Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Cour A. Mark Twain

      Chapter 9

      The Tournament

      They were always having grand tournaments there at Camelot; and very stirring and picturesque and ridiculous human bull-fights they were, too, but just a little wearisome to the practical mind. However, I was generally on hand—for two reasons: a man must not hold himself aloof from the things which his friends and his community have at heart if he would be liked—especially as a statesman; and both as business man and statesman I wanted to study the tournament and see if I couldn’t invent an improvement on it. That reminds me to remark, in passing, that the very first official thing I did, in my administration—and it was on the very first day of it, too—was to start a patent office; for I knew that a country without a patent office and good patent laws was just a crab, and couldn’t travel any way but sideways or backways.

      Things ran along, a tournament nearly every week; and now and then the boys used to want me to take a hand—I mean Sir Launcelot and the rest—but I said I would by and by; no hurry yet, and too much government machinery to oil up and set to rights and start a-going.

      We had one tournament which was continued from day to day during more than a week, and as many as five hundred knights took part in it, from first to last. They were weeks gathering. They came on horseback from everywhere; from the very ends of the country, and even from beyond the sea; and many brought ladies, and all brought squires and troops of servants. It was a most gaudy and gorgeous crowd, as to costumery, and very characteristic of the country and the time, in the way of high animal spirits, innocent indecencies of language, and happy-hearted indifference to morals. It was fight or look on, all day and every day; and sing, gamble, dance, carouse half the night every night. They had a most noble good time. You never saw such people. Those banks of beautiful ladies, shining in their barbaric splendors, would see a knight sprawl from his horse in the lists with a lanceshaft the thickness of your ankle clean through him and the blood spouting, and instead of fainting they would clap their hands and crowd each other for a better view; only sometimes one would dive into her handkerchief, and look ostentatiously broken-hearted, and then you could lay two to one that there was a scandal there somewhere and she was afraid the public hadn’t found it out.

      The noise at night would have been annoying to me ordinarily, but I didn’t mind it in the present circumstances, because it kept me from hearing the quacks detaching legs and arms from the day’s cripples. They ruined an uncommon good old cross-cut saw for me, and broke the saw-buck, too, but I let it pass. And as for my axe—well, I made up my mind that the next time I lent an axe to a surgeon I would pick my century.

      I not only watched this tournament from day to day, but detailed an intelligent priest from my Department of Public Morals and Agriculture, and ordered him to report it; for it was my purpose by and by, when I should have gotten the people along far enough, to start a newspaper. The first thing you want in a new country, is a patent office; then work up your school system; and after that, out with your paper. A newspaper has its faults, and plenty of them, but no matter, it’s hark from the tomb for a dead nation, and don’t you forget it. You can’t resurrect a dead nation without it; there isn’t any way. So I wanted to sample things, and be finding out what sort of reporter-material I might be able to rake together out of the sixth century when I should come to need it.

      Well, the priest did very well, considering. He got in all the details, and that is a good thing in a local item: you see, he had kept books for the undertaker-department of his church when he was younger, and there, you know, the money’s in the details; the more details, the more swag: bearers, mutes, candles, prayers—everything counts; and if the bereaved don’t buy prayers enough you mark up your candles with a forked pencil, and your bill shows up all right. And he had a good knack at getting in the complimentary thing here and there about a knight that was likely to advertise—no, I mean a knight that had influence; and he also had a neat gift of exaggeration, for in his time he had kept door for a pious hermit who lived in a sty and worked miracles.

      Of course this novice’s report lacked whoop and crash and lurid description, and therefore wanted the true ring; but its antique wording was quaint and sweet and simple, and full of the fragrances and flavors of the time, and these little merits made up in a measure for its more important lacks. Here is an extract from it:

      Then Sir Brian de les Isles and Grummore Grummorsum,

       knights of the castle, encountered with Sir Aglovale and

       Sir Tor, and Sir Tor smote down Sir Grummore Grummorsum

       to the earth. Then came Sir Carados of the dolorous

       tower, and Sir Turquine, knights of the castle, and

       there encountered with them Sir Percivale de Galis

       and Sir Lamorak de Galis, that were two brethren, and

       there encountered Sir Percivale with Sir Carados, and

       either brake their spears unto their hands, and then

       Sir Turquine with Sir Lamorak, and either of them smote

       down other, horse and all, to the earth, and either

       parties rescued other and horsed them again. And Sir

       Arnold, and Sir Gauter, knights of the castle,

       encountered with Sir Brandiles and Sir Kay, and these

       four knights encountered mightily, and brake their

       spears to their hands. Then came Sir Pertolope from

       the castle, and there encountered with him Sir Lionel,

       and there Sir Pertolope the green knight smote down Sir

       Lionel, brother to Sir Launcelot. All this was marked

       by noble heralds, who bare him best, and their names.

       Then Sir Bleobaris brake his spear upon Sir Gareth,

       but of that stroke Sir Bleobaris fell to the earth.

       When Sir Galihodin saw that, he bad Sir Gareth keep him,

       and Sir Gareth smote him to the earth. Then Sir Galihud

       gat a spear to avenge his brother, and in the same wise

       Sir Gareth served him, and Sir Dinadan and his brother

       La Cote Male Taile, and Sir Sagramore le Disirous, and

       Sir Dodinas le Savage; all these he bare down with one

       spear. When King Aswisance of Ireland saw Sir Gareth

       fare so he marvelled what he might be, that one time

       seemed green, and another time, at his again coming,

       he seemed blue. And thus at every course that he rode

       to and fro he changed his color, so that there might

       neither king nor knight have ready cognizance of him.

       Then Sir Agwisance the King of Ireland encountered

       with Sir Gareth, and there Sir Gareth smote him from

       his horse, saddle and all. And then came King Carados

       of Scotland, and Sir Gareth smote him down horse and

       man. And in the same wise he served King Uriens of the

       land of Gore. And then there came in Sir Bagdemagus,

       and Sir Gareth smote him down horse and man to the

       earth. And Bagdemagus’s son Meliganus brake a spear

       upon Sir Gareth mightily and knightly.