A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court E-Book

Mark Twain

• Herausgeber: Andura Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

An unforgettable classic from the legendary and beloved American author, Mark Twain.

Das E-Book wird angeboten von und wurde mit folgenden Begriffen kategorisiert:

Leseprobe

A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court

by Mark Twain

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.”

CHAPTER III

KNIGHTS OF THE TABLE ROUND

Mainly the Round Table talk was monologues--narrative accounts

of the adventures in which these prisoners were captured and their

friends and backers killed and stripped of their steeds and armor.

As a general thing--as far as I could make out--these murderous

adventures were not forays undertaken to avenge injuries, nor to

settle old disputes or sudden fallings out; no, as a rule they were

simply duels between strangers--duels between people who had never

even been introduced to each other, and between whom existed no

cause of offense whatever.  Many a time I had seen a couple of boys,

strangers, meet by chance, and say simultaneously, “I can lick you,”

 and go at it on the spot; but I had always imagined until now that

that sort of thing belonged to children only, and was a sign and

mark of childhood; but here were these big boobies sticking to it

and taking pride in it clear up into full age and beyond.  Yet there

was something very engaging about these great simple-hearted

creatures, something attractive and lovable.  There did not seem

to be brains enough in the entire nursery, so to speak, to bait

a fish-hook with; but you didn't seem to mind that, after a little,

because you soon saw that brains were not needed in a society

like that, and indeed would have marred it, hindered it, spoiled

its symmetry--perhaps rendered its existence impossible.

There was a fine manliness observable in almost every face; and

in some a certain loftiness and sweetness that rebuked your

belittling criticisms and stilled them.  A most noble benignity

and purity reposed in the countenance of him they called Sir Galahad,

and likewise in the king's also; and there was majesty and greatness

in the giant frame and high bearing of Sir Launcelot of the Lake.

There was presently an incident which centered the general interest

upon this Sir Launcelot.  At a sign from a sort of master of

ceremonies, six or eight of the prisoners rose and came forward

in a body and knelt on the floor and lifted up their hands toward

the ladies' gallery and begged the grace of a word with the queen.

The most conspicuously situated lady in that massed flower-bed

of feminine show and finery inclined her head by way of assent,

and then the spokesman of the prisoners delivered himself and his

fellows into her hands for free pardon, ransom, captivity, or death,

as she in her good pleasure might elect; and this, as he said, he

was doing by command of Sir Kay the Seneschal, whose prisoners

they were, he having vanquished them by his single might and

prowess in sturdy conflict in the field.

Surprise and astonishment flashed from face to face all over

the house; the queen's gratified smile faded out at the name of

Sir Kay, and she looked disappointed; and the page whispered in

my ear with an accent and manner expressive of extravagant derision--

“Sir _Kay_, forsooth!  Oh, call me pet names, dearest, call me

a marine!  In twice a thousand years shall the unholy invention

of man labor at odds to beget the fellow to this majestic lie!”

Every eye was fastened with severe inquiry upon Sir Kay. But he

was equal to the occasion.  He got up and played his hand like

a major--and took every trick.  He said he would state the case

exactly according to the facts; he would tell the simple

straightforward tale, without comment of his own; “and then,”

 said he, “if ye find glory and honor due, ye will give it unto him

who is the mightiest man of his hands that ever bare shield or

strake with sword in the ranks of Christian battle--even him that

sitteth there!” and he pointed to Sir Launcelot.  Ah, he fetched

them; it was a rattling good stroke.  Then he went on and told

how Sir Launcelot, seeking adventures, some brief time gone by,

killed seven giants at one sweep of his sword, and set a hundred

and forty-two captive maidens free; and then went further, still

seeking adventures, and found him (Sir Kay) fighting a desperate

fight against nine foreign knights, and straightway took the battle

solely into his own hands, and conquered the nine; and that night

Sir Launcelot rose quietly, and dressed him in Sir Kay's armor and

took Sir Kay's horse and gat him away into distant lands, and

vanquished sixteen knights in one pitched battle and thirty-four

in another; and all these and the former nine he made to swear

that about Whitsuntide they would ride to Arthur's court and yield

them to Queen Guenever's hands as captives of Sir Kay the Seneschal,

spoil of his knightly prowess; and now here were these half dozen,

and the rest would be along as soon as they might be healed of

their desperate wounds.

Well, it was touching to see the queen blush and smile, and look

embarrassed and happy, and fling furtive glances at Sir Launcelot

that would have got him shot in Arkansas, to a dead certainty.

Everybody praised the valor and magnanimity of Sir Launcelot; and

as for me, I was perfectly amazed, that one man, all by himself,

should have been able to beat down and capture such battalions

of practiced fighters.  I said as much to Clarence; but this mocking

featherhead only said:

“An Sir Kay had had time to get another skin of sour wine into him,

ye had seen the accompt doubled.”

I looked at the boy in sorrow; and as I looked I saw the cloud of

a deep despondency settle upon his countenance.  I followed the

direction of his eye, and saw that a very old and white-bearded

man, clothed in a flowing black gown, had risen and was standing

at the table upon unsteady legs, and feebly swaying his ancient

head and surveying the company with his watery and wandering eye.

The same suffering look that was in the page's face was observable

in all the faces around--the look of dumb creatures who know that

they must endure and make no moan.

“Marry, we shall have it again,” sighed the boy; “that same old

weary tale that he hath told a thousand times in the same words,

and that he _will_ tell till he dieth, every time he hath gotten his

barrel full and feeleth his exaggeration-mill a-working.  Would

God I had died or I saw this day!”

“Who is it?”

“Merlin, the mighty liar and magician, perdition singe him for

the weariness he worketh with his one tale!  But that men fear

him for that he hath the storms and the lightnings and all the

devils that be in hell at his beck and call, they would have dug

his entrails out these many years ago to get at that tale and

squelch it.  He telleth it always in the third person, making

believe he is too modest to glorify himself--maledictions light

upon him, misfortune be his dole!  Good friend, prithee call me

for evensong.”

The boy nestled himself upon my shoulder and pretended to go

to sleep.  The old man began his tale; and presently the lad was

asleep in reality; so also were the dogs, and the court, the lackeys,

and the files of men-at-arms.  The droning voice droned on; a soft

snoring arose on all sides and supported it like a deep and subdued

accompaniment of wind instruments.  Some heads were bowed upon

folded arms, some lay back with open mouths that issued unconscious

music; the flies buzzed and bit, unmolested, the rats swarmed

softly out from a hundred holes, and pattered about, and made

themselves at home everywhere; and one of them sat up like a

squirrel on the king's head and held a bit of cheese in its hands

and nibbled it, and dribbled the crumbs in the king's face with

naive and impudent irreverence.  It was a tranquil scene, and

restful to the weary eye and the jaded spirit.

This was the old man's tale.  He said:

“Right so the king and Merlin departed, and went until an hermit

that was a good man and a great leech.  So the hermit searched

all his wounds and gave him good salves; so the king was there

three days, and then were his wounds well amended that he might

ride and go, and so departed.  And as they rode, Arthur said,

I have no sword.  No force,* [*Footnote from M.T.: No matter.]

said Merlin, hereby is a sword that shall be yours and I may.

So they rode till they came to a lake, the which was a fair water

and broad, and in the midst of the lake Arthur was ware of an arm

clothed in white samite, that held a fair sword in that hand.

Lo, said Merlin, yonder is that sword that I spake of.  With that

they saw a damsel going upon the lake.  What damsel is that?

said Arthur.  That is the Lady of the lake, said Merlin; and within

that lake is a rock, and therein is as fair a place as any on earth,

and richly beseen, and this damsel will come to you anon, and then

speak ye fair to her that she will give you that sword.  Anon

withal came the damsel unto Arthur and saluted him, and he her

again.  Damsel, said Arthur, what sword is that, that yonder

the arm holdeth above the water?  I would it were mine, for I have

no sword.  Sir Arthur King, said the damsel, that sword is mine,

and if ye will give me a gift when I ask it you, ye shall have it.

By my faith, said Arthur, I will give you what gift ye will ask.

Well, said the damsel, go ye into yonder barge and row yourself

to the sword, and take it and the scabbard with you, and I will ask

my gift when I see my time.  So Sir Arthur and Merlin alight, and

tied their horses to two trees, and so they went into the ship,

and when they came to the sword that the hand held, Sir Arthur

took it up by the handles, and took it with him.  And the arm

and the hand went under the water; and so they came unto the land

and rode forth.  And then Sir Arthur saw a rich pavilion.  What

signifieth yonder pavilion?  It is the knight's pavilion, said

Merlin, that ye fought with last, Sir Pellinore, but he is out,

he is not there; he hath ado with a knight of yours, that hight

Egglame, and they have fought together, but at the last Egglame

fled, and else he had been dead, and he hath chased him even

to Carlion, and we shall meet with him anon in the highway.  That

is well said, said Arthur, now have I a sword, now will I wage

battle with him, and be avenged on him.  Sir, ye shall not so,

said Merlin, for the knight is weary of fighting and chasing, so

that ye shall have no worship to have ado with him; also, he will

not lightly be matched of one knight living; and therefore it is my

counsel, let him pass, for he shall do you good service in short

time, and his sons, after his days.  Also ye shall see that day

in short space ye shall be right glad to give him your sister

to wed.  When I see him, I will do as ye advise me, said Arthur.

Then Sir Arthur looked on the sword, and liked it passing well.

Whether liketh you better, said Merlin, the sword or the scabbard?

Me liketh better the sword, said Arthur.  Ye are more unwise,

said Merlin, for the scabbard is worth ten of the sword, for while

ye have the scabbard upon you ye shall never lose no blood, be ye

never so sore wounded; therefore, keep well the scabbard always

with you.  So they rode into Carlion, and by the way they met with

Sir Pellinore; but Merlin had done such a craft that Pellinore saw

not Arthur, and he passed by without any words.  I marvel, said

Arthur, that the knight would not speak.  Sir, said Merlin, he saw

you not; for and he had seen you ye had not lightly departed.  So

they came unto Carlion, whereof his knights were passing glad.

And when they heard of his adventures they marveled that he would

jeopard his person so alone.  But all men of worship said it was

merry to be under such a chieftain that would put his person in

adventure as other poor knights did.”

CHAPTER IV

SIR DINADAN THE HUMORIST

It seemed to me that this quaint lie was most simply and beautifully

told; but then I had heard it only once, and that makes a difference;

it was pleasant to the others when it was fresh, no doubt.

Sir Dinadan the Humorist was the first to awake, and he soon roused

the rest with a practical joke of a sufficiently poor quality.

He tied some metal mugs to a dog's tail and turned him loose,

and he tore around and around the place in a frenzy of fright,

with all the other dogs bellowing after him and battering and

crashing against everything that came in their way and making

altogether a chaos of confusion and a most deafening din and

turmoil; at which every man and woman of the multitude laughed

till the tears flowed, and some fell out of their chairs and

wallowed on the floor in ecstasy.  It was just like so many children.

Sir Dinadan was so proud of his exploit that he could not keep

from telling over and over again, to weariness, how the immortal

idea happened to occur to him; and as is the way with humorists

of his breed, he was still laughing at it after everybody else had

got through.  He was so set up that he concluded to make a speech

--of course a humorous speech.  I think I never heard so many old

played-out jokes strung together in my life.  He was worse than

the minstrels, worse than the clown in the circus.  It seemed

peculiarly sad to sit here, thirteen hundred years before I was

born, and listen again to poor, flat, worm-eaten jokes that had

given me the dry gripes when I was a boy thirteen hundred years

afterwards.  It about convinced me that there isn't any such thing

as a new joke possible.  Everybody laughed at these antiquities

--but then they always do; I had noticed that, centuries later.

However, of course the scoffer didn't laugh--I mean the boy.  No,

he scoffed; there wasn't anything he wouldn't scoff at. He said

the most of Sir Dinadan's jokes were rotten and the rest were

petrified.  I said “petrified” was good; as I believed, myself,

that the only right way to classify the majestic ages of some of

those jokes was by geologic periods.  But that neat idea hit

the boy in a blank place, for geology hadn't been invented yet.

However, I made a note of the remark, and calculated to educate

the commonwealth up to it if I pulled through.  It is no use

to throw a good thing away merely because the market isn't ripe yet.

Now Sir Kay arose and began to fire up on his history-mill with me

for fuel.  It was time for me to feel serious, and I did.  Sir Kay

told how he had encountered me in a far land of barbarians, who

all wore the same ridiculous garb that I did--a garb that was a work

of enchantment, and intended to make the wearer secure from hurt

by human hands.  However he had nullified the force of the

enchantment by prayer, and had killed my thirteen knights in

a three hours' battle, and taken me prisoner, sparing my life

in order that so strange a curiosity as I was might be exhibited

to the wonder and admiration of the king and the court.  He spoke

of me all the time, in the blandest way, as “this prodigious giant,”

 and “this horrible sky-towering monster,” and “this tusked and

taloned man-devouring ogre”, and everybody took in all this bosh

in the naivest way, and never smiled or seemed to notice that

there was any discrepancy between these watered statistics and me.

He said that in trying to escape from him I sprang into the top of

a tree two hundred cubits high at a single bound, but he dislodged

me with a stone the size of a cow, which “all-to brast” the most

of my bones, and then swore me to appear at Arthur's court for

sentence.  He ended by condemning me to die at noon on the 21st;

and was so little concerned about it that he stopped to yawn before

he named the date.

I was in a dismal state by this time; indeed, I was hardly enough

in my right mind to keep the run of a dispute that sprung up as

to how I had better be killed, the possibility of the killing being

doubted by some, because of the enchantment in my clothes. And yet

it was nothing but an ordinary suit of fifteen-dollar slop-shops.

Still, I was sane enough to notice this detail, to wit: many of

the terms used in the most matter-of-fact way by this great

assemblage of the first ladies and gentlemen in the land would

have made a Comanche blush.  Indelicacy is too mild a term to convey

the idea.  However, I had read “Tom Jones,” and “Roderick Random,”

 and other books of that kind, and knew that the highest and first

ladies and gentlemen in England had remained little or no cleaner

in their talk, and in the morals and conduct which such talk

implies, clear up to a hundred years ago; in fact clear into our

own nineteenth century--in which century, broadly speaking,

the earliest samples of the real lady and real gentleman discoverable

in English history--or in European history, for that matter--may be

said to have made their appearance.  Suppose Sir Walter, instead

of putting the conversations into the mouths of his characters,

had allowed the characters to speak for themselves?  We should

have had talk from Rebecca and Ivanhoe and the soft lady Rowena

which would embarrass a tramp in our day.  However, to the

unconsciously indelicate all things are delicate.  King Arthur's

people were not aware that they were indecent and I had presence

of mind enough not to mention it.

They were so troubled about my enchanted clothes that they were

mightily relieved, at last, when old Merlin swept the difficulty

away for them with a common-sense hint.  He asked them why they

were so dull--why didn't it occur to them to strip me.  In half a

minute I was as naked as a pair of tongs!  And dear, dear, to think

of it: I was the only embarrassed person there.  Everybody discussed

me; and did it as unconcernedly as if I had been a cabbage.

Queen Guenever was as naively interested as the rest, and said

she had never seen anybody with legs just like mine before.  It was

the only compliment I got--if it was a compliment.

Finally I was carried off in one direction, and my perilous clothes

in another.  I was shoved into a dark and narrow cell in a dungeon,

with some scant remnants for dinner, some moldy straw for a bed,

and no end of rats for company.

CHAPTER V

AN INSPIRATION

I was so tired that even my fears were not able to keep me awake long.

When I next came to myself, I seemed to have been asleep a very

long time.  My first thought was, “Well, what an astonishing dream

I've had!  I reckon I've waked only just in time to keep from

being hanged or drowned or burned or something....  I'll nap again

till the whistle blows, and then I'll go down to the arms factory

and have it out with Hercules.”

But just then I heard the harsh music of rusty chains and bolts,

a light flashed in my eyes, and that butterfly, Clarence, stood

before me!  I gasped with surprise; my breath almost got away from me.

“What!” I said, “you here yet?  Go along with the rest of

the dream! scatter!”

But he only laughed, in his light-hearted way, and fell to making

fun of my sorry plight.

“All right,” I said resignedly, “let the dream go on; I'm in no hurry.”

“Prithee what dream?”

“What dream?  Why, the dream that I am in Arthur's court--a person

who never existed; and that I am talking to you, who are nothing

but a work of the imagination.”

“Oh, la, indeed! and is it a dream that you're to be burned

to-morrow?  Ho-ho--answer me that!”

The shock that went through me was distressing.  I now began

to reason that my situation was in the last degree serious, dream

or no dream; for I knew by past experience of the lifelike intensity

of dreams, that to be burned to death, even in a dream, would be

very far from being a jest, and was a thing to be avoided, by any

means, fair or foul, that I could contrive.  So I said beseechingly:

“Ah, Clarence, good boy, only friend I've got,--for you _are_ my

friend, aren't you?--don't fail me; help me to devise some way

of escaping from this place!”

“Now do but hear thyself!  Escape?  Why, man, the corridors are

in guard and keep of men-at-arms.”

“No doubt, no doubt.  But how many, Clarence?  Not many, I hope?”

“Full a score.  One may not hope to escape.”  After a pause

--hesitatingly: “and there be other reasons--and weightier.”

“Other ones? What are they?”

“Well, they say--oh, but I daren't, indeed daren't!”

“Why, poor lad, what is the matter?  Why do you blench?  Why do

you tremble so?”

“Oh, in sooth, there is need!  I do want to tell you, but--”

“Come, come, be brave, be a man--speak out, there's a good lad!”

He hesitated, pulled one way by desire, the other way by fear;

then he stole to the door and peeped out, listening; and finally

crept close to me and put his mouth to my ear and told me his

fearful news in a whisper, and with all the cowering apprehension

of one who was venturing upon awful ground and speaking of things

whose very mention might be freighted with death.

“Merlin, in his malice, has woven a spell about this dungeon, and

there bides not the man in these kingdoms that would be desperate

enough to essay to cross its lines with you!  Now God pity me,

I have told it!  Ah, be kind to me, be merciful to a poor boy who

means thee well; for an thou betray me I am lost!”

I laughed the only really refreshing laugh I had had for some time;

and shouted:

“Merlin has wrought a spell!  _Merlin_, forsooth!  That cheap old

humbug, that maundering old ass?  Bosh, pure bosh, the silliest bosh

in the world!  Why, it does seem to me that of all the childish,

idiotic, chuckle-headed, chicken-livered superstitions that ev

--oh, damn Merlin!”

But Clarence had slumped to his knees before I had half finished,

and he was like to go out of his mind with fright.

“Oh, beware!  These are awful words!  Any moment these walls

may crumble upon us if you say such things.  Oh call them back

before it is too late!”

Now this strange exhibition gave me a good idea and set me to

thinking.  If everybody about here was so honestly and sincerely

afraid of Merlin's pretended magic as Clarence was, certainly

a superior man like me ought to be shrewd enough to contrive

some way to take advantage of such a state of things.  I went

on thinking, and worked out a plan. Then I said:

“Get up.  Pull yourself together; look me in the eye.  Do you

know why I laughed?”

“No--but for our blessed Lady's sake, do it no more.”

“Well, I'll tell you why I laughed.  Because I'm a magician myself.”

“Thou!”  The boy recoiled a step, and caught his breath, for

the thing hit him rather sudden; but the aspect which he took

on was very, very respectful.  I took quick note of that; it

indicated that a humbug didn't need to have a reputation in this

asylum; people stood ready to take him at his word, without that.

I resumed.

“I've known Merlin seven hundred years, and he--”

“Seven hun--”

“Don't interrupt me.  He has died and come alive again thirteen

times, and traveled under a new name every time: Smith, Jones,

Robinson, Jackson, Peters, Haskins, Merlin--a new alias every

time he turns up.  I knew him in Egypt three hundred years ago;

I knew him in India five hundred years ago--he is always blethering

around in my way, everywhere I go; he makes me tired.  He don't

amount to shucks, as a magician; knows some of the old common

tricks, but has never got beyond the rudiments, and never will.

He is well enough for the provinces--one-night stands and that

sort of thing, you know--but dear me, _he_ oughtn't to set up for

an expert--anyway not where there's a real artist.  Now look here,

Clarence, I am going to stand your friend, right along, and in

return you must be mine.  I want you to do me a favor.  I want

you to get word to the king that I am a magician myself--and the

Supreme Grand High-yu-Muck-amuck and head of the tribe, at that;

and I want him to be made to understand that I am just quietly

arranging a little calamity here that will make the fur fly in these

realms if Sir Kay's project is carried out and any harm comes

to me.  Will you get that to the king for me?”

The poor boy was in such a state that he could hardly answer me.

It was pitiful to see a creature so terrified, so unnerved, so

demoralized.  But he promised everything; and on my side he made

me promise over and over again that I would remain his friend, and

never turn against him or cast any enchantments upon him. Then

he worked his way out, staying himself with his hand along the

wall, like a sick person.

Presently this thought occurred to me: how heedless I have been!

When the boy gets calm, he will wonder why a great magician like me

should have begged a boy like him to help me get out of this place;

he will put this and that together, and will see that I am a humbug.

I worried over that heedless blunder for an hour, and called myself

a great many hard names, meantime.  But finally it occurred to me

all of a sudden that these animals didn't reason; that _they_ never

put this and that together; that all their talk showed that they

didn't know a discrepancy when they saw it.  I was at rest, then.

But as soon as one is at rest, in this world, off he goes on

something else to worry about.  It occurred to me that I had made

another blunder: I had sent the boy off to alarm his betters with

a threat--I intending to invent a calamity at my leisure; now

the people who are the readiest and eagerest and willingest to

swallow miracles are the very ones who are hungriest to see you

perform them; suppose I should be called on for a sample?  Suppose

I should be asked to name my calamity?  Yes, I had made a blunder;

I ought to have invented my calamity first.  “What shall I do?

what can I say, to gain a little time?”  I was in trouble again;

in the deepest kind of trouble...

“There's a footstep!--they're coming.  If I had only just a moment

to think....  Good, I've got it.  I'm all right.”

You see, it was the eclipse.  It came into my mind in the nick

of time, how Columbus, or Cortez, or one of those people, played

an eclipse as a saving trump once, on some savages, and I saw my

chance.  I could play it myself, now, and it wouldn't be any

plagiarism, either, because I should get it in nearly a thousand

years ahead of those parties.

Clarence came in, subdued, distressed, and said:

“I hasted the message to our liege the king, and straightway he

had me to his presence.  He was frighted even to the marrow,

and was minded to give order for your instant enlargement, and

that you be clothed in fine raiment and lodged as befitted one so

great; but then came Merlin and spoiled all; for he persuaded

the king that you are mad, and know not whereof you speak; and

said your threat is but foolishness and idle vaporing.  They