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.

They were always holding grand tournaments at Camelot. They were exciting, colorful, and ridiculous human bullfights, but a little tiresome to a practical mind. Still, I was usually there, for two reasons. If a man wants to be liked, he must not stay away from things his friends and community care about. That is especially true for a statesman. Also, as both a businessman and a statesman, I wanted to study tournaments and see if I could improve them. That reminds me of something worth mentioning in passing. The very first official act of my administration was to start a patent office. I did it on the very first day, too. I knew that a country without a patent office and good patent laws was just like a crab. It could only move sideways or backward.

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.

Things went on, with a tournament almost every week. Now and then, the boys wanted me to join in. I mean Sir Launcelot and the rest. But I said I would, sooner or later. There was no hurry yet, and too much government machinery needed oiling, fixing, and getting started.

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.

We had one tournament that went on day after day for more than a week. In all, as many as five hundred knights took part. They spent weeks gathering. They came on horseback from everywhere, from the farthest ends of the country and even from across the sea. Many brought ladies, and all brought squires and groups of servants. Their clothes made them a dazzling, splendid crowd. In their high spirits, innocently indecent language, and cheerful indifference to morals, they were typical of the country and the time. Every day, all day, they fought or watched. Every night, they spent half the night singing, gambling, dancing, and drinking. They had a wonderfully good time. You never saw such people. Those rows of beautiful ladies shone in their splendid, barbaric finery. They would watch a knight tumble from his horse in the tournament field. A lance shaft as thick as your ankle would be driven clean through him, with blood pouring out. Instead of fainting, the ladies would clap and crowd one another for a better view. Only now and then would one bury her face in her handkerchief and make a show of being heartbroken. Then you could bet two to one that there was a scandal somewhere. 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.

Normally, the noise at night would have bothered me. But under the circumstances, I didn’t mind it. It kept me from hearing the quacks cutting arms and legs off the people injured that day. They ruined a very good old crosscut saw of mine and broke the sawhorse, too. But I let it pass. As for my axe, well, I decided that next time I lent one to a surgeon, I’d choose my century carefully.

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.

I watched the tournament every day. I also assigned an intelligent priest from my Department of Public Morals and Agriculture to report on it. I planned to start a newspaper once I had brought the people along far enough. The first thing you need in a new country is a patent office. Then build up your school system, and after that, launch your newspaper. A newspaper has its faults, plenty of them, but never mind. It’s a call from the tomb for a dead nation, and don’t you forget it. You can’t bring a dead nation back to life without a newspaper. There’s no other way. So I wanted to try things out and see what sort of reporters I could find in the sixth century when I needed them.

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.

Well, the priest did very well, all things considered. He included all the details, which is a good thing in a local news item. You see, when he was younger, he kept the books for his church’s funeral department. And there, you know, the money is in the details. The more details, the more loot: pallbearers, hired mourners, candles, prayers, everything counts. If the bereaved don’t buy enough prayers, you mark up the candles with a forked pencil. Then the bill comes out just fine. He also had a knack for slipping in a compliment here and there about a knight likely to advertise. No, I mean a knight with influence. He also had a neat gift for exaggeration, because he had once been a doorkeeper for a pious hermit. The hermit lived in a pigsty 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:

Of course, the novice’s report lacked excitement, thunder, and vivid description, so it didn’t have the right feel. But its old-fashioned wording was charming, sweet, and simple, full of the scents and flavors of the time. These small virtues made up somewhat for its more important shortcomings. Here is an excerpt from it:

There was an unpleasant little episode that day, which for reasons of state I struck out of my priest’s report. You will have noticed that Garry was doing some great fighting in the engagement. When I say Garry I mean Sir Gareth. Garry was my private pet name for him; it suggests that I had a deep affection for him, and that was the case. But it was a private pet name only, and never spoken aloud to any one, much less to him; being a noble, he would not have endured a familiarity like that from me. Well, to proceed: I sat in the private box set apart for me as the king’s minister. While Sir Dinadan was waiting for his turn to enter the lists, he came in there and sat down and began to talk; for he was always making up to me, because I was a stranger and he liked to have a fresh market for his jokes, the most of them having reached that stage of wear where the teller has to do the laughing himself while the other person looks sick. I had always responded to his efforts as well as I could, and felt a very deep and real kindness for him, too, for the reason that if by malice of fate he knew the one particular anecdote which I had heard oftenest and had most hated and most loathed all my life, he had at least spared it me. It was one which I had heard attributed to every humorous person who had ever stood on American soil, from Columbus down to Artemus Ward. It was about a humorous lecturer who flooded an ignorant audience with the killingest jokes for an hour and never got a laugh; and then when he was leaving, some gray simpletons wrung him gratefully by the hand and said it had been the funniest thing they had ever heard, and “it was all they could do to keep from laughin’ right out in meetin’.” That anecdote never saw the day that it was worth the telling; and yet I had sat under the telling of it hundreds and thousands and millions and billions of times, and cried and cursed all the way through. Then who can hope to know what my feelings were, to hear this armor-plated ass start in on it again, in the murky twilight of tradition, before the dawn of history, while even Lactantius might be referred to as “the late Lactantius,” and the Crusades wouldn’t be born for five hundred years yet? Just as he finished, the call-boy came; so, haw-hawing like a demon, he went rattling and clanking out like a crate of loose castings, and I knew nothing more. It was some minutes before I came to, and then I opened my eyes just in time to see Sir Gareth fetch him an awful welt, and I unconsciously out with the prayer, “I hope to gracious he’s killed!” But by ill-luck, before I had got half through with the words, Sir Gareth crashed into Sir Sagramor le Desirous and sent him thundering over his horse’s crupper, and Sir Sagramor caught my remark and thought I meant it for him.

There was an unpleasant little incident that day. For reasons of state, I left it out of my priest’s report. You will have noticed that Garry did some great fighting in the contest. By Garry, I mean Sir Gareth. Garry was my private pet name for him. It suggests that I had a deep affection for him, and I did. But the name was strictly private. I never said it aloud to anyone, much less to him. Being a noble, he would not have put up with such familiarity from me. Well, to continue: I sat in the private box reserved for me as the king’s minister. While Sir Dinadan waited for his turn to enter the lists, he came in and sat down to talk. He was always seeking me out because I was a stranger. He liked having a fresh audience for his jokes. Most of them were so worn out that he had to laugh at them himself while the other person looked sick. I had always responded to his efforts as well as I could. I also felt a deep and genuine kindness toward him. If, by some cruel twist of fate, he knew the one story I had heard most often and hated most all my life, at least he had spared me that one. I had heard it credited to every funny person who had ever set foot on American soil, from Columbus to Artemus Ward. It was about a comic lecturer who showered an ignorant audience with hilarious jokes for an hour without getting a laugh. Then, as he was leaving, some gray-haired simpletons shook his hand gratefully. They said it was the funniest thing they had ever heard, and “it was all they could do to keep from laughing right out in meeting.” That story had never been worth telling. Yet I had sat through it hundreds and thousands and millions and billions of times, crying and cursing all the way through. So who can hope to know how I felt when this armor-plated ass started telling it again? Here we were in the murky twilight of legend, before the dawn of history. Even Lactantius might have been called “the late Lactantius,” and the Crusades would not be born for another five hundred years. Just as he finished, the call-boy came. So Sir Dinadan went rattling and clanking out like a crate of loose metal parts, laughing like a demon. I knew nothing more. It was several minutes before I came to. Then I opened my eyes just in time to see Sir Gareth give him an awful blow. Without thinking, I blurted out the prayer, “I hope to gracious he’s killed!” But by bad luck, before I was halfway through the words, Sir Gareth crashed into Sir Sagramor le Desirous. He sent Sir Sagramor thundering over the back of his horse. Sir Sagramor heard my remark and thought I meant it for him.

Well, whenever one of those people got a thing into his head, there was no getting it out again. I knew that, so I saved my breath, and offered no explanations. As soon as Sir Sagramor got well, he notified me that there was a little account to settle between us, and he named a day three or four years in the future; place of settlement, the lists where the offense had been given. I said I would be ready when he got back. You see, he was going for the Holy Grail. The boys all took a flier at the Holy Grail now and then. It was a several years’ cruise. They always put in the long absence snooping around, in the most conscientious way, though none of them had any idea where the Holy Grail really was, and I don’t think any of them actually expected to find it, or would have known what to do with it if he had run across it. You see, it was just the Northwest Passage of that day, as you may say; that was all. Every year expeditions went out holy grailing, and next year relief expeditions went out to hunt for them. There was worlds of reputation in it, but no money. Why, they actually wanted me to put in! Well, I should smile.

Well, once one of those people got an idea into his head, there was no getting it out again. I knew that, so I saved my breath and didn’t explain. As soon as Sir Sagramor recovered, he told me we had a little score to settle. He named a day three or four years off, and the place was the lists where the offense had occurred. I said I’d be ready when he got back. You see, he was going after the Holy Grail. The boys all tried their luck at finding the Holy Grail now and then. It was a journey that took several years. They always spent that long absence snooping around as conscientiously as could be. But none of them had any idea where the Holy Grail really was. I don’t think any of them actually expected to find it. And if one of them had stumbled across it, I don’t think he would have known what to do with it. You see, it was just the Northwest Passage of that day, you might say. That was all. Every year, expeditions went out holy grailing. The next year, rescue expeditions went out to look for them. There was plenty of glory in it, but no money. Why, they actually wanted me to contribute! Well, you can imagine my reaction.