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In his own fashion, so far from being the philosopher he thought, Richard was a knight errant one as mad and as romantic as the most feather-headed Amadis that ever came out of Gaul; and so he is to make himself a deal of trouble and have himself much laughed at before ever he succeeds in slipping through the fingers of this history to seek obscurity with Dorothy by his side.
Inadvertently they had walked beyond the orchard and were now on the very edge of the little thicket where the tomb of the Sieur Amadis de Jocelin glimmered pallidly through the shadow of the leaves. Innocent quickened her steps. "Come!" she said. He followed her reluctantly.
The seven books just mentioned are Defoe's contribution to the English novel. Let us consider the quality of this contribution first and then the means used to attain it. It may be said, "Oh! but the Amadis romances, and the Elizabethan novels, and the 'heroics' must have interested or they would not have been read." This looks plausible, but is a mistake.
Don Quixote no sooner heard a book of chivalry mentioned, than he said: "Had your worship told me at the beginning of your story that the Lady Luscinda was fond of books of chivalry, no other laudation would have been requisite to impress upon me the superiority of her understanding, for it could not have been of the excellence you describe had a taste for such delightful reading been wanting; so, as far as I am concerned, you need waste no more words in describing her beauty, worth, and intelligence; for, on merely hearing what her taste was, I declare her to be the most beautiful and the most intelligent woman in the world; and I wish your worship had, along with Amadis of Gaul, sent her the worthy Don Rugel of Greece, for I know the Lady Luscinda would greatly relish Daraida and Garaya, and the shrewd sayings of the shepherd Darinel, and the admirable verses of his bucolics, sung and delivered by him with such sprightliness, wit, and ease; but a time may come when this omission can be remedied, and to rectify it nothing more is needed than for your worship to be so good as to come with me to my village, for there I can give you more than three hundred books which are the delight of my soul and the entertainment of my life; though it occurs to me that I have not got one of them now, thanks to the spite of wicked and envious enchanters; but pardon me for having broken the promise we made not to interrupt your discourse; for when I hear chivalry or knights-errant mentioned, I can no more help talking about them than the rays of the sun can help giving heat, or those of the moon moisture; pardon me, therefore, and proceed, for that is more to the purpose now."
The housekeeper said the same, so eager were they both for the slaughter of those innocents, but the curate would not agree to it without first reading at any rate the titles. The first that Master Nicholas put into his hand was "The four books of Amadis of Gaul."
And I ought to get married while young, before I learn too many of 'these things," she said "Isn't that so? Don't frown, Robin! Look at the Sieur Amadis! How peacefully he sleeps! He knew all about love!" "Of course he did!" retorted Robin "He was a perfectly sensible man he married and had six children." Innocent nodded again, and a little smile made two fascinating dimples in her soft cheeks.
"But does it not require courage to appear to be what one really is?" I asked. "Well," she resumed, after we had exchanged our observations on this point, "this young old man, this universal Amadis, whom we call among ourselves Chevalier Petit-Bon-Homme-vil-encore, became the object of my admiration.
"Look," said Henri to Chicot, "are not those cavaliers that I see there?" Chicot looked and said, "Yes, sire, cavaliers, but not huntsmen." "Why not?" "Because they are armed like Amadis or Rolando," replied Chicot. "Ah! what matters the dress, my dear Chicot? you see we are not particular as to that." "But I see at least two hundred men there." "Ah! that is a good number."
He had always believed that the key to Treffinger's individuality lay in his singular education; in the Roman de la Rose, in Boccaccio, and Amadis, those works which had literally transcribed themselves upon the blank soul of the London street boy, and through which he had been born into the world of spiritual things.
A friend gave me a card to the Society Library, the largest in the city; and I have found much good browsing in those fields. I have found "Amadis de Gaul" among the rest, and the complete works of Carew, Suckling, Drayton, Drummond, etc. It has led me to wish some more intimate knowledge of English history, to which I must turn.
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