The moment I got a chance I slipped aside privately and touched an ancient common looking man on the shoulder and said, in an insinuating, confidential way:
“Friend, do me a kindness. Do you belong to the asylum, or are you just on a visit or something like that?”
He looked me over stupidly, and said:
“Marry, fair sir, me seemeth—”
“That will do,” I said; “I reckon you are a patient.”
I moved away, cogitating, and at the same time keeping an eye out for any chance passenger in his right mind that might come along and give me some light. I judged I had found one, presently; so I drew him aside and said in his ear:
“If I could see the head keeper a minute—only just a minute—”
“Prithee do not let me.”
“Let you what ?”
“Hinder me, then, if the word please thee better. Then he went on to say he was an under-cook and could not stop to gossip, though he would like it another time; for it would comfort his very liver to know where I got my clothes. As he started away he pointed and said yonder was one who was idle enough for my purpose, and was seeking me besides, no doubt. This was an airy slim boy in shrimp-colored tights that made him look like a forked carrot, the rest of his gear was blue silk and dainty laces and ruffles; and he had long yellow curls, and wore a plumed pink satin cap tilted complacently over his ear. By his look, he was good-natured; by his gait, he was satisfied with himself. He was pretty enough to frame. He arrived, looked me over with a smiling and impudent curiosity; said he had come for me, and informed me that he was a page.
“Go ‘long,” I said; “you ain’t more than a paragraph.”
It was pretty severe, but I was nettled. However, it never phazed him; he didn’t appear to know he was hurt. He began to talk and laugh, in happy, thoughtless, boyish fashion, as we walked along, and made himself old friends with me at once; asked me all sorts of questions about myself and about my clothes, but never waited for an answer—always chattered straight ahead, as if he didn’t know he had asked a question and wasn’t expecting any reply, until at last he happened to mention that he was born in the beginning of the year 513.
It made the cold chills creep over me! I stopped and said, a little faintly:
“Maybe I didn’t hear you just right. Say it again—and say it slow. What year was it?”
“513.”
“513! You don’t look it! Come, my boy, I am a stranger and friendless; be honest and honorable with me. Are you in your right mind?”
He said he was.
“Are these other people in their right minds?”
He said they were.
“And this isn’t an asylum? I mean, it isn’t a place where they cure crazy people?”
He said it wasn’t.
“Well, then,” I said, “either I am a lunatic, or something just as awful has happened. Now tell me, honest and true, where am I?”
“IN KING ARTHUR’S COURT.”
I waited a minute, to let that idea shudder its way home, and then said:
“And according to your notions, what year is it now?”
“528—nineteenth of June.”
I felt a mournful sinking at the heart, and muttered: “I shall never see my friends again—never, never again. They will not be born for more than thirteen hundred years yet.”
I seemed to believe the boy, I didn’t know why. Something in me seemed to believe him—my consciousness, as you may say; but my reason didn’t. My reason straightway began to clamor; that was natural. I didn’t know how to go about satisfying it, because I knew that the testimony of men wouldn’t serve—my reason would say they were lunatics, and throw out their evidence. But all of a sudden I stumbled on the very thing, just by luck. I knew that the only total eclipse of the sun in the first half of the sixth century occurred on the 21st of June, A.D. 528, O.S., and began at 3 minutes after 12 noon. I also knew that no total eclipse of the sun was due in what to me was the present year—i.e., 1879. So, if I could keep my anxiety and curiosity from eating the heart out of me for forty-eight hours, I should then find out for certain whether this boy was telling me the truth or not.
Wherefore, being a practical Connecticut man, I now shoved this whole problem clear out of my mind till its appointed day and hour should come, in order that I might turn all my attention to the circumstances of the present moment, and be alert and ready to make the most out of them that could be made. One thing at a time, is my motto—and just play that thing for all it is worth, even if it’s only two pair and a jack. I made up my mind to two things: if it was still the nineteenth century and I was among lunatics and couldn’t get away, I would presently boss that asylum or know the reason why; and if, on the other hand, it was really the sixth century, all right, I didn’t want any softer thing: I would boss the whole country inside of three months; for I judged I would have the start of the best-educated man in the kingdom by a matter of thirteen hundred years and upward. I’m not a man to waste time after my mind’s made up and there’s work on hand; so I said to the page:
“Now, Clarence, my boy—if that might happen to be your name —I’ll get you to post me up a little if you don’t mind. What is the name of that apparition that brought me here?”
“My master and thine? That is the good knight and great lord Sir Kay the Seneschal, foster brother to our liege the king.”
“Very good; go on, tell me everything.”
He made a long story of it; but the part that had immediate interest for me was this: He said I was Sir Kay’s prisoner, and that in the due course of custom I would be flung into a dungeon and left there on scant commons until my friends ransomed me—unless I chanced to rot, first. I saw that the last chance had the best show, but I didn’t waste any bother about that; time was too precious. The page said, further, that dinner was about ended in the great hall by this time, and that as soon as the sociability and the heavy drinking should begin, Sir Kay would have me in and exhibit me before King Arthur and his illustrious knights seated at the Table Round, and would brag about his exploit in capturing me, and would probably exaggerate the facts a little, but it wouldn’t be good form for me to correct him, and not over safe, either; and when I was done being exhibited, then ho for the dungeon; but he, Clarence, would find a way to come and see me every now and then, and cheer me up, and help me get word to my friends.
Get word to my friends! I thanked him; I couldn’t do less; and about this time a lackey came to say I was wanted; so Clarence led me in and took me off to one side and sat down by me.
Well, it was a curious kind of spectacle, and interesting. It was an immense place, and rather naked—yes, and full of loud contrasts. It was very, very lofty; so lofty that the banners depending from the arched beams and girders away up there floated in a sort of twilight; there was a stone-railed gallery at each end, high up, with musicians in the one, and women, clothed in stunning colors, in the other. The floor was of big stone flags laid in black and white squares, rather battered by age and use, and needing repair. As to ornament, there wasn’t any, strictly speaking; though on the walls hung some huge tapestries which were probably taxed as works of art; battle-pieces, they were, with horses shaped like those which children cut out of paper or create in gingerbread; with men on them in scale armor whose scales are represented by round holes—so that the man’s coat looks as if it had been done with a biscuit-punch. There was a fireplace big enough to camp in; and its projecting sides and hood, of carved and pillared stonework, had the look of a cathedral door. Along the walls stood men-at-arms, in breastplate and morion, with halberds for their only weapon —rigid as statues; and that is what they looked like.
In the middle of this groined and vaulted public square was an oaken table which they called the Table Round. It was as large as a circus ring; and around it sat a great company of men dressed in such various and splendid colors that it hurt one’s eyes to look at them. They wore their plumed hats, right along, except that whenever one addressed himself directly to the king, he lifted his hat a trifle just as he was beginning his remark.
Mainly they were drinking—from entire ox horns; but a few were still munching bread or gnawing beef bones. There was about an average of two dogs to one man; and these sat in expectant attitudes till a spent bone was flung to them, and then they went for it by brigades and divisions, with a rush, and there ensued a fight which filled the prospect with a tumultuous chaos of plunging heads and bodies and flashing tails, and the storm of howlings and barkings deafened all speech for the time; but that was no matter, for the dog-fight was always a bigger interest anyway; the men rose, sometimes, to observe it the better and bet on it, and the ladies and the musicians stretched themselves out over their balusters with the same object; and all broke into delighted ejaculations from time to time. In the end, the winning dog stretched himself out comfortably with his bone between his paws, and proceeded to growl over it, and gnaw it, and grease the floor with it, just as fifty others were already doing; and the rest of the court resumed their previous industries and entertainments.
As a rule, the speech and behavior of these people were gracious and courtly; and I noticed that they were good and serious listeners when anybody was telling anything—I mean in a dog-fightless interval. And plainly, too, they were a childlike and innocent lot; telling lies of the stateliest pattern with a most gentle and winning naivety, and ready and willing to listen to anybody else’s lie, and believe it, too. It was hard to associate them with anything cruel or dreadful; and yet they dealt in tales of blood and suffering with a guileless relish that made me almost forget to shudder.
I was not the only prisoner present. There were twenty or more. Poor devils, many of them were maimed, hacked, carved, in a frightful way; and their hair, their faces, their clothing, were caked with black and stiffened drenchings of blood. They were suffering sharp physical pain, of course; and weariness, and hunger and thirst, no doubt; and at least none had given them the comfort of a wash, or even the poor charity of a lotion for their wounds; yet you never heard them utter a moan or a groan, or saw them show any sign of restlessness, or any disposition to complain. The thought was forced upon me: “The rascals—they have served other people so in their day; it being their own turn, now, they were not expecting any better treatment than this; so their philosophical bearing is not an outcome of mental training, intellectual fortitude, reasoning; it is mere animal training; they are white Indians.”
背景介绍和作者介绍
这段文字选自马克·吐温的《亚瑟王朝廷里的康涅狄格美国佬》，这部小说由美国最著名的作家之一马克·吐温所著，他以其智慧和犀利的社会评论而闻名。这部小说于1889年出版，故事融合了幻想、讽刺和历史小说的元素。吐温利用时间旅行来探索和批判对中世纪过去的浪漫化观点，并突出展示了现代社会与古代社会之间的对比。
马克·吐温，原名塞缪尔·兰霍恩·克莱门斯，是一位对人性和社会有着敏锐观察力的作家。在他的作品中，他经常挑战社会规范，并以幽默和讽刺的方式揭露不公正现象。这部小说反映了他对理想化历史的怀疑，以及他对进步和理性的信念。
详细的故事解读和意义
在这段摘录中，主人公，一位19世纪的人，神秘地被传送回了6世纪的亚瑟王的宫廷。叙述从他的困惑开始，他试图理解自己身处何处，可以信任谁，以及如何在这个陌生的新世界中生存。故事巧妙地融合了主人公的现代知识和中世纪的背景，创造了既幽默又发人深省的情境。
这段文字生动地描述了中世纪宫廷的氛围，突出了主人公的现代意识与当时的习俗之间的对比。骑士的骑士精神、宏伟但略显原始的环境，以及囚犯的坚韧都描绘了那个时代的复杂画面——既浪漫又残酷。
吐温利用这种背景来批判对骑士精神和中世纪过去的浪漫观念，揭露了它的残暴和迷信。与此同时，主人公的现代思维和知识赋予了他战略优势，象征着教育、理性和创新的力量。
给学生的教训和启示
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批判性思维和怀疑精神： 主人公努力区分真相和幻觉，鼓励读者质疑表象，并在接受主张之前寻求证据。这是学习和日常决策中一项宝贵的技能。
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适应性和解决问题： 面对陌生的环境，主人公迅速评估情况，并计划如何利用他的知识来生存并影响周围环境。学生们可以学习在遇到挑战时灵活思考和战略性思考的重要性。
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知识和教育的价值： 故事强调了来自未来的知识如何赋予主人公在过去中的优势，强调了学习和创新的变革力量。
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用批判的眼光理解历史： 吐温的描写邀请读者超越神话和传说，去理解历史现实，从而培养对过去的更细致的理解。
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同情心和人性： 尽管条件恶劣，囚犯们表现出非凡的毅力和接受度。这可以教导学生关于韧性和在困难情况下人类行为的复杂性。
在生活和学习中应用这些教训
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在学校： 学生们可以通过质疑来源、仔细分析信息，并且不全盘接受一切来运用批判性思维。当遇到新的科目或困难时，他们也可以学习调整学习策略。
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在社交场合： 理解不同的观点，比如主人公与来自另一个时代的人的相遇，有助于培养同情心和沟通技巧。认识到人们来自不同的背景和经历，对于社会和谐至关重要。
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在个人成长中： 主人公决心充分利用自己的处境，树立了韧性和积极主动的态度。学生们可以通过设定目标、拥抱挑战并从挫折中学习来培养这些特质。
从故事中培养积极的价值观
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好奇心和开放心态： 主人公愿意接触未知事物，鼓励学生对新体验和新想法保持好奇和开放。
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勇气和主动性： 尽管感到恐惧或不确定，仍然采取行动是故事的一个关键主题。学生们可以通过走出舒适区，对自己的学习和选择负责来练习这一点。
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尊重知识和创新： 重视教育和创造性思维可以激励学生热情地追求知识并建设性地应用它。
结论
马克·吐温的《亚瑟王朝廷里的康涅狄格美国佬》为年轻读者提供了丰富的材料，让他们探索历史、人性以及知识的力量。通过其富有想象力的故事和深刻的见解，它鼓励学生批判性地思考、明智地适应并勇敢地行动。这些教训不仅在文学中具有相关性，而且对于个人发展和在生活中取得成功也至关重要。
