Mark Twain Yankee from Connecticut. Mark Twain. A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. A few explanatory notes
Mark Twain
Yankees at King Arthur's Court
PREFACE
The rough laws and customs mentioned in this story are historically quite reliable, and the episodes that explain them are also quite consistent with what history tells us. The author does not undertake to assert that all these laws and customs existed in England precisely in the sixth century; no, he only asserts that since they existed in England and other countries at a later time, it can be assumed, without fear of becoming a slanderer, that they already existed in the sixth century. We have every reason to believe that, if the law or custom here described did not exist in those distant times, another law or custom, even worse, has abundantly replaced it.
The question of whether there really is such a thing as the divine right of kings is not addressed in this book. It turned out to be too complicated. It is obvious and indisputable that the head of the executive branch of the state must be a man of high soul and outstanding abilities; it is equally obvious and indisputable that only God can, without fear of making a mistake, choose such a person; from which it clearly and indisputably follows that his election must be left to God, and that reflection leads to the inevitable conclusion that the head of the executive power is always elected by God. So at least it seemed to the author of this book until he came across such representatives of the executive power as Madame Pompadour, Lady Castleman and several others of the same kind; This confused the author to such an extent and confused his theory that he (due to failure) decided to direct his book in another direction, and to take up the consideration of the question of the divine right of kings first by thoroughly practicing in another book. This question must be resolved at all costs, and I will devote the entire next winter to resolving it.
A FEW EXPLANATORY NOTES
I met the funny stranger I am about to talk about at Warwick Castle. I liked him for three of his qualities: his sincere innocence, his amazing knowledge of ancient weapons, and also the fact that in his presence one could feel completely calm, since he was the only one speaking all the time. Thanks to our modesty, we found ourselves at the very tail of the herd of people that were being led around the castle, and he immediately began to tell me extremely curious things. His speeches, soft, pleasant, smooth, seemed to imperceptibly take us away from our world and our time to some distant era, to an old, forgotten country; he gradually bewitched me so much that it began to seem to me as if I were surrounded by ghosts of antiquity that had arisen from the dust and as if I was talking with one of them! Of Sir Bedivere, of Sir Worce de Ganis, of Sir Lancelot of the Lake, of Sir Galahad, and of the other good knights of the Round Table, he spoke in exactly the same way as I would speak of my closest personal friends, enemies, or neighbors; and how old, how old, inexpressibly old, and faded, and dried up, and ancient he himself seemed to me! Suddenly he turned to me and said as simply as one speaks about the weather or other ordinary things:
You, of course, have heard about the transmigration of souls. But have you ever heard about the transfer of bodies from one era to another?
I replied that it didn't happen. He did not pay any attention to my answer, as if the conversation was really about the weather. There was silence, which was immediately broken by the boring voice of the hired guide.
Ancient chain mail from the sixth century, from the time of King Arthur and the Round Table, according to legend, belonged to the knight Sir Sagramor the Desirable. Note the round hole between the chainmail loops on the left side of the chest; The origin of this hole is unknown, it is assumed that this is a trace of a bullet. Obviously, chain mail was pierced after the invention of firearms. Perhaps some Cromwell soldier shot at her out of mischief.
My friend smiled - his smile was somehow strange; perhaps they smiled like that many hundreds of years ago,” and muttered to himself:
What to hide! I know how this chain mail was pierced. “Then, after a pause, he added: “I punched it myself.”
At this remark I shuddered as if from an electric shock. When I came to my senses, he was no longer there.
I sat all evening by the fire in the Warwick Arms, lost in thoughts of ancient times; Outside the windows the rain was pounding and the wind was howling. From time to time I looked into the charming old book of Sir Thomas Malory, full of wonders and adventures, inhaled the aromas of forgotten centuries and again plunged into thoughts. It was already midnight when I read another upcoming story for bed - about...
HOW SIR LANCELOT KILLED TWO GIANTS AND LIBERATED THE CASTLE
...Suddenly two huge giants appeared before him, clad in iron up to the neck, with two terrible clubs in their hands. Sir Lancelot covered himself with a shield, repelled the attack of one of the giants and cut his head with a blow of his sword. Another giant, seeing this and fearing the terrible blows of the sword, rushed to run like crazy, and Sir Lancelot rushed after him at full speed and cut him in half with a blow to the shoulder. And Sir Lancelot entered the castle, and twelve ladies and maidens came out to meet him three times, and fell on their knees before him, and thanked the Lord and him for their liberation. “For, sir,” they said, “we have been languishing here in captivity for seven whole years and embroidering with silks to earn food for ourselves, and yet we are noble-born women. And blessed be the hour in which you, knight, were born, for you are more worthy of honor than any other knight in the universe, and should be glorified; and we all beg you to tell us your name, so that we can tell our friends who freed us from captivity.” “Lovely maidens,” he said, “my name is Sir Lancelot of the Lake.” And he left them, entrusting them to God. And he mounted his horse and visited many wonderful and wild countries and rode through many waters and valleys, but was not received in the manner due to him. Finally, one evening, he happened to arrive at a beautiful estate, and there he was met by an old woman of noble birth, who gave him a proper welcome and took care of him and his horse. And when the time came, the hostess took him to a beautiful tower above the gate, where a comfortable bed was prepared for him. And Sir Lancelot took off his armor, put his weapon next to him, lay down in bed and immediately fell asleep. And soon a horseman rode up and began hastily knocking on the gate. And Sir Lancelot jumped up and looked out the window and, by the light of the moon, saw not far away three knights who, spurring their horses, were catching up with the one who was knocking at the gate. As they approached, they swung their swords at him, and he turned to them and, as befits a knight, defended himself. “Truly,” said Sir Lancelot, “I must help this knight who fights alone against three, for if he is killed, I will be guilty of his death and the shame will fall on me.” And he put on his armor, and went down from the window along the sheet to the four knights, and shouted in a loud voice: “Hey, knights, fight with me and don’t touch this knight!” Then they all three left Sir Kay and rushed upon Sir Lancelot, and a great battle began, for the knights dismounted and began to strike Sir Lancelot on all sides. Sir Kay moved forward to help Sir Lancelot. “No, sir,” said Lancelot, “I do not need your help; if you really want to help me, let me deal with them alone.” Sir Kay, to please him, fulfilled his wish and stepped aside. And Sir Lancelot with six blows threw them to the ground.
Then they, all three, prayed: “Sir knight, we submit to you, for you have no equal in strength!” “I do not need your submission,” replied Sir Lancelot, “you must submit not to me, but to Sir Kay, the seneschal. If you agree to submit to him, I will give you life; If you don’t agree, I’ll kill you.” “Beautiful knight,” they objected, “we do not want to lose our honor, for we pursued Sir Kay to the very gates of the castle, and we would have defeated him if it had not been for you; Why should we submit to him?” “As you wish,” said Sir Lancelot, “you have to make a choice between life and death, and you can only submit to Sir Kay.” “Beautiful knight,” they said then, “in order to save lives, we will do as you command us.” “On the next Trinity Day,” said Sir Lancelot, “you must come to the court of King Arthur, express your submission to Queen Guinevere, commend yourself to her mercy, and tell her that Sir Kay has sent you to her and commanded you to become her prisoners.” The next morning Sir Launcelot awoke early, and Sir Kay was still asleep; and Sir Launcelot took Sir Kay's armour, and his shield, and his arms, and went into the stable, mounted his horse, and taking leave of his mistress, rode away. Soon Sir Kay awoke and did not find Sir Lancelot; and noticed that he had carried away his weapon and taken away his horse. “I swear, many of King Arthur's knights will suffer much grief, for, misled by my armor, they will bravely attack Sir Lancelot, mistaking him for me. I, wearing his armor and hiding behind his shield, will arrive in complete safety.” And, thanking the hostess, Sir Kay set off...
Before I had time to put the book down, there was a knock on the door and my old stranger entered. I offered him a pipe and a chair and received him as kindly as I could. I poured him a glass of hot Scotch whiskey and poured another glass, hoping to hear his story. After the fourth glass he spoke himself, p...
This is what the old man said:
- ...So, the king and Merlin set off and came to the hermit, who was a kind man and a great healer. The hermit examined the king's wounds and gave him glorious medicines; and the king dwelt there three days, and his wounds were healed; and they set off. And on the way Arthur said: “I have no sword.” “It doesn’t matter,” said Merlin, “I’ll get you a sword.” They reached a large, deep lake; and Arthur sees: from the lake, in the very middle of it, a hand in a white brocade sleeve rose, and in that hand was a sword. “Here,” said Merlin, “is the sword I told you about.” They saw a maiden walking along the shore of the lake. "Who is this maiden?" - said Arthur. “This is the mistress of the lake,” said Merlin. “In the middle of the lake there is a rock on which there is a castle - the most beautiful castle in all the land, now this maiden will approach you and, if you speak to her politely, will give you that sword.” And the maiden came to Arthur and greeted him, and he greeted her too. “Maiden,” said Arthur, “whose sword is this that is held by the hand above the water? I would like it to become mine, for I have no sword.” “Sir Arthur, king,” said the maiden, “this is my sword, and if you give me as a gift what I ask of you, then this sword will be yours.” “I swear,” said Arthur, “I will give you everything you ask.” “Okay,” said the maiden, “get into that boat, row to the sword and take it along with the scabbard, and I will come to you for the promised gift when the time comes.” Sir Arthur and Merlin dismounted from their horses, tied them to two trees, got into the boat and swam to the hand that held the sword; and Sir Arthur seized the sword by the hilt and snatched it away. And the hand disappeared under the water, and they returned to land and moved on. And Sir Arthur saw a luxurious tent. "Whose tent is this?" “This is the tent of Sir Pellinore,” said Merlin, “the knight with whom you recently fought, but now he is not in this tent, he went to fight with your knight, the glorious Egglem; and they fought for a long time, and Egglem fled, fleeing from the inevitable death, and Sir Pellinore pursued him as far as Carlion, and we will now meet him on the high road." “I am glad of this,” said Arthur, “now I have a sword, and I will fight this knight and take revenge on him.” “Sir, you must not engage him in battle,” said Merlin, “for this knight is now tired of battle and a long pursuit and there is little honor in fighting him; besides, this knight is such that he has no equal in the world; and so My advice to you: do not touch him, let him pass by, for soon he will serve you well, and when he dies, his sons will serve you. The day will come when you will be happy to marry your sister to him." - “When I see him, I will do as you advise me,” said Arthur. Sir Arthur examined his sword and was pleased with it. “What do you like best?” said Merlin, “the sword or the sheath?” “I like the sword better,” said Arthur. “Your answer is not wise,” said Merlin, “for this sheath is ten times more precious than the sword; as long as you have this sheath on, no one will hurt you and you will not lose a drop of blood; never part with this scabbard." Near Carlyon they met Sir Pellinore; however, Merlin made sure that Pellinore did not notice Arthur and rode past without saying a word. “I’m surprised,” said Arthur, “why did this knight say nothing?” “Sir,” answered Merlin, “he did not see you; for if he had seen you, you would not have parted so easily." And they arrived at Carlion, where Arthur's knights were having fun. Listening to the story of the adventures of their king, the knights were amazed that the king would so willingly endanger his royal life. But the most famous of them said that it was pleasant to serve the king, who, like simple poor knights, wanders and seeks adventures.
Chapter IV
Sir Dynadan the Joker
In my opinion, this strange fable was told simply and charmingly; but I listened to it for the first time, and this is a completely different matter - the others, no doubt, liked it until they got tired of it.
Sir Dynadan the Joker was the first to wake up and wake the others with a joke that could not be called too witty. He tied a large jug to the dog's tail and let him go; the dog, mad with fear, ran in wide circles around the room; the rest of the dogs rushed after him, howling and barking, knocking over and breaking everything they came across, raising an unimaginable noise and roar.
Men and women laughed so hard that tears fell from their eyes; many fell off their chairs and rolled on the floor in delight, just like children. Sir Dynaden the Joker was so proud of his invention that he could not help but endlessly and tiresomely tell how this immortal thought came to him; and, like all jokers of this kind, he continued to laugh when no one else around was laughing. He was so pleased with himself that he decided to make a speech, a joke of course. Never in my life have I heard so many hackneyed jokes. He made jokes worse than any entertainer, worse than any circus clown. How sad it was to sit there thirty hundred years before I was born and listen again to the pitiful, flat, worm-eaten jokes that made me cringe thirteen centuries later, when I was a little boy. I almost came to the conclusion that it was impossible to invent a new joke. Everyone laughed at these ancient jokes, but what can you do, people laugh at ancient jokes always and everywhere; I already noticed this many centuries later. However, the real mocker did not laugh - I'm talking about the boy. No, he was making fun of the joker - he was always making fun of everything. He said that most of Sir Dynadan's jokes were simply stupid, and the rest were real fossils. I told him that I really liked the word "fossil" as applied to witticisms; I am convinced that ancient jokes should be classified according to geological periods. But the boy did not quite understand my joke, because in those days geology had not yet been invented. However, I wrote down this apt comparison in my notebook, hoping to make society happy with it if I ever managed to return to the nineteenth century. Don’t throw away a good product just because the market is not yet ripe for it.
Sir Kay rose again, and his factory of lies began to work again, but this time I was the fuel. At this point I had no time for jokes. Sir Kay told how he met me in a distant land of barbarians, dressed in the same funny clothes as mine; robes created by magic and having the property of making those who wear them invulnerable. However, he destroyed the power of magic with prayer and in a battle that lasted three hours, he killed thirteen of my knights, and took me prisoner, sparing my life, in order to show how amazing the miracle was to the king and his court. At the same time, he all the time flatteringly called me either “a huge giant”, or “a monster propping up the heavens”, or “a fanged and clawed cannibal”; and everyone innocently believed this nonsense, and no one laughed, no one even noticed how inconsistent these incredible exaggerations were with my humble person. He said that, trying to escape from him, I jumped to the top of a tree two hundred cubits high, but he knocked me out of there with a stone the size of a cow, and broke all my bones and then made me swear an oath that I would appear at the court of King Arthur on court. He ended up condemning me to death. He scheduled my execution at noon on the 21st; at the same time, he was so indifferent to my fate that he even yawned before giving the date.
I became so desperate that I could not even closely follow the debate about exactly how to execute me; however, many generally expressed doubt that they would be able to kill me, because I was wearing enchanted clothes.
Mark Twain
Yankees at King Arthur's Court
PREFACE
The rough laws and customs mentioned in this story are historically quite reliable, and the episodes that explain them are also quite consistent with what history tells us. The author does not undertake to assert that all these laws and customs existed in England precisely in the sixth century; no, he only asserts that since they existed in England and other countries at a later time, it can be assumed, without fear of becoming a slanderer, that they already existed in the sixth century. We have every reason to believe that, if the law or custom here described did not exist in those distant times, another law or custom, even worse, has abundantly replaced it.
The question of whether there really is such a thing as the divine right of kings is not addressed in this book. It turned out to be too complicated. It is obvious and indisputable that the head of the executive branch of the state must be a man of high soul and outstanding abilities; it is equally obvious and indisputable that only God can, without fear of making a mistake, choose such a person; from which it clearly and indisputably follows that his election must be left to God, and that reflection leads to the inevitable conclusion that the head of the executive power is always elected by God. So at least it seemed to the author of this book until he came across such representatives of the executive power as Madame Pompadour, Lady Castleman and several others of the same kind; This confused the author to such an extent and confused his theory that he (due to failure) decided to direct his book in a different direction, and to consider the question of the divine right of kings first by thoroughly practicing in another book. This question must be resolved at all costs, and I will devote the entire next winter to resolving it.
A FEW EXPLANATORY NOTES
I met the funny stranger I am about to talk about at Warwick Castle. I liked him for three of his qualities: his sincere innocence, his amazing knowledge of ancient weapons, and also the fact that in his presence one could feel completely calm, since he was the only one speaking all the time. Thanks to our modesty, we found ourselves at the very tail of the herd of people that were being led around the castle, and he immediately began to tell me extremely curious things. His speeches, soft, pleasant, smooth, seemed to imperceptibly take us away from our world and our time to some distant era, to an old, forgotten country; he gradually bewitched me so much that it began to seem to me as if I were surrounded by ghosts of antiquity that had arisen from the dust and as if I was talking with one of them! Of Sir Bedivere, of Sir Worce de Ganis, of Sir Lancelot of the Lake, of Sir Galahad, and of the other good knights of the Round Table, he spoke in exactly the same way as I would speak of my closest personal friends, enemies, or neighbors; and how old, how old, inexpressibly old, and faded, and dried up, and ancient he himself seemed to me! Suddenly he turned to me and said as simply as one speaks about the weather or other ordinary things:
You, of course, have heard about the transmigration of souls. But have you ever heard about the transfer of bodies from one era to another?
I replied that it didn't happen. He did not pay any attention to my answer, as if the conversation was really about the weather. There was silence, which was immediately broken by the boring voice of the hired guide.
Ancient chain mail from the sixth century, from the time of King Arthur and the Round Table, according to legend, belonged to the knight Sir Sagramor the Desirable. Note the round hole between the chainmail loops on the left side of the chest; The origin of this hole is unknown, it is assumed that this is a trace of a bullet. Obviously, chain mail was pierced after the invention of firearms. Perhaps some Cromwell soldier shot at her out of mischief.
My friend smiled - his smile was somehow strange; perhaps they smiled like that many hundreds of years ago,” and muttered to himself:
What to hide! I know how this chain mail was pierced. “Then, after a pause, he added: “I punched it myself.”
At this remark I shuddered as if from an electric shock. When I came to my senses, he was no longer there.
I sat all evening by the fire in the Warwick Arms, lost in thoughts of ancient times; The wind was knocking outside the windows. From time to time I looked into the charming old book of Sir Thomas Malory, full of wonders and adventures, inhaled the aromas of forgotten centuries and again plunged into thoughts. It was already midnight when I read another upcoming story for bed - about...
HOW SIR LANCELOT KILLED TWO GIANTS AND LIBERATED THE CASTLE
...Suddenly two huge giants appeared before him, clad in iron up to the neck, with two terrible clubs in their hands. Sir Lancelot covered himself with a shield, repelled the attack of one of the giants and cut his head with a blow of his sword. Another giant, seeing this and fearing the terrible blows of the sword, rushed to run like crazy, and Sir Lancelot rushed after him at full speed and cut him in half with a blow to the shoulder. And Sir Lancelot entered the castle, and twelve ladies and maidens came out to meet him three times, and fell on their knees before him, and thanked the Lord and him for their liberation. “For, sir,” they said, “we have been languishing here in captivity for seven whole years and embroidering with silks to earn food for ourselves, and yet we are noble-born women. And blessed be the hour in which you, knight, were born, for you are more worthy of honor than any other knight in the universe, and should be glorified; and we all beg you to tell us your name, so that we can tell our friends who freed us from captivity.” “Lovely maidens,” he said, “my name is Sir Lancelot of the Lake.” And he left them, entrusting them to God. And he mounted his horse and visited many wonderful and wild countries and rode through many waters and valleys, but was not received in the manner due to him. Finally, one evening, he happened to arrive at a beautiful estate, and there he was met by an old woman of noble birth, who gave him a proper welcome and took care of him and his horse. And when the time came, the hostess took him to a beautiful tower above the gate, where a comfortable bed was prepared for him. And Sir Lancelot took off his armor, put his weapon next to him, lay down in bed and immediately fell asleep. And soon a horseman rode up and began hastily knocking on the gate. And Sir Lancelot jumped up and looked out the window and, by the light of the moon, saw not far away three knights who, spurring their horses, were catching up with the one who was knocking at the gate. As they approached, they swung their swords at him, and he turned to them and, as befits a knight, defended himself. “Truly,” said Sir Lancelot, “I must help this knight who fights alone against three, for if he is killed, I will be guilty of his death and the shame will fall on me.” And he put on his armor, and went down from the window along the sheet to the four knights, and shouted in a loud voice: “Hey, knights, fight with me and don’t touch this knight!” Then they all three left Sir Kay and rushed upon Sir Lancelot, and a great battle began, for the knights dismounted and began to strike Sir Lancelot on all sides. Sir Kay moved forward to help Sir Lancelot. “No, sir,” said Lancelot, “I do not need your help; if you really want to help me, let me deal with them alone.” Sir Kay, to please him, fulfilled his wish and stepped aside. And Sir Lancelot with six blows threw them to the ground.
So far on our website, unfortunately, there are not many articles about. Over time, I think I will correct this shortcoming, especially since in this area one can sometimes discover many very interesting and at the same time not particularly well-known or forgotten things. I recently got around to reading a science fiction novel by Mark Twain. Although I had previously read other texts by him, I admired Tom Sawyer And Huckleberry Finn(and how many people grew up on these works!), but Yankee I just read it now.
The novel is an interesting combination of fantasy, satire and parody of medieval, chivalric romances glorifying this era. And this, as they say, is one of the very first works in which the hero travels through time. And as a person actively interested in this topic, I had another good reason to turn to this book.
Writer's real name: Samuel Clemens.
Original title: A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court.
Year of publication: 1889.
Genre: fantasy novel, satire, history.
In the Labyrinth store: .
“I made two decisions: if now is the nineteenth century, and I am among the crazy, and I can’t get out of here, I won’t be me if I don’t become the owner of this madhouse; if, on the contrary, now is really the sixth century, then so much the better - in three months I will be the master of the whole country: after all, I am the most educated person in the entire kingdom, since I was born thirteen centuries later than all of them.”
The plot is very unusual: a talented gunsmith, an educated and very gifted inventor, technician, engineer, worker, receives a powerful blow to the head and suddenly finds himself in the 6th century, in Britain, during the famous era of the reign of King Arthur. Using his knowledge and skills, he pretends to be a powerful wizard and becomes the second person in the state, fights for progress, education and tries to gradually remake and soften the feudal order, make the life of ordinary people better, get rid of the monarchical system and the knightly class.
First edition of A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court
The novel is written in a light, pleasant style, there is a lot of humor in it, but in fact it is filled with many important ideas, it is a serious, merciless satire on a slave-owning, feudal society. You will see the Knights of the Round Table, as well as this era in general, differently from how many other authors portray it. She is not romanticized, she is shown with all her contradictions, dirt, stupidity and seems completely unattractive. This factor may scare away those who love the Middle Ages and would even like to settle there. Mark Twain so convincingly and vividly exposes feudalism and the monarchy, so confidently ridicules the knightly class, the church, and various prejudices, that you are unlikely to be able to look at the Middle Ages and works about knights with the same love. The novel can also be called anti-clerical. One of the main opponents that the hero faced in his persistent struggle for progress turned out to be the church - priests who rob the people, conservative-minded, retaining power at any cost, ready to sacrifice even thousands of lives just to avoid changes. The Catholic Church here suffered greatly from Twain, and if you are very religious, then it is better not to read this book either. However, I think Mark Twain’s views are a secret to few people. And when reading the book, it is very difficult to disagree with him. After all, everything he says is a real story, the naked truth, unpleasant, intrusive, sad. The closest work, it seems to me, is “Don Quixote” by Miguel de Cervantes, where the chivalric romance was parodied with the same force. Surely, he inspired Twain to some extent.
The writer was a convinced fighter against slavery and any oppression, a supporter of scientific progress and technical revolution. He himself was interested in science, followed modern ideas, and was friends with Nikola Tesla. And his knowledge and views are embodied in Yankee. The main character, who is also the narrator and the author of the diary, becomes Twain's sounding board and expresses his own thoughts.
And yet this is not a sermon, not a boring and dry text, the author is true to his style. These are ironic adventures, sometimes seasoned with absurdity and black humor. Here you will see many of the heroes we know in a different light, from the point of view of an educated 19th century American. It’s as if two eras meet here. The main character faces not only the knights, but also Merlin himself, his competitor in the “magical” field, Morgana. Many traditional motifs from the Arthurian stories are used and ironically reinterpreted here. Yankee wants to instill in the people of this period the rudiments of knowledge about the basic laws of nature, teach them to use electricity, telephone, telegraph and many other inventions of the 19th century. His task is very difficult not only because there are ardent opponents of change among those in power, the rich, knighthood and priests, but also because the people themselves are so accustomed to the established order of things that they do not even notice their oppressed position, do not strive change something and does not try to become equal to the noble class, allows the nobility to do whatever they want to themselves, rob, insult and humiliate. Slavery has become so ingrained in their minds and souls that they see no point in fighting for a better life, for their freedom. This is perhaps one of the most striking ideas in this book. That is why the Yankees are trying to carry out reforms quietly, change the order gradually, and he even manages to achieve a lot.
Not everyone will like such a frankly condemning, revealing look at the Middle Ages, but I think that it will be useful for those who are really interested in the era, and not in romantic ideas about it, in fairy-tale, distorted images, to read and compare, for example, with, where the Middle Ages , Arthur, the knights are presented in a more traditional spirit.
Timofey Kuzmin“So the unknown person was also not far from the dead deer? What if he killed him himself? His loyal zeal, and even in a mask, is very suspicious. But why did you, Your Majesty, decide to torture the arrested person? What's the use of it?
“He didn’t want to repent.” And if he does not repent, his soul will go to hell. The crime he committed is punishable by death by law; and, of course, I will make sure that he does not escape punishment! But I will destroy my own soul if I let him die without repentance and remission of sins. No, I’m not such a fool as to go to hell because of him!
- What if, Your Majesty, he has nothing to repent of?
– We’ll find out now. If I torture him to death, and he still doesn’t repent, because he has nothing to repent of, so much the better. I won’t go to hell because of an unrepentant person who had nothing to repent of.”
Mark Twain
A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court
Preface
The rough laws and customs mentioned in this story are historically quite reliable, and the episodes that explain them are also quite consistent with what history tells us. The author does not undertake to assert that all these laws and customs existed in England precisely in the sixth century; no, he only asserts that since they existed in England and other countries at a later time, it can be assumed, without fear of becoming a slanderer, that they already existed in the sixth century. We have every reason to believe that, if the law or custom here described did not exist in those distant times, another law or custom, even worse, has abundantly replaced it.
The question of whether there really is such a thing as the divine right of kings is not addressed in this book. It turned out to be too complicated. It is obvious and indisputable that the head of the executive branch of the state must be a man of high soul and outstanding abilities; it is equally obvious and indisputable that God alone can, without fear of making a mistake, choose such a person; from which it clearly and indisputably follows that his election must be left to God, and that reflection leads to the inevitable conclusion that the head of the executive power is always elected by God. So at least it seemed to the author of this book until he came across such representatives of the executive power as Madame Pompadour, Lady Castleman and others of the same kind; It was so difficult to classify them as God’s chosen ones that the author decided to devote this book (which should be published by the fall) to other issues, and then, having accumulated more experience, to resolve the issue of the hereditary right of kings in the next book. This issue must be resolved at all costs, and in winter, by the way, I will have nothing to do.
Mark Twain.
A few explanatory notes
I met the funny stranger I am about to talk about at Warwick Castle. I liked him for three of his qualities: his sincere innocence, his amazing knowledge of ancient weapons, and also the fact that in his presence one could feel completely calm, since he was the only one speaking all the time. Thanks to our modesty, we found ourselves at the very tail of the herd of people that were being led around the castle, and he immediately began to tell me extremely curious things. His speeches, soft, pleasant, smooth, seemed to imperceptibly take us away from our world and our time to some distant era, to an old, forgotten country; he gradually bewitched me so much that it began to seem to me as if I were surrounded by ghosts of antiquity that had arisen from the dust and as if I was talking with one of them! Of Sir Bedivere, of Sir Worce de Ganis, of Sir Lancelot of the Lake, of Sir Galahad, and of the other good knights of the Round Table, he spoke in exactly the same way as I would speak of my closest personal friends, enemies, or neighbors; and how old, how old, inexpressibly old, and faded, and dried up, and ancient he himself seemed to me! Suddenly he turned to me and said as simply as one speaks about the weather or other ordinary things:
– You, of course, have heard about the transmigration of souls. But have you ever heard about the transfer of bodies from one era to another?
I replied that it didn't happen. He did not pay any attention to my answer, as if the conversation was really about the weather. There was silence, which was immediately broken by the boring voice of the hired guide.
– Ancient chain mail from the sixth century, from the time of King Arthur and the Round Table, according to legend, belonged to the knight Sir Sagramor the Desirable. Note the round hole between the chainmail loops on the left side of the chest; The origin of this hole is unknown, it is assumed that this is a trace of a bullet. Obviously, chain mail was pierced after the invention of firearms. Perhaps some Cromwell soldier shot at her out of mischief.
My friend smiled - his smile was somehow strange; perhaps they smiled like that many hundreds of years ago,” and muttered to himself:
– What to hide! I know how this chain mail was pierced. “Then, after a pause, he added: “I punched it myself.”
At this remark I shuddered as if from an electric shock. When I came to my senses, he was no longer there.
I sat all evening by the fire in the Warwick Arms, lost in thoughts of ancient times; The wind was knocking outside the windows. From time to time I looked into the charming old book of Sir Thomas Malory, full of wonders and adventures, inhaled the aromas of forgotten centuries and again plunged into thoughts. It was already midnight when I read another upcoming story for bed - about...
...how Sir Lancelot killed two giants and liberated the castle
“...Suddenly two huge giants appeared before him, clad in iron up to the neck, with two terrible clubs in their hands. Sir Lancelot covered himself with a shield, repelled the attack of one of the giants and cut his head with a blow of his sword. Another giant, seeing this and fearing the terrible blows of the sword, rushed to run like crazy, and Sir Lancelot rushed after him at full speed and cut him in half with a blow to the shoulder. And Sir Lancelot entered the castle, and twelve ladies and maidens came out to meet him three times, and fell on their knees before him, and thanked the Lord and him for their liberation. “For, sir,” they said, “we have been languishing here in captivity for seven whole years and embroidering with silks to earn food for ourselves, and yet we are noble-born women. And blessed be the hour in which you, knight, were born, for you are more worthy of honor than any other knight in the universe, and should be glorified; and we all beg you to tell us your name, so that we can tell our friends who freed us from captivity.” “Lovely maidens,” he said, “my name is Sir Lancelot of the Lake.” And he left them, entrusting them to God. And he mounted his horse and visited many wonderful and wild countries and rode through many waters and valleys, but was not received in the manner due to him. Finally, one evening, he happened to arrive at a beautiful estate, and there he was met by an old woman of noble birth, who gave him a proper welcome and took care of him and his horse. And when the time came, the hostess took him to a beautiful tower above the gate, where a comfortable bed was prepared for him. And Sir Lancelot took off his armor, put his weapon next to him, lay down in bed and immediately fell asleep. And soon a horseman arrived and began hastily knocking on the gate. And Sir Lancelot jumped up and looked out the window and, by the light of the moon, saw not far away three knights who, spurring their horses, were catching up with the one who was knocking at the gate. As they approached, they swung their swords at him, and he turned to them and, as befits a knight, defended himself. “Truly,” said Sir Lancelot, “I must help this knight, who fights alone against three, for if he is killed, I will be guilty of his death and the shame will fall on me.” And he put on his armor, and went down from the window along the sheet to the four knights, and shouted in a loud voice: “Hey, knights, fight with me and don’t touch this knight!” Then they all three left Sir Kay and rushed upon Sir Lancelot, and a great battle began, for the knights dismounted and began to strike Sir Lancelot on all sides. Sir Kay moved forward to help Sir Lancelot. “No, sir,” said Lancelot, “I do not need your help; if you really want to help me, let me deal with them alone.” Sir Kay, to please him, fulfilled his wish and stepped aside. And Sir Lancelot with six blows threw them to the ground.
Then they, all three, prayed: “Sir knight, we submit to you, for you have no equal in strength!” “I do not need your submission,” answered Sir Lancelot, “you must submit not to me, but to Sir Kay, the seneschal. If you agree to submit to him, I will give you life; If you don’t agree, I’ll kill you.” “Beautiful knight,” they objected, “we do not want to lose our honor, for we pursued Sir Kay to the very gates of the castle, and we would have defeated him if it had not been for you; Why should we submit to him?” “As you wish,” said Sir Lancelot, “you have to make a choice between life and death, and you can only submit to Sir Kay.” “Beautiful knight,” they said then, “in order to save lives, we will do as you command us.” “On the next Whitsun day,” said Sir Lancelot, “you must come to the court of King Arthur, express your submission to Queen Guinevere, commend yourself to her mercy, and tell her that Sir Kay has sent you to her and commanded you to become her prisoners.” The next morning Sir Launcelot awoke early, and Sir Kay was still asleep; and Sir Launcelot took Sir Kay's armour, and his shield, and his arms, and went into the stable, mounted his horse, and taking leave of his mistress, rode away. Soon Sir Kay awoke and did not find Sir Lancelot; and noticed that he had carried away his weapon and taken away his horse. “I swear, many of King Arthur's knights will suffer much grief, for, misled by my armor, they will bravely attack Sir Lancelot, mistaking him for me. I, wearing his armor and hiding behind his shield, will arrive in complete safety.” And, thanking the hostess, Sir Kay went on his way...”
