A Connecticut Yankee is Mark Twain’s most ambitious work, a tour de force with a science-fiction plot told in the racy slang of a Hartford workingman, sparkling with literary hijinks as well as social and political satire. Mark Twain characterized his novel as "one vast sardonic laugh at the trivialities, the servilities of our poor human race." The Yankee, suddenly transported from his native nineteenth-century America to the sleepy sixth-century Britain of King Arthur and the Round Table, vows brashly to "boss the whole country inside of three weeks." And so he does. Emerging as "The Boss," he embarks on an ambitious plan to modernize Camelot―with unexpected results. A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court By Mark Twain, Daniel Carter Beard, Bernard L. Stein UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESS Copyright © 1983 The Regents of the University of California All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-0-520-26816-6 Contents ILLUSTRATIONS, xi, FOREWORD, xv, A CONNECTICUT YANKEE IN KING ARTHUR'S COURT, Preface, xxi, A Word of Explanation, 1, 1. Camelot, 10, 2. King Arthur's Court, 14, 3. Knights of the Table Round, 22, 4. Sir Dinadan the Humorist, 30, 5. An Inspiration, 36, 6. The Eclipse, 44, 7. Merlin's Tower, 52, 8. The Boss, 62, 9. The Tournament, 72, 10. Beginnings of Civilization, 80, 11. The Yankee in Search of Adventures, 88, 12. Slow Torture, 98, 13. Freemen!, 106, 14. "Defend Thee. Lord!", 118, 15. Sandy's Tale, 126, 16. Morgan le Fay, 138, 17. A Royal Banquet, 148, 18. In the Queen's Dungeons, 160, 19. Knight-Errantry as a Trade, 174, 20. The Ogre's Castle, 180, 21. The Pilgrims, 190, 22. The Holy Fountain, 204, 23. Restoration of the Fountain, 216, 24. A Rival Magician, 226, 25. A Competitive Examination, 238, 26. The First Newspaper, 252, 27. The Yankee and the King Travel Incognito, 264, 28. Drilling the King, 274, 29. The Small-Pox Hut, 282, 30. The Tragedy of the Manor House, 290, 31. Marco, 302, 32. Dowley's Humiliation, 312, 33. Sixth-Century Political Economy, 322, 34. The Yankee and the King Sold as Slaves, 336, 35. A Pitiful Incident, 350, 36. An Encounter in the Dark, 360, 37. An Awful Predicament, 366, 38. Sir Launcelot and Knights to the Rescue, 376, 39. The Yankee's Fight with the Knights, 382, 40. Three Years Later, 396, 41. The Interdict, 406, 42. War!, 412, 43. The Battle of the Sand-Belt, 426, 44. A Postscript by Clarence, 442, REFERENCES, 451, EXPLANATORY NOTES, 455, NOTE ON THE TEXT, 477, CHAPTER 1 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 or 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 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; 1 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 sandals; and many wore an iron collar. The small boys and girls were always