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"Camelot—Camelot," said I to myself.
The book was originally titled A Yankee in King Arthur's Court. Some early editions are titled A Yankee at the Court of King Arthur.
Inside the book
- Free nowno account · 2 chapters
- —Preface14 min
- 1Camelot4 min
- Premium43 chapters · every book, 7 days free
- 2King Arthur's Court11 min
- 3Knights of the Table Round11 min
- 4Sir Dinadan the Humorist6 min
- 5An Inspiration11 min
- 6The Eclipse13 min
- 7Merlin's Tower13 min
- 8The Boss To be vested with enormous authority is a f...11 min
- 9The Tournament11 min
- 10Beginnings of Civilization9 min
- 11The Yankee in Search of Adventures15 min
- 12Slow Torture9 min
- 13Freemen Yes, it is strange how little a while at a t...16 min
- 14"Defend Thee, Lord"8 min
- 15Sandy's Tale16 min
- 16Morgan Le Fay12 min
- 17A Royal Banquet18 min
- 18In the Queen's Dungeons21 min
- 19Knight-Errantry as A Trade6 min
- 20The Ogre's Castle14 min
- 21The Pilgrims24 min
- 22The Holy Fountain20 min
- 23Restoration of the Fountain15 min
- 24A Rival Magician20 min
- 25A Competitive Examination23 min
- 26The First Newspaper18 min
- 27The Yankee and the King Travel Incognito16 min
- 28Drilling the King8 min
- 29The Smallpox Hut13 min
- 30The Tragedy of the Manor-House19 min
- 31Marco We strolled along in a sufficiently indolent f...13 min
- 32Dowley's Humiliation13 min
- 33Sixth Century Political Economy23 min
- 34The Yankee and the King Sold as Slaves22 min
- 35A Pitiful Incident15 min
- 36An Encounter in the Dark8 min
- 37An Awful Predicament14 min
- 38Sir Launcelot and Knights to the Rescue5 min
- 39The Yankee's Fight with the Knights20 min
- 40Three Years Later15 min
- 41The Interdict8 min
- 42War! I found Clarence alone in his quarters, drowned...24 min
- 43The Battle of the Sand Belt26 min
- 44A Postscript by Clarence7 min
The opening
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 of 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 flame-red 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; I 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 sandal, and many wore an iron collar. The small boys and girls were always naked; but nobody seemed to know it. All of these people stared at me, talked about me, ran into the huts and fetched out their families to gape at me; but nobody ever noticed that other fellow, except to make him humble salutation and get no response for their pains.
In the town were some substantial windowless houses of stone scattered among a wilderness of thatched cabins; the streets were mere crooked alleys, and unpaved; troops of dogs and nude children played in the sun and made life and noise; hogs roamed and rooted contentedly about, and one of them lay in a reeking wallow in the middle of the main thoroughfare and suckled her family. Presently there was a distant blare of military music; it came nearer, still nearer, and soon a noble cavalcade wound into view, glorious with plumed helmets and flashing mail and flaunting banners and rich doublets and horse-cloths and gilded spearheads; and through the muck and swine, and naked brats, and joyous dogs, and shabby huts, it took its gallant way, and in its wake we followed. Followed through one winding alley and then another,—and climbing, always climbing—till at last we gained the breezy height where the huge castle stood. There was an exchange of bugle blasts; then a parley from the walls, where men-at-arms, in hauberk and morion, marched back and forth with halberd at shoulder under flapping banners with the rude figure of a dragon displayed upon them; and then the great gates were flung open, the drawbridge was lowered, and the head of the cavalcade swept forward under the frowning arches; and we, following, soon found ourselves in a great paved court, with towers and turrets stretching up into the blue air on all the four sides; and all about us the dismount was going on, and much greeting and ceremony, and running to and fro, and a gay display of moving and intermingling colors, and an altogether pleasant stir and noise and confusion.
About the author
Mark Twain
1835 Florida – 1910 Redding · American author and humorist
Samuel Langhorne Clemens, known by the pen name Mark Twain, was an American writer, humorist, and essayist. He has been praised as the "greatest humorist the United States has produced", with William Faulkner calling him "the father of American literature".
- 1835Born, Florida
- 1869The Innocents Abroad
- 1872Roughing It
- 1876The Adventures of Tom Sawyer
- 1880A Tramp Abroad
- 1889A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court
- 1916The Mysterious Stranger
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