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A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's

Court, Complete, by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens)

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Title: A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, Complete

Author: Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens)

Release Date: July 20, 2006 [EBook #86] Last Updated: May 19, 2010

Language: English

*** CONNECTICUT YANKEE ***

Produced by David Widger and Janet Blenkinship

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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

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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

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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

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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: