has been no less unfortunate in love than themselves. She relates her history very circumstantially, and thus terminates the first book. In the second, the conversation of these lovers is continued, until three nymphs appear, one of whom relates Sireno’s history in a song of some length. Up to the conclusion of this song, the pastoral simplicity of the story is preserved uninterrupted by any incident approximating to the terrible; but suddenly a party of savage robbers completely armed appears. The nymphs are about to fly, but are detained by the robbers. A battle then ensues between the robbers and the shepherds, the latter attacking the former with stones. The robbers are on the point of overcoming their rustic antagonists, when a heroine, habited as a huntress, rushes from a wood, and bending her bow, pierces the robbers with her arrows, and liberates the nymphs. The fair huntress then joins the party of nymphs and shepherds, and in her turn also relates her history. This narrative, together with the conversations and songs to which it gives rise, concludes the second book. In the third book the story assumes the character of a fairy tale. The nymphs lead their protectress, together with the rest of the party, through a thick forest to the castle of the wise Felicia, who is represented as a kind of priestess to the goddess Diana. The description of the wonders and magnificence of the castle occupies a great portion of the third book. The wise Felicia conducts the party to a superb hall of state, where they behold a numerous collection of majestic statues, representing Roman emperors, Castilian knights, and Castilian ladies. Even a place is found for the statue of a Moorish knight, of whose conflicts with the Christians a long history is related in this sanctuary of the goddess Diana. By means of enchantment Felicia cures Sireno of the torments of love. At length, in the sixth book, the poet releases his shepherds and shepherdesses from Felicia’s palace, and the reader for the first time becomes acquainted with the shepherdess Diana. She attaches the blame of her infidelity to her parents, by whom, during the absence of Sireno, she was forced to give her hand to another. In the following scenes, to the conclusion of the seventh book, where Montemayor’s labour terminates, the history of the principal characters makes no further progress. Some of the other lovers in the romance are, however, united according to their wishes.
This composition, in which it is easy to recognize the uncultivated genius of a poet, who, to give vent to the emotions of his soul, deemed it necessary to wander through the whole region of romance, can only be regarded by the unprejudiced critic as a fantastical frame-work, serving to display pictures of the feelings and a philosophy of the heart, which constitute the prominent features of the whole poem. To paint romantic fidelity under the most fascinating and various forms, and at the same time to exhibit in a poetic point of view the theory of that fidelity, which even in a poem could only be verified by facts, was the idea which guided Montemayor’s inventive fancy, and the execution of which bears the full impression of his genius. The versified portion of the romance is the soul of the whole composition. A series of lyric poems, partly in the Italian and partly in the old Castilian style, are introduced; but these compositions are strikingly distinguished from the eclogues of Saa de Miranda by an epigrammatic poignancy, which frequently degenerates into antiquated subtlety.202 But this epigrammatic turn usually imparts a more pointed precision to the lyrical expression, and a degree of consistency to the whole composition, which in no way injures its pastoral simplicity;203 and when judged according to the characteristic form of the popular songs, called Villancicos, it by no means presents, to Spaniards in particular, the idea of too much refinement or incongruity with rustic nature.204 In order to judge candidly of the pastoral truth of these compositions, it is necessary to have the Spanish romantic ideas of nature present to the mind. Montemayor is inexhaustible in new turns and images for the expression of tenderness. In depth of feeling he vies with Saa de Miranda; and, though his poetry is occasionally deficient in rhythmical polish, it in general presents so exquisite a union of the grace of language, with a happy concordance of ideas, that the reader must soon become warmed by the spirit of the poet, even though he should begin to peruse the work with indifference.205
Montemayor’s style of romantic prose has been a model for all writers of pastoral romances in the Spanish language. How far he himself imitated the prose of Sanazzar, cannot easily be ascertained, as it is not known whether or not Sanazzar’s Arcadia206 was the prototype of his Diana. Though it is certain that Montemayor carefully endeavoured to give precision and dignity of expression, and to impart harmony to every line of his composition, his language nevertheless appears neither laboured nor affected. His taste seems to have been in only a few instances seduced by the influence of that ostentatious solemnity, which distinguished the common chivalrous romances, written in imitation of Amadis de Gaul. In general he remained faithful to the dignified simplicity, which the author of the Amadis appears to have regarded as the genuine characteristic of the lofty style of romantic prose. To this style his protracted but rhythmically pleasing sentences may justly be said to belong.207 It is but seldom that a low expression escapes him.208 His descriptions are never deficient in vividness and force.209 It is only in the didactic passages in which he propounds his philosophy of love, that his language becomes tinged with the scholastic formality, which at the period in which he wrote, was considered indispensable when any scholastic ideas were to be expressed; for though Montemayor had not received that kind of education, which in his age was considered learned, he had picked up some notions of the scholastic philosophy, which, when they interested him, he was fond of introducing into the romance of his heart.210
The other works of Montemayor, which are not so celebrated as his Diana, are to be found in a collection of his poems, which, according to the old custom, is entitled a Cancionero.211
HERRERA.
Fernando de Herrera, a poet very different in character from Montemayor, must next be included among the authors who chiefly contributed to reform Castilian poetry, during the first half of the sixteenth century. Of the history of his life but little is known. He was a native of Seville, and was born, according to the conjectures of his Spanish biographers, about the commencement of the sixteenth century. Thus he flourished at the same time as Diego de Mendoza, and afforded another instance of the light of poetical improvement being directed from the south of Spain. It appears that he did not enter into the ecclesiastical state, to which he finally devoted himself, until he attained a mature age; but he must have received a literary education, as he possessed no ordinary knowledge of the ancient and modern languages, geography, mathematics, and scholastic philosophy. According to a portrait which has been preserved of him, he appears to have been a handsome man; and some of the editors of his works alledge that the lady whom he has celebrated in his verses under various names, was not merely an ideal object of the poet’s tenderness. The admirers of his poetry have applied to him, after the Italian manner, the surname of the divine; and this epithet, rendered so equivocal by its application to Pietro Aretino, was never bestowed on any other Spanish poet. These few particulars are all that are known relative to the life of Fernando de Herrera. He died at an advanced age, probably soon after the year 1578.212
Why Herrera should have obtained the title of divine, in preference to all the other poets of his nation, would appear almost incomprehensible, were it not known that two opposite parties vied with each other in exalting him; and, to avoid the appearance of yielding on either side, considered themselves reciprocally bound to pronounce compositions sublime which neither could regard as natural. Herrera was, notwithstanding, a poet of powerful talent, and one who evinced undaunted resolution in pursuing the new path which he had struck out for himself. The novel style, however, which he wished to introduce into Spanish poetry, was not the result of a spontaneous essay, flowing from immediate inspiration, but was theoretically constructed on artificial principles. Thus, amidst traits of real beauty, his poetry every where presents marks of affectation. The great fault of his language is too much singularity; and his expression, where it ought to be elevated, is merely far-fetched.
Herrera fancied he had discovered that the diction of the Spanish poets, even in their best works, was too common, too nearly allied to the language of prose, and consequently very far removed from the classical dignity which distinguishes the Greek and Roman poetry. This opinion induced him to form for himself a new style. He classed words according to his fancy, into elegant