The Complete Works of Artemus Ward

In Short

This collection of letters records the fictionalized travels of a rustic American showman navigating the streets, theaters, and museums of London in the 1860s. Written in a deliberate, phonetic dialect, the book serves as a satirical bridge between the American frontier and the British establishment. Its enduring appeal lies in its masterclass of "deadpan" humor; the author adopts the mask of a simple, bumbling tourist to expose the pomposity of the society he visits, balancing genuine warmth with a sharp, irreverent wit that predates the style of Mark Twain.

The Story

The narrative begins with the showman’s arrival in Liverpool and subsequent journey to London, where he checks into the "Green Lion" tavern. From these humble lodgings, he begins a series of excursions into the heart of the British Empire. He is a man of limited means but infinite confidence, often finding himself in situations where his American background clashes with local customs. Whether he is debating the Schleswig-Holstein question with a fellow traveler or attempting to navigate the social expectations of a London pub, his earnestness constantly collides with the stiff reality of his new environment.

As he settles in, he becomes a fixture at his tavern, where the landlord—initially suspicious of the "North American"—eventually grows fond of him, even praising his ability to eat with a fork. The showman, meanwhile, keeps a wary distance from the political turmoil of the day, preferring to observe the local characters. He visits the theater, where he finds the experience of eating a boiled mackerel during a performance to be the height of culture, and he travels to Stratford-on-Avon to pay his respects at the tomb of Shakespeare, only to find himself more interested in the local shopkeepers' schemes and the incessant British rain.

His journey eventually takes him to the Tower of London, where he views the crown jewels and reflects on the history of English monarchs with a mix of awe and skepticism. He later attempts to infiltrate a London club, only to be swindled by a smooth-talking "gentleman" who claims to have fought in the Crimea. Despite being robbed of his pocketbook and dignity, the showman maintains a resilient, if slightly bruised, sense of self-worth.

His final outings take him to the British Museum and the halls of science, where he attempts to offer his own "Essays on Animals"—a reflection on his past life as a showman—to an uninterested public. Throughout these adventures, he remains an outsider. He is consistently baffled by the British preoccupation with social status, the "By Appointment" signage on shop windows, and the solemnity with which the locals treat their own history. In the end, he remains unchanged: a rambling, observant, and fundamentally good-natured soul who is always ready to compare the "sunny spring-time" of his own life with the strange, damp, and dignified world he has spent his time exploring.

How It Unfolds

The arrival in the metropolis The narrator lands in London and sets up camp at a local tavern, where he attempts to reconcile his American identity with the bewildered expectations of the local landlord. He notes the strange cultural differences, from the quality of the beer to the local misconceptions about what Americans actually eat.

A tour of cultural monuments Seeking enlightenment, the traveler visits the tomb of Shakespeare and the Tower of London. He critiques the commercialization of history, finding that the locals are just as eager to turn a profit on a poet’s grave as anyone back home.

The social misadventures The narrator falls prey to a sophisticated confidence artist who introduces him to an exclusive club. The encounter ends in a predictably chaotic fashion, leaving the narrator fleeced but still possessed of his wry, unshakable perspective.

The final observations The journey concludes with a visit to the British Museum, where the narrator attempts to gain access to the restricted reading room. He finds himself barred by bureaucracy, ultimately reflecting on the value of his own life’s work while preparing to return to his roots.

The People

The central figure is Artemus Ward, a self-described showman of "humble parentage" who uses his sharp, if unrefined, perspective to cut through the pretenses of those he encounters. He is motivated by a desire to see the world and perhaps to leave a legacy, though he is perpetually humbled by his own lack of social grace. The Landlord of the Green Lion serves as a vital foil; he begins as a skeptic who assumes all Americans are wild, scalping savages, but he eventually becomes the showman’s primary confidant and protector. A third recurring character is the shabby "gentleman" encountered near Regent Street. He represents the danger of London’s polished surface, using his charm and false military credentials to swindle the narrator, highlighting the showman’s vulnerability to city predators. Finally, there is the absent wife, Betsy, who, though never appearing in the flesh, provides the narrator’s moral anchor and a recurring reference point for his past life in the States.

In Its Own Voice

"I admit that my ambition overlept herself in this instuns, and I've been very careful ever since to deal square with the public."

The narrator reflects on his earlier, failed career as a traveling showman of wax figures.

"I should say, however, if pressed for a answer that they will prob'ly continner on jest about as long as they can find peple to lis'en to 'em."

The narrator offers his cynical, practical assessment of spiritualists and charlatans.

"It occurd to me what a agree'ble surprise it would be to send a sim'lar one home to my wife; and I asked the Warder what was the vally of a good, well-constructed Crown like that."

After viewing the Queen's crown at the Tower, the narrator considers a gift for his spouse.

What It's Really About

The book is an exploration of the "outsider" experience and the inherent friction between American democratic informality and the stratified, tradition-heavy culture of Victorian Britain. Beneath the surface of the narrator's phonetic misspelling and rustic tone lies a serious inquiry into the nature of "respectability." By constantly puncturing the solemnity of British institutions—the church, the monarchy, and the club—the author argues that status is often an illusion maintained by those who take themselves too seriously. The work asks whether the "civilized" world is truly superior or merely better at hiding its own absurdity behind a veneer of history and manners.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the dry, deadpan irony of Mark Twain or the observational humor of Bill Bryson will find a direct ancestor in these letters. The book provides a fascinating, unfiltered window into the 1860s, capturing the specific anxieties of a post-Civil War American looking at the "Old World" with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the intentional "dialect" humor; the author uses non-standard spellings to emphasize the narrator's lack of formal education, which can make for slow reading at first. Additionally, the text reflects the casual, often insensitive attitudes of the mid-19th century toward indigenous peoples and social classes, which may feel jarring to a contemporary audience. Yet, if one can push past the initial hurdle of the phonetic prose, the rewards are significant. What stays with you is the voice of a man who is entirely comfortable with his own limitations, and who finds the absurdity of life to be the most reliable form of entertainment. It is a warm, funny, and uniquely human document that serves as a reminder that the best way to handle a confusing world is to simply keep your sense of humor intact.