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Amadís de Gaula #1-2
Amadis of Gaul: Books I and II
In the long history of European prose fiction, few works have been more influential and more popular than the romance of chivalry Amadis of Gaul. Although its original author is unknown, it was probably written during the early fourteenth century.
The first great bestseller of the age of printing, Amadis of Gaul was translated into dozens of languages and spawned sequels and imitators over the centuries. A handsome, valiant, and undefeatable knight, Amadis is perhaps best known today as Don Quixote's favorite knight-errant and model. This exquisite English translation restores a masterpiece to print.
The first great bestseller of the age of printing, Amadis of Gaul was translated into dozens of languages and spawned sequels and imitators over the centuries. A handsome, valiant, and undefeatable knight, Amadis is perhaps best known today as Don Quixote's favorite knight-errant and model. This exquisite English translation restores a masterpiece to print.
688 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1508
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239 people want to read
About the author
Garci Rodríguez de Montalvo
86 books25 followersCastilian author who arranged the modern version of the chivalric romance Amadis of Gaul, written in three books in the 13th century by an unknown author.
Montalvo added a fourth book of his own and also wrote a sequel, Las sergas de Esplandián (The Exploits of Esplandián or The Adventures of Esplandián) (oldest known printing, 1510), in which he tells the life and wandering of Amadis' eldest son.
He is also known for coining the name of California.
Montalvo added a fourth book of his own and also wrote a sequel, Las sergas de Esplandián (The Exploits of Esplandián or The Adventures of Esplandián) (oldest known printing, 1510), in which he tells the life and wandering of Amadis' eldest son.
He is also known for coining the name of California.
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
July 27, 2018
The first two books of Amadis of Gaul are a pleasure to read, absorbing, and hard to put down. The only possible rough patch would be the narrative of the long series of Amadis’s and Galaor’s victories in the middle part of Book I, which, since both knights are invincible, borders on the monotonous. However, the story soon becomes more politically intriguing and generally deeper, so that the reader is fully enthralled by the end of Book II. Indeed, it is hard to resist the temptation, even after 682 pages, to dive right into the second volume, containing Books III and IV. (Even so, I think I will balance my palette with a taste of something else before returning to Amadis.)
The world of Amadis of Gaul consists of three overlapping and sometimes conflicting moralities. The first morality, the aristocratic one, equates good looks, personal honesty, martial valor, and fine pedigree, resulting in the assumption that a handsome man must therefore also be an honest man, who must therefore also be a good fighter, who must therefore also be a man of noble birth. These linkages are nonsensical to the modern reader, who may be amused by such statements in Amadis as “‘I really believe you are telling the truth, for I heard you praised extravagantly for your good looks’” (p. 91); but they were accepted by the pre-modern reader, who, perhaps because he was an aristocrat himself, wished to believe that his position atop society was justified by the superiority of all the individuals in his class. It is interesting in this respect to observe that many of the villains in this book are ugly of appearance or of nonstandard physical types such as dwarfs and giants. In any case, this aristocratic morality of Amadis is so internalized that its compiler, Garci Rodriguez de Montalvo, never pauses to examine it.
The second plane of morality, the religious one, holds that God’s favor determines everything and that self-confidence, in the Augustinian sense, is folly. In contrast to the passively-accepted aristocratic morality, the religious one is elaborated more explicitly. Often, its invoker is a character in the book, as in this dialogue between the evil Arcalaus and the heroic Amadis:
Finally, there is the romantic or chivalric morality, which subjects even the most well-born and divinely-favored knights to their ladies. Amidis himself, after declining to serve King Lisuarte of Great Britain, becomes the sworn knight of Queen Brisena, as though to prove “how much greater influence women have on knights than men do” (p. 167). Of course, Amidis’s true master is Princess Oriana, his lover, “at whose slightest angry word heard by him – for such is his great fear of angering her – he would bury himself alive” (p. 507). Indeed, since Amidis is so completely the devotee of Oriana, it might be wondered whether he really serves God at all. When he accepts a dangerous fight with the giant Famongomadan, Amadis at first dismisses the concerns of his squire by trotting out the familiar religious morality: “I want to test the compassion of God,” he says, “whether it will please Him that the very great violence that this enemy of His commits be done away with by me.” However, a few lines later, Amidis prays not to God but to his lover, then miles away: “Oh, my lady Oriana! Never did I begin a great feat on my own initiative wherever I might be, except with your help; and now, my good lady, help me, for it is so necessary for me” (p. 538).
One might suppose that the romantic morality would come into direct conflict with the religious, if and when it leads to sex, but Rodriguez de Montalvo never uses words like fornication or adultery to describe sex out of wedlock. He seems, however, to draw a distinction between sex and love and to invest the latter with a religious aspect – especially when the woman is in command.
Common, purely sexual episodes result from passion and appetite, as in:
Contrariwise, Amidis’s parents, King Perion and Princess Elisena, fall hopelessly in love, despite their virtue. Elisena’s “great modesty and exemplary life could not prevent her from becoming a prisoner of incurable and great love for him, and the king in like manner for her.” At dinner, Perion expresses hope that “my whole life will be employed in serving you,” and later, Elisena’s maid, Darioleta, arranges for them to be together, at which, King Perion considers himself “very fortunate that God had brought him into such a connubial state” (pp. 25-30).
The offspring of this union, Amidis, and his lover, Oriana, grow up together innocently, he serving as her page. With years of love budding between them, and with Amadis having demonstrated his martial valor and high birth, they find themselves, likewise, at dinner, and Oriana grasps Amidis’s hand under the table. Each confesses the most consuming desire for the other, and, as Amadis weeps and loses the power of speech, Oriana promises to give herself to him (pp. 294-296). When, at the conclusion of a subsequent adventure she undertakes to fulfill her promise, she charges him only to “see to it that, although here below it may appear error and sin, it not be so before God.”
And Amadis is able to “see to it” by surrendering the initiative – and by surrendering himself, body and soul – to Oriana:
It’s also, as I said, a lot of fun.
The world of Amadis of Gaul consists of three overlapping and sometimes conflicting moralities. The first morality, the aristocratic one, equates good looks, personal honesty, martial valor, and fine pedigree, resulting in the assumption that a handsome man must therefore also be an honest man, who must therefore also be a good fighter, who must therefore also be a man of noble birth. These linkages are nonsensical to the modern reader, who may be amused by such statements in Amadis as “‘I really believe you are telling the truth, for I heard you praised extravagantly for your good looks’” (p. 91); but they were accepted by the pre-modern reader, who, perhaps because he was an aristocrat himself, wished to believe that his position atop society was justified by the superiority of all the individuals in his class. It is interesting in this respect to observe that many of the villains in this book are ugly of appearance or of nonstandard physical types such as dwarfs and giants. In any case, this aristocratic morality of Amadis is so internalized that its compiler, Garci Rodriguez de Montalvo, never pauses to examine it.
The second plane of morality, the religious one, holds that God’s favor determines everything and that self-confidence, in the Augustinian sense, is folly. In contrast to the passively-accepted aristocratic morality, the religious one is elaborated more explicitly. Often, its invoker is a character in the book, as in this dialogue between the evil Arcalaus and the heroic Amadis:
“Knight, you are in danger of death, and I do not know who you are; tell me so that I may know, for I am thinking more about killing you than overcoming you.”Just as frequently, the reminder that God is in charge is provided by the narrator himself. Thus are we told that the arrogant King Dardan “esteemed his own strength and the great zeal of his heart more than the judgment of the most high Lord, who with very little of His power brings it about that the very strong are overcome and dishonored by the very weak” (p. 151). In a few places, too, the narrator speaks in general, didactic, terms, as in:
“My death,” said Amadis, “is at the will of God, whom I fear; and yours at that of the devil, who is already angry for having supported you and wishes that your body, to which so many evil vices he has given, should perish along with your soul” (p. 207).
And at this juncture, as the story seeks to proceed, you will be able to see how little the strength of the human mind suffices when that high Lord, with slackened reins and lifted hand withdrawing His grace, permits the judgment of man to exercise its powers freely; whence it will be manifest to you whether great estates, high dominions can be won and governed with the prudence and diligence of mortal man; or if when divine Grace is lacking, great pride, great greed, a throng of armed soldiers are enough to maintain them. (p. 630)Of course, the notion that possession of “great estates, high dominions” could only have been won and kept through divine right is a huge justification of the prevailing class system and suggests that the religious morality reinforces the aristocratic. However, Garci Rodriguez de Montalvo, in soliloquizing that the high may be brought low, seems also to be positing the religious morality as a contrast to the aristocratic.
Finally, there is the romantic or chivalric morality, which subjects even the most well-born and divinely-favored knights to their ladies. Amidis himself, after declining to serve King Lisuarte of Great Britain, becomes the sworn knight of Queen Brisena, as though to prove “how much greater influence women have on knights than men do” (p. 167). Of course, Amidis’s true master is Princess Oriana, his lover, “at whose slightest angry word heard by him – for such is his great fear of angering her – he would bury himself alive” (p. 507). Indeed, since Amidis is so completely the devotee of Oriana, it might be wondered whether he really serves God at all. When he accepts a dangerous fight with the giant Famongomadan, Amadis at first dismisses the concerns of his squire by trotting out the familiar religious morality: “I want to test the compassion of God,” he says, “whether it will please Him that the very great violence that this enemy of His commits be done away with by me.” However, a few lines later, Amidis prays not to God but to his lover, then miles away: “Oh, my lady Oriana! Never did I begin a great feat on my own initiative wherever I might be, except with your help; and now, my good lady, help me, for it is so necessary for me” (p. 538).
One might suppose that the romantic morality would come into direct conflict with the religious, if and when it leads to sex, but Rodriguez de Montalvo never uses words like fornication or adultery to describe sex out of wedlock. He seems, however, to draw a distinction between sex and love and to invest the latter with a religious aspect – especially when the woman is in command.
Common, purely sexual episodes result from passion and appetite, as in:
At this time the maidens were going about through the castle searching with the other women in order to give them something to eat; and Galaor and the maiden, called Brandueta, were talking alone about what you hear, and as she was very beautiful, and he was covetous of such viands, before the meal came or the table was set, both of them rumpled a bed that was in the hall where they were, thus making her a matron who before that was not, satisfying their desires, which, in a short space of time, each looking at the other’s beautiful youthfulness in bloom, had become very great. (p. 266)In spite of this enjoyment, though, Galaor and Brandueta do not become permanent lovers. They each take their pleasure and move on.
Contrariwise, Amidis’s parents, King Perion and Princess Elisena, fall hopelessly in love, despite their virtue. Elisena’s “great modesty and exemplary life could not prevent her from becoming a prisoner of incurable and great love for him, and the king in like manner for her.” At dinner, Perion expresses hope that “my whole life will be employed in serving you,” and later, Elisena’s maid, Darioleta, arranges for them to be together, at which, King Perion considers himself “very fortunate that God had brought him into such a connubial state” (pp. 25-30).
The offspring of this union, Amidis, and his lover, Oriana, grow up together innocently, he serving as her page. With years of love budding between them, and with Amadis having demonstrated his martial valor and high birth, they find themselves, likewise, at dinner, and Oriana grasps Amidis’s hand under the table. Each confesses the most consuming desire for the other, and, as Amadis weeps and loses the power of speech, Oriana promises to give herself to him (pp. 294-296). When, at the conclusion of a subsequent adventure she undertakes to fulfill her promise, she charges him only to “see to it that, although here below it may appear error and sin, it not be so before God.”
And Amadis is able to “see to it” by surrendering the initiative – and by surrendering himself, body and soul – to Oriana:
When he saw her thus so beautiful and in his power, she having agreed to do his will, he was so distraught with joy and bashfulness that he did not dare even to look at her; so that one could well say that in that green grass, on that mantle, more by the grace and courtesy of Oriana than by any immodesty or boldness on Amadis’s part, was the most beautiful maiden in the world made a matron. (p. 339)As I understand it, chivalric literature was influenced by Sufi Islam and transformed by the troubadours, who reoriented its ecstatic devotion from God to woman. Amadis of Gaul is evidence of this unique form of worship.
It’s also, as I said, a lot of fun.
December 21, 2013
My edition has books one and two bound together. I thought that would be plenty for me, but book two ended on a cliffhanger! So now I have to read books three and four! At least it's been fun. This needs to be turned into a movie franchise.
Want to read
November 12, 2008Amazing stuff. A straight forward and extremely readable translation of a 16th century text that details the exploits of the greatest knight that ever lived. These are the exact tales that Cervantes so skewered with Quixote. So far, it's great rip roaring fun.
March 23, 2012
I can't remember correctly, but I think this was the first non-religious text that was printed. It's a long read. I read all 1000 or so pages of it on a computer because it was out of print (naturally) and enjoyed very little of it. I was the only person in my class that was obsessive-compulsive enough to finish it. It wasn't bad, but it was tedious. This is definitely a text one would read to study the methods of legend and fiction from way back in the day, but not something you'd want to pick up or expect to discuss with buddies.
June 5, 2013
An epic work, with a sweeping structure and plot. The language, even in translation, makes it a little dense to read, but the events and scope are fantastic. I'd say it's not as good as Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, but better than Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur.
May 5, 2020
To clarify my rating a bit:
I give this 5/5 stars for its historical place and relevance in literature
I give it 5/5 stars for the translation, which I find to be one of the best I've read of writing from this time period (many can be very clunky or badly outdated, in terms of phrasing).
I give it 3/5 stars for my personal level of enjoyment in reading these first two books.
Amadis of Gaul really is a marvel of chivalric storytelling, and it seems to me that a lot of the groundwork for the elements in the fantasy genre are laid out here. You have brave knights, deeds of honor, maidens fair, and even "giants" and magic and sorcery. These latter elements don't dominate the story, though, as it focuses much more on knights errant, usually performing acts of heroism and chivalry. This generally means riding around, coming across some evil or arrogant knights or giants, and slaying them. Frankly, the pattern can grow rather dull after a few hundred pages, not unlike what I experience when reading Tirant lo Blanc. However, Amadis of Gaul I found to exhibit certain evolutions that made it more engaging for me.
The most obvious one is that, unlike Tirant, these first two books have more continuity in terms of plot and character. Whereas lo Blanc would sometimes feel like a loose collection of stories about the same person or people, often acting in baffling or contrary ways, Amadis shows much more narrative integrity. Characters introduced early on show up later, and the connections between the many characters are maintained and show strong influence over each others' motivations and actions. This may seem like a simple thing, but it's not something that I've come across very much in medieval literature, whether European or Asian, that pre-dated Amadis. Throughout the novels, it's rather clear that the author sees the big picture and knows where the various characters fit into it all along the way.
That said, the aforementioned repetition can grow wearisome. Amadis, along with a few of his closest companions, are essentially unbeatable and win every battle, which can become boring. Things are livened up a little here and there when one of them is badly wounded or stolen from a battlefield, but the reader typically knows what's going to happen to the bad guys by the end of nearly every confrontation. And sadly, since Amadis is the most dominant, noble knight in the known world in this book, he makes for a fairly dull protagonist. Granted, he is one of the early prototypes for the "knight in shining armor" that would be copied and reused to death in the coming centuries, but that doesn't make him any more well-rounded. He's a fairly one-dimensional character, with the occasional hint at a second dimension. Fiction writing has just evolved so much further since the time it was written. It's no fault of the story itself, but it just makes the novel seem a bit unsophisticated, compared to the writing that came in the following centuries.
This is a large book, so it's no small undertaking. But you can get a sense rather quickly whether it's your cup of tea or not. As a fan of more modern takes on the genre, this one is engaging for me.
I give this 5/5 stars for its historical place and relevance in literature
I give it 5/5 stars for the translation, which I find to be one of the best I've read of writing from this time period (many can be very clunky or badly outdated, in terms of phrasing).
I give it 3/5 stars for my personal level of enjoyment in reading these first two books.
Amadis of Gaul really is a marvel of chivalric storytelling, and it seems to me that a lot of the groundwork for the elements in the fantasy genre are laid out here. You have brave knights, deeds of honor, maidens fair, and even "giants" and magic and sorcery. These latter elements don't dominate the story, though, as it focuses much more on knights errant, usually performing acts of heroism and chivalry. This generally means riding around, coming across some evil or arrogant knights or giants, and slaying them. Frankly, the pattern can grow rather dull after a few hundred pages, not unlike what I experience when reading Tirant lo Blanc. However, Amadis of Gaul I found to exhibit certain evolutions that made it more engaging for me.
The most obvious one is that, unlike Tirant, these first two books have more continuity in terms of plot and character. Whereas lo Blanc would sometimes feel like a loose collection of stories about the same person or people, often acting in baffling or contrary ways, Amadis shows much more narrative integrity. Characters introduced early on show up later, and the connections between the many characters are maintained and show strong influence over each others' motivations and actions. This may seem like a simple thing, but it's not something that I've come across very much in medieval literature, whether European or Asian, that pre-dated Amadis. Throughout the novels, it's rather clear that the author sees the big picture and knows where the various characters fit into it all along the way.
That said, the aforementioned repetition can grow wearisome. Amadis, along with a few of his closest companions, are essentially unbeatable and win every battle, which can become boring. Things are livened up a little here and there when one of them is badly wounded or stolen from a battlefield, but the reader typically knows what's going to happen to the bad guys by the end of nearly every confrontation. And sadly, since Amadis is the most dominant, noble knight in the known world in this book, he makes for a fairly dull protagonist. Granted, he is one of the early prototypes for the "knight in shining armor" that would be copied and reused to death in the coming centuries, but that doesn't make him any more well-rounded. He's a fairly one-dimensional character, with the occasional hint at a second dimension. Fiction writing has just evolved so much further since the time it was written. It's no fault of the story itself, but it just makes the novel seem a bit unsophisticated, compared to the writing that came in the following centuries.
This is a large book, so it's no small undertaking. But you can get a sense rather quickly whether it's your cup of tea or not. As a fan of more modern takes on the genre, this one is engaging for me.
October 19, 2021
There were parts of this book that I really enjoyed and other parts that were sleep-inducing. I'm reading all the pre-1700 books from the Boxall list and can't help comparing the European novels to each other. Overall, it was not as good as Tirant lo Blanc (which I really enjoyed), but much better than Gargantua and Pantagruel (which I haven't finished yet).
February 2, 2026
Read for my ancient romance class and was the bomb dot com. Like how many damsels can one man save before your soon to be wife thinks ur cheating on her while ur on an island so u have to kys bc u didn’t even get to have premarital sex w her. Apparently, a lot.
October 27, 2025
1,5 håber seriøst at Don Quijote er bedre
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