure
Later, Mark Twain wrote several more stories about Tom and his friend Huck. The author grew up along with his heroes, and America changed too. And in subsequent stories there was no longer that romantic recklessness, but more and more of the bitter truth of life appeared. But even in these realities, Tom, Huck, and Becky retained their best qualities, which they received in childhood on the banks of the Mississippi in a small town with the distant name of the Russian capital - St. Petersburg. I don’t want to part with these heroes, and they remain ideals in the hearts of the boys of that era.
“On November 30, 1835, in the USA, in the village of Florida in Missouri, a child was born, who was named Samuel Langhorne Clemens. This year will be remembered by the inhabitants of the Earth for a majestic cosmic spectacle - the appearance in the sky of Comet Halley, approaching our planet once every 75 years. Soon, Sam Clemens' family moved to the town of Hannibal in Missouri in search of a better life. The head of the family died when his youngest son was not even twelve years old, leaving nothing but debts, and Sam had to earn his living in the newspaper that his older brother began publishing. The teenager worked tirelessly - first as a typesetter and printer, and soon as an author of funny and caustic notes ... "
It was a glorious Saturday morning. Everything around breathed freshness, shone and was full of life. Every face shone with joy, and cheerfulness was felt in everyone’s gait. The white acacia was in full bloom and its sweet scent was spreading everywhere.
Cardiff Mountain - its peak visible from anywhere in the city - was completely green and seemed from afar to be a wonderful, serene country.
It was at that moment that Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of diluted lime and a long brush in his hands. However, at the first glance at the fence, all joy left him, and his soul plunged into the deepest sorrow. Thirty yards of solid plank fence, nine feet high! Life seemed meaningless and painful to him. With a heavy sigh, Tom dipped his brush into the bucket, brushed it across the top board of the fence, repeated this operation twice, compared the insignificant bleached patch with the vast continent of what remained to be painted, and sat down under the tree in despair.
Meanwhile, Negro Jim jumped out of the gate with a bucket in his hand, singing “Buffalo Girls.” Until that day, it seemed to Tom that there was nothing more boring than carrying water from the city well, but now he looked at it differently. The well is always full of people. White and black boys and girls always hang around there, waiting for their turn, chatting, exchanging toys, quarreling, playing pranks, and sometimes fighting. And even though the well was only a hundred and fifty steps from their house, Jim never returned home before an hour later, and it also happened that someone had to be sent for him. So Tom said:
- Listen, Jim! Let me run for water, while you whitewash a little here.
- How can you, Mister Tom! The old housewife told me to immediately bring water and, God forbid, not to get stuck anywhere along the way. She also said that Mr. Tom would probably call me to paint the fence, so that I would do my job and not stick my nose where they weren’t asked, and she would take care of the fence herself.
– Why are you listening to her, Jim! You never know what she'll say! Give me a bucket, one leg here and the other there, that's all. Aunt Polly won't even guess.
- Oh, I'm scared, Mister Tom. The old mistress will rip my head off. By God, it will tear you off!
- Is that her? Yes, she doesn’t fight at all. Unless he snaps a thimble on the top of his head, that’s all there is to it – just think, the importance! She says all sorts of things, but her words do nothing, except that sometimes she herself bursts into tears. Jim, would you like me to give you a balloon? White, with marble veins!
Jim hesitated.
– White and marble to boot, Jim! This is not a bullshit for you!
- Oh, how it shines! But I’m really afraid of the old mistress, Mr. Tom...
- Well, do you want me to show you my sore finger?
Jim was an ordinary person - and could not resist such temptation. He put down the bucket, took the marble and, wide-eyed with curiosity, bent over the sore finger while Tom unwrapped the bandage. The next second he was already flying down the street like a whirlwind, rattling his bucket and scratching the back of his head, Tom was whitewashing the fence with frantic energy, and Aunt Polly was leaving the battlefield with a shoe in her hand. Her eyes glowed with triumph.
But Tom's zeal did not last long. His thoughts returned to how nicely he could spend this day, and he began to tan again. Other boys are about to appear on the street and make Tom laugh because he was forced to work on Saturday. They themselves go to different interesting places.
This thought burned him with fire. He took all the cherished treasures out of his pockets and inspected them: broken toys, balls, all sorts of rubbish may be suitable for exchange, but it is unlikely that this can buy at least an hour of freedom. Having put his meager capital out of sight, Tom put the thought of bribing anyone out of his head. But at that moment, full of despair and hopelessness, inspiration suddenly struck him. A real inspiration, without any exaggeration!
Taking up the brush, he continued to work slowly and tastefully. Soon Ben Rogers appeared around the corner - the same boy whose poisonous ridicule Tom feared most. Ben's gait was carefree, he jumped every now and then - a sure sign that his heart was light and he expected continuous gifts from life. He was gnawing on an apple and from time to time he let out a long whistle, followed by a melodious chime: “Ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong” - at the lowest notes, because Ben was imitating a paddle steamer. Approaching Tom, he slowed down, turned into the middle of the fairway, tilted slightly to starboard and began to slowly approach the shore. At the same time, it had an unusually important appearance, because it depicted the “Big Missouri” with a draft of nine feet. At that moment, Ben Rogers was the ship, the captain, the helmsman, and the ship's bell, so when he gave a command, he immediately carried it out.
- Stop, car! Ding-ding-ding! “The mechanic carried out the command, and the ship slowly moored to the edge of the sidewalk. - Reverse! – Both of Ben’s arms dropped and stretched out at his sides.
- Right hand drive! Ding-ding-ding! Ch-choo! Choo! – The right hand flew up and began to describe solemn circles: now it depicted the main paddle wheel.
- Steer to the left! Ding-ding-ding! Chu-chu-chu-u! – Now the left one was describing circles.
- Stop, starboard! Ding-ding-ding! Stop, port side! Small move! Stop, car! The smallest one! Ding-ding-ding! Chu-u-u-f-f! Give it up! Get moving there! Well, where is your mooring end? Move to the bollard! Okay, now let me go!
- The car has stopped, sir! Ding-ding-ding! Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh! - It was the steamer that was releasing steam.
Tom continued to wield his brush, not paying the slightest attention to the Big Missouri. Ben narrowed his eyes and said:
- Yeah, I got it! We've got you in tow!
There was no answer. Tom looked at the last stroke with the eye of a painter, then once again carefully ran his brush over the boards and stood back, thoughtfully contemplating the result. Ben walked over and stood behind him. Tom swallowed his saliva - he wanted an apple so much, but he didn’t show it and got back to work. Finally Ben said:
- What, old man, you have to work hard, huh?
Tom turned around sharply, as if in surprise:
- Ah, it's you, Ben! I didn't even notice you.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m going for a swim.” No desire? Although what am I talking about - you, of course, still have to work. This matter is probably more interesting.
Tom looked at Ben in bewilderment and asked:
- What do you call work?
– What do you think this is?
Tom waved his brush widely in the air and casually replied:
- Well, maybe it’s a job for some, but not for others. All I know is that Tom Sawyer likes it.
- Come on! Tell me also that you like to whitewash!
The brush continued to slide evenly along the fence boards.
- Whitewash? Why not? It’s probably not every day that our brother gets to tidy up the fence.
From that moment on, everything appeared in a new light. Ben even stopped chewing the apple. Tom carefully moved his brush back and forth, stopping from time to time to admire his handiwork, adding a stroke here, a stroke there, and assessing the result again, and Ben closely watched his every movement, and his eyes gradually lit up. Suddenly he said:
“Listen, Tom, let me whiten it a little too.”
Tom thought for a moment, pretending to look as if he was ready to agree, but suddenly changed his mind.
- No, Ben, it won’t work. Aunt Polly just prays for this fence; you see, he goes out into the street... Well, if it had been from the side of the yard, she wouldn’t have said a word... and neither would I. But here... Do you know how to whiten it? Here, perhaps one out of a thousand, or even two thousand boys will be able to cope properly.
-What are you talking about? Listen, Tom, at least let me smear it, just a little! Here I am - I would let you in if I were in your place.
“Ben, I would love to, I swear on my scalp!” But what about Aunt Polly? Jim wanted it too, but she forbade it. Sid was lying at her feet, but she didn’t allow Sid either. That's how things are, guy... Let's say you get started, but something goes wrong?
- Come on, Tom, I’m doing my best! Well, let me just try... Listen, do you want half an apple?
- Well, how can I tell you... Although no, Ben, it’s still not worth it. I'm kind of afraid.
- I'll give you all the apples!
Without any desire, Tom let go of the brush, but his soul rejoiced. And while the former steamship "Big Missouri" worked hard in the very sun, the retired painter, sitting in the shade on an old barrel, dangled his legs, crunched an apple and made plans for further beating of babies.
It was no longer a matter of babies. Boys appeared on the street every minute; they stopped to sneer at Tom, and in the end they stayed to paint the fence. As soon as Ben was exhausted, Tom profitably sold the next line to Billy Fisher - for a used, but still very decent kite, and when he was tired, Johnny Miller acquired the right to the brush for a dead rat with a string tied to it - to make it more convenient to twirl in the air. And so it went.
By mid-afternoon, Tom had gone from being almost a pauper to a tycoon. He was literally drowning in luxury. Now he had: twelve balls, a broken harmonica, a piece of blue bottle glass to look at the sun, a spool without thread, a key to who knows what, a piece of chalk, a stopper from a crystal decanter, a tin soldier, a pair of tadpoles, six firecrackers, a one-eyed man a kitten, a bronze doorknob, a dog collar, a knife handle, four pieces of orange peel and an old window frame. Tom had a great time and the fence was covered with three layers of lime! If he hadn't run out of whitewash, he would have let all the boys in the town go around the world.
“It’s not so bad to live in the world,” thought Tom. Without knowing it, he discovered the great law that governs human actions. This law says: in order for a boy or an adult - it doesn’t matter who - to want something, only one thing is needed: that it be difficult to achieve. If Tom Sawyer were an outstanding thinker like the author of this book, he would come to the conclusion that work is something that a person is forced to do, and play is something that he is not obliged to do at all. And this would help him understand why making artificial flowers or carrying water in a sieve is work, but knocking down skittles or climbing Mont Blanc is pleasant fun. They say that in England there are rich people who like to drive a mail coach drawn by a four-wheeler in the summer. This opportunity costs them a lot of money, but if they received a salary for this, the game would turn into work and lose all its charm.
Tom pondered for some time over the change that had occurred in his property situation, and then went with a report to the headquarters of the commander-in-chief.