Twain - Back to the Future
Hey Folks,
I’ve been re-reading Mark Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee In King Arthur’s Court and sharing pieces of Twain’s political commentary with you (this is the 37th entry) .
Chapter 44 – “A Postscript by Clarence” - The “conceit” or “gimmick” that has made this whole story possible is the “transposition of epochs – and bodies”; the 19th century Yankee is laid out cold in a New England factory-fight, only to wake up in 6th century England.
As part of this “conceit” we also “know” that – except for a brief part at the beginning and again at the end, the entire story is presented from an ancient manuscript shared with Twain by the “Stranger” he meets touring Warwick Castle. Twain has been "reading" the manuscript to us throughout the night.
Furthermore, we know by now the import of the Stranger’s cryptic comments uttered on the second page:
(The castle tour guide is speaking to the tourists)
“Ancient hauberk, date of the sixth century, time of King Arthur and the Round Table; said to have belonged to the knight Sir Sagramour 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.” [see: http://www.ukuleleman.net/2006/01/twain_26.html ]
The “Stranger,” the owner of the ancient manuscript, is – indeed - the Yankee himself, somehow re- transpositioned into the 19th century.
In the previous Twain posting we read the Yankee’s final entry to that manuscript:
“Within ten short minutes after we had opened fire, armed resistance was totally annihilated, the campaign was ended, we fifty-four were masters of England! Twenty-five thousand men lay dead around us.
But how treacherous is fortune! In a little while – say an hour – happened a thing, by my own fault, which – but I have no heart to write that. Let the record end here.”
Next time we’ll hear from Clarence, whose postscript completes the Stranger’s manuscript (which, in turn is followed by a "Final P.S. by M.T.")
- Uke Man
I’ve been re-reading Mark Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee In King Arthur’s Court and sharing pieces of Twain’s political commentary with you (this is the 37th entry) .
Chapter 44 – “A Postscript by Clarence” - The “conceit” or “gimmick” that has made this whole story possible is the “transposition of epochs – and bodies”; the 19th century Yankee is laid out cold in a New England factory-fight, only to wake up in 6th century England.
As part of this “conceit” we also “know” that – except for a brief part at the beginning and again at the end, the entire story is presented from an ancient manuscript shared with Twain by the “Stranger” he meets touring Warwick Castle. Twain has been "reading" the manuscript to us throughout the night.
Furthermore, we know by now the import of the Stranger’s cryptic comments uttered on the second page:
(The castle tour guide is speaking to the tourists)
“Ancient hauberk, date of the sixth century, time of King Arthur and the Round Table; said to have belonged to the knight Sir Sagramour 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.” [see: http://www.ukuleleman.net/2006/01/twain_26.html ]
The “Stranger,” the owner of the ancient manuscript, is – indeed - the Yankee himself, somehow re- transpositioned into the 19th century.
In the previous Twain posting we read the Yankee’s final entry to that manuscript:
“Within ten short minutes after we had opened fire, armed resistance was totally annihilated, the campaign was ended, we fifty-four were masters of England! Twenty-five thousand men lay dead around us.
But how treacherous is fortune! In a little while – say an hour – happened a thing, by my own fault, which – but I have no heart to write that. Let the record end here.”
Next time we’ll hear from Clarence, whose postscript completes the Stranger’s manuscript (which, in turn is followed by a "Final P.S. by M.T.")
- Uke Man
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