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A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court
A CONNECTICUT YANKEE IN KING ARTHUR'S COURT
by
MARK TWAIN (Samuel L. Clemens)
PREFACE
The ungentle laws and customs touched upon in this tale are
historical, and the episodes which are used to illustrate them are
also historical. It is not pretended that these laws and customs
existed in England in the sixth century; no, it is only pretended that
inasmuch as they existed in the English and other civilizations of far
later times, it is safe to consider that it is no libel upon the sixth
century to suppose them to have been in practice in that day also.
One is quite justified in inferring that whatever one of these laws or
customs was lacking in that remote time, its place was competently
filled by a worse one.
The question as to whether there is such a thing as divine right of
kings is not settled in this book. It was found too difficult. That
the executive head of a nation should be a person of lofty character
and extraordinary ability, was manifest and indisputable; that none
but the Deity could select that head unerringly, was also manifest and
indisputable; that the Deity ought to make that selection, then, was
likewise manifest and indisputable; consequently, that He does make
it, as claimed, was an unavoidable deduction. I mean, until the author
of this book encountered the Pompadour, and Lady Castlemaine, and some
other executive heads of that kind; these were found so difficult to
work into the scheme, that it was judged better to take the other tack
in this book (which must be issued this fall), and then go into
training and settle the question in another book. It is, of course, a
thing which ought to be settled, and I am not going to have anything
particular to do next winter anyway.
MARK TWAIN
HARTFORD, July 21, 1889
A CONNECTICUT YANKEE IN KING ARTHUR'S COURT
A WORD OF EXPLANATION
It was in Warwick Castle that I came across the curious stranger whom
I am going to talk about. He attracted me by three things: his candid
simplicity, his marvelous familiarity with ancient armor, and the
restfulness of his company--for he did all the talking. We fell
together, as modest people will, in the tail of the herd that was
being shown through, and he at once began to say things which
interested me. As he talked along, softly, pleasantly, flowingly, he
seemed to drift away imperceptibly out of this world and time, and
into some remote era and old forgotten country; and so he gradually
wove such a spell about me that I seemed to move among the specters
and shadows and dust and mold of a gray antiquity, holding speech with
a relic of it! Exactly as I would speak of my nearest personal
friends or enemies, or my most familiar neighbors, he spoke of Sir
Bedivere, Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Launcelot of the Lake, Sir Galahad,
and all the other great names of the Table Round--and how old, old,
unspeakably old and faded and dry and musty and ancient he came to
look as he went on! Presently he turned to me and said, just as one
might speak of the weather, or any other common matter--
"You know about transmigration of souls; do you know about
transposition of epochs--and bodies?"
I said I had not heard of it. He was so little interested--just as
when people speak of the weather--that he did not notice whether I
made him any answer or not. There was half a moment of silence,
immediately interrupted by the droning voice of the salaried cicerone:
"Ancient hauberk, date of the sixth century, time of King Arthur and
the Round Table; said to have belonged to the knight Sir Sagramor le
Desirous; observe the round hole through the chain-mail in the left
breast; can't be accounted for; supposed to have been done with a
bullet since invention of firearms--perhaps maliciously by Cromwell's
soldiers."
My acquaintance smiled--not a modern smile, but one that must have
gone out of general use many, many centuries ago--and muttered
apparently to himself:
"Wit ye well, _I saw it done_." Then, after a pause, added: "I did it
myself."
By the time I had recovered from the electric surprise of this remark,
he was gone.
All that evening I sat by my fire at the Warwick Arms, steeped in a
dream of the olden time, while the rain beat upon the windows, and the
wind roared about the eaves and corners. From time to time I dipped
into old Sir Thomas Malory's enchanting book, and fed at its rich
feast of prodigies and adventures, breathed in the fragrance of its
obsolete names, and dreamed again. Midnight being come at length, I
read another tale, for a nightcap--this which here follows, to wit:
HOW SIR LAUNCELOT SLEW TWO GIANTS, AND MADE A CASTLE FREE
Anon withal came there upon him two great giants, well armed, all save
the heads, with two horrible clubs in their hands. Sir Launcelot put
his shield afore him, and put the stroke away of the one giant, and
with his sword he clave his head asunder. When his fellow saw that, he
ran away as he were wood [*demented], for fear of the horrible
strokes, and Sir Launcelot after him with all his might, and smote him
on the shoulder, and clave him to the middle. Then Sir Launcelot went
into the hall, and there came afore him three score ladies and
damsels, and all kneeled unto him, and thanked God and him of their
deliverance. For, sir, said they, the most part of us have been here
this seven year their prisoners, and we have worked all manner of silk
works for our meat, and we are all great gentle-women born, and
blessed be the time, knight, that ever thou wert born; for thou hast
done the most worship that ever did knight in the world, that will we
bear record, and we all pray you to tell us your name, that we may
tell our friends who delivered us out of prison. Fair damsels, he
said, my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake. And so he departed from them
and betaught them unto God. And then he mounted upon his horse, and
rode into many strange and wild countries, and through many waters and
valleys, and evil was he lodged. And at the last by fortune him
happened against a night to come to a fair courtilage, and therein he
found an old gentle-woman that lodged him with a good-will, and there
he had good cheer for him and his horse. And when time was, his host
brought him into a fair garret over the gate to his bed. There Sir
Launcelot unarmed him, and set his harness by him, and went to bed,
and anon he fell on sleep. So, soon after there came one on horseback,
and knocked at the gate in great haste. And when Sir Launcelot heard
this he rose up, and looked out at the window, and saw by the
moonlight three knights come riding after that one man, and all three
lashed on him at once with swords, and that one knight turned on them
knightly again and defended him. Truly, said Sir Launcelot, yonder one
knight shall I help, for it were shame for me to see three knights on
one, and if he be slain I am partner of his death. And therewith he
took his harness and went out at a window by a sheet down to the four
knights, and then Sir Launcelot said on high, Turn you knights unto
me, and leave your fighting with that knight. And then they all three
left Sir Kay, and turned unto Sir Launcelot, and there began great
battle, for they alight all three, and strake many strokes at Sir
Launcelot, and assailed him on every side. Then Sir Kay dressed him
for to have holpen Sir Launcelot. Nay, sir, said he, I will none of
your help, therefore as ye will have my help let me alone with them.
Sir Kay for the pleasure of the knight suffered him for to do his
will, and so stood aside. And then anon within six strokes Sir
Launcelot had stricken them to the earth.
And then they all three cried, Sir Knight, we yield us unto you as man
of might matchless. As to that, said Sir Launcelot, I will not take
your yielding unto me, but so that ye yield you unto Sir Kay the
seneschal, on that covenant I will save your lives and else not. Fair
knight, said they, that were we loath to do; for as for Sir Kay we
chased him hither, and had overcome him had ye not been; therefore, to
yield us unto him it were no reason. Well, as to that, said Sir
Launcelot, advise you well, for ye may choose whether ye will die or
live, for an ye be yielden, it shall be unto Sir Kay. Fair knight,
then they said, in saving our lives we will do as thou commandest us.
Then shall ye, said Sir Launcelot, on Whitsunday next coming go unto
the court of King Arthur, and there shall ye yield you unto Queen
Guenever, and put you all three in her grace and mercy, and say that
Sir Kay sent you thither to be her prisoners. On the morn Sir
Launcelot arose early, and left Sir Kay sleeping; and Sir Launcelot
took Sir Kay's armor and his shield and armed him, and so he went to
the stable and took his horse, and took his leave of his host, and so
he departed. Then soon after arose Sir Kay and missed Sir Launcelot;
and then he espied that he had his armor and his horse. Now by my
faith I know well that he will grieve some of the court of King
Arthur; for on him knights will be bold, and deem that it is I, and
that will beguile them; and because of his armor and shield I am sure
I shall ride in peace. And then soon after departed Sir Kay, and
thanked his host.
As I laid the book down there was a knock at the door, and my stranger
came in. I gave him a pipe and a chair, and made him welcome. I also
comforted him with a hot Scotch whisky; gave him another one; then
still another--hoping always for his story. After a fourth persuader,
he drifted into it himself, in a quite simple and natural way:
THE STRANGER'S HISTORY
I am an American. I was born and reared in Hartford, in the State of
Connecticut--anyway, just over the river, in the country. So I am a
Yankee of the Yankees--and practical; yes, and nearly barren of
sentiment, I suppose--or poetry, in other words. My father was a
blacksmith, my uncle was a horse doctor, and I was both, along at
first. Then I went over to the great arms factory and learned my real
trade; learned all there was to it; learned to make everything: guns,
revolvers, cannon, boilers, engines, all sorts of labor-saving
machinery. Why, I could make anything a body wanted--anything in the
world, it didn't make any difference what; and if there wasn't any
quick new-fangled way to make a thing, I could invent one--and do it
as easy as rolling off a log. I became head superintendent; had a
couple of thousand men under me.
Well, a man like that is a man that is full of fight--that goes
without saying. With a couple of thousand rough men under one, one
has plenty of that sort of amusement. I had, anyway. At last I met
my match, and I got my dose. It was during a misunderstanding
conducted with crowbars with a fellow we used to call Hercules. He
laid me out with a crusher alongside the head that made everything
crack, and seemed to spring every joint in my skull and made it
overlap its neighbor. Then the world went out in darkness, and I
didn't feel anything more, and didn't know anything at all --at least
for a while.
When I came to again, I was sitting under an oak tree, on the grass,
with a whole beautiful and broad country landscape all to
myself--nearly. Not entirely; for there was a fellow on a horse,
looking down at me--a fellow fresh out of a picture-book. He was in
old-time iron armor from head to heel, with a helmet on his head the
shape of a nail-keg with slits in it; and he had a shield, and a
sword, and a prodigious spear; and his horse had armor on, too, and a
steel horn projecting from his forehead, and gorgeous red and green
silk trappings that hung down all around him like a bedquilt, nearly
to the ground.
"Fair sir, will ye just?" said this fellow.
"Will I which?"
"Will ye try a passage of arms for land or lady or for--"
"What are you giving me?" I said. "Get along back to your circus, or
I'll report you."
Now what does this man do but fall back a couple of hundred yards and
then come rushing at me as hard as he could tear, with his nail-keg
bent down nearly to his horse's neck and his long spear pointed
straight ahead. I saw he meant business, so I was up the tree when he
arrived.
He allowed that I was his property, the captive of his spear. There
was argument on his side--and the bulk of the advantage --so I judged
it best to humor him. We fixed up an agreement whereby I was to go
with him and he was not to hurt me. I came down, and we started away,
I walking by the side of his horse. We marched comfortably along,
through glades and over brooks which I could not remember to have seen
before--which puzzled me and made me wonder--and yet we did not come
to any circus or sign of a circus. So I gave up the idea of a circus,
and concluded he was from an asylum. But we never came to an
asylum--so I was up a stump, as you may say. I asked him how far we
were from Hartford. He said he had never heard of the place; which I
took to be a lie, but allowed it to go at that. At the end of an hour
we saw a far-away town sleeping in a valley by a winding river; and
beyond it on a hill, a vast gray fortress, with towers and turrets,
the first I had ever seen out of a picture.
"Bridgeport?" said I, pointing.
"Camelot," said he.
My stranger had been showing signs of sleepiness. He caught himself
nodding, now, and smiled one of those pathetic, obsolete smiles of
his, and said:
"I find I can't go on; but come with me, I've got it all written out,
and you can read it if you like."
In his chamber, he said: "First, I kept a journal; then by and by,
after years, I took the journal and turned it into a book. How long
ago that was!"
He handed me his manuscript, and pointed out the place where I should
begin:
"Begin here--I've already told you what goes before." He was steeped
in drowsiness by this time. As I went out at his door I heard him
murmur sleepily: "Give you good den, fair sir."
I sat down by my fire and examined my treasure. The first part of
it--the great bulk of it--was parchment, and yellow with age. I
scanned a leaf particularly and saw that it was a palimpsest. Under
the old dim writing of the Yankee historian appeared traces of a
penmanship which was older and dimmer still--Latin words and
sentences: fragments from old monkish legends, evidently. I turned to
the place indicated by my stranger and began to read --as follows:
THE TALE OF THE LOST LAND
CHAPTER I
CAMELOT
"Camelot--Camelot," said I to myself. "I don't seem to remember
hearing of it before. Name of the asylum, likely."
It was a soft, reposeful summer landscape, as lovely as a dream, and
as lonesome as Sunday. The air was full of the smell of flowers, and
the buzzing of insects, and the twittering of birds, and there were no
people, no wagons, there was no stir of life, nothing going on. The
road was mainly a winding path with hoof-prints in it, and now and
then a faint trace of wheels on either side in the grass--wheels that
apparently had a tire as broad as one's hand.
Presently a fair slip of a girl, about ten years old, with a cataract
of golden hair streaming down over her shoulders, came along. Around
her head she wore a hoop of flame-red poppies. It was as sweet an
outfit as ever I saw, what there was of it. She walked indolently
along, with a mind at rest, its peace reflected in her innocent face.
The circus man paid no attention to her; didn't even seem to see her.
And she--she was no more startled at his fantastic make-up than if she
was used to his like every day of her life. She was going by as
indifferently as she might have gone by a couple of cows; but when she
happened to notice me, _then_ there was a change! Up went her hands,
and she was turned to stone; her mouth dropped open, her eyes stared
wide and timorously, she was the picture of astonished curiosity
touched with fear. And there she stood gazing, in a sort of stupefied
fascination, till we turned a corner of the wood and were lost to her
view. That she should be startled at me instead of at the other man,
was too many for me; I couldn't make head or tail of it. And that she
should seem to consider me a spectacle, and totally overlook her own
merits in that respect, was another puzzling thing, and a display of
magnanimity, too, that was surprising in one so young. There was food
for thought here. I moved along as one in a dream.
As we approached the town, signs of life began to appear. At
intervals we passed a wretched cabin, with a thatched roof, and about
it small fields and garden patches in an indifferent state of
cultivation. There were people, too; brawny men, with long, coarse,
uncombed hair that hung down over their faces and made them look like
animals. They and the women, as a rule, wore a coarse tow-linen robe
that came well below the knee, and a rude sort of sandal, and many
wore an iron collar. The small boys and girls were always naked; but
nobody seemed to know it. All of these people stared at me, talked
about me, ran into the huts and fetched out their families to gape at
me; but nobody ever noticed that other fellow, except to make him
humble salutation and get no response for their pains.
In the town were some substantial windowless houses of stone scattered
among a wilderness of thatched cabins; the streets were mere crooked
alleys, and unpaved; troops of dogs and nude children played in the
sun and made life and noise; hogs roamed and rooted contentedly about,
and one of them lay in a reeking wallow in the middle of the main
thoroughfare and suckled her family. Presently there was a distant
blare of military music; it came nearer, still nearer, and soon a
noble cavalcade wound into view, glorious with plumed helmets and
flashing mail and flaunting banners and rich doublets and horse-cloths
and gilded spearheads; and through the muck and swine, and naked
brats, and joyous dogs, and shabby huts, it took its gallant way, and
in its wake we followed. Followed through one winding alley and then
another,--and climbing, always climbing--till at last we gained the
breezy height where the huge castle stood. There was an exchange of
bugle blasts; then a parley from the walls, where men-at-arms, in
hauberk and morion, marched back and forth with halberd at shoulder
under flapping banners with the rude figure of a dragon displayed upon
them; and then the great gates were flung open, the drawbridge was
lowered, and the head of the cavalcade swept forward under the
frowning arches; and we, following, soon found ourselves in a great
paved court, with towers and turrets stretching up into the blue air
on all the four sides; and all about us the dismount was going on, and
much greeting and ceremony, and running to and fro, and a gay display
of moving and intermingling colors, and an altogether pleasant stir
and noise and confusion.
CHAPTER II
KING ARTHUR'S COURT
The moment I got a chance I slipped aside privately and touched an
ancient common looking man on the shoulder and said, in an
insinuating, confidential way:
"Friend, do me a kindness. Do you belong to the asylum, or are you
just on a visit or something like that?"
He looked me over stupidly, and said:
"Marry, fair sir, me seemeth--"
"That will do," I said; "I reckon you are a patient."
I moved away, cogitating, and at the same time keeping an eye out for
any chance passenger in his right mind that might come along and give
me some light. I judged I had found one, presently; so I drew him
aside and said in his ear:
"If I could see the head keeper a minute--only just a minute--"
"Prithee do not let me."
"Let you _what_?"
"_Hinder_ me, then, if the word please thee better. Then he went on
to say he was an under-cook and could not stop to gossip, though he
would like it another time; for it would comfort his very liver to
know where I got my clothes. As he started away he pointed and said
yonder was one who was idle enough for my purpose, and was seeking me
besides, no doubt. This was an airy slim boy in shrimp-colored tights
that made him look like a forked carrot, the rest of his gear was blue
silk and dainty laces and ruffles; and he had long yellow curls, and
wore a plumed pink satin cap tilted complacently over his ear. By his
look, he was good-natured; by his gait, he was satisfied with himself.
He was pretty enough to frame. He arrived, looked me over with a
smiling and impudent curiosity; said he had come for me, and informed
me that he was a page.
"Go 'long," I said; "you ain't more than a paragraph."
It was pretty severe, but I was nettled. However, it never phazed
him; he didn't appear to know he was hurt. He began to talk and
laugh, in happy, thoughtless, boyish fashion, as we walked along, and
made himself old friends with me at once; asked me all sorts of
questions about myself and about my clothes, but never waited for an
answer--always chattered straight ahead, as if he didn't know he had
asked a question and wasn't expecting any reply, until at last he
happened to mention that he was born in the beginning of the year 513.
It made the cold chills creep over me! I stopped and said, a little
faintly:
"Maybe I didn't hear you just right. Say it again--and say it slow.
What year was it?"
"513."
"513! You don't look it! Come, my boy, I am a stranger and
friendless; be honest and honorable with me. Are you in your right
mind?"
He said he was.
"Are these other people in their right minds?"
He said they were.
"And this isn't an asylum? I mean, it isn't a place where they cure
crazy people?"
He said it wasn't.
"Well, then," I said, "either I am a lunatic, or something just as
awful has happened. Now tell me, honest and true, where am I?"
"IN KING ARTHUR'S COURT."
I waited a minute, to let that idea shudder its way home, and then
said:
"And according to your notions, what year is it now?"
"528--nineteenth of June."
I felt a mournful sinking at the heart, and muttered: "I shall never
see my friends again--never, never again. They will not be born for
more than thirteen hundred years yet."
I seemed to believe the boy, I didn't know why. _Something_ in me
seemed to believe him--my consciousness, as you may say; but my reason
didn't. My reason straightway began to clamor; that was natural. I
didn't know how to go about satisfying it, because I knew that the
testimony of men wouldn't serve--my reason would say they were
lunatics, and throw out their evidence. But all of a sudden I
stumbled on the very thing, just by luck. I knew that the only total
eclipse of the sun in the first half of the sixth century occurred on
the 21st of June, A.D. 528, O.S., and began at 3 minutes after 12
noon. I also knew that no total eclipse of the sun was due in what to
_me_ was the present year--i.e., 1879. So, if I could keep my anxiety
and curiosity from eating the heart out of me for forty-eight hours, I
should then find out for certain whether this boy was telling me the
truth or not.
Wherefore, being a practical Connecticut man, I now shoved this whole
problem clear out of my mind till its appointed day and hour should
come, in order that I might turn all my attention to the circumstances
of the present moment, and be alert and ready to make the most out of
them that could be made. One thing at a time, is my motto--and just
play that thing for all it is worth, even if it's only two pair and a
jack. I made up my mind to two things: if it was still the nineteenth
century and I was among lunatics and couldn't get away, I would
presently boss that asylum or know the reason why; and if, on the
other hand, it was really the sixth century, all right, I didn't want
any softer thing: I would boss the whole country inside of three
months; for I judged I would have the start of the best-educated man
in the kingdom by a matter of thirteen hundred years and upward. I'm
not a man to waste time after my mind's made up and there's work on
hand; so I said to the page:
"Now, Clarence, my boy--if that might happen to be your name --I'll
get you to post me up a little if you don't mind. What is the name of
that apparition that brought me here?"
"My master and thine? That is the good knight and great lord Sir Kay
the Seneschal, foster brother to our liege the king."
"Very good; go on, tell me everything."
He made a long story of it; but the part that had immediate interest
for me was this: He said I was Sir Kay's prisoner, and that in the due
course of custom I would be flung into a dungeon and left there on
scant commons until my friends ransomed me--unless I chanced to rot,
first. I saw that the last chance had the best show, but I didn't
waste any bother about that; time was too precious. The page said,
further, that dinner was about ended in the great hall by this time,
and that as soon as the sociability and the heavy drinking should
begin, Sir Kay would have me in and exhibit me before King Arthur and
his illustrious knights seated at the Table Round, and would brag
about his exploit in capturing me, and would probably exaggerate the
facts a little, but it wouldn't be good form for me to correct him,
and not over safe, either; and when I was done being exhibited, then
ho for the dungeon; but he, Clarence, would find a way to come and see
me every now and then, and cheer me up, and help me get word to my
friends.
Get word to my friends! I thanked him; I couldn't do less; and about
this time a lackey came to say I was wanted; so Clarence led me in and
took me off to one side and sat down by me.
Well, it was a curious kind of spectacle, and interesting. It was an
immense place, and rather naked--yes, and full of loud contrasts. It
was very, very lofty; so lofty that the banners depending from the
arched beams and girders away up there floated in a sort of twilight;
there was a stone-railed gallery at each end, high up, with musicians
in the one, and women, clothed in stunning colors, in the other. The
floor was of big stone flags laid in black and white squares, rather
battered by age and use, and needing repair. As to ornament, there
wasn't any, strictly speaking; though on the walls hung some huge
tapestries which were probably taxed as works of art; battle-pieces,
they were, with horses shaped like those which children cut out of
paper or create in gingerbread; with men on them in scale armor whose
scales are represented by round holes--so that the man's coat looks as
if it had been done with a biscuit-punch. There was a fireplace big
enough to camp in; and its projecting sides and hood, of carved and
pillared stonework, had the look of a cathedral door. Along the walls
stood men-at-arms, in breastplate and morion, with halberds for their
only weapon --rigid as statues; and that is what they looked like.
In the middle of this groined and vaulted public square was an oaken
table which they called the Table Round. It was as large as a circus
ring; and around it sat a great company of men dressed in such various
and splendid colors that it hurt one's eyes to look at them. They
wore their plumed hats, right along, except that whenever one
addressed himself directly to the king, he lifted his hat a trifle
just as he was beginning his remark.
Mainly they were drinking--from entire ox horns; but a few were still
munching bread or gnawing beef bones. There was about an average of
two dogs to one man; and these sat in expectant attitudes till a spent
bone was flung to them, and then they went for it by brigades and
divisions, with a rush, and there ensued a fight which filled the
prospect with a tumultuous chaos of plunging heads and bodies and
flashing tails, and the storm of howlings and barkings deafened all
speech for the time; but that was no matter, for the dog-fight was
always a bigger interest anyway; the men rose, sometimes, to observe
it the better and bet on it, and the ladies and the musicians
stretched themselves out over their balusters with the same object;
and all broke into delighted ejaculations from time to time. In the
end, the winning dog stretched himself out comfortably with his bone
between his paws, and proceeded to growl over it, and gnaw it, and
grease the floor with it, just as fifty others were already doing; and
the rest of the court resumed their previous industries and
entertainments.
As a rule, the speech and behavior of these people were gracious and
courtly; and I noticed that they were good and serious listeners when
anybody was telling anything--I mean in a dog-fightless interval. And
plainly, too, they were a childlike and innocent lot; telling lies of
the stateliest pattern with a most gentle and winning naivety, and
ready and willing to listen to anybody else's lie, and believe it,
too. It was hard to associate them with anything cruel or dreadful;
and yet they dealt in tales of blood and suffering with a guileless
relish that made me almost forget to shudder.
I was not the only prisoner present. There were twenty or more. Poor
devils, many of them were maimed, hacked, carved, in a frightful way;
and their hair, their faces, their clothing, were caked with black and
stiffened drenchings of blood. They were suffering sharp physical
pain, of course; and weariness, and hunger and thirst, no doubt; and
at least none had given them the comfort of a wash, or even the poor
charity of a lotion for their wounds; yet you never heard them utter a
moan or a groan, or saw them show any sign of restlessness, or any
disposition to complain. The thought was forced upon me: "The
rascals--_they_ have served other people so in their day; it being
their own turn, now, they were not expecting any better treatment than
this; so their philosophical bearing is not an outcome of mental
training, intellectual fortitude, reasoning; it is mere animal
training; they are white Indians."