A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court

Mark Twain

Description

First published in 1889, “A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court” is a novel by Mark Twain about Hank Morgan, an engineer from Connecticut, U.S.A. who is thrown back in time as the result of a nasty knock on the head. Finding himself in England during King Arthur's reign, he uses his modern knowledge to trick people into believing him to be a wizard. Samuel Langhorne Clemens (1835–1910), more commonly known under the pen name Mark Twain, was an American writer, lecturer, publisher and entrepreneur most famous for his novels “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” (1876) and “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” (1884). Other notable works by this author include: “The Gilded Age: A Tale of Today” (1873) and “The Prince and the Pauper” (1881). Read & Co. Classics is proudly republishing this fantastic novel now in a new edition complete with a specially-commissioned biography of the author.

Sujets

• Mark Twain

Informations

• Publié par: Read Books Ltd.
• Date de parution: 07 décembre 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528791380
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

A CONNECTICUT YANKEE IN KING ARTHUR’S COURT
By
MARK TWAIN

First published in 1889



Copyright © 2020 Read & Co. Classics
This edition is published by Read & Co. Classics, an imprint of Read & Co.
This book is copyright and may not be reproduced or copied in any way without the express permission of the publisher in writing.
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Read & Co. is part of Read Books Ltd. For more information visit www.readandcobooks.co.uk


Contents
Mark Twain
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
C HAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
C HAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER XXV
CHAPTER XXVI
C HAPTER XXVII
CH APTER XXVIII
CHAPTER XXIX
CHAPTER XXX
CHAPTER XXXI
C HAPTER XXXII
CH APTER XXXIII
C HAPTER XXXIV
CHAPTER XXXV
C HAPTER XXXVI
CH APTER XXXVII
CHA PTER XXXVIII
C HAPTER XXXIX
CHAPTER XL
CHAPTER XLI
CHAPTER XLII
C HAPTER XLIII
CHAPTER XLIV
FINAL P. S. BY M. T.


Mark Twain
Samuel Langhorne Clemens, better known by his pseudonym Mark Twain, was born on 30 November, 1835 in Florida, Missouri, USA. He was born the day after a visit by Halley’s Comet, and died the day following its subsequent retu rn in 1910.
He is best known for the novels The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (1876) and its sequel, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1885), the latter often referred to as ‘the Great Ameri can Novel’.
Hailed as ‘the father of American literature’ by William Faulkner, Twain was a friend of presidents, performers, entrepreneurs and royalty. His wit and satire endeared him to peers and critics alike. Twain spent most of his childhood in Hannibal, Missouri, which provided the inspirational setting for much of his later works. It was here that Twain started writing, contributing articles to his older brother, Orion’s newspaper. After a brief, unsuccessful, spell mining in Nevada and California, twain returned to writing – penning The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County in 1865. This was a humorous tale based on a story heard at a mining camp in California, and won Twain international attention. Five years later, Twain married Olivia Langdon, the sister of Charles Langdon, a man whom Twain met on a trip to the Middle East.
Upon Langdon showing a picture of his sister Olivia to Twain, Twain claimed to have fallen in love with her at first sight. Through Olivia, Twain met many prominent liberals, socialists and political activists, including Harriet Beecher Stowe, the abolitionist and author, as well as the utopian socialist, William Dean Howells. These connections deeply influenced Twain’s later political outlook, remaining firmly anti-imperialist, anti-organised religion, an abolitionist and a steady supporter of the labour movement. Twain and Olivia had three daughters, Susy, Clara and Jean, and one son, Langdon. Unfortunately Langdon died whilst he was still in infancy. The family spent many happy summers at Quarry Farm - Olivia’s sister’s home on the outskirts of New York, where Twain wrote many of his classic novels; The Adventures and Huckleberry Finn , as well as The Prince and the Pauper (1881), Life on the Mississippi (1883) and A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court (1889). Despite these successes, financial as well as literary, Twain lost a great deal of money through investing in new technologies. His love of science and invention led him to invest a massive 300,000 dollars (about 8 million dollars today) in the Paige typesetting machine. This mechanical marvel was made redundant before it was even completed however, by the Linotype machine, and Twain lost his entire investment. As a result of this, on the advice from a friend, Twain filed for Bankruptcy. Fortunately, he was heavily in demand as a featured speaker, and embarked on a massive worldwide lecture tour in July 1895 to pay off all his creditors. After nearly five years travelling, Twain returned to America having earned enough money to pay off his debts. On his homecoming, Twain sadly suffered a period of deep depression, which began on his daughter Susy’s death in 1896, and worsened on the death of his wife in 1904 and his other daughter Jean in 1909. Twain died of a heart attack on 21 April, 1910, in Redding, Connecticut. He had predicted his death, the day after Halley’s comets closest approach to Earth; ‘It will be the greatest disappointment of my life if I don't go out with Halley's Comet. The Almighty has said, no doubt: 'Now here are these two unaccountable freaks; they came in together, they must go out together.’’
He is buried at Woodlawn Cemetery, Elmir a, New York.


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 wi nter anyway.
Mark Twain , Hartford, J uly 21, 1889


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 co mmon 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 salari ed 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