Home again, at Camelot. A morning or two later I found the paper, damp from the press, by my plate at the breakfast table. I turned to the advertising columns, knowing I should find something of personal interest to me there. It was this:
Up to the day set, there was no talk in all Britain of anything but this combat. All other topics sank into insignificance and passed out of men’s thoughts and interest. It was not because a tournament was a great matter, it was not because Sir Sagramor had found the Holy Grail, for he had not, but had failed; it was not because the second (official) personage in the kingdom was one of the duellists; no, all these features were commonplace. Yet there was abundant reason for the extraordinary interest which this coming fight was creating. It was born of the fact that all the nation knew that this was not to be a duel between mere men, so to speak, but a duel between two mighty magicians; a duel not of muscle but of mind, not of human skill but of superhuman art and craft; a final struggle for supremacy between the two master enchanters of the age. It was realized that the most prodigious achievements of the most renowned knights could not be worthy of comparison with a spectacle like this; they could be but child’s play, contrasted with this mysterious and awful battle of the gods. Yes, all the world knew it was going to be in reality a duel between Merlin and me, a measuring of his magic powers against mine. It was known that Merlin had been busy whole days and nights together, imbuing Sir Sagramor’s arms and armor with supernal powers of offense and defense, and that he had procured for him from the spirits of the air a fleecy veil which would render the wearer invisible to his antagonist while still visible to other men. Against Sir Sagramor, so weaponed and protected, a thousand knights could accomplish nothing; against him no known enchantments could prevail. These facts were sure; regarding them there was no doubt, no reason for doubt. There was but one question: might there be still other enchantments, to Merlin, which could render Sir Sagramor’s veil transparent to me, and make his enchanted mail vulnerable to my weapons? This was the one thing to be decided in the lists. Until then the world must remain in suspense.
So the world thought there was a vast matter at stake here, and the world was right, but it was not the one they had in their minds. No, a far vaster one was upon the cast of this die: the life of knight-errantry . I was a champion, it was true, but not the champion of the frivolous black arts, I was the champion of hard unsentimental common-sense and reason. I was entering the lists to either destroy knight-errantry or be its victim.
Vast as the show-grounds were, there were no vacant spaces in them outside of the lists, at ten o’clock on the morning of the 16th. The mammoth grand-stand was clothed in flags, streamers, and rich tapestries, and packed with several acres of small-fry tributary kings, their suites, and the British aristocracy; with our own royal gang in the chief place, and each and every individual a flashing prism of gaudy silks and velvets—well, I never saw anything to begin with it but a fight between an Upper Mississippi sunset and the aurora borealis. The huge camp of beflagged and gay-colored tents at one end of the lists, with a stiff-standing sentinel at every door and a shining shield hanging by him for challenge, was another fine sight. You see, every knight was there who had any ambition or any caste feeling; for my feeling toward their order was not much of a secret, and so here was their chance. If I won my fight with Sir Sagramor, others would have the right to call me out as long as I might be willing to respond.
Down at our end there were but two tents; one for me, and another for my servants. At the appointed hour the king made a sign, and the heralds, in their tabards, appeared and made proclamation, naming the combatants and stating the cause of quarrel. There was a pause, then a ringing bugle-blast, which was the signal for us to come forth. All the multitude caught their breath, and an eager curiosity flashed into every face.
Out from his tent rode great Sir Sagramor, an imposing tower of iron, stately and rigid, his huge spear standing upright in its socket and grasped in his strong hand, his grand horse’s face and breast cased in steel, his body clothed in rich trappings that almost dragged the ground—oh, a most noble picture. A great shout went up, of welcome and admiration.
And then out I came. But I didn’t get any shout. There was a wondering and eloquent silence for a moment, then a great wave of laughter began to sweep along that human sea, but a warning bugle-blast cut its career short. I was in the simplest and comfortablest of gymnast costumes—flesh-colored tights from neck to heel, with blue silk puffings about my loins, and bareheaded. My horse was not above medium size, but he was alert, slender-limbed, muscled with watchsprings, and just a greyhound to go. He was a beauty, glossy as silk, and naked as he was when he was born, except for bridle and ranger-saddle.
The iron tower and the gorgeous bedquilt came cumbrously but gracefully pirouetting down the lists, and we tripped lightly up to meet them. We halted; the tower saluted, I responded; then we wheeled and rode side by side to the grand-stand and faced our king and queen, to whom we made obeisance. The queen exclaimed:
“Alack, Sir Boss, wilt fight naked, and without lance or sword or—”
But the king checked her and made her understand, with a polite phrase or two, that this was none of her business. The bugles rang again; and we separated and rode to the ends of the lists, and took position. Now old Merlin stepped into view and cast a dainty web of gossamer threads over Sir Sagramor which turned him into Hamlet’s ghost; the king made a sign, the bugles blew, Sir Sagramor laid his great lance in rest, and the next moment here he came thundering down the course with his veil flying out behind, and I went whistling through the air like an arrow to meet him —cocking my ear the while, as if noting the invisible knight’s position and progress by hearing, not sight. A chorus of encouraging shouts burst out for him, and one brave voice flung out a heartening word for me—said:
“Go it, slim Jim!”
It was an even bet that Clarence had procured that favor for me —and furnished the language, too. When that formidable lance-point was within a yard and a half of my breast I twitched my horse aside without an effort, and the big knight swept by, scoring a blank. I got plenty of applause that time. We turned, braced up, and down we came again. Another blank for the knight, a roar of applause for me. This same thing was repeated once more; and it fetched such a whirlwind of applause that Sir Sagramor lost his temper, and at once changed his tactics and set himself the task of chasing me down. Why, he hadn’t any show in the world at that; it was a game of tag, with all the advantage on my side; I whirled out of his path with ease whenever I chose, and once I slapped him on the back as I went to the rear. Finally I took the chase into my own hands; and after that, turn, or twist, or do what he would, he was never able to get behind me again; he found himself always in front at the end of his maneuver. So he gave up that business and retired to his end of the lists. His temper was clear gone now, and he forgot himself and flung an insult at me which disposed of mine. I slipped my lasso from the horn of my saddle, and grasped the coil in my right hand. This time you should have seen him come!—it was a business trip, sure; by his gait there was blood in his eye. I was sitting my horse at ease, and swinging the great loop of my lasso in wide circles about my head; the moment he was under way, I started for him; when the space between us had narrowed to forty feet, I sent the snaky spirals of the rope a-cleaving through the air, then darted aside and faced about and brought my trained animal to a halt with all his feet braced under him for a surge. The next moment the rope sprang taut and yanked Sir Sagramor out of the saddle! Great Scott, but there was a sensation!
Unquestionably, the popular thing in this world is novelty. These people had never seen anything of that cowboy business before, and it carried them clear off their feet with delight. From all around and everywhere, the shout went up:
“Encore! encore!”
I wondered where they got the word, but there was no time to cipher on philological matters, because the whole knight-errantry hive was just humming now, and my prospect for trade couldn’t have been better. The moment my lasso was released and Sir Sagramor had been assisted to his tent, I hauled in the slack, took my station and began to swing my loop around my head again. I was sure to have use for it as soon as they could elect a successor for Sir Sagramor, and that couldn’t take long where there were so many hungry candidates. Indeed, they elected one straight off —Sir Hervis de Revel.
Bzz ! Here he came, like a house afire; I dodged: he passed like a flash, with my horse-hair coils settling around his neck; a second or so later, fst ! his saddle was empty.
I got another encore; and another, and another, and still another. When I had snaked five men out, things began to look serious to the ironclads, and they stopped and consulted together. As a result, they decided that it was time to waive etiquette and send their greatest and best against me. To the astonishment of that little world, I lassoed Sir Lamorak de Galis, and after him Sir Galahad. So you see there was simply nothing to be done now, but play their right bower—bring out the superbest of the superb, the mightiest of the mighty, the great Sir Launcelot himself!
A proud moment for me? I should think so. Yonder was Arthur, King of Britain; yonder was Guenever; yes, and whole tribes of little provincial kings and kinglets; and in the tented camp yonder, renowned knights from many lands; and likewise the selectest body known to chivalry, the Knights of the Table Round, the most illustrious in Christendom; and biggest fact of all, the very sun of their shining system was yonder couching his lance, the focal point of forty thousand adoring eyes; and all by myself, here was I laying for him. Across my mind flitted the dear image of a certain hello-girl of West Hartford, and I wished she could see me now. In that moment, down came the Invincible, with the rush of a whirlwind—the courtly world rose to its feet and bent forward —the fateful coils went circling through the air, and before you could wink I was towing Sir Launcelot across the field on his back, and kissing my hand to the storm of waving kerchiefs and the thunder-crash of applause that greeted me!
Said I to myself, as I coiled my lariat and hung it on my saddle-horn, and sat there drunk with glory, “The victory is perfect—no other will venture against me—knight-errantry is dead.” Now imagine my astonishment—and everybody else’s, too—to hear the peculiar bugle-call which announces that another competitor is about to enter the lists! There was a mystery here; I couldn’t account for this thing. Next, I noticed Merlin gliding away from me; and then I noticed that my lasso was gone! The old sleight-of-hand expert had stolen it, sure, and slipped it under his robe.
The bugle blew again. I looked, and down came Sagramor riding again, with his dust brushed off and his veil nicely re-arranged. I trotted up to meet him, and pretended to find him by the sound of his horse’s hoofs. He said:
“Thou’rt quick of ear, but it will not save thee from this!” and he touched the hilt of his great sword. “An ye are not able to see it, because of the influence of the veil, know that it is no cumbrous lance, but a sword—and I ween ye will not be able to avoid it.”
His visor was up; there was death in his smile. I should never be able to dodge his sword, that was plain. Somebody was going to die this time. If he got the drop on me, I could name the corpse. We rode forward together, and saluted the royalties. This time the king was disturbed. He said:
“Where is thy strange weapon?”
“It is stolen, sire.”
“Hast another at hand?”
“No, sire, I brought only the one.”
Then Merlin mixed in:
“He brought but the one because there was but the one to bring. There exists none other but that one. It belongeth to the king of the Demons of the Sea. This man is a pretender, and ignorant, else he had known that that weapon can be used in but eight bouts only, and then it vanisheth away to its home under the sea.”
“Then is he weaponless,” said the king. “Sir Sagramore, ye will grant him leave to borrow.”
“And I will lend!” said Sir Launcelot, limping up. “He is as brave a knight of his hands as any that be on live, and he shall have mine.”
He put his hand on his sword to draw it, but Sir Sagramor said:
“Stay, it may not be. He shall fight with his own weapons; it was his privilege to choose them and bring them. If he has erred, on his head be it.”
“Knight!” said the king. “Thou’rt overwrought with passion; it disorders thy mind. Wouldst kill a naked man?”
“An he do it, he shall answer it to me,” said Sir Launcelot.
“I will answer it to any he that desireth!” retorted Sir Sagramor hotly.
Merlin broke in, rubbing his hands and smiling his lowdownest smile of malicious gratification:
“‘Tis well said, right well said! And ‘tis enough of parleying, let my lord the king deliver the battle signal.”
The king had to yield. The bugle made proclamation, and we turned apart and rode to our stations. There we stood, a hundred yards apart, facing each other, rigid and motionless, like horsed statues. And so we remained, in a soundless hush, as much as a full minute, everybody gazing, nobody stirring. It seemed as if the king could not take heart to give the signal. But at last he lifted his hand, the clear note of the bugle followed, Sir Sagramor’s long blade described a flashing curve in the air, and it was superb to see him come. I sat still. On he came. I did not move. People got so excited that they shouted to me:
“Fly, fly! Save thyself! This is murther!”
I never budged so much as an inch till that thundering apparition had got within fifteen paces of me; then I snatched a dragoon revolver out of my holster, there was a flash and a roar, and the revolver was back in the holster before anybody could tell what had happened.
Here was a riderless horse plunging by, and yonder lay Sir Sagramor, stone dead.
The people that ran to him were stricken dumb to find that the life was actually gone out of the man and no reason for it visible, no hurt upon his body, nothing like a wound. There was a hole through the breast of his chain-mail, but they attached no importance to a little thing like that; and as a bullet wound there produces but little blood, none came in sight because of the clothing and swaddlings under the armor. The body was dragged over to let the king and the swells look down upon it. They were stupefied with astonishment naturally. I was requested to come and explain the miracle. But I remained in my tracks, like a statue, and said:
“If it is a command, I will come, but my lord the king knows that I am where the laws of combat require me to remain while any desire to come against me.”
I waited. Nobody challenged. Then I said:
“If there are any who doubt that this field is well and fairly won, I do not wait for them to challenge me, I challenge them.”
“It is a gallant offer,” said the king, “and well beseems you. Whom will you name first?”
“I name none, I challenge all! Here I stand, and dare the chivalry of England to come against me—not by individuals, but in mass!”
“What!” shouted a score of knights.
“You have heard the challenge. Take it, or I proclaim you recreant knights and vanquished, every one!”
It was a “bluff” you know. At such a time it is sound judgment to put on a bold face and play your hand for a hundred times what it is worth; forty-nine times out of fifty nobody dares to “call,” and you rake in the chips. But just this once—well, things looked squally! In just no time, five hundred knights were scrambling into their saddles, and before you could wink a widely scattering drove were under way and clattering down upon me. I snatched both revolvers from the holsters and began to measure distances and calculate chances.
Bang! One saddle empty. Bang! another one. Bang—bang, and I bagged two. Well, it was nip and tuck with us, and I knew it. If I spent the eleventh shot without convincing these people, the twelfth man would kill me, sure. And so I never did feel so happy as I did when my ninth downed its man and I detected the wavering in the crowd which is premonitory of panic. An instant lost now could knock out my last chance. But I didn’t lose it. I raised both revolvers and pointed them—the halted host stood their ground just about one good square moment, then broke and fled.
The day was mine. Knight-errantry was a doomed institution. The march of civilization was begun. How did I feel? Ah, you never could imagine it.
And Brer Merlin? His stock was flat again. Somehow, every time the magic of fol-de-rol tried conclusions with the magic of science, the magic of fol-de-rol got left.
背景和作者介紹
這個故事是一個現代的重述，靈感來自亞瑟王和他的騎士的傳說，融合了傳統的中世紀騎士精神，並帶有幽默和富有想像力的轉折。最初的亞瑟王傳說已經被反覆講述了幾個世紀，起源於中世紀的民間傳說，後來被作家如托馬斯·馬洛里爵士和阿爾弗雷德·勞德·丁尼生改編。這個特別的敘述介紹了一場不僅僅是騎士之間的衝突，而且是魔法和理性的衝突，象徵著從舊世界的神秘主義到現代理性主義的過渡。
作者借鑒了亞瑟王神話的豐富內容，運用諷刺和富有創造力的故事講述來挑戰騎士精神的浪漫理想。故事的敘述者將自己定位為常識和現代智慧的擁護者，與梅林的神秘力量和傳統騎士對抗。這反映了一種更廣泛的文化轉變，即重視科學和實用知識，而不是迷信。
詳細解釋和意義
故事的核心探討了傳統與進步之間的衝突。敘述者與薩格拉摩爵士之間的決鬥，後者受到梅林的魔法加持，這不僅僅是一場身體上的較量；它象徵著魅力與理性的戰鬥。敘述者使用套索和左輪手槍——現代世界的工具——對抗身穿盔甲的騎士和隱形的魔法斗篷，生動地突出了這個主題。
這個故事也批判了過時的騎士精神理想，暗示著騎士精神的時代，及其守則和儀式，正在讓位於一個由實用性和創新定義的新時代。敘述者的勝利標誌著騎士精神的“死亡”和基於科學和常識的文明的崛起。
此外，這個故事幽默地描繪了人群和騎士的反應，強調了人性的新奇和奇觀的迷戀。敘述者牛仔式的套索技巧吸引了觀眾，表明新思想如何顛覆舊傳統並贏得大眾的支持。
給學生的經驗教訓和見解
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擁抱理性和創新： 故事鼓勵年輕讀者重視批判性思維和創造力。正如敘述者使用現代工具來克服魔法力量一樣，學生可以學會用邏輯和創造力來解決問題，而不是僅僅依靠傳統或迷信。
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尊重地挑戰舊觀念： 雖然敘述者挑戰了騎士精神，但他是在戰鬥規則內這樣做的，這表明進步可以在不尊重或混亂的情況下實現。學生可以通過深思熟慮和建設性地質疑過時的信仰來應用這一點。
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適應性是關鍵： 敘述者躲避攻擊和改變戰術的能力，教導了在面對挑戰時靈活性的重要性。在生活和學習中，具有適應性有助於克服障礙並抓住機會。
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勇氣和自信： 獨自一人面對許多騎士並大膽地提出挑戰，反映了勇敢和自信。學生可以从中汲取灵感，去面对自己的恐惧，并捍卫自己的想法。
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新奇和參與的力量： 人群對套索的熱烈反應表明，新方法如何激勵和吸引他人。在社交和學術環境中，創造力和熱情可以幫助建立聯繫和影響力。
在日常生活中應用故事的精神
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在學習中： 以好奇心和探索新方法的意願來學習。不要害怕使用創造性的解決問題方法或質疑標準的思考方式。
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在社交場合： 對新想法持開放態度，並在討論不同觀點時保持尊重。運用幽默和創新來與他人建立聯繫並建立友誼。
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在個人成長中： 通過為自己設定挑戰並從勝利和挫折中學習來培養自信。像敘述者一樣，堅守你的價值觀，但保持開放的態度。
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在培養性格方面： 故事突出了勇氣、公平和智慧等品質。學生可以通過誠實、堅持正義和批判性思考來練習這些。
通過講故事鼓勵積極的價值觀
教師和家長可以使用這個故事來引發關於傳統與進步之間的平衡、科學和理性的作用以及勇氣和創造力的重要性的討論。活動可能包括：
- 關於舊習俗與新思想的價值的辯論。
- 創作想像今天世界的現代“騎士”的創意寫作作業。
- 角色扮演遊戲，以練習解決問題和適應能力。
- 關於克服挑戰的個人經歷的反思性文章。
通過參與這個故事，學生不僅可以享受一個關於騎士和魔法的驚險故事，而且還可以獲得關於如何以智慧和勇氣來駕馭自己旅程的有意義的見解。
