A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, Page 29
Mark Twain
CHAPTER XXVI
THE FIRST NEWSPAPER
When I told the king I was going out disguised as a petty freemanto scour the country and familiarize myself with the humbler lifeof the people, he was all afire with the novelty of the thingin a minute, and was bound to take a chance in the adventurehimself--nothing should stop him--he would drop everything andgo along--it was the prettiest idea he had run across for manya day. He wanted to glide out the back way and start at once;but I showed him that that wouldn't answer. You see, he was billedfor the king's-evil--to touch for it, I mean--and it wouldn't beright to disappoint the house and it wouldn't make a delay worthconsidering, anyway, it was only a one-night stand. And I thoughthe ought to tell the queen he was going away. He clouded up atthat and looked sad. I was sorry I had spoken, especially whenhe said mournfully:
"Thou forgettest that Launcelot is here; and where Launcelot is,she noteth not the going forth of the king, nor what day he returneth."
Of course, I changed the Subject. Yes, Guenever was beautiful,it is true, but take her all around she was pretty slack. I nevermeddled in these matters, they weren't my affair, but I did hateto see the way things were going on, and I don't mind saying thatmuch. Many's the time she had asked me, "Sir Boss, hast seenSir Launcelot about?" but if ever she went fretting around forthe king I didn't happen to be around at the time.
There was a very good lay-out for the king's-evil business--verytidy and creditable. The king sat under a canopy of state; abouthim were clustered a large body of the clergy in full canonicals.Conspicuous, both for location and personal outfit, stood Marinel,a hermit of the quack-doctor species, to introduce the sick. Allabroad over the spacious floor, and clear down to the doors,in a thick jumble, lay or sat the scrofulous, under a strong light.It was as good as a tableau; in fact, it had all the look of beinggotten up for that, though it wasn't. There were eight hundredsick people present. The work was slow; it lacked the interestof novelty for me, because I had seen the ceremonies before;the thing soon became tedious, but the proprieties required meto stick it out. The doctor was there for the reason that in allsuch crowds there were many people who only imagined somethingwas the matter with them, and many who were consciously soundbut wanted the immortal honor of fleshly contact with a king, andyet others who pretended to illness in order to get the piece ofcoin that went with the touch. Up to this time this coin had beena wee little gold piece worth about a third of a dollar. When youconsider how much that amount of money would buy, in that ageand country, and how usual it was to be scrofulous, when not dead,you would understand that the annual king's-evil appropriation wasjust the River and Harbor bill of that government for the grip ittook on the treasury and the chance it afforded for skinning thesurplus. So I had privately concluded to touch the treasury itselffor the king's-evil. I covered six-sevenths of the appropriationinto the treasury a week before starting from Camelot on myadventures, and ordered that the other seventh be inflated intofive-cent nickels and delivered into the hands of the head clerkof the King's Evil Department; a nickel to take the place of eachgold coin, you see, and do its work for it. It might strain thenickel some, but I judged it could stand it. As a rule, I do notapprove of watering stock, but I considered it square enoughin this case, for it was just a gift, anyway. Of course, you canwater a gift as much as you want to; and I generally do. The oldgold and silver coins of the country were of ancient and unknownorigin, as a rule, but some of them were Roman; they were ill-shapen,and seldom rounder than a moon that is a week past the full; theywere hammered, not minted, and they were so worn with use thatthe devices upon them were as illegible as blisters, and lookedlike them. I judged that a sharp, bright new nickel, with afirst-rate likeness of the king on one side of it and Gueneveron the other, and a blooming pious motto, would take the tuck outof scrofula as handy as a nobler coin and please the scrofulousfancy more; and I was right. This batch was the first it wastried on, and it worked to a charm. The saving in expense wasa notable economy. You will see that by these figures: We toucheda trifle over 700 of the 800 patients; at former rates, this wouldhave cost the government about $240; at the new rate we pulledthrough for about $35, thus saving upward of $200 at one swoop.To appreciate the full magnitude of this stroke, consider theseother figures: the annual expenses of a national government amountto the equivalent of a contribution of three days' average wages ofevery individual of the population, counting every individual asif he were a man. If you take a nation of 60,000,000, where averagewages are $2 per day, three days' wages taken from each individualwill provide $360,000,000 and pay the government's expenses. In myday, in my own country, this money was collected from imposts,and the citizen imagined that the foreign importer paid it, and itmade him comfortable to think so; whereas, in fact, it was paidby the American people, and was so equally and exactly distributedamong them that the annual cost to the 100-millionaire and theannual cost to the sucking child of the day-laborer was preciselythe same--each paid $6. Nothing could be equaler than that,I reckon. Well, Scotland and Ireland were tributary to Arthur,and the united populations of the British Islands amounted tosomething less than 1,000,000. A mechanic's average wage was3 cents a day, when he paid his own keep. By this rule the nationalgovernment's expenses were $90,000 a year, or about $250 a day.Thus, by the substitution of nickels for gold on a king's-evilday, I not only injured no one, dissatisfied no one, but pleasedall concerned and saved four-fifths of that day's national expenseinto the bargain--a saving which would have been the equivalentof $800,000 in my day in America. In making this substitutionI had drawn upon the wisdom of a very remote source--the wisdomof my boyhood--for the true statesman does not despise any wisdom,howsoever lowly may be its origin: in my boyhood I had alwayssaved my pennies and contributed buttons to the foreign missionarycause. The buttons would answer the ignorant savage as well asthe coin, the coin would answer me better than the buttons; allhands were happy and nobody hurt.
Marinel took the patients as they came. He examined the candidate;if he couldn't qualify he was warned off; if he could he was passedalong to the king. A priest pronounced the words, "They shalllay their hands on the sick, and they shall recover." Then the kingstroked the ulcers, while the reading continued; finally, thepatient graduated and got his nickel--the king hanging it aroundhis neck himself--and was dismissed. Would you think that thatwould cure? It certainly did. Any mummery will cure if thepatient's faith is strong in it. Up by Astolat there was a chapelwhere the Virgin had once appeared to a girl who used to herdgeese around there--the girl said so herself--and they built thechapel upon that spot and hung a picture in it representing theoccurrence--a picture which you would think it dangerous for a sickperson to approach; whereas, on the contrary, thousands of the lameand the sick came and prayed before it every year and went awaywhole and sound; and even the well could look upon it and live.Of course, when I was told these things I did not believe them;but when I went there and saw them I had to succumb. I saw thecures effected myself; and they were real cures and not questionable.I saw cripples whom I had seen around Camelot for years on crutches,arrive and pray before that picture, and put down their crutchesand walk off without a limp. There were piles of crutches therewhich had been left by such people as a testimony.
In other places people operated on a patient's mind, without sayinga word to him, and cured him. In others, experts assembled patientsin a room and prayed over them, and appealed to their faith, andthose patients went away cured. Wherever you find a king who can'tcure the king's-evil you can be sure that the most valuablesuperstition that supports his throne--the subject's belief inthe divine appointment of his sovereign--has passed away. In myyouth the monarchs of England had ceased to touch for the evil,but there was no occasion for this diffidence: they could havecured it forty-nine times in fifty.
Well, when the priest had been droning for three hours, and thegood king polishing the evidences, and the sick were still pressingforward as plenty as ever,
I got to feeling intolerably bored.I was sitting by an open window not far from the canopy of state.For the five hundredth time a patient stood forward to have hisrepulsivenesses stroked; again those words were being droned out:"they shall lay their hands on the sick"--when outside there rangclear as a clarion a note that enchanted my soul and tumbledthirteen worthless centuries about my ears: "Camelot _WeeklyHosannah and Literary Volcano!_--latest irruption--only two cents--all about the big miracle in the Valley of Holiness!" One greaterthan kings had arrived--the newsboy. But I was the only personin all that throng who knew the meaning of this mighty birth, andwhat this imperial magician was come into the world to do.
I dropped a nickel out of the window and got my paper; theAdam-newsboy of the world went around the corner to get my change;is around the corner yet. It was delicious to see a newspaperagain, yet I was conscious of a secret shock when my eye fell uponthe first batch of display head-lines. I had lived in a clammyatmosphere of reverence, respect, deference, so long that theysent a quivery little cold wave through me:
HIGH TIMES IN THE VALLEY
OF HOLINESS!
----
THE WATER-WORKS CORKED!
----
BRER MERLIN WORKS HIS ARTS, BUT GETS LEFT?
----
But the Boss scores on his first Innings!
----
The Miraculous Well Uncorked amid awful outbursts of
INFERNAL FIRE AND SMOKE ATHUNDER!
----
THE BUZZARD-ROOST ASTONISHED!
----
UNPARALLELED REJOIBINGS!
--and so on, and so on. Yes, it was too loud. Once I could haveenjoyed it and seen nothing out of the way about it, but now itsnote was discordant. It was good Arkansas journalism, but thiswas not Arkansas. Moreover, the next to the last line was calculatedto give offense to the hermits, and perhaps lose us their advertising.Indeed, there was too lightsome a tone of flippancy all throughthe paper. It was plain I had undergone a considerable changewithout noticing it. I found myself unpleasantly affected bypert little irreverencies which would have seemed but proper andairy graces of speech at an earlier period of my life. There was anabundance of the following breed of items, and they discomforted me:
LOCAL SMOKE AND CINDERS.
Sir Launcelot met up with old King Agrivance of Ireland unexpectedly last weok over on the moor south of Sir Balmoral le Merveilleuse's hog dasture. The widow has been notified.
Expedition No. 3 will start adout the first of mext month on a search f8r Sir Sagramour le Desirous. It is in com- and of the renowned Knight of the Red Lawns, assissted by Sir Persant of Inde, who is compete9t. intelligent, courte- ous, and in every way a brick, and fur- tHer assisted by Sir Palamides the Sara- cen, who is no huckleberry hinself. This is no pic-nic, these boys mean busine&s.
The readers of the Hosannah will re- gret to learn that the hadndsome and popular Sir Charolais of Gaul, who dur- ing his four weeks' stay at the Bull and Halibut, this city, has won every heart by his polished manners and elegant cPnversation, will pUll out to-day for home. Give us another call, Charley!
The bdsiness end of the funeral of the late Sir Dalliance the duke's son of Cornwall, killed in an encounter with the Giant of the Knotted Bludgeon last Tuesday on the borders of the Plain of Enchantment was in the hands of the ever affable and efficient Mumble, prince of un3ertakers, then whom there exists none by whom it were a more satisfying pleasure to have the last sad offices performed. Give him a trial.
The cordial thanks of the Hosannah office are due, from editor down to devil, to the ever courteous and thought- ful Lord High Stew d of the Palace's Third Assistant V t for several sau- ceTs of ice crEam a quality calculated to make the ey of the recipients hu- mid with grt ude; and it done it. When this administration wants to chalk up a desirable name for early promotion, the Hosannah would like a chance to sudgest.
The Demoiselle Irene Dewlap, of South Astolat, is visiting her uncle, the popular host of the Cattlemen's Board- ing Ho&se, Liver Lane, this city.
Young Barker the bellows-mender is hoMe again, and looks much improved by his vacation round-up among the out- lying smithies. See his ad.
Of course it was good enough journalism for a beginning; I knewthat quite well, and yet it was somehow disappointing. The"Court Circular" pleased me better; indeed, its simple and dignifiedrespectfulness was a distinct refreshment to me after all thosedisgraceful familiarities. But even it could have been improved.Do what one may, there is no getting an air of variety into a courtcircular, I acknowledge that. There is a profound monotonousnessabout its facts that baffles and defeats one's sincerest effortsto make them sparkle and enthuse. The best way to manage--in fact,the only sensible way--is to disguise repetitiousness of fact undervariety of form: skin your fact each time and lay on a new cuticleof words. It deceives the eye; you think it is a new fact; itgives you the idea that the court is carrying on like everything;this excites you, and you drain the whole column, with a goodappetite, and perhaps never notice that it's a barrel of soup madeout of a single bean. Clarence's way was good, it was simple,it was dignified, it was direct and business-like; all I say is,it was not the best way:
COURT CIRCULAR.
On Monday, the king rode in the park. " Tuesday, " " " " Wendesday " " " " Thursday " " " " Friday, " " " " Saturday " " " " Sunday, " " "
However, take the paper by and large, I was vastly pleased with it.Little crudities of a mechanical sort were observable here andthere, but there were not enough of them to amount to anything,and it was good enough Arkansas proof-reading, anyhow, and betterthan was needed in Arthur's day and realm. As a rule, the grammarwas leaky and the construction more or less lame; but I did notmuch mind these things. They are common defects of my own, andone mustn't criticise other people on grounds where he can't standperpendicular himself.
I was hungry enough for literature to want to take down the wholepaper at this one meal, but I got only a few bites, and then hadto postpone, because the monks around me besieged me so with eagerquestions: What is this curious thing? What is it for? Is it ahandkerchief?--saddle blanket?--part of a shirt? What is it made of?How thin it is, and how dainty and frail; and how it rattles.Will it wear, do you think, and won't the rain injure it? Is itwriting that appears on it, or is it only ornamentation? Theysuspected it was writing, because those among them who knew howto read Latin and had a smattering of Greek, recognized some ofthe letters, but they could make nothing out of the result as awhole. I put my information in the simplest form I could:
"It is a public journal; I will explain what that is, another time.It is not cloth, it is made of paper; some time I will explainwhat paper is. The lines on it are reading matter; and not writtenby hand, but printed; by and by I will explain what printing is.A thousand of these sheets have been made, all exactly like this,in every minute detail--they can't be told apart." Then they allbroke out with exclamations of surprise and admiration:
"A thousand! Verily a mighty work--a year's work for many men."
"No--merely a day's work for a man and a boy."
They crossed themselves, and whiffed out a protective prayer or two.
"Ah-h--a miracle, a wonder! Dark work of enchantment."
I let it go at that. Then I read in a low voice, to as many ascould crowd their shaven heads within hearing distance, part ofthe account of the miracle of the restoration of the well, andwas accompanied by astonished and reverent ejaculations all through:"Ah-
h-h!" "How true!" "Amazing, amazing!" "These be the veryhaps as they happened, in marvelous exactness!" And might theytake this strange thing in their hands, and feel of it and examineit?--they would be very careful. Yes. So they took it, handlingit as cautiously and devoutly as if it had been some holy thingcome from some supernatural region; and gently felt of its texture,caressed its pleasant smooth surface with lingering touch, andscanned the mysterious characters with fascinated eyes. Thesegrouped bent heads, these charmed faces, these speaking eyes--how beautiful to me! For was not this my darling, and was notall this mute wonder and interest and homage a most eloquenttribute and unforced compliment to it? I knew, then, how a motherfeels when women, whether strangers or friends, take her new baby,and close themselves about it with one eager impulse, and bendtheir heads over it in a tranced adoration that makes all the restof the universe vanish out of their consciousness and be as if itwere not, for that time. I knew how she feels, and that there isno other satisfied ambition, whether of king, conqueror, or poet,that ever reaches half-way to that serene far summit or yields halfso divine a contentment.
During all the rest of the seance my paper traveled from group togroup all up and down and about that huge hall, and my happy eyewas upon it always, and I sat motionless, steeped in satisfaction,drunk with enjoyment. Yes, this was heaven; I was tasting it once,if I might never taste it more.
