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    King Solomon's Mines
    King Solomon's Mines
    King Solomon's Mines
    Ebook332 pages6 hours

    King Solomon's Mines

    By H. Rider Haggard

    4/5

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    "A peculiarly thrilling and vigorous tale of adventure." — Andrew Lang
    "It goes and it grips and it moves with all the freshness of youth." — Rudyard Kipling
    When Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island was first published, H. Rider Haggard made a five-shilling bet that he could write a better adventure tale. In 1885, he created King Solomon's Mines, a story in which Allan Quatermain, a gentleman adventurer, is hired to locate a man who had disappeared into the heart of Africa while hunting for the legendary lost diamond mines of King Solomon. The book became an instant sensation and has remained popular ever since.
    Tales of adventure in exotic settings were the hallmark of Haggard's art; and King Solomon’s Mines was no exception. Here were all the elements for which his novels were famous: a gripping tale in a foreign setting, supernatural adventures, terror, passion, and discovery. Praised as "the most amazing story ever written," the book went on to become one of the bestselling novels of the 19th century.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDover Publications
    Release dateAug 8, 2012
    ISBN9780486110783
    Author

    H. Rider Haggard

    H. Rider Haggard (1856–1925) was an English adventure novelist. Haggard studied law, but rather than pursuing a legal career took a secretarial position in what is now South Africa. His time there provided the inspiration for some of his most popular novels, including She (1887), an early classic of the lost world fantasy genre and one of the bestselling books of all time.

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    Reviews for King Solomon's Mines

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    • 3/5
      "Truly wealth, which men spend all their lives in acquiring, is a valueless thing at the last."Allan Quatermain is an ageing hunter based in South Africa. One day he meets Sir Henry Curtis and Captain Good, who want his help in searching for Curtis’s brother, who disappeared whilst searching for the legendary King Solomon’s Mines. By coincidence Quatermain has a sketchy map of the mines location and despite reservations about their likely survival agrees to lead an expedition to discover the fabled biblical King's source of wealth taking along with them a Zulu servant, Umbopa. After nearly dying crossing a desert they reach the border of Kukuanaland and the ancient road that leads to the mines only to find the country is ruled by a brutal despotic king and a witch who guard the treasure. Quatermain must use all his cunning if they are to survive.This novel was written in the late nineteenth century and as such conforms with the norms and tastes of Victorian Britain and features imperialist, racist and sexist views that readers today would find offensive. Equally much of the writing style feels clichéd to modern readers but we must remember that this book was written at a time, before aeroplanes, television and the internet, when there were still large parts of the world which were unknown to the wider world. As such these clichés were not clichés when they were written. Rather this novel became part of the very popular, at the time, 'lost world' genre which later evolved into the 'sci-fi' genre. As such this becomes a forerunner of much that we read to day and therefore modern readers have to make a few allowances for it which is sometimes easier said than done. Today this book is seen as a 'children's classic' but would have been mainstream in it's heyday.
    • 3/5
      I like a good adventure, but Good Lord they killed off a helluva lot of people in this one and the disposable nature of the African warriors just got on my last nerve. I know this was from a different time, but YIKES!! I'm not sure that I would have finished it had it not been for the character of Good.
    • 4/5
      Whelp, yet another adventure classic I thought I had either read, or seen the movie of, but was confusing with a different story of the same type and era. In this case, the other story was The Man Who Would be King, by Rudyard Kipling. So, this isn't that.An English gentleman, in the late 1800s, is trying to find his estranged brother who has left on a fool's dream of finding the lost mines of Solomon. He encounters Alan Quartermain who is telling this tale. They also have an ex-naval officer along for the trip. These three determine to brave the desert and sure death to find the lost brother. They have some natives for help, including one who does not have the subservient demeanor of most natives. Guess where this is going?As an adventure story of that era, in that place, it was better than I thought it would be. There is some charming humor in it, one of my favorite bits being: When the adventurers were trying to gain esteem by darkening the moon (lunar eclipse), the two who were quoting poetry and the Bible run out of words, but the naval officer is able to go on for a good ten minutes shouting foul language without repeating himself! Non of the words are listed though.As for how it reads to modern sensibilities, well, if your sensibilities allow you to take into consideration as a scientist the attitudes of the day in which this was written, I believe you will find that it is rather more broad than most similar literature of its day. An inter-racial relationship is present, although doomed. The natives are treated more as individuals, some respect-worthy and proud, some deceitful and wicked, some kind, some not, etc. As a present day story, it would not pass muster, as a looking-glass to the past, it was okay.I confess, I became bored with some of the traveling. That was perhaps me and not the story. The author excelled himself when describing the mountains called "Sheba's Breasts." He could have given Solomon a run for his money in descriptive language.
    • 5/5
      The 19th century had a boom of English adventure novels. By the end of the century it had really hit a great stride which also brought high expectations. As with any genre there were plenty of books that have faded from common reading while others still invoke imagery and seem familiar even to people who have never read them. To me, King Solomon's Mines is one of those novels that always felt like a stalwart example of English Adventure fiction so I was a little surprised when people saw me reading it and had little or no knowledge of this novel or the adventures of Allan Quartermain. Those who recognized Quartermain largely only did so thanks to the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen movie that came out a few years ago. Now that I've finished reading King Solomon's Mines I must say that I'm a little sad that it's slipped under the radar. Maybe I'm just in the wrong reading circles. *grin*The basic story (minor spoilers of the first chapters' setup) introduces us to adventurer and big game hunter Allan Quartermain. Allan isn't old by our modern sense but in terms of his career he is beyond his standard life expectancy and is expected to either die on safari or to retire somewhere. While thinking about this, he is approached by an English aristocrat (Sir Henry Curtis) and his friend (Captain Good) who want to hire him as a guide and protector to lead them north across the wilds of Africa in search of the lost brother of Sir Henry. Quartermain is wary especially when they tell him that Sir Henry's brother was lost searching for King Solomon's Mines...the mythical mines used by the Biblical king to fund his nation and build his famous Temple. It takes some discussion and a promise of significant wealth (not only for Allan but also for his son) to finally convince Quartermain to help. They gather supplies and natives to help them and they're on their way. As they get ready to depart, another native approaches them having overheard their general destination and he asks to accompany them as a servant. They agree and the small party sets off.The novel is written in first person as a sort of journal or letter from Allan to anyone who may be interested in the story. The narrator Quartermain often apologizes for his lack of style and sophistication as well as for possible errors either in terms of form or in terms of scientific/geographic accuracy. The edition I read included annotations by the editor but I also found it interesting that there were included annotations that were supposed to have been written by Quartermain to further explain or clarify some point of interest. This added narrative element was a fun addition not just to add details to the story but also to provide more insight into the character of Quartermain. I especially enjoyed the side commentary that Quartermain-as-narrator added to the story with his thoughts about the situations he encounters.The story arc of the novel starts out fairly straightforward and almost feels like a travelogue at points. We get numerous details about the nature of the country, the preparations and supplies used and a lot of information about the wildlife and the indigenous people of southern/central Africa. As with other novels of the time, the pacing begins slow and gradually builds to a moderate pace but never really gets to a breakneck speed. As such it may receive lackluster response from the short-attention-span readers of the 21st century. And yet, the details and the imagery are so immersive that the sensation of being on an African adventure might help draw a reader into the story until the greater intrigue starts.In addition to the great details about the country and the trek during the first portion of the book, Haggard does a great job fleshing out his main characters. To some degree they are certainly archetypes and can sometimes blend together as generic adventurers. Still, they have their own unique quirks that make them memorable and also help dictate some interesting plot points throughout the book. As part of the character development, there's also a little bit of intrigue and mystery that helps foreshadow future events.After traveling through the desert for many days and many chapters, our adventurers struggle across the mountains and discover an unknown tribe of natives. At this point, the nature of the novel changes a bit as it moves from man-vs-nature to man-vs-man and to some extent it feels like a different novel. The pacing also seems to pick up a little bit partly due to the intrigue that comes of the addition of new characters to interact with. At first I wondered if this feeling was due to the novel being written as a serial but I was surprised to find that not only was it not serialized but it was written very quickly (in less than 6 months) and then struggled to find a publisher.Without giving away the plot and the intrigue I can say that there are 2-3 main story paths in the book that intertwine and work their way to a conclusion. Even though I fully expected a happy, successful ending I must admit that there were moments of suspense when I anticipated some potential twists and turns that might spoil the happy ending. Some aspects felt a little predictable (probably due more to copycat ideas in the past century+ rather than due to lack of innovation by Haggard) but many of the twists and revelations did feel fresh and unique.The large amount of geographical descriptions of Africa can feel a little dense at times but when coupled with Quartermain's natural and conversational narrative style the story seemed to flow along lightly. This makes it very accessible to most readers. The Imperialistic ideas and the racial attitudes of the era factor into the events but the book still maintains a bit of progressive mentality. Quartermain feels disillusioned by some of the Imperial ideals of England and while he still has his own prejudices he does view the native Africans as more human and worthy of respect than many of his contemporaries may have done.Overall, I really enjoyed this novel. It took a few chapters to get started and then maintained a slow burn as the plot pace increased before reaching its apex of adventure and suspense. The adventure and intrigue was a lot of fun and really drew me in. I enjoyed the characters a lot and had fun with the quirks and nuances they brought to the adventure. I really enjoyed the writing style and the level of detail included. I'm interested to read Haggard's other Quartermain novels to learn more about his character and the adventures that lead up to this novel. While novels like Tarzan, The Jungle Books and Treasure Island are more well-known adventures of the time, I definitely feel like more people should seek out Haggard and get familiar with the adventure of King Solomon's Mines.****4.5 out of 5 stars
    • 3/5
      Well. This has plenty of value as a historical artifact - ancestor of Indiana Jones and all the other pulp adventure fiction like it - but it's so tremendously racist and misogynist that I really can't see the value in reading it for entertainment, not when there are so many things now that are so much better.
    • 5/5
      By common consent one of the greatest adventure novels ever written. Much better than the very silly racist movie with Sharon Stone. Haggard knew Africa and shows real respect for his African characters, notably Ignosi --in fact, in some ways Ignosi seems to maneuver European explorers into taking him back to claim his thron.
    • 4/5
      Great white hunter and guide Allan Quartermaine has been hired by Sir Henry Curtis to aid in the search for his missing brother who disappeared in a remote region of Africa. There, it is rumored, that the source of King Solomon's legendary wealth can be found. Curtis and Quartermaine are joined by Captain Good.This, of course, is the tale of their journey, and the hazards and wonders they experienced.King Solomon's Mines was the prototype of Indiana Jones type adventure stories, and was great fun to read!
    • 5/5
      It is seldom that a book, even a classic, grabs me like this one. I am in love!Story construction, narrator's voice, elegant turn of phrase, wonderful characters. It's all there. I'm sorry it took me so long to find it.
    • 4/5
      This is an old fashioned adventure yarn and its hero, Alan Quatermain, is a direct ancestor of Indiana Jones. I'm not going to claim that Haggard even at his best is the same order of classic as the best by Charles Dickens, the Brontes, George Eliot or Thomas Hardy. But like fellow Victorians Arthur Conan Doyle or Robert Louis Stevenson or Rudyard Kipling, Haggard really could spin a good yarn. Ten of his books are on my bookshelves. I gobbled those up in my teens and most I remember very, very well even decades later. My favorite of his novels involved Ayesha, known as She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed, especially the book Wisdom's Daughter. King Solomon's Mines is his most famous novel though, probably helped by the film of that title. It does have humor, some unforgettable scenes and images, and lots of adventure and daring do. Yet I could list several novels by Haggard I liked better. And I think that has to do with Quatermain himself, the epitome of the "Great White Hunter" with the kind of casual racism of the age and glory in bagging game you might expect. I prefer Haggard's Eric, the Viking from Eric Brighteyes. Or Olaf from The Wanderer's Necklace. Or his Odysseus from his Homer homage written with Andrew Lang, The World's Desire. And above all his indomitable Ayesha, one of the great heroines of Victorian literature. So while this is Haggard's best known work, I don't think it's necessarily his best or the one a contemporary reader would enjoy the most.
    • 3/5
      Classic adventure book, great for young boys or anyone that likes a straight forward adventure.
    • 3/5
      This is, I think, the longest I have gone between re-reading of books -- more than 25 years ago I first read Haggard at a (horrible) sleep-away camp. (I think I also read "Starman Jones" while I was there, and I know I borrowed the "Pelman the Powershaper" series from one of the counselors). Some very small things I remembered: the chain-mail, the hag's trap. Almost all else had passed. A vivid adventure, and with a prose style so much better than we expect from genre fiction now. "A sharp spear," runs the Kukuana saying, "needs no polish"
    • 4/5
      I love classic adventure stories, and this one did not disappoint! It wasn't an epic, like Count of Monte Cristo, but it offered the reader plenty of continuous excitement and action on par with an Indiana Jones movie. The novel tells of Allan Quartermain, a 19th century elephant hunter in Southern Africa, who is convinced by two English men (Curtis & Good) to help search for Curtis's brother and hopefully find overflowing riches at the elusive mines of King Solomon on the way. The group is joined by Umbopa, an African porter who, as it turns out, has a surprising secret. Many challenges hinder their road to fortune ... witches, tribal warfare, desert dehydration, angry elephants... the thrills just don't stop. Can they find the elusive diamonds and still have their lives to show for it?
    • 3/5
      Reading this book was like spending an afternoon at the movies watching one of those old fashioned adventure movies. The plot is straightforward. Sir Henry Curtis hires elephant hunter and adventurer Allan Quartermain to lead an expedition in search of his brother. His brother has been lost for 2 years after searching for the fabled King Solomon's Mines for an incredible treasure. Quartermain and his group have to battle the African dessert, jungle, a tribe of cannibals a group of witch doctors all to finish their quest. Written in the 1800s, this book is good fun adventure although not at all politically correct by today's standards.
    • 5/5
      An excellent story in the ripping yarns / lost world genre! Very easy to read with a great storyline but you can tell it's from a different era, wouldn't get past the self censorship today.
    • 4/5
      Such a fun book this is! Combine a long and arduous journey, rumors of a fabulous treasure, deadly danger, fabled history, ferocious battles, political intrigue, and an exotic locale and you'll get Henry Rider Haggard's classic adventure story, King Solomon's Mines. And when it's all told by a perceptive, honest, and humorous narrator like Allen Quartermain, it only increases the enjoyment. First published in 1885, this novel has earned a place as one of the more entertaining of the adventure story genre.Allen Quartermain is a tough old hunter in the African bush who is hired by a rich Englishman, Sir Henry Curtis, to cross the desert to a mysterious land where he believes his estranged brother has gone in quest of treasure. The legendary diamonds of King Solomon's mines have never quite left the memory and imagination of the area, and many a man had gone to seek them, never to return. But Quartermain has some secret information of his own, and on this slender hope the men set out. Accompanying them is Captain John Goode, of the false teeth and eyeglass that play such a memorable part once they arrive at their destination. When they do finally reach the land beyond the desert, they find an isolated African culture that has survived untouched by the outside world for many hundreds of years. Before they can begin their search for Sir Henry's brother (and those fabled diamonds, along the way), they are swept into a civil war in which a faction seeks to depose the wicked king in favor of the rightful heir. These intrigues and battles make up the bulk of the story, and when they finally get to the treasure hunt it seems a bit of an anticlimax. Still, the story carries on and the suspense picks up again with the ancient mines dug for King Solomon and the unimaginable treasure—and danger—they hold for the travelers.Early on Quartermain tells us that there are "no women" in the tale, but this isn't strictly true. There's a lovely native woman named Foulata who has a part to play. But she is overshadowed by another female character—this one a femme fatale in Gagool, the ancient witch who helped set the current king on the throne. Gagool's grotesque appearance and behavior almost de-sex her as an anomalous monster, not a woman at all. And to further emphasize my point that the story is not devoid of aspects of the feminine, the two mountains at the entry of the country are called by the racy name of "Sheba's Breasts." I must say I found this a bit shocking, especially in light of the story's original date of publication. We can't really talk about this book without mentioning race relations. Initially I was impressed by Quarterman's deliberate decision to use the word "native" rather than "nigger," but he does show a careless, casual disrespect toward the Africans (calling a native man "quite clever for a native" and addressing him as "boy"). But anything else would be entirely unnatural for the period. Also, Quartermain provides a home/job for one of his native hunters who was wounded too badly to hunt again. As the story develops, you can seethe increasing respect he has for Umbopa, their native guide and an impressive man in his own right. At several points Quartermain compares Umbopa to Sir Henry, observing how each is a perfect specimen of his race and a fine sight seen with the other. Modern readers may also be put off by the casual and occasionally detailed descriptions of hunting elephants for their ivory. I understand this is quite accurate to the period, and I don't have a problem with hunting non-endangered animals. But I was still glad when the story moved on. I listened to this on audiobook, read by Simon Prebble, and it really was a pleasure. Perhaps it is not as highbrow as Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness which I also recently finished, but infinitely more enjoyable. Recommended.
    • 5/5
      The originator of the lost world genre is a fast moving tale in the heart of Africa about 3 adventorous English men and Umbopa, a native, and their search for the brother of one of the men, who had himself gone in search of the fabled King Solomon's mines.

      I read this book as an 11 year old for Portuguese class*, and even tough I hadn't read it in 17 years, the memory of how much I had enjoyed it was fresh. Reading it again was not a disappointment by any means; the adventurous feeling is so well transmitted, and the narrative so simple, yet so alluring makes this one of my favorite books.

      * It may seem strange that an English book be a part of Portuguese class, but the version I read(then & now) is a reworking of the original by Eça de Queiroz, a very gifted and beloved 19th century Portuguese writer.
    • 3/5
      The famous story is that H. Rider Haggard wrote "King Solomon's Mines" as a result of a wager with his brother, who bet H. Rider couldn't write a book half as good as "Treasure Island." He succeeded in that is a decent book, though not quite up to the standard set by "Treasure Island."The book follows a group of adventurers who head to Africa to search of one of the party's lost brother and, for added challenge, King Solomon's diamond mines. The story is a typical Victorian adventure novel and moves along at a good and interesting pace. I found the colonialist attitudes toward Africans a little hard to take in this particular book, so it sucked a little of the enjoyment out for me.I also think my rating suffered a bit from my previous read of H Rider Haggard's "She", which I thought was similar but superior. Overall, "King Solomon's Mines" was a solid three-star read, but not one that I would pick up again.
    • 4/5
      A man looking for his missing brother recruits elephant hunter Allan Quatermain to lead a search that will take them through an uninhabitable desert. The brother was headed for a region said to be the location of the biblical King Solomon's mines. The odds are that the search party will not survive their mission, but the possibility of riches is enough to tip the scales in favor of the quest. Quatermain, the brother of the missing man, a retired naval officer, and two African guides set out on what soon becomes a page-turning adventure across the desert, over the mountains, and into an unknown kingdom.I was pleasantly surprised by the humor in the book. The story is laced with laugh-out-loud passages like this one:As those who read this history will probably long ago have gathered, I am, to be honest, a bit of a coward, and certainly in no way given to fighting, though somehow it has often been my lot to get into unpleasant positions, and to be obliged to shed man's blood. But I have always hated it, and kept my own blood as undiminished in quantity as possible, sometimes by a judicious use of my heels.Haggard's style reminds me of Mark Twain, and the plot bears some similarities to parts of A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. Haggard's book came first, and it would seem that it had some influence on Twain. This is a book I've wanted to read ever since reading Elizabeth Peters' The Last Camel Died at Noon a couple of years ago. Now I know why Peters was a fan. The book will also appeal to readers who love adventure movies like the Indiana Jones series and the National Treasure films.
    • 4/5
      A rattling adventure story that, if anything, I found rather too fast to read. It lacked some of the depth of the author's other classic, She. Quite a dramatic final section.
    • 4/5
      Sometimes a classic is a classic just because it provides so much entertainment to readers over the years. This is just a good fun read. Don't look for any deep social comment. Just take it as a fun entertaining story in which every guy can think " I am Allan Quartermain." This has obviously been the inspiration for so many of the adventure stories that have been written since King Solomon's Mines publications in the late 19th century. Just read it and have fun.
    • 4/5
      This a classic rip-roaring adventure yarn about a group of men heading into deepest darkest Africa on the hunt for a lost brother and treasure. This book is most definitely a product of its times, with all the racism and chauvinism which that entails, but despite that it actually manages in some ways to be a more sympathetic treatment of "the natives" than many other books of a similar era. Just don't go in expecting enlightened attitudes!The story is engaging, and the voice of the "narrator" of the piece shows a writer at the full peak of his talent. He manages to maintain the line between Quatermain's natural voice and the voice of someone attempting to write a proper narrative for others to read, which maintains the fiction of Quatermain writing about his experiences very well. The humour is often unexpected, the story is well-paced, and the action is well-written. It's not a deep read, but it's a thoroughly engaging one.
    • 4/5
      I listened to an audiobook version of this from Librivox. Being a story about a bunch of white guys wandering around Africa in the 19th century, it's unsurprisingly quite amazingly racist in parts, but the whole epic-quest aspect was fun. I liked the bit when they were trapped in a cave full of diamonds, and sat around going "lol irony! you can't eat diamonds! woe."
    • 4/5
      From my TBR, King Solomon’s Mines, written in 1886, is a masterpiece of adventure as described by the New York Times in 1972 (the year of printing for my edition). H. Rider Haggard is described as the ne’er-do-well son of a properous English Family in the inner page of my Laurel-Leaf-Library book. He wa sent off to South Africa at the age of 19. This book is an adventure story most likely appealing to young men back in the day but mostly unheard of now. It is dated by it’s language, racism but it is free of bad language and bad sex and that is something to be said. I also felt that like most English literature set in colonialism but the author also had many respectful things to say about various people of Africa. This adventures story has 3 Englishmen and some locals traveling over desert and mountains to find a missing brother of one of the Englishmen. On the was, they become embroiled in a war to unseat the false king of the peoples, they walk on a Roman road, they find the treasures of Solomon. There are themes of good and evil. It earned its place on the 1001 books as the first of the adventure stories set in the lost worlds of Africa. I did not like the shooting of the elephants for their tusks. That was the part of book I liked the least.
    • 4/5
      This was a great read and I would reconment it to any teen that enjoys quest and adventure stories. Just because it is old (classic) does not mean its not great!
    • 5/5
      Three Englishman, a hunter, a soldier, and a gentleman, go off through the wilds of Africa in search of a lost brother, who was in search of the lost diamond mines of King Solomon. The adventurers encounter many obstacles, from the formidible terrain, to malicious animals, to native warriors. The version I listened too had Patrick Tull as the narrator, he had the perfect voice, he sounded just like you'd expect a crusty English hunter from the late 1800's to sound. Haggard's storytelling is superb, and I loved the way he had his narrator put in his little observation and asides. I highly recommend this adventure tale to anyone who loves suspense.
    • 5/5
      Classic adventure story, a secret map and hidden treasure, only involving a trek across the desert to become fabulously rich. Told with a, at the time reasonable, white man's view of black africans. It comes across very perculiar to modern tastes. However later chapters when the tribesmen are found do rectify the balance somewhat.
    • 3/5
      I came across this for the first time when I was only in the second year of secondary school, and is one of the few books I've actually read twice - I think.There are still echoes of Britain's imperial past on every page of this adventure story; it is a document of the time in which it was written, and as such is very enlightening, if a little disturbing.The adventure itself is quite the exotic one - Africa, in the time of real exploration and the English gentleman abroad; treasure; tribes; guns and so forth.
    • 5/5
      King Solomon's Mines is a very fun book, and one I very highly recommend. If you like adventure stories, stories set in British Africa, stories about lost treasures or brave explorers, then I recommend it to you. Considering it was written well over a hundred years ago, it still is worthwhile to read, and I'm glad I did.The basic story:Allen Quatermain has made his home in Africa, and while on a ship back to his home, he enters into conversation with two men, one of whom has decided to go and look for his brother whom he has not seen in some time and whom he fears to be lost. It turns out that his brother may have gone to seek the lost diamond mines of King Solomon, and on hearing this, Quartermain tells of an old map which has come into his possession, telling the location of this alleged treasure. The three set out with a Zulu native, who has his own reasons (untold to the group) as to why he wants to accompany them. Along the way they have some strange encounters, none the least of which is an evil witch. Very very fun, and you can almost hear the theme song to the Indiana Jones movies as you read!
    • 2/5
      I found it interesting at first, but the storyline started to drag a bit and became more predictable for me when they got near the place they sought.
    • 4/5
      Before reading A League of Extraordinary Gentlemen I’d never heard of Allan Quatermain. So I went into this with low expectations and was more than pleasantly surprised at what I found. This adventure story is more about friendship than treasure. Sir Henry Curtis (Incubu) is searching for his last brother who was last scene on his way to find the illusive King Solomon’s Mines, which are allegedly filled with diamonds. Curtis hires Quatermain (Macumazahn) to travel with him with the stipulation that if Quatermain dies, which he fully expects to, Curtis will provide for his son. Curtis’ friend Captain John Good (Bougwan) will also embark on the quest. As the three men begin their journey they have no idea what’s in store for them; harsh desserts, elephant hunting, a war between tribes and so much more. Though parts of the story were predictable, they were still entertaining and the plot never lags. The adventure story had real heart, which made it stand apart from more generic versions. I loved Quatermain’s honesty. There are moments when he says he doesn’t want to fight because it’s senseless, courage be damned. He’s honorable and sincere, a true friend to the end. I absolutely thing he deserves a spot in the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.

    Book preview

    King Solomon's Mines - H. Rider Haggard

    e9780486110783_cover.jpge9780486110783_i0001.jpg

    DOVER THRIFT EDITIONS

    GENERAL EDITOR: MARY CAROLYN WALDREP EDITOR OF THIS VOLUME: TOM CRAWFORD

    Bibliographical Note

    This Dover edition, first published in 2006, is an unabridged republication of King Solomon’s Mines from Three Adventure Novels (She, King Solomon’s Mines, Allan Quatermain), published by Dover Publications, Inc., New York, 1951. The story was first published by Cassell & Company, London, 1885. A new Note has been specially prepared for this edition.

    Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

    Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider), 1856–1925.

    King Solomon’s mines / H. Rider Haggard.

    p. cm.—(Dover thrift editions)

    9780486110783

    1. Quatermain, Allan (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Diamond mines and mining—Fiction. 3. Missing persons—Fiction. 4. Treasure troves—Fiction. 5. Hunting guides—Fiction. 6. Africa—Fiction. I. Title. II. Series.

    PR4731.K5 2006

    823’.8—dc22

    2005053743

    Manufactured in the United States of America

    Dover Publications, Inc., 31 East 2nd Street, Mineola, N.Y. 11501

    Table of Contents

    Title Page

    DOVER THRIFT EDITIONS - GENERAL EDITOR: MARY CAROLYN WALDREP EDITOR OF THIS VOLUME: TOM CRAWFORD

    Copyright Page

    NOTE

    INTRODUCTION

    CHAPTER I. - I MEET SIR HENRY CURTIS.

    CHAPTER II. - THE LEGEND OF SOLOMON’S MINES.

    CHAPTER III. - UMBOPA ENTERS OUR SERVICE.

    CHAPTER IV. - AN ELEPHANT HUNT.

    CHAPTER V. - OUR MARCH INTO THE DESERT.

    CHAPTER VI. - WATER! WATER!

    CHAPTER VII. - SOLOMON’S ROAD.

    CHAPTER VIII. - WE ENTER KUKUANALAND.

    CHAPTER IX. - TWALA, THE KING.

    CHAPTER X. - THE WITCH-HUNT.

    CHAPTER XI. - WE GIVE A SIGN.

    CHAPTER XII. - BEFORE THE BATTLE.

    CHAPTER XIII. - THE ATTACK.

    CHAPTER XIV. - THE LAST STAND OF THE GRAYS.

    CHAPTER XV. - GOOD FALLS SICK.

    CHAPTER XVI. - THE PLACE OF DEATH.

    CHAPTER XVII. - SOLOMON’S TREASURE-CHAMBER.

    CHAPTER XVIII. - WE ABANDON HOPE.

    CHAPTER XIX. - IGNOSI’S FAREWELL.

    CHAPTER XX. - FOUND.

    "BRAYLEY HALL, YORKSHIRE.

    DOVER -THRIFT -EDITIONS

    NOTE

    Inspired by Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island, English author H. Rider Haggard (1856–1925) bet his brother that he could write a better adventure story. His effort, King Solomon’s Mines, was written in six weeks, and published in 1885. Although Haggard had originally agreed to accept a mere £100 for the copyright, in a prescient last-minute move, he demanded 10% of the royalties instead. This turned out to be a profitable maneuver, for the book was an immediate success, and was soon selling 30,000 copies a year.

    The reasons for its popularity are not hard to find. It is a rip-roaring adventure story set in a remote, exotic locale (darkest Africa), and concerns a band of English treasure hunters searching for legendary diamond mines. Narrated by one of the band (Allan Quatermain), the story features arduous treks in the desert, with the concomitant perils of death from hunger and thirst, battles with hostile natives, malevolent witch doctors, and other threats. On the plus side, there are comely maidens, loyal and brave African warriors, heroic, last-minute rescues, and, in the end, fabulous wealth. In the course of the story, despite an incredible array of obstacles, the stalwart adventurers (these are Englishmen, after all!) defeat the bloodthirsty tyrant Twala, restore a rightful king to his royal place, and survive the worst Africa has to offer.

    All of this is recounted in a fast-moving, highly readable, listen-to-this-old-chap fashion, as if the author were entertaining his cronies at the club. Although it is mainly an adventure story (despite a passionate, unconsummated romance between one of the men and a kind of African Florence Nightingale), complete with large dollops of gore and grisly discoveries, there are frequent lyrical, poetic touches in Haggard’s descriptions of the African landscape. These undoubtedly derive from his firsthand knowledge of southern Africa. He traveled to the Natal Colony in 1875, where he was secretary to Governor Bulwer, and in 1878 Haggard became Registrar of the High Court in the Transvaal, later to become South Africa. Haggard put his intimate knowledge of the land and its peoples (he was especially interested in Zulu culture) to good use in creating authentic characters and a plausible environment for his tales. It was a time when Victorian-era explorers were filling in the last blank spots on the map of Africa, and the public snapped up Haggard’s fictional forays into these newly discovered lands and their ancient civilizations.

    With King Solomon’s Mines, the prolific Haggard pioneered the lost world adventure story, and exercised a significant influence on other writers, including Edgar Rice Burroughs, John Carter, and H.P. Lovecraft. Today’s readers may find the author’s British colonial condescension a bit hard to swallow, however, it can also be said that Haggard often treats native populations with a good deal of sympathy and respect. King Solomon’s Mines was followed by a sequel, Allan Quatermain (1887) and his famed novel She (1887), whose archetypal Queen Ayesha impressed Carl Jung as an example of his own concept of anima–a guide and mediator of the inner world.

    Despite claims for spiritual and psychological depths in Haggard’s novels, it is his ability to tell an exciting story, with appealing characters, set in exotic locales, that has kept generations of readers enthralled. King Solomon’s Mines was the first, and perhaps the best, of Haggard’s efforts in the genre. Over 100 years after its original publication, this Victorian page-tumer retains its gripping, storytelling power.

    INTRODUCTION

    Now that this book is printed, and about to be given to the world, the sense of its shortcomings, both in style and contents, weighs very heavily upon me. As regards the latter, I can only say that it does not pretend to be a full account of everything we did and saw. There are many things connected with our journey into Kukuanaland which I should have liked to dwell upon at length, and which have, as it is, been scarcely alluded to. Among these are the curious legends which I collected about the chain armor that saved us from destruction in the great battle of Loo, and also about the silent ones or colossi at the mouth of the stalactite cave. Again, if I had given way to my own impulses I should have liked to go into the differences, some of which are to my mind very suggestive, between the Zulu and Kukuana dialects. Also a few pages might profitably have been given up to the consideration of the indigenous flora and fauna of Kukuanaland.¹ Then there remains the most interesting subject—that, as it is, has only been incidentally alluded to—of the magnificent system of military organization in force in that country, which is, in my opinion, much superior to that inaugurated by Chaka in Zululand, inasmuch as it permits of even more rapid mobilization and does not necessitate the employment of the pernicious system of forced celibacy. And, lastly, I have scarcely touched on the domestic and family customs of the Kukuanas, many of which are exceedingly quaint, or on their proficiency in the art of smelting and welding metals. This last they carry to considerable perfection, of which a good example is to be seen in their tollas, or heavy throwing-knives, the backs of these knives being made of hammered iron, and the edges of beautiful steel welded with great skill on to the iron backs. The fact of the matter is that I thought (and so did Sir Henry Curtis and Captain Good) that the best plan would be to tell the story in a plain, straightforward manner, and leave these matters to be dealt with subsequently in whatever way may ultimately appear to be desirable. In the meanwhile I shall, of course, be delighted to give any information in my power to anybody interested in such things.

    And now it only remains for me to offer my apologies for my blunt way of writing. I can only say in excuse for it that I am more accustomed to handle a rifle than a pen, and cannot make any pretence to the grand literary flights and flourishes which I see in novels—for I sometimes like to read a novel. I suppose they—the flights and flourishes—are desirable, and I regret not being able to supply them; but at the same time I cannot help thinking that simple things are always the most impressive, and books are easier to understand when they are written in plain language, though I have perhaps no right to set up an opinion on such a matter. A sharp spear, runs the Kukuana saying, needs no polish, and on the same principle I venture to hope that a true story, however strange it may be, does not require to be decked out in fine words.

    ALLAN QUATERMAIN.

    CHAPTER I.

    I MEET SIR HENRY CURTIS.

    IT is a curious thing that at my age—fifty—five last birthday —I should find myself taking up a pen to try and write a history. I wonder what sort of a history it will be when I have done it, if I ever come to the end of the trip! I have done a good many things in my life, which seems a long one to me, owing to my having begun so young, perhaps. At an age when other boys are at school I was earning my living as a trader in the old Colony. I have been trading, hunting, fighting, or mining ever since. And yet it is only eight months ago that I made my pile. It is a big pile now I have got it—I don’t yet know how big—but I don’t think I would go through the last fifteen or sixteen months again for it; no, not if I knew that I should come out safe at the end, pile and all. But then, I am a timid man, and don’t like violence, and am pretty sick of adventure. I wonder why I am going to write this book; it is not in my line. I am not a literary man, though very devoted to the Old Testament and also to the Ingoldsby Legends. Let me try and set down my reasons, just to see if I have any.

    First reason: Because Sir Henry Curtis and Captain John Good asked me to.

    Second reason: Because I am laid up here at Durban with the pain and trouble in my left leg. Ever since that confounded lion got hold of me I have been liable to it, and its being rather bad just now makes me limp more than ever. There must be some poison in a lion’s teeth, otherwise how is it that when your wounds are healed they break out again, generally, mark you, at the same time of year that you got your mauling? It is a hard thing that when one has shot sixty-five lions, as I have in the course of my life, that the sixty-sixth should chew your leg like a quid of tobacco. It breaks the routine of the thing, and, putting other considerations aside, I am an orderly man and don’t like that. This is by the way.

    Third reason: Because I want my boy Harry, who is over there at the hospital in London studying to become a doctor, to have something to amuse him and keep him out of mischief for a week or so. Hospital work must sometimes pall and get rather dull, for even of cutting-up dead bodies there must come satiety, and as this history won’t be dull, whatever else it may be, it may put a little life into things for a day or two while he is reading it.

    Fourth reason and last: Because I am going to tell the strangest story that I know of. It may seem a queer thing to say that, especially considering that there is no woman in it—except Foulata. Stop, though! there is Gagaoola, if she was a woman and not a fiend. But she was a hundred at least, and therefore not marriageable, so I don’t count her. At any rate, I can safely say that there is not a petticoat in the whole history. Well, I had better come to the yoke. It’s a stiff place, and I feel as though I were bogged up to the axle. But sutjes, sutjes, as the Boers say (I’m sure I don’t know how they spell it), softly does it. A strong team will come through at last, that is if they ain’t too poor. You will never do anything with poor oxen. Now, to begin.

    I, Allan Quatermain, of Durban, Natal, Gentleman, make oath and say—That’s how I began my deposition before the magistrate about poor Khiva’s and Ventvogel’s sad deaths; but somehow it doesn’t seem quite the right way to begin a book. And, besides, am I a gentleman? What is a gentleman? I don’t quite know, and yet I have had to do with niggers—no, I’ll scratch that word niggers out, for I don’t like it. I’ve known natives who are, and so you’ll say, Harry, my boy, before you’re done with this tale, and I have known mean whites with lots of money and fresh out from home, too, who ain’t. Well, at any rate I was born a gentleman, though I’ve been nothing but a poor travelling trader and hunter all my life. Whether I have remained so I know not; you must judge of that. Heaven knows I’ve tried. I’ve killed many men in my time, but I have never slain wantonly or stained my hand in innocent blood, only in self-defense. The Almighty gave us our lives, and I suppose he meant us to defend them; at least I have always acted on that, and I hope it won’t be brought up against me when my clock strikes. There, there; it is a cruel and a wicked world, and, for a timid man, I have been mixed up in a deal of slaughter. I can’t tell the rights of it, but at any rate I have never stolen, though I once cheated a Kaffir out of a herd of cattle. But, then, he had done me a dirty turn, and it has troubled me ever since into the bargain.

    Well, it’s eighteen months or so ago since I first met Sir Henry Curtis and Captain Good, and it was in this way. I had been up elephant hunting beyond Bamangwato, and had had bad luck. Everything went wrong that trip and to top up with I got the fever badly. So soon as I was well enough I trekked down to the Diamond Fields, sold such ivory as I had, and also my wagon and oxen, discharged my hunters, and took the post-cart to the Cape. After spending a week in Cape Town, finding that they overcharged me at the hotel, and having seen everything there was to see, including the botanical gardens, which seem to me likely to confer a great benefit on the country, and the new Houses of Parliament, which I expect will do nothing of the sort, I determined to go on back to Natal by the Dunkeld, then lying in the docks waiting for the Edinburgh Castle due in from England. I took my berth and went aboard, and that afternoon the Natal passengers from the Edinburgh Castle transshipped, and we weighed anchor and put out to sea.

    Among the passengers who came on board there were two who excited my curiosity. One, a man of about thirty, was one of the biggest-chested and longest-armed men I ever saw. He had yellow hair, a big yellow beard, clear-cut features, and large gray eyes set deep into his head. I never saw a finer-looking man, and somehow he reminded me of an ancient Dane. Not that I know much of ancient Danes, though I remember a modern Dane who did me out of ten pounds; but I remember once seeing a picture of some of those gentry, who, I take it, were a kind of white Zulus. They were drinking out of big horns, and their long hair hung down their backs, and as I looked at my friend standing there by the companion-ladder, I thought that if one only let his hair grow a bit, put one of those chain shirts on to those great shoulders of his, and gave him a big battle-axe and a horn mug, he might have sat as a model for that picture. And, by the way, it is a curious thing, and just shows how the blood will show out, I found out afterwards that Sir Henry Curtis, for that was the big man’s name, was of Danish blood.² He also reminded me strongly of somebody else, but at the time I could not remember who it was.

    The other man, who stood talking to Sir Henry, was short, stout, and dark, and of quite a different cut. I suspected at once that he was a naval officer. I don’t know why, but it is difficult to mistake a navy man. I have gone shooting trips with several of them in the course of my life, and they have always been just the best and bravest and nicest fellows I ever met, though given to the use of profane language.

    I asked, a page or two back, what is a gentleman? I’ll answer it now: a royal naval officer is, in a general sort of a way, though, of course there may be a black sheep among them here and there. I fancy it is just the wide sea and the breath of God’s winds that washes their hearts and blows the bitterness out of their minds and makes them what men ought to be. Well, to return, I was right again; I found out that he was a naval officer, a lieutenant of thirty-one, who, after seventeen years’ service, had been turned out of her majesty’s employ with the barren honor of a commander’s rank, because it was impossible that he should be promoted. This is what people who serve the queen have to expect: to be shot out into the cold world to find a living just when they are beginning to really understand their work, and to get to the prime of life. Well, I suppose they don’t mind it, but for my part I had rather earn my bread as a hunter. One’s half-pence are as scarce, perhaps, but you don’t get so many kicks. His name I found out—by referring to the passengers’ list—was Good—Captain John Good. He was broad, of medium height, dark, stout, and rather a curious man to look at. He was so very neat and so very clean shaved, and he always wore an eye-glass in his right eye. It seemed to grow there, for it had no string, and he never took it out except to wipe it. At first I thought he used to sleep in it, but I afterwards found that this was a mistake. He put it in his trousers pocket when he went to bed, together with his false teeth, of which he had two beautiful sets that have often, my own being none of the best, caused me to break the tenth Commandment. But I am anticipating.

    Soon after we had got under way evening closed in, and brought with it very dirty weather. A keen breeze sprang up off land, and a kind of aggravated Scotch mist soon drove everybody from the deck. And as for that Dunkeld, she is a flat-bottomed punt, and, going up light as she was, she rolled very heavily. It almost seemed as though she would go right over, but she never did. It was quite impossible to walk about, so I stood near the engines, where it was warm, and amused myself with watching the pendulum, which was fixed opposite to me, swinging slowly backward and forward as the vessel rolled, and marking the angle she touched at each lurch.

    That pendulum’s wrong; it is not properly weighted, suddenly said a voice at my shoulder, somewhat testily. Looking round I saw the naval officer I had noticed when the passengers came aboard.

    Indeed; now what makes you think so? I asked.

    Think so. I don’t think at all. Why there—as she righted herself after a roll—if the ship had really rolled to the degree that thing pointed to then she would never have rolled again, that’s all. But it is just like these merchant skippers, they always are so confoundedly careless.

    Just then the dinner-bell rang, and I was not sorry, for it is a dreadful thing to have to listen to an officer of the Royal Navy when he gets on to that subject. I only know one worse thing, and that is to hear a merchant skipper express his candid opinion of officers of the Royal Navy.

    Captain Good and I went down to dinner together, and there we found Sir Henry Curtis Already seated. He and Captain Good sat together, and I sat opposite to them. The captain and I soon got into talk about shooting and what not, he asking me many questions, and I answering as well as I could. Presently he got on to elephants.

    Ah, sir, called out somebody who was sitting near me, you’ve got the right man for that; Hunter Quatermain should be able to tell you about elephants if anybody can.

    Sir Henry, who had been sitting quiet listening to our talk, started visibly.

    Excuse me, sir, he said, leaning forward across the table, and speaking in a low, deep voice, a very suitable voice, it seemed to me, to come out of those great lungs. Excuse me, sir, but is your name Allan Quatermain?

    I said it was.

    The big man made no further remark, but I heard him mutter fortunate into his beard.

    Presently dinner came to an end, and as we were leaving the saloon Sir Henry came up and asked me if I would come into his cabin and smoke a pipe. I accepted, and he led the way to the Dunkeld deck cabin, and a very good cabin it was. It had been two cabins, but when Sir Garnet, or one of those big swells, went down the coast in the Dunkeld they had knocked away the partition and never put it up again. There was a sofa in the cabin, and a little table in front of it. Sir Henry sent the steward for a bottle of whiskey, and the three of us sat down and lit our pipes.

    Mr. Quatermain, said Sir Henry Curtis, when the steward had brought the whiskey and lit the lamp, the year before last, about this time, you were, I believe, at a place called Bamangwato, to the north of the Transvaal.

    I was, I answered, rather surprised that this gentleman should be so well acquainted with my movements, which were not, so far as I was aware, considered of general interest.

    You were trading there, were you not? put in Captain Good, in his quick way.

    I was. I took up a wagon-load of goods and made a camp outside the settlement, and stopped till I had sold them.

    Sir Henry was sitting opposite to me in a Madeira chair, his arms leaning on the table. He now looked up, fixing his large gray eyes full upon my face. There was a curious anxiety in them, I thought.

    Did you happen to meet a man called Neville there?

    Oh, yes; he outspanned alongside of me for a fortnight, to rest his oxen before going on to the interior. I had a letter from a lawyer, a few months back, asking me if I knew what had become of him, which I answered to the best of my ability at the time.

    Yes, said Sir Henry, your letter was forwarded to me. You said in it that the gentleman called Neville left Bamangwato in the beginning of May, in a wagon, with a driver, a voorlooper, and a Kaffir hunter called Jim, announcing his intention of trekking, if possible, as far as Inyati, the extreme trading-post in the Matabele country, where he would sell his wagon and proceed on foot. You also said that he did sell his wagon, for, six months afterwards, you saw the wagon in the possession of a Portuguese trader, who told you that he had bought it at Inyati from a white man whose name he had forgotten, and that the white man, with a native servant, had started off for the interior on a shooting trip, he believed.

    Yes.

    Then came a pause.

    Mr. Quatermain, said Sir Henry, suddenly, I suppose you know or can guess nothing more of the reasons of my—of Mr. Neville’s journey to the northward, or as to what point that journey was directed?

    I heard something, I answered, and stopped. The subject was one which I did not dare to discuss.

    Sir Henry and Captain Good looked at each other, and Captain Good nodded.

    Mr. Quatermain, said the former, "I am going to tell you a story, and

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