CHAPTER VII

GENERAL SUMMARY

During the period from Waller to Pope the general feeling toward

Nature was one of indifference. The whole emphasis was on man in his

higher social relations, and only such parts of Nature as were easily

subordinated to man were looked upon with pleasure. The facts of

Nature were little known. They were stated in terms merely imitative

and conventional. The new feeling toward Nature, as exemplified in the

early nineteenth-century poets, especially Wordsworth, on the contrary,

is marked by full and first-hand observation, by a rich, sensuous

delight in form, color, sound, and motion; by a strong preference for

the wilder, freer forms of Nature’s life, by an enthusiasm for Nature

passionate in its intensity, by a recognition of the divine life in

Nature, and finally by a consciousness of the inter-penetration of

that life and the life of man. At the beginning of the eighteenth

century, in poetry, travels, fiction, painting, and gardens, it was

the classical feeling toward Nature that predominated. By the end of

the century the new feeling had found abundant, varied, and original

statement. The change is a great one. From Pope to Wordsworth, from

Le Nôtre to Repton, from Kneller to Turner, from Richardson to Mrs.

Radcliffe, from Brand to Gilpin, the pendulum swings. Whether men

painted pictures or made gardens, or went on journeys, or told tales of

love and adventure, or wrote poems, the new spirit was at work within

them, sending them forth into the world of Nature and bidding them bear

witness to her power and loveliness.

Early manifestations of the new spirit did not, however, find exactly

contemporaneous expression in these various art-forms. Thomson’s

“Seasons” and Pope’s “Fourth Epistle” are in 1726–31. Gainsborough and

Wilson do not bring out their work until after 1755. Thomas Amory’s

“John Buncle” is in 1756–66, and Brown’s “Keswick Letter” comes within

the same period. Thus the decisive beginnings of the new spirit in

painting, fiction, and travels are about contemporary, but are thirty

years behind poetry and gardening. Furthermore, the time between the

decisive beginnings and the final full expression is greatly varied.

In poetry it is seventy-three years, in gardening about sixty-five, in

painting about fifty, in fiction not over twenty-five, and in travels

only about fifteen years.

In spite of these variations in date there seems to be in each art

the same general order of development. First there is a dim period of

tentative, unconscious, or apologetic indications of a new spirit. Then

some original mind seizes upon the new idea and gives it consistency

and at least partially adequate expression. After this there follows

a period of less vigorous but widespread and varied efforts to find

a statement for some portions of the new thought. Then a master

mind seems to feel all these diffused, struggling, half-expressed

conceptions and sums them up in the final perfect form. In the

poetry of Nature these stages are clearly marked in the work before

Thomson, in Thomson, in the period from Thomson to Wordsworth, and in

Wordsworth. In painting are Wilson and Gainsborough on the one hand and

Turner on the other. In gardening, travels, and fiction we find the

periods marked respectively by Kent and Repton, Brown and Gilpin, Amory

and Mrs. Radcliffe. In these three art-forms, especially in the last

two, we do not find the period of development ending in the work of

consummate genius. We go rather from a meager statement to a statement

that is full, manysided, enthusiastic. The progress is in the love

of Nature rather than in the power of adequate, final expression.

The development in gardening is more in the nature of a series of

experiments open to wide discussion, and the final outcome takes the

form given it by the man whose study of past failures and successes

has led him to the surest comprehension of the artistic and mechanical

laws involved. A glance at the accompanying table will make the general

statement clear, the main point being that in at least five of the ways

in which men express their ideas it is possible to trace the growth of

a complete change of attitude toward Nature. The poets who helped to

bring about this change have already been studied in detail, but some

further general statements may not be out of place here.

[Illustration]

As a rule, such significant poetry of Nature as appeared during the

transition period was the work of men who had spent much of their

youth in the country or in country villages; it was practically their

earliest poetic venture, and usually the work of their youth; and, in

most cases where there was an extended literary career, the poetry of

Nature speedily gave way to work of a didactic or dramatic sort, in

which Nature played but a small part. To any such general statement

there would be of course important exceptions. Blake, for instance,

was a town-bred poet. So was Collins, and his “Ode to Evening” is not

his earliest work. Cowper was town-bred. He was old when he began to

write, and his poetry of Nature is his latest rather than his earliest

work. But, taken as a whole, the poetry of Nature during the eighteenth

century bears out the statement as made. It is well illustrated

by Armstrong, who was born and who apparently spent his youth in

Castleton, a little village in the wildest part of the mountainous

country around the Derbyshire peaks, wrote his “Winter” before he was

fifteen, went to Edinburgh and then to London to study, and wrote as

the work of his mature years a didactic poem on the “Art of Preserving

Health.” Or by Dyer, who was brought up in South Wales, wrote “Grongar

Hill” and “The Country Walk” at twenty-five, went up to London, and

wrote as his mature work “The Ruins of Rome” and “The Fleece.” Or by

Thomson, who lived until he was fifteen in Southdean, a little hamlet

at the foot of the Cheviot Hills, the last of whose “Seasons” appeared

when he was thirty and whose later work was a succession of dreary

tragedies. Or by Akenside, who, though brought up in Newcastle-on-Tyne,

made frequent visits to the country during his youth, wrote “The

Pleasures of the Imagination” at seventeen during one of these visits,

and in his after life wrote much prose and poetry in which there is

no hint of the early enthusiasm. Allan Ramsay lived in a secluded

spot among the Pentland Hills until he was fifteen, and his earliest

important poem, “The Gentle Shepherd,” is really a memory picture.

William Pattison spent his youth at Appleby, a village on the Eden,

in Westmoreland, where he wrote his earliest poems. Mickel spent his

youth at Langholme on the Esk, and his first important poem, “Pollio,”

written at eighteen, was in memory of his life there. Bruce was brought

up at Kinneswood, a village on Lochleven, and his early poetry had

much to do with the scenery about that place. Beattie spent his youth

at Lawrencekirk and Fordoun on the east coast of Scotland, and “The

Minstrel,” his first important poem, is a record of his early life. It

would certainly be a misreading of these facts to infer that to write

well of Nature the poet must have been brought up in the country.

Genius has the rare gift of seeing a very little and straightway

knowing a great deal. It would be equally wrong to infer that poets

write of Nature when they are young and give it up when they put away

childish things. The import of these facts in this period seems to be

merely that there was a genuine and widespread love of Nature on the

part of many isolated poets, who, by the circumstances of their lives,

knew Nature better than they did literature, but that this love was

not sufficiently robust in individual cases to withstand the cramping

influences of city life and literary coteries. The developing tradition

was carried on not so much by the persistent influence of a few as by

the constant springing up of the same spirit in many minds.

In a transition period the predominant spirit is self-conscious,

authoritative, and full of maxims drawn from its own successes. The new

spirit comes in, as it were, by chance. It is but slightly theoretic,

following instinct rather than well-defined principles. In its first

stages it is apologetic rather than aggressive. These characteristics,

on the whole, mark the love of Nature in the early eighteenth-century

poetry. There are, however, occasional indications that some poets,

at least, not only wrote according to new canons of taste, but were

distinctly conscious of their revolt from the old. So early as 1709

Ambrose Philips in the Preface to his “Pastorals” justified his choice

of country themes by pointing out the pleasing effect of natural

scenes on the mind. John Gay’s enunciation of a creed, though meant as

a satire, was so just a condemnation of existing poetic conventions,

and so apt a prophecy of one phase of the new spirit that it really

deserves to rank among revolutionary statements of theory. Allan

Ramsay’s Preface to “The Evergreens” is equally emphatic in its scorn

of classical limitations, and it was meant in downright earnest. The

thought of the Preface finds expression several times in his poems as

well. Dyer gives utterance to a similar scorn of Parnassus in “The

Country Walk.” Shenstone, in his “Prefatory Essay on Elegy,” shows a

timid but perfectly clear recognition of the fact that he is breaking

away from poetical canons. Mason in the Preface to “Elfrida” says that

he has introduced descriptions with a purpose of rendering the drama

more pleasing. Whitehead’s “Enthusiast” with its elaborate statement

of both sides of the case in man versus Nature is an important

indication of the clearness with which the points of the controversy

were at that time recognized. The strongest and most detailed statement

of a creed came about four years later in Joseph Warton’s “Essay on

Pope” (1756). Nothing else so clear, direct, and full appeared before

the Prefaces of Wordsworth. After Warton it is not so necessary to

indicate all self-conscious statements. It will suffice briefly to

indicate Langhorne’s statement of his purpose in writing, Goldsmith’s

vigorous attacks on falseness and affectation in poetry, Beattie’s

Wordsworthian Preface to “The Minstrel,” John Scott’s criticism on

existing poetry and his statement of his own aim in the Preface to

his “Amoebaean Eclogues,” Crabbe’s expressed determination to treat

of Nature as it really is, Cowper’s pleasure in the fact that his

knowledge and inspiration come straight from Nature and his persistent

reiteration of his belief in the superiority of the country over

the city, and finally Burns’ many critical remarks on the essential

qualities of descriptive poetry.

The characteristics of the poetry of Nature that was growing up during

the eighteenth century have been already indicated in one way and

another, but it seems necessary here to gather them up into general

statements. The easiest and clearest way will be to make a somewhat

detailed summary of such traits of this poetry as seem to foreshadow

the later treatment of Nature, especially as exemplified in Wordsworth.

In the comparison I keep mainly to Wordsworth both for the sake of

simplicity, and because, though in romantic periods each poet works

out his own salvation along original and self-determined lines, yet

Wordsworth more nearly than any other poet expresses the variety and

complexity of interest in the new feeling toward Nature.

Wordsworth said that a part of his endowment as a poet was a

peculiar openness to sense impressions, and that this endowment was

cultivated by his environment in youth until the real facts of Nature

were perceived by him with fulness and accuracy. In his wholesale

condemnation of the period between “Paradise Lost” and “The Seasons”

the chief count in the indictment is the absence of new images drawn

from Nature. Full, accurate, first-hand knowledge of Nature is then

with Wordsworth a _sine qua non_, a basis on which interpretation

must rest. During the eighteenth century no one man had Wordsworth’s

inevitable ear or practiced eye, but the whole impression made is that

men were at last out of doors, looking and listening for themselves.

Each man sees many facts not before noted, and collectively the poetry

of the period presents a great body of natural phenomena of all sorts.

Poets, artists, travelers, writers of fiction, unite to swell the stock

of facts about the external world. Dorothy Wordsworth’s “Journals” show

with what delight she and her brother dwelt upon the baldest statement

of the actual facts of Nature. Gray in his “Letters,” John Scott in his

“Eclogues,” show this same pleasure in simply cataloguing the lovely

facts of the out-door world. Lady Winchilsea, Gay, Thomson, Dyer,

Cowper, Burns, all the landscape painters from Wilson to Girtin, Mrs.

Smith and Mrs. Radcliffe, are but leaders of the many who were striving

to make report of what they found in waters and skies, in field,

mountain, and plain. The wide range of these facts is astonishing. The

knowledge of the poet is no longer confined to parks and gardens, to

the mild and lovely aspects of Nature. His aroused curiosity pushes

him out into new realms of inquiry. All kinds of Nature, animate and

inanimate, wild and tame, remote and close at hand, attract interested

attention.

The mere mass and variety of this accumulated knowledge is

sufficiently significant in its bearing on the development of a new

taste for Nature, but a further general question arises as to the

accuracy and delicacy of the observation. There certainly was none of

the scientific spirit that would feel the charm of bare exactness, and

there was hardly any of Wordsworth’s feeling that to misrepresent a

fact of Nature would be sacrilege. Facts were, indeed, often noted in a

loose, careless way, as if of slight importance. But taken as a whole

the observation bears the mark of the eye on the object. From Lady

Winchilsea to Bowles every poet who has been esteemed noteworthy in

the study of Nature gives the impression that he speaks from personal

knowledge, and no poetry can make that impression unless it is in its

main lines true. Delicacy of observation is another matter.

What the eighteenth-century poets did was to give truthful expression

to very many natural facts of a kind fairly obvious to an age well

versed in the lore of field and wood; but new to an age just emerged

from the gates of a park. It is observation of this abundant, truthful,

obvious sort that we find in Ambrose Philips, Gay, Ramsay, Shenstone,

John Scott, and largely this even in Thomson. The commonest facts of

Nature, the blue sky, wild flowers on a rocky ledge, rough little

streams, were a wonder and a delight. Discrimination comes after

general and obvious facts have been accepted and assimilated. It is

inevitable, even setting aside their different temperaments, that

Cowper should have more of it than Thomson. The strange thing is

that in the early stages of the poetry of Nature we should find any

observation so close and delicate as that in the study of night by Lady

Winchilsea, of burns and mountain pools by Allan Ramsay, of winter

skies and ice-burdened streams by Armstrong; or as that in Thomson’s

sunset after rain, Dyer’s wide views and homely bits of country life,

Collins’ evening, Gray’s skylark and song-thrush, Thomas Warton’s

opening spring, Logan’s cuckoo, and Scott’s trees.

The fulness and accuracy of the eighteenth-century study of Nature

may be further seen by a brief analysis of the sense impressions most

frequently noted.

Wordsworth is said to have been physically deficient in the sense

of smell, hence the noticeable absence of odors in his poems may be

accounted for. But it is doubtless true of all poetry that fragrances

are more scantily recorded than are other facts, and that there is

seldom any delicate discrimination between various sorts of sweet

odors. For this reason such slight study of odors as we find in the

transition poetry is the more to be dwelt upon. There are certainly not

infrequent observations showing close knowledge. J. Philips notes the

faint sweetness of cowslips; Relph speaks of the odor of the “fresh

prumrose on the furst of May;” Dyer and Shenstone of the fragrance of

brakes; Dyer of sweet-smelling honeysuckles; Shenstone, Thomas Warton,

and Cowper of the fragrant woodbine; J. Philips and Mickle of scented

orchards; Cowper calls attention to the odor of limes and the fresh

smell of turf; Lady Winchilsea speaks of the “aromatic pain” from

the odor of a jonquil, the “potent fragrance” of which is recognized

also by Thomson. Two odors frequently mentioned are of “the perfuming

flowery bean” celebrated first by John Philips, then by Gay, Thomson,

Savage, Shenstone, and Joseph Warton; and the fragrance of hay noted

by Thomson, Gay, Ramsay, Savage, Potter, Relph, Thomas Warton, and

Mickle. When homely, unusual odors, like that of the bean, are noticed

there is often exceptional vividness of statement. What took rank in

the poet’s mind as his own discovery brought out a natural freshness

of phrase. One other fact frequently noted is that odors are strongest

at morning or evening or after a rain. These specific references are

of real importance in showing new powers of perception, but it must be

admitted that in general the use of odors was of the conventional sort,

referring rather vaguely to sweet breezes blowing over flowery fields.

The sensitiveness to sound so often remarked in Wordsworth’s poems is

a characteristic of the poetry of Nature throughout the century before

Wordsworth. The music of Nature was a source of widespread delight.

The “pleasant noise of waters,” for instance, receives some notice

from nearly every poet in the list, while in travels and fiction some

of the most effective passages are on the sounds of rapid streams

and waterfalls. In poetry the old words “warbling,” “tinkling,” and

“murmuring,” are still much used, but Ramsay’s rill that “makes a

singin din,” Thomson’s roused-up river that “thunders” through the

rocks, Mallet’s river with its “sounding sweep,” Collins’ “brawling

springs,” and Cowper’s “chiming rills” are a few of the phrases

that mark a more individual and personal way of listening. One of

Wordsworth’s often-quoted lines on sound has to do with the greater

distinctness of the song of mountain streams by night. Mr. Heard

gives this passage as an instance of Wordsworth’s peculiarly close

observation. But the clearness with which falling or running water is

heard at night had been noted at least six times in the literature

before Wordsworth. Lady Winchilsea mentioned it in her “Revery.”

Beattie speaks of waterfalls heard from afar amid the lonely night, and

again of the quiet evening when naught but the torrent is heard on the

hill. The lines in John Brown’s “Rhapsody” have already been quoted, as

also his “Letter” in which he notes the variety of sounds from distant

waterfalls as one of the attractions of a walk at night. And Gray also

speaks of the murmur of many waterfalls not audible in the day time.

Several other authors, as Dyer and Mallet, have practically the same

idea when they mention the unusual clearness of the sound of falling

water in a breathless noon, or in the depths of a silent forest.

The sounds made by winds are also often and particularly noted. They

sigh through reeds, they make a remote and hollow noise in “wintery

pines,” they murmur through the poplars, they rustle lightly over “deep

embattled ears of corn,” they join in concert with woods and waters, or

they sweep in mighty harmonies through ancient forests. The whispering

breezes, and dying gales of the classical poetry do not often occur.

Brown in his “Letter” shows how deeply he was impressed by the roaring

of the winds through the mountains, and the one passage in which Dr.

Johnson showed any appreciation of wild Nature is a description of the

combined sounds of streams and wind on a stormy night in Scotland.

A characteristic passage is Thomson’s fine description of thunder

among the mountains. Wordsworth, from the peculiar delicacy of his

perceptions and perhaps from his contemplative Nature, was deeply

sensitive to the silences in the world about him. There is some though

but little indication of a similar pleasure in preceding poetry. One of

the best passages is Thomson’s description of the boding silence before

a storm. This has, however, much less of the real Wordsworthian spirit

than has Brown’s conception of the silence that spoke from the starry

vault, the shadowy cliffs, the motionless groves, and the faint mirror

of the placid lake.

Of sounds from animate Nature the emphasis is of course on birds. But

the feathered choir of the classical period has been resolved into

distinct species, each with a voice of its own. The nightingale is

not supplanted but she is no longer a monopolist in the realms of

the muses. In this transition poetry the cuckoo takes an interesting

place. Wordsworth’s address to the bird as “the darling of the spring”

gives the association of ideas found in most of the early poems.

The cuckoo is the harbinger of spring. Armstrong and A. Philips have

the loud note of the cuckoo as one of the first hints of the opening

year, and Thomson’s symphony of spring is introduced by “the first

note the hollow cuckoo sings.” Mendes says it is “the cuckoo that

announceth spring,” and Gray speaks of the cuckoo’s note as part of

“the untaught harmony of spring.” The peculiarity of the cuckoo’s

note is also often mentioned. Other birds have many notes, says John

Cunningham, “the cuckoo has but two.” Logan, as Wordsworth after him,

records the fact that the bird is usually unseen, and both speak of

the schoolboy’s surprise as the strange cry falls on his ear. The

lark, the nightingale, and the linnet are frequently mentioned, but

usually in terms somewhat conventional. They had been in poetry so

long that a distinct effort would have been needed to think of them

under new phrases. To be released from the captivity of a stock

diction and conventional sentiment they waited for Shelley and Keats

and Wordsworth. It is in observations on birds not counted poetical

property that we find fresh and exact expression. A mark of the new

spirit is the pleasure in such sounds as the call of the curlew, the

boom of the bittern, the chattering of magpies, the caw of rooks, the

piping of quails, the scream of jays, the clang of seamews, the shrill

clamor of cranes, the shriek of the gull, the whistle of plovers, the

whir of the partridge. To hear such sounds the poet must wander over

moors, by sedgy lakes, along rough shores, far enough from trim parks.

To bring such sounds into poetry marked a great revolution in taste

from the days of the lorn nightingale and the plaintive turtle. As a

whole we may say that the treatment of sound in eighteenth-century

poetry is abundant, accurate, and often very effective.

The process of passing from general to specific statements as a result

of increased knowledge shows itself again in the use of color. The

universal paint of the classical school has been resolved into some of

its constituent elements. These are not many, however, and there is not

much nice discrimination into shades and tints. The colors most often

observed are green, blue, yellow or gold, purple, red or crimson, and

brown, the order given being the order of their frequency. Purple is

used less frequently than in the classical poetry and usually has some

real artistic significance. Yellow, a comparatively new word, is used

often of harvests, of trees in autumn, of moonlight, and of various

sunlight effects. Dyer gave early prominence to the word as an epithet

applied to Nature. Brown is applied in somewhat the conventional manner

to streams and shadows. Thomson, Dyer, Savage, and Cowper made the

most effective use of color, and it is important to observe that their

advance consisted not so much in seeing many more colors than had

been seen before, as in discovering color in many more objects than

formerly. They did not merely see that “all above is blue and all below

is green.” They saw the blue heavens, but they saw, too, the blue of

“sky dyed plumbs,” of mists, of distant hills, of streams and bays, of

ice-films, of the halcyon’s wing, of curling smoke, of the lightning

flash. The endive, the lavender, the lilac, the violet, the harebell,

the heath-flower, are singled out as blue. And Dyer speaks of the blue

color of the poplars, and Dalton of blue slate roofs. Not merely the

general green of a summer landscape is commented upon, but there are

closer observations concerning the varying shades of green as the trees

are massed together. The russet tints brought out in green tree tops at

sunset, the funereal green of yews, the yellow-green in a sunset sky,

the yellow tinge in green grass almost ready for the scythe, the glossy

green of the holly, the deep green of box, the contrasting green of

elm, oak, and maple, are some typical observations.

The use of color, however, seems, on the whole, in spite of its

abundance and picturesqueness, hardly so varied and individual as the

use of sound.

A division into colors and sounds leaves many sorts of observation

unnoted, and frequently these are of great importance as indicating

close knowledge; but they have been so often commented upon in the

study from author to author that even a suggestive recapitulation

is hardly needed here. Enough has been called to mind to show that

there was much knowledge of the external world, and that much of this

knowledge was reported in words so direct and truthful that they must

have come from personal experience.

In the classical period we have seen that only the milder forms of

Nature were cared for. Wordsworth was, on the other hand, essentially

the poet of mountains, lakes, and streams. It will be of interest to

note the attitude of the transition poetry toward the various kinds of

Nature. And first we may sum up the evidences of mountain enthusiasm.

In the first fifty years of the century we have only the expressions of

pleasure in climbing mountains or hills by J. Philips, Gay, and Dyer;

the various descriptive references in Ramsay and in Mallet; Boydell’s

crude work in Wales, and Paul Sandby’s sketches in the Highlands.

Ramsay and Mallet show a consciousness of mountains, and evidently

regard them as noticeable and picturesque elements of a scene, and Dyer

is of distinct importance because of his lingering pleasure in the

beautiful views opening up before him as he climbs the mountain, and

especially because of his poetic comprehension of mountain solitudes.

But it is during the next thirty-five years (1750–85) that we find

the most adequate eighteenth-century treatment of mountains. During

this period Brown, Pennant, Young, Gray, and Gilpin visited Scotland,

Wales, and the English Lakes, and wrote of mountains with an enthusiasm

hardly equaled in the succeeding century. In fiction were Amory’s

eulogy of Westmoreland, and his exaggerated pictures of Cumberland, and

Smollett’s description of the country round Loch Leven. In painting,

Boydell, Devis, Sandby, Bellers, Wilson, Barret, Farington, and John

Cozens were studying mountain scenery in Scotland, in northern England,

in Wales, Ireland, and in the Alps. In poetry we have Coventry’s

address to Vaughan on mountain climbing; Dalton’s apostrophe to

Skiddaw; Brown’s rhapsody on the mountains and lakes of Westmoreland;

the mountain scenery in Gray’s “Bard” and the poems of “Ossian;” the

many descriptive references in Dyer’s “Fleece,” Jago’s “Edge Hill,”

Mickle’s “Almada Hill” and “May Day,” and Scott’s “Amwell;” and

Beattie’s study of the influence of mountains on a poetic mind. During

the last twenty-five years of the century there is, in poetry, a

curious apparent cessation of mountain interest. The most highly poetic

minds, Blake, Cowper, and Burns, have none of it. Crabbe does not touch

upon mountains. Lesser poets, except Bowles at the very end of the

century, are equally silent. This is not, however, true in other realms

of art. Mountain scenery is still, during these years, a large element

in romances, and in travels, and many artists are sketching in the

picturesque regions opened up to them by earlier students of mountain

landscapes.

Many lovers of Nature and of poetry have commented with surprise on

the slow development of the poetic appreciation of mountains. It is,

perhaps, even more strange that English poetry should have been still

slower in its discovery of the ocean. It is as if English poets from

Dryden to Byron had all lived inland. Even in Wordsworth, in spite

of some wonderful lines, there is no treatment of the ocean at all

comparable to his study of mountains. In the classical age the ocean

was a dreary waste. In the transition poetry we do not find much more

knowledge or appreciation. The one quality of the ocean that receives

anything like adequate expression is its boundlessness. Characteristic

lines are by John G. Cooper.

In unconfined perspective send thy gaze

Disdaining limit o’er the green expanse

Of ocean.

Armstrong says that the “floating wilderness”

Scorns our miles and calls Geography

A shallow prier.

Mickle looks upon the awful solitude of ocean and his imagination is

stirred by

the last dim wave in boundless space

Involved and lost.

These are the best lines I have found. The chief expressions of

pleasure in the ocean are Gay’s mild delight in a sunset across the

sea, and subsequent moonlight effects, and Beattie’s pleasing dread

as he seeks the shore to listen to the wide-weltering waves. We find

in Cowper’s letters a more appreciative passage on the ocean than

occurs in any of the poetry. The most sincere ocean enthusiasm is in

Mrs. Radcliffe’s romances. Travelers, even those who went along the

coast of Wales and among the Scottish islands or to the Isle of Wight,

say little of the sea. The ocean was, in fact, much such a burden as

Sterne’s plain. When the poet had once said that it was big and awful

his stock of impressions was exhausted. In painting, the ocean was not

entirely ignored, but in this province, too, there was meagerness of

conception and expression. The ocean waited for Turner and Byron and

Shelley.

One of the interesting characteristics of the love of Nature in

the eighteenth century is a delight in wide views. What had in the

classical period “tired the travelling eye,” with the dawning of the

new spirit gave satisfaction. It was in accord with the mental revolt

against close boundaries of any sort. From the day when John Philips

ventured to express some pleasure in the view from a hill, and Gay

climbed Cotton Hill to raise his mind nearer heaven, and Dyer spent

days in studying with an artist’s eye the colors and forms of the view

from Grongar Hill, to the time when Beattie eagerly climbed the rugged

steeps of Scottish mountains so that he might see the morning mists

rolling and tumbling over the rough hills beneath him, do we find this

pronounced delight in wide views. Even poets who show no great love for

mountains, as Thomson, Mallet, Collins, the Wartons, Langhorne, Mickle,

and John Scott, and even poets of confessedly tame scenery as Cowper,

love “green heights” and extended prospects. To the expression of

this feeling Amory and Mrs. Radcliffe, Brown, Young, and Pennant make

large contributions. This feeling shows itself also in gardening. The

cutting-down of tall hedges, the opening-up of vistas, were a result of

the change of taste and a contribution to it.

We have seen that during the classical poetry the skies in favor were

cloudless and that of all sky phenomena the rainbow excited most

attention. In the transition poetry we find much of this love of fair

summer skies and expressed sometimes with a new freshness as when

Dyer wishes nothing above his head but “the roof on which the gods do

tread,” or when Ramsay looks with joy upon “the lift’s unclouded blue,”

or when the clear gladness of heaven shines down from the lovely skies

of Blake. But on the whole, references to the serene day-time sky are

conventional. It is another illustration of the fact that such aspects

of Nature as were already known and had come to be spoken of after a

set fashion were slow to be emancipated into a new phraseology. Better

work is done in describing what Coleridge calls the “goings-on” of the

sky. Thomson knew the sky in all its phases. Parnell describes well

the airy tumult of clouds after a storm. Mallet has one or two rather

effective studies of a stormy sky. One of Beattie’s best descriptions

is of a shifting cloudy sky on a windy autumn day, and he has other

effective cloud studies. But taken in the mass the material is scanty

and not of great value. It was Wordsworth and Shelley who first gave

adequate expression to the mysterious and varied charm of the day-time

sky.

The love of the night sky and of night itself is first found in Lady

Winchilsea, and for close observation and delicate feeling there is

nothing better throughout the century. There is, however, much use of

night, moonlight, and stars in a new and appreciative fashion. In Gay’s

“Dione” there are several attractive little moonlight pictures. Parnell

was impressed by the depth, the serenity, and the silence of a starry

sky on a clear night. Coventry observes how fast the moon travels

through light clouds as if bent on a journey, while in clear weather

she sits steady empress of the skies. Joseph Warton notes the shining

of hills and streams under the light of a full moon. Mickle has some

beautiful lines on both moon and stars as they rise from behind certain

favorite hills. He walks much at night and loves to watch the trembling

line of light from the moon as it shines across the lake, or the soft

effect of the yellow moonlight sleeping on the hills. Beattie stays out

all night to watch the aspects of the sky till the dawn of day. Morning

and evening twilight are less often spoken of. There is certainly

nothing else in the century to compare with Collins’ “Evening.” Sunset

and sunrise are often described, but nowhere with more general

effectiveness than in Thomson, or with more minute color study than in

Savage.

Closely connected with the knowledge of the sky is the new feeling

toward storms. In the classical poetry they had been ignored or used as

similes for disaster. But one of the first evidences of a new spirit

was in the appreciative description of winter storms, as in Riccaltoun,

Armstrong, and Thomson. The early descriptions and the multiplicity

of storms in Thomson and Mallet give at first the impression that

this element held a larger place in poetry than it really did. Ramsay

has some good lines on winter storms. There is an admirable stanza in

Collins’ “Ode to Liberty,” and another in Thomas Warton’s “Grave of

King Arthur.” In Beattie’s “Minstrel,” and in several of Burns’ poems

there are expressions of delight in the fierce play of the elements,

but that exhausts the list of notable passages. It is only in Beattie

that we find any of the modern sense of kinship between the tumult

of life and Nature’s fierce conflicts, and the imaginative force of

a passage like that in “The Excursion” where the Wanderer longs to

be a spirit and so mingle with primal energies in their mightiest

activities, or the lyric passion of a cry like that in Shelley’s

apostrophe to the West Wind, are not even hinted at.

The most pronounced change came with reference to these grander, wilder

aspects of Nature. We have still to note the treatment of the gentle

pleasant things of Nature, as birds, flowers, trees.

There was, through the classical period, abundant delight, in a

general way, in meadows bursting into bloom, and in bright blossoms

in the garden. The use of the words “flowery,” “adorned,” “decked,”

“enameled,” etc., usually had reference to fields of flowers thought

of in a vague, pleasant way. The changes that come during the

transition poetry are a resolving of the general into the specific, a

concentration of attention on English flowers, and a greatly increased

knowledge of individual flowers. The rose and the lily often give

place to homelier blooms as those of peas and beans, the bramble rose,

butter flowers, clover, heath-bells, crowfoot, the tangled vetch, the

mandrake, the thistle. The increased minuteness of observation shows

itself in such garden studies as we find in Thomson and Cowper. A

feeling of personal relationship toward flowers finds its highest and

sweetest expression in Burns’ “Daisy.”

In the classical poetry trees in general are an important part of the

stock-in-trade. The new feeling shows itself in a growing tendency to

think of trees as individuals. In a landscape trees are mentioned by

name. The thin leav’d ash, whispering poplars, the glossy rind’d beech,

venerable oaks tossing giant arms, waving elms, quivering aspens,

murmuring pines, hoary willows, sycamores green, tawny, or scarlet,

according to the season, white-blossomed hawthorn, deep green hollies,

elders with silver blossoms, stand out from the mass and are known for

their own qualities. Minute observation is indicated by the descriptive

phrases used. The color of the trunk, the spread of the branches, the

changing hue of the leaves, the kind of blossoms, are severally noted.

Two special studies of trees are by Lady Winchilsea and Dr. Dalton,

and are of early date. Dyer and Cowper give the best studies of trees

seen in a mass, and yet individually noted. While there is not a touch

of the deep forest in this poetry, there are many lines describing

woodland effects. Thomson, Potter, and Cowper find especial pleasure

in the lovely interplay of light and shade in a pathway overhung by

woven branches. The brown shadows and the softened light in a deeply

wooded nook are observed. Gentle streams sing happily under a cooling

covert of green boughs. The quiet of the woods is broken only by the

plash of waters, the rustle of boughs, the whisper of leaves, the hum

of insects, the song of birds, sounds from distant flocks and herds,

or the stroke of the woodman’s axe. Trees also form an important part

of every general landscape. But no poet has given so much of the

real forest feeling as Mrs. Radcliffe. Of travelers Young has most

to say about trees but his observations are largely scientific and

utilitarian. On the whole we may say that trees are given abundant and

discriminating attention, but that this attention seldom penetrates

beyond external, artistic qualities. Personal friendship for trees such

as we find in Lowell, for instance, has hardly yet reached expression.

Birds have already been discussed under sound, but it remains here to

state that the habits of birds, their manner of flight, their nests,

the trees they choose, their ways of protecting their young, were all

topics on which much was known. Of minor poets, those who knew birds

well, are Jago, Potter, and Bruce. Gray adds some perfect touches. Best

of all for accurate description and real understanding are Thomson,

Cowper, and Burns. The prominent place of the cuckoo has already been

spoken of. The redbreast and the thrush with “speckly breast” rank not

far behind in interest. The redbreast found early honor in Armstrong’s

“Winter,” and then in Thomson’s, and is one of the pleasing elements in

Cowper’s “Winter Walk.” On the whole, birds of the lakes and streams

seem to be better known than birds of the tree and copse.

One phase of the literary treatment of birds is a recognition of their

rights as free, living beings. This feeling, not toward birds alone

but toward all animals, is one of the marks of the new spirit. There

is even in Lady Winchilsea’s “Revery” a slight hint of the conception

that animals would not suffer if man had not proved himself a tyrant,

and Gay carries out the same thought in one of his “Fables.” Thomson’s

protests against killing animals for food are the first strong

statements of the new feeling. Shenstone, in “Rural Elegance” and “The

Dying Kid,” shows some sympathetic regard for animals. Jago and Potter

and Langhorne protested vigorously against cruelty to birds. Beattie

had the strongest possible dislike toward so-called English sports.

The feeling of close fellowship and almost human love toward animals,

so marked in Wordsworth and Coleridge, did not find expression in the

transition poetry until Burns and Cowper gave it full statement.

Throughout the poetry of the eighteenth century we have observed a

turning from the general to the specific. There is likewise a similar

tendency to localization. The classical poetry of Nature belonged to no

special spot, hardly to any special country. The poetry of Wordsworth

and of Walter Scott was, on the other hand, eminently local. They

celebrated the mountains and islands and streams of the region they

knew. Wordsworth complained that before his day no one had sung of

British mountains. It is interesting to note the growth of this passion

for certain spots definitely pointed out and named, certain natural

scenes known and loved as a person might be. A brief survey of the

mountains and streams thus celebrated in eighteenth-century poetry will

serve as illustrative. After Dyer’s “Grongar Hill” come other mountains

of Wales. The hoary heights of huge Plynlymmon; the wide, aërial side

of Cader-ydris; the craggy summits of cold Snowdon, king of mountains;

Clyder’s cloud-enveloped head; Caer-caraduc, and others are spoken of

with evident pleasure and not a little artistic perception. In Scotland

the hills of Cheviot, the Pentland Hills, the mountains in the Ossian

country, and those around Lochleven, are chief. In England we have the

scarry side of Braids, Dafset’s ridgy mountain, Edge-Hill, Almada

Hill, Derwent’s naked peaks, huge Breaden, blue-topp’d Wrekin, giant

Skiddaw, the solemn wall of Malvern, the Cambrian Hills, the hills of

Ilmington, and others. The spirit of localization in its application

to mountains does not often go beyond calling the mountain by its

own name, and using some phrase showing that this mountain is known

as separate from the general mass. In its application to streams the

feeling is more detailed in expression. Ramsay’s streams and pools are

closely localized. Dyer celebrates not only Towy’s flood, but the Vaga,

the Ryddal, the Ystwith, the Clevedoc, the Lune, and especially the

Usk. Dr. Dalton traces the course of the Borrowdale Beck from Lodore

Falls to the lake. Langhorne follows the track of the Bela through

solitary meads, and then through the rough realms of Stainmore. He also

celebrates his joy as a child in the river Eden. Smollett, on his sick

bed, writes an ode to Leven Water. Bruce sings of the Po, the Queech,

the Severn, and especially of his youthful delight in the Gairney.

Mickle writes of the Forth, the Annan, the Ewes, and the Wauchope,

but dwells with most zest on his early love of the Esk. Of peculiar

interest is Akenside’s apostrophe to the Wansbeck. Hamilton, Langhorne,

and Logan wrote of the Yarrow, Cowper of the Ouse, Burns of the Ayr,

the Doon, the Nith, the Afton, the Devon, and many another Scotch

stream, while Bowles wrote of the Itchin, the Tweed, the Cherwell,

and the Wansbeck. A map might be made on which should be represented

only the mountains and streams spoken of with some particularity,

with something more than a mere mention, in English poetry between

1650 and 1720, and a similar map of the period from 1720 to 1795. A

comparison of the two would be an interesting commentary on the growth

of knowledge and interest in British scenes.

All that has been so far presented goes to show that in the antithesis

between town and country the balance of favor swung round during the

eighteenth century to the country. Usually the preference is implicit,

and is to be inferred from the change of theme, but occasionally the

antithesis is sharply stated, as, to take types, in Thomson, the

Wartons, and Cowper. It is Thomson who first gives adequate statement

of the transfer of sovereignty from the “fine lady muses of Richmond

Hill” to “the muses of the simple country.” It is his hatred of the

noisome town, his delight in fields and woods untouched by man, that

established the new canon of taste. In the Wartons, twenty years later,

the breach between the city and the country is almost an impassable

gulf. Combined with the love of Nature in her external forms there is

that spirit of romantic melancholy by virtue of which the poet regards

Nature as a refuge from the tormenting complexities that beset the life

of men in communities. There is usually a touch, sometimes more than

a touch, of morbidness in the passionate eagerness to escape not only

from the city into Nature, but from man and all traces of his dominion

into a solitude free from all human suggestiveness. Forty years after

the Wartons, Cowper’s famous epigram, “God made the country and man

made the town,” summed the matter up according to the new view. Cowper

is as emphatic in his preferences as his predecessors, and much more

detailed and minute in his expression. With him there is no vague

generalizing, no morbid or passionate over-statement. His love of

the country is a fundamental fact not only in his physical, but also

and even especially in his moral and spiritual, life. It is a fixed

principle, quiet, rational, inevitable. The anti-classical side of

the city and country antithesis receives in Cowper’s poetry its most

decisive and most reasonable eighteenth-century statement. We hardly

find anything so conclusive in fiction or in travels. There is an

occasional expression of regret at going back to towns after a trip

through the mountains and lakes, but as a rule the preference for the

country is left to be inferred from the general tenor of the traveler’s

writings. Mrs. Brooke protests much against London, and declares her

preference for Nature unadorned. Mackenzie’s Julia rejoices over

her country birth and education, and Mrs. Radcliffe reiterates the

desirability of living far from towns and as close as possible to the

influence of Nature. Cowper, however, remains as having given the

final, emphatic statement.

Through all this detailed study and wide knowledge of Nature there runs

an undercurrent of personal enthusiasm which is quite a separate thing

from the knowledge of Nature, but which led to that knowledge and was

fed by it. Sometimes we are left to infer this enthusiasm from results,

but oftener it finds clear statement. There is frequent expression

of such “unspeakable joy” as Ambrose Philips felt when he gazed on a

little country home, or of Ramsay’s “heartsome joy” on a bright spring

morning

to see the rising plants,

And hear the birds chirm o’er their pleasin’ rants,

or of Hamilton’s rapturous joy as he lies on the flowering turf, his

soul “commercing with the sky.” In many passages Thomson expresses

his passionate delight in the music, the color, the fragrances of the

out-door world. Dyer’s joys run high as he lies on the mountain-turf.

Shenstone says that the beauties of Nature alone bear perpetual sway,

and he thinks with scorn of a soul so narrow that it cannot relish

Nature’s calm delights. Joseph Warton cannot find words to express the

ecstasy with which he looks on Nature. John Langhorne’s only wish is

that he may enjoy the blessings Nature gives to those who love her,

and says that her charm alone is unfading. Beattie says that the man

who goes to Nature has rapture ever new. Cowper thinks that any man

who turns away from Nature starves deservedly. Burns says that he

looked upon Nature with boundless joy. This feeling of exhilaration, of

rapturous delight, is pervasive. It is often inadequate, or vague, or

extravagant in statement, but the delight is unfeigned, the enthusiasm

real, and in poet after poet it demanded expression. That it seldom

found the perfect statement only means that art is long and that much

thinking and feeling in an age as in an individual must go before the

final art-form.

Much of this delight in Nature is in kind though not in degree like

that which Wordsworth in “Tintern Abbey” calls his second period of

love for Nature, the time when the colors and forms of the external

world were a sufficiently engrossing pleasure, and he felt no need of

“a remoter charm by thought supplied.” But Wordsworth quickly passed

from this stage of pleasure to another. In his best descriptions, as

in “The Yew Trees,” he gives a few external details, and then at once

penetrates to the inner spirit of the scene. He is like a portrait

painter who represents the features with truth and simplicity but makes

the face live because he has divined the qualities of soul behind it.

Now whatever philosophical tenets Wordsworth held he certainly thought

of this soul of Nature, whether of Nature as a whole, or in special

parts, as in some way a manifestation of divinity. In other words he

saw God immanent in Nature. The classical conception also saw God in

Nature, but as the remote Architect, Artificer, Lawgiver. The universe

was dead, cold, inert matter. For the difficulty with which it was

made to serve men’s needs the defenders of Omnipotence felt apologetic

explanations necessary. We have seen that during the eighteenth century

there came a great and joyous awakening to the external charm of the

world. Are there also indications that the divine life in Nature was

felt?

Throughout the eighteenth century the usual thought of God in relation

to Nature is the classical one. He is the author and controller of

the universe; but there are some poems or passages or separate lines

that seem to indicate a new conception. Lady Winchilsea recognizes

a curious correspondence between Nature and her own heart, and says

that in the quiet of a beautiful night she feels the presence of

something too high for syllables to speak. There is a similar feeling

in Hamilton’s description of a silent grove. In the “Nocturnal Revery”

and in “Contemplation” the idea of divinity is not explicitly stated,

but in Parnell’s “Hymn” the song of praise is professedly to the Source

of all Nature, because through Nature the divine spirit had spoken

peace to the poet’s troubled heart. The incessant and ever-present

creative activity of God is clearly set forth in Thomson’s “Hymn.”

Each ray of sunshine, every blossoming flower of spring, every leaping

stream, every rolling orb, performs its function as a direct expression

of divine energy. And some lines give a further suggestion of divine

immanence. The rolling year is full of God. The seasons are but the

varied God. The beauty of God walks forth in the flushing spring. Such

expressions as these mark a half-involuntary poetic seizing of the

new idea of Nature as the bodily presence of which God was the soul,

but they do not indicate Thomson’s leading ideas. Mallet, imitative

of Thomson in this as in other respects, usually speaks of God as the

Creator, but in one passage touches on the full stream of universal

Goodness that is ever-flowing through earth, air, and sea, and on the

ceaseless song of praise going up from the great community of Nature’s

sons. Boyse in his “Deity” thinks of God as an Almighty Architect, but

has a few lines in which he represents all Nature as being momently

derived from God. Young has a significant line when he says that night

is the “felt presence of the Deity.” The theme of Akenside’s poem is to

show the response which the imaginative mind finds in Nature, and this

response is, he says, the voice of the divine spirit. His conception is

usually, to be sure, that the divine spirit speaks through the forms

of Nature, rather than that the form and the spirit have an essential

union. Yet sometimes he speaks more clearly the new thought. He says

that the man who loves Nature holds daily converse with God himself;

the beauty of Nature flows directly from God; the order in Nature is

sacred; the influence whereby Nature soothes and cheers and elevates

man is really a divine influence. This is the fullest recognition of an

in-dwelling God until we reach Cowper. In his poetry we find a clear

statement of belief in the lines,

There lives and works

A soul in all things, and that soul is God,

but the point is not one on which he dwells. These passages certainly

foreshadow Wordsworth’s conception of God in Nature, but they are

comparatively feeble and unimaginative in expression. There is nothing

so Wordsworthian in Thomson’s sonorous lines or in Akenside’s ample

statement as there is the feeling that penetrates the brief words of

Lady Winchilsea and Parnell. Compared to these even Cowper seems cold

and intellectual.

Wordsworth did not, however, lay special stress on his belief that the

spirit he felt in Nature was divine. He rather took that for granted,

or allowed it to be implied in the passionate fulness and intensity

of his expressions of gratitude to that spirit for gifts of mind and

heart. This sense of indebtedness to Nature found no place in the

classical poetry. But in the transition period it receives surprisingly

full and varied expression. Sometimes it takes the form of personal

gratitude for special gifts; sometimes it is a general statement

of what man owes to Nature. A brief review of the more significant

passages will serve to show the characteristics of this feeling toward

Nature.

To begin with, Nature gives peace. This is the gift most often spoken

of. Even John Philips said that Nature calmed his mind. Ambrose Philips

liked the songs of birds because they brought him into a mood of “sweet

and gentle composure.” Lady Winchilsea enjoyed the night because its

influence disposed her heart to silent musings and made her conscious

of a “sedate content.” Parnell had long vainly sought contentment until

at last his heart received the message of peace through the voices of

Nature. Hamilton said that all the passions in the troubled breast of

man could be calmed by the quiet of a grove. Thomson finds in Nature

a power that can “serene his soul” and “harmonize his heart.” Dyer

finds peace and quiet in “the meads and mountain-heads.” Mallet follows

Thomson in thought and phrase when he represents that Nature has power

to “serene the soul.” Akenside says that the spirit of Nature lulls

man’s passions to a divine repose. Cooper says that a contemplation of

the order and regularity in Nature’s life will induce a like harmonious

action in the human heart, and that the fiercest passions of horror and

revenge can be soothed by Nature. Joseph Warton says that all Nature

conspires to soothe and harmonize the mind. William Whitehead speaks

of the “philosophic calmness” that comes to man from Nature. Beattie’s

hermit found in Nature a power that could subdue the wildest passions

and give “profound repose.” Bruce found in Nature “harmony of mind.”

Bowles felt a “soothing charm” that brought “solace to his heart” and

“bore him on serene.” So, too, was it with Cowper. Nature gave him

heart-consoling joys, and brought peace and quiet into his life. This

power of Nature to soothe the mind of man and to modify his passions

receives full expression also in Mrs. Radcliffe’s romances.

Nature gives not only peace and rest to man; she gives him joy. The

sense of ecstasy and rapture in this joy has already been indicated in

the passages expressive of personal enthusiasm for Nature. Sometimes it

was a joy rising out of the delight of agreeable physical sensations,

as when Lady Winchilsea felt in the odor of the jonquil a pleasure so

keen that it was pain, or when Langhorne sank down oppressed by the

boundless charms of field and wood, or such joy as Gray’s convalescent

knew when he went out again into Nature. But here a more spiritual joy

is referred to. It is rather the disturbing joy of elevated thoughts

of which Wordsworth speaks. This uplift of soul in the presence of

Nature is felt by Parnell when he seeks to give expression to the great

chorus of thanksgiving to God from all existences. Lady Winchilsea and

John Langhorne felt it when Nature gave them “thoughts too high to be

express’t.” Akenside felt it, and in a truly Wordsworthian sense, when

he said that in the presence of Nature the intellect is charmed into

a suspension of its graver cares, while love and joy alone possess

the soul. Burns finds that Nature exalts, enraptures him, making him

conscious of an elevation of soul. And, finally, in Gilpin, we find,

though awkwardly expressed, an exact statement of the enthusiastic

calm, the visionary joy, with which Wordsworth looked on Nature.

A third gift of Nature is poetical inspiration, and that, too, in the

sense in which Wordsworth believed that Nature set him apart for poetry

and assisted him in his development. Akenside’s apostrophe to the

Wansbeck along whose banks he wandered in childhood, “led in silence by

some powerful hand unseen,” his assertion that these influences fixed

the color of his life for every future year, his thought of Nature’s

“tender discipline” when skies and streams and groves conspire to guide

the predestined sons of Fancy, are strikingly Wordsworthian. Langhorne

says that in his lonely youth “the woodland genius” came and touched

him with the holy flame of poetry. To the “Genius of Westmoreland”

he ascribes the sacred fire within his breast. The whole theme of

Beattie’s “Minstrel” is, as has been pointed out, the effect of Nature

on a poetically sensitive mind.

Nature also gives a wisdom such as books and schools cannot give. The

earliest expression of this thought is in Pattison’s comparison of

the deep wisdom drawn from Nature and the superficial knowledge of

the schools. Gay in the contest between the shepherd who knew Nature

and the philosopher who knew cities and books determined that Nature

without the schools can make men wise. Langhorne says that “fair

Philosophy,” like Poetry, must be sought for in Nature. There is,

however, no other eighteenth-century statement of this idea so complete

as Cowper’s eulogy of the wisdom of the heart that Nature gives.

Nature is also considered as inspiring to morality and virtue. Gay, in

a fable already quoted from, says that Nature can make men “moral” and

“good,” if they will learn her lessons. Thomson meditates on Nature

because thence he hopes to learn lessons of morality. Mallet says that

Nature inspires the soul with “virtuous raptures” and prompts man to

forsake sin-born vanities and low pursuits. Akenside’s chief theme

is the power of Nature to lead men from petty interests and hurried,

sordid lives into a beneficent and ordered activity of the soul. Cooper

ascribes to “every natural scene a moral power.” John Langhorne says

that the sweet sensations of Nature move the “springs of virtue’s

love,” and have a “moral use,” and that religion, fled from books,

can be found in Nature whence we first drew both our knowledge and

our virtue. Beattie says that the charms of Nature work “the soul’s

eternal health.” They inspire love and gentleness. They incite to high

living, and the man who neglects them can hardly hope to be forgiven.

A pervading thought in Cowper’s poems is his moral and spiritual

indebtedness to Nature.

Wordsworth not infrequently indicates his belief that the spirit of

Nature consciously blesses man. This idea is sometimes found in the

transition poetry, as in Hamilton’s “Contemplation,” and especially in

Akenside and Cowper who represent Nature as making the happiness of man

“her dear and only aim.”

So far we have discussed the knowledge of Nature and the feeling

toward it rather than its use in literature. That this knowledge was

abundant and varied, that this feeling was enthusiastic and often

deeply reverential, may, perhaps, pass without further question. But

a different problem presents itself when we ask what literary use the

eighteenth-century poet made of Nature. It must be conceded at the

outset that many references to natural facts are not literary at all.

In Mallet’s “Excursion,” for instance, his journey through stellar

spaces renders frequent mention of the sky and stars inevitable, but

the references might as well be to macadamized roads. His purpose

is merely to get from one point of vantage to another. Such brief,

cold, unpicturesque use of details for purposes of transition are

really non-literary. In any tabular statement of an author’s work some

discount must be made to allow for this mechanical use of Nature, and

in certain authors, as notably Mallet and Young, the discount is large.

Another non-literary use of Nature is in the catalogue or summary.

John Scott gives the extreme example of this unorganized accumulation

of details. The instinct of the artist is wanting. The poet does not

even attempt to make Nature a part of a well-fused literary product.

He is encumbered by his material. He crowds his canvas. His full and

realistic presentation is without artistic reservations. His record is

prompted simply by interest in the separate facts. No literary purpose

determines his selection or rejection of detail. A recognized theme,

unity, proportion, are absent. Such summaries may be of the highest

importance as showing the abundance and exactness of the author’s

knowledge of Nature, and separate phrases may have real literary

quality, but the passage as a whole is no more literary than an

inventory.

When, however, a purpose is apparent in the use of Nature, when there

is discrimination under the dominance of a central idea, then, however

crude and feeble the actual result, there is at least an attempt to use

Nature in a literary way.

This dominating purpose may be merely description for its own sake,

an attempt to present aspects of Nature in successive, isolated,

artistically composed pictures, each complete in itself and having its

parts organically related. Such description is entirely objective. Its

aim is the reproduction of sights and sounds by which Nature under

given conditions appeals to the senses. When highly elaborated its

obvious danger is that there will be, in spite of the most artistic

management, a certain vagueness and heaviness of effect. There are,

nevertheless, very beautiful examples of pure detailed description

dissociated from any purpose except that of making a picture in words,

in both Thomson and Cowper, and here and there less successful examples

in other writers.

A more subtle use of Nature is when the poet assembles his details

in order to reproduce not a scene or an aspect of Nature, but the

typical impression they have made on his mind. Lady Winchilsea tells

many facts about night, but her purpose is not the description of a

single night; it is the reproduction of the loving delight and tender

awe awakened in her own heart by many soft summer nights. The purpose

of Parnell’s descriptive details is the reproduction of the mood of

spiritual content induced by certain scenes. Passages such as these are

often more or less detailed summaries, but they have literary quality

because the motif produces unity of effect.

Again, the facts and descriptions may be adduced in support of a

theory, as in Young’s “Night Thoughts,” Akenside’s “Pleasures of the

Imagination,” Shenstone’s “Progress of Taste,” Beattie’s “Minstrel,”

and Cowper’s “Task.” Here too, an organizing purpose is discernible,

though there is the greatest possible difference in the various ways of

using the material for the given purpose; Young’s facts, for instance,

being used in a cold, argumentative fashion, while Beattie’s and

Cowper’s are suffused with emotion.

Another use of Nature is based on the poet’s perception of the

analogies between external Nature and human life or character. One

outcome of this sense for analogies is in abundant similitudes, a

literary use of Nature common in all languages, at all periods. In the

pseudo-classical poetry of England we have seen that the similitudes

were conventional and superficial. In a period of intimate knowledge

and love of the outer world there is stress on the truth and beauty of

the picture from Nature as well as on the human fact symbolized, and

the analogy is subtly and sympathetically conceived. Wordsworth’s

A violet by a mossy stone

Half hidden from the eye

is perfect in itself as a picture of Nature, and it is exquisitely apt

in describing Lucy. He discovered in Nature that which in its inner

significance was truly a counterpart of the human idea. With regard to

the similitudes of the transition poetry I have noted two interesting

facts. In the first place, in proportion to the whole use of Nature,

the use of Nature in similitudes is very much less in the transition

than in the classical poetry. In the second place, in no other way of

using Nature was the changed conception of the outer world so slow to

manifest itself. Stock similes persisted even in authors who, in other

respects, gave clear evidence of the new spirit. It was apparently

easier to be original and individual in a new realm, than to break away

from the established conventions of an accepted literary form.

As another outcome of the recognized correspondence between Nature

and life the facts of Nature become, as it were, an allegory of

human experience. From Dyer on there is a strain of pensive, gently

didactic moralizing drawn from the poet’s observation of Nature. A

river, however beautiful in itself because of its ceaseless motion,

its shifting colors, its varied banks, its progress to the sea, is

transformed in the poet’s mind into a symbol of the vicissitudes and

the final goal of life. Of the more obvious analogies of this sort we

find many examples, but of the highly imaginative use of Nature whereby

the external fact, however truly and beautifully perceived, seems

hardly thought of except as a symbol of the hidden things of the spirit

and of the life to come, we find almost no examples outside of Blake.

The use of Nature in connection with man’s joys or sorrows may be

lyrical or it may be dramatic in tone. Under the lyrical use of Nature

may be classed the numerous passages in which the poet dwells upon

his youth and the early joy he had in forest, stream, and field. The

homesick longing, the genuine human feeling, and the marks of local

fidelity to fact make this use of Nature usually excellent. It often

takes the form of an apostrophe to some specific river or grove or

hill. This autobiographic use of Nature is well exemplified in Thomson,

Akenside, Beattie, Langhorne, Mickle, Bruce, and Cowper. Again, the

poet recounts with lyrical fervor his debt to Nature. He gives thanks

for content, joy, peace, serenity, or he implores Nature to appease the

longings of his sick heart, to restore his soul to health. In either

case there is a mingling of human emotions and details from Nature.

Such passages may easily be feebly hysterical, but sometimes as in

Dyer, Beattie, Akenside, Langhorne, and Cowper, they are marked by

genuine beauty and pathos as well as by directness of vision. Perhaps

the best examples of scenes thus indissolubly connected with phases

of spiritual experience are Bowles’ sonnets, and unquestionably the

highest purely lyrical use of Nature is in Burns’ songs.

Nature is used dramatically when it is made the appropriate background

or accompaniment of human life. This use of Nature may be merely to

intensify the reader’s impression by certain effects of harmony or

contrast. Night, for instance, is considered the appropriate setting

for reflections on man’s mortality, as in Young and Parnell. A certain

sort of scenery becomes the conventionally fit background for romantic

aspirations and dejections, as in all the sentimental melancholy

poets. But oftener Nature is not merely a background. It is mingled

with the thought and action. This is true of most of the reflective,

moralizing poetry, and is true in a more dramatic sense in such

pastorals as Ramsay’s and Gay’s where it is impossible to think of the

people and their doings apart from the Nature about them. A similar

dramatic use of Nature is to be seen in Gray, in Collins, in Ossian,

and, in a briefer form, in the Ballads. It is, however, in romantic

fiction that this use of Nature is most abundant during the eighteenth

century. As background, as accompaniment, and further, even as a force

contributing to the progress of the story by its determining influence

on mood and character, external Nature plays an important part. This

background, indeed, sometimes becomes unduly important, almost usurping

the place of the picture, as in Mrs. Radcliffe’s romances.

Nature may, finally, be regarded not only as making a sensuous appeal

to man, or as entering in some way into relationship with him, but

as having an independent and separate existence. The poet who thus

conceives of Nature gives little detailed external description; nor

does he think of a scene in its human connotations, but he goes

through facts and perceives the spirit of the scene, the essential

qualities that make it what it is. Of such use of Nature we find few

eighteenth-century examples. It demands not only Wordsworth’s wise

passiveness of mood, and clarity of vision, and depth of feeling, but

likewise the power to speak the inevitable word.

The detailed study of a barren field in its most barren aspect would be

inexcusably dull and dreary from any but the historical point of view.

The moment that point of view is adopted interest begins. The study

of literature as a growth, and evolution, gives a new significance to

periods of transition. The pleasure of the biologist in the lower forms

of life is paralleled by the delight of the student of literature in

tracing out the first vague, ineffective attempts to express ideas that

are afterward regnant.

The final effect of the present study is one of surprise to find

how completely the ideas of the early nineteenth-century poetry of

Nature were represented in the germ in the eighteenth century. The

whole impression is that before the work of such men as Wordsworth,

Coleridge, and Scott there was a great stir of getting ready. The love

of Nature was awake in the hearts of men. Their eyes were open to her

beauty. Their ears drank in her harmonies. Their spirits were conscious

of her higher gifts. Before Wordsworth most of his characteristic

thoughts on Nature had received fairly explicit statement.

We note also the vitality of the impulse toward Nature as indicated by

the many directions in which it pushed out and demanded expression.

With little self-conscious direction and independently of each other

apparently, the various arts were irresistibly impelled to some sort of

expression of the new interest in the external world. Nor can we ignore

the fact that behind all forms of art expression there must have been

the great impulsive force of a love of Nature active in the hearts of

the mute inglorious many.

When at the end of such a period of preparation the great poet comes,

he is great by virtue of his power to penetrate beneath literary

conventions and to give free, vigorous, adequate expression to the

struggling, half-articulate thoughts and feelings of his own age. He is

not an inexplicable, isolated phenomenon. He has his natural place in

the development. The profound significance of the work that marks an

epoch in thought is that it not only directs the future, but it sums up

the past.

INDICES

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL INDEX

COLLECTIONS

“British Novelists, An Edition with Essays and Lives.” Ed. Anne

Letitia Barbauld. 50 vols. London, 1810.

“British Poets, Less-Known.” Ed. C. C. Clarke. 3 vols.

Edinburgh, 1868.

“British Poets, Works of the.” Ed. Thomas Park. 42 vols.

“Supplement.” 6 vols. London, 1805–1808.

“British Poets.” Ed. Robert Anderson. 13 vols. Edinburgh, 1794.

“Collection of Poems by Several Hands.” Ed. R. Dodsley. 6 vols.

London, 1755–1758. “Supplement,” Ed. Pearch. 4 vols. 1783.

“Collection of Voyages and Travels in All Parts of the World.”

Ed. John Pinkerton. 17 vols. London, 1809.

“English Poets, Later.” Ed. Robert Southey. 3 vols. London, 1807.

“English Poets, The Works of.” Ed. Dr. Samuel Johnson. 63 vols.

London, 1779–1781.

“English Poets from Chaucer to Cowper.” Ed. Alexander Chalmers.

21 vols. London, 1810.

“Fugitive Poets, Classical Arrangement of.” Ed. John Bell. 8

vols. London, 1789.

TEXTS AND BOOKS OF REFERENCE

Addison, Joseph. “Works.” 6 vols. Bohn Ed., London, 1892.

Akenside, Mark. “Poetical Works.” Ed. Dyce. London, 1885.

Amory, Thomas. “Life of John Buncle.” 3 vols. London, 1825.

Armstrong, John. “Poems.” Park’s “British Poets,” Vol. 34.

Armstrong, Sir Walter. “Gainsborough and His Place in British

Art.” Scribners, 1898.

Badeslade. “Views of Kent,” 1722.

Bage, Robert. “Hermsprong.” Mrs. Barbauld’s “British Novelists.”

Baily, J. T. Herbert. “George Morland” (“Connoisseur,” Extra

Number), 1906.

Beattie, James. “Poetical Works.” Aldine Ed., London.

Beckford, William. “Vathek.”

Biese, Alfred. “Die Entwickelung des Naturgefühls im Mittelalter

und der Neuzeit.” Leipzig, 1892.

Blackmore, Richard. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol.

23.

Blair, Robert. “Poems.” Chalmers’ “English Poets,” Vol. 15.

Blake, William. “Works.” Eds. Ellis and Yeats. 3 vols. London,

1893.

Blomfield, Reginald, and Thomas, Inigo. “The Formal Garden.”

London, 1892.

Blümner, Hugo. “Die Farbenbezeichnungen bei den römischen

Dichtern.” Berlin, 1895.

Boswell, James. “Life of Dr. Johnson.” Ed. Birkbeck Hill. 6

vols. Oxford, 1887.

Boulton, William B. “Thomas Gainsborough.”

Bowles, William Lisle. “Poetical Works.” Ed. C. C. Clarke.

Edinburgh, 1868.

Boyse, Samuel. “Poems.” Chalmers’ “English Poets,” Vol. 14.

Brand, J. “Brief Description of Orkney, Zetland,” etc.

Pinkerton’s “Collection,” Vol. 3.

“Britannia Illustrata.” Knyff and Kip. London, 1709.

Britton, John. “Fine Arts in England,” 1805.

Brooke, Henry. “The Fool of Quality.” 3 vols. New York, 1860.

Brooke, Mrs. “History of Lady Julia Mandeville.” Mrs. Barbauld’s

“British Novelists.” “The History of Emily Montagu.” 4 vols.

London, 1769.

Brooke, Stopford A. “Theology in the English Poets.” London,

1891.

Broome, William. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol. 43.

Brown, Dr. John. “Poems.” Anderson’s “British Poets,” Vol. 10.

“Description of Keswick.” Bell’s “Fugitive Poets,” Vol. 2, Notes.

Browne, Isaac Hawkins. Bell’s “Fugitive Poets.”

Bruce, Michael. “Poems.” Anderson’s “British Poets,” Vol. 11,

Pt. 1.

Bryan, Michael. “Dictionary of Painters and Engravers.” London,

1884.

Brydall, Robert. “Art in Scotland.” London, 1859.

Buckingham, Duke of. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,”

Vol. 25.

Burnet, Thomas. “The Sacred Theory of the Earth.” 2 vols.

London, 1759.

Burney, Fanny. “Evelina.” London, 1892. “Cecilia.” 2 vols.

London, 1890.

Burns, Robert. “Works.” Ed. William Scott Douglas. London, 1891.

Burroughs, John. “Fresh Fields.” Boston, 1885.

Butler, Samuel. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vols. 6

and 7.

Chambers, Sir William. “Dissertation on Oriental Gardens.”

London, 1772.

Chapman, George. “Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey.” Ed. R. H.

Shepherd. London, 1885.

Charlanne, Louis. “L’influence française en Angleterre au XVII^e

siècle.” Paris, 1906.

Chaucer, Geoffrey. “Poetical Works.” 6 vols. Aldine Ed., London,

1883.

Collins, William. “Poetical Works.” Ed. M. M. Thomas. Aldine

Ed., London.

Congreve, William. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol.

29.

Conway, W. M. “The Artistic Development of Gainsborough and

Reynolds.”

Cooper, J. G. “Poems.” Chalmers’ “English Poets,” Vol. 15.

Coventry, Francis. “Poems.” Dodsley’s “Collection,” Vol. 4.

“Pompey the Little.” Mrs. Barbauld’s “British Novelists,” Vol.

23.

Cowley, Abraham. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vols, 1

and 2.

Cowper, William. “Poetical Works.” Ed. William Benham. New York,

1889.

Crabbe, George. “Poetical Works.” 8 vols. London, 1851.

Cunningham, Allen. “British Painters.” London, 1879.

Dalton, Dr. John. “Poems.” Bell’s “Fugitive Poets,” Vol. 2.

Davenport, Cyril. “Mezzotints.” Methuen, 1904.

Defoe, Daniel. “The Life and Strange Surprising Adventures of

Robinson Crusoe.” Ed. G. A. Aitken. London, 1895.

Denham, John. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol. 9.

Downing, A. J. “Landscape Gardening and Rural Architecture.” New

York, 1860.

Dryden, John. “Works.” 9 vols. Eds. Scott and Saintsbury.

Edinburgh, 1882.

Duck, Stephen. “Poems.” Southey’s “Later English Poets,” Vol. 2.

Dyer, John. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol. 53.

Evelyn, John. “The Diary of John Evelyn from 1641 to 1705.” Ed.

William Bray. London, 1890.

Falconer, William. “Poetical Works.” Aldine Ed., London, 1882.

“Famous Parks and Gardens of the World.” London, 1880.

Fenton, Elijah. “Poems.” Chalmers’ “English Poets,” Vol. 10.

Fielding, Henry. “Works.” 10 vols. Ed. Leslie Stephen. London,

1882.

Fielding, Sarah. “The Adventures of David Simple.” 2 vols.

London, 1741.

Fischer, Ch. A. “Drei Studien zur englischen

Litteraturgeschichte.” Gotha, 1892.

Fletcher, A. E. “Gainsborough.” Scribner’s Sons, 1904.

Fletcher, Beaumont. “Richard Wilson.” Scribner’s Sons, 1908.

Frankau, Julia. “Eighteenth-Century Colour-Prints,” 1900.

Fulcher, Thomas. “Life of Gainsborough,” 1856.

Garth, Sir Samuel. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol.

20.

Gay, John. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vols. 41 and

42.

Gilpin, William. “Observations, Relative Chiefly to Picturesque

Beauty.” 11 vols. 1783–1809.

Goodwin, Gordon. “British Mezzotinters. James McArdell.” London,

Bullen, MCMIII.

Gosse, Edmund. “Seventeenth Century Studies.” London, 1885.

“From Shakespeare to Pope.” New York, 1885. “A History of

Eighteenth Century Literature.” New York, 1891.

Gower, F.S.A., Lord Ronald Sutherland. “Sir Joshua Reynolds,

F.R.A.” Bell & Sons, 1902.

Grainger, James. “Poems.” Chalmers’ “English Poets,” Vol. 14.

Graves, Richard. “The Spiritual Quixote.” 3 vols., 1773.

Gray, Thomas. “Works.” Ed. Edmund Gosse. 4 vols. New York, 1890.

Green, Matthew Paris. Chalmers’ “English Poets,” Vol. 15.

Hamilton, Rev. Wm. “Letters from Antrim.” Pinkerton’s

“Collection,” Vol. 3.

Hassel, J. “Tour to the Isle of Wight.” Pinkerton’s

“Collection,” Vol. 2.

Hastings, Thomas. “Etchings from the Works of Wilson in the Ford

Collection,” 1825.

Hawkesworth, John. “Almoran and Hamet.” Mrs. Barbauld’s “British

Novelists.”

Hill, Aaron. “Poems.” Anderson’s “British Poets,” Vol. 8.

Howe, Walter. Ed. of “The Gardener: As Considered in Literature

by Some Polite Writers.” G. P. Putnam’s Sons.

Howell, James. “Epistolae Ho-Elianae.” London, 1737.

Hughes, John. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol. 22.

Humboldt, Alexander von. “Kosmos.” 4 vols. Stuttgart, 1890.

Hutchinson, W. “An Excursion to the Lakes in Westmoreland and

Cumberland.” London, 1776.

Inchbald, Mrs. “A Simple Story.” Mrs. Barbauld’s “British

Novelists.”

Jago, Richard. “Poems.” Anderson’s “British Poets,” Vol. 11.

Jenyns, Soame. “Poems.” Bell’s “Fugitive Poets,” Vol. 1.

Johnson, Samuel. “Works.” 9 vols. Oxford English Classics, 1825.

King, William. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol. 20.

Knight, Richard Payne. “The Landscape, A Didactic Poem,” 1794.

Langhorne, John. “Poems.” “British Poets,” Vol. 11.

Langley, Batty. “New Principles of Gardening,” 1728.

Laprade, Victor de. “La sentiment de la nature chez les

modernes.” Paris, 1870.

Lecky, W. E. H. “History of England in the Eighteenth Century.”

8 vols. New York, 1882.

Lee, Vernon. “Euphorion.” Boston, 1885.

Lennox, Mrs. “The Female Quixote.” Mrs. Barbauld’s “British

Novelists.”

“Les délices de la Grande Bretagne et de l’Irlande.” Leyden,

1707.

Logan, John. “British Poets,” Vol. 11.

London, J. C. “Encyclopaedia of Gardening.” London, 1871.

Lyttleton, Lord. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol. 56.

Mackenzie, Henry. “The Man of Feeling.” “Julia de Roubigné.”

Mrs. Barbauld’s “British Novelists.”

Macpherson, James. “Poems of Ossian.” Ed. Dr. Blair. Tauchnitz

Ed. Leipzig, 1847.

McLaughlin, Edward T. “Studies in Mediaeval Life and

Literature.” New York, 1894.

Mallet, David. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol. 53.

Manson, James A. “George Morland.”

Marriott, Mr. “Poems.” Dodsley’s “Supplement,” Vol. 4.

Martin, Mr. “Description of the Western Islands of Scotland.”

Pinkerton’s “Collection,” Vol. 3.

Marvell, Andrew. “Works.” 4 vols. Ed. Grosart. Fuller Worthies’

Library, 1875.

Mason, William. “Poems.” London, 1764. “The English Garden.”

Jencks’s “Rural Poetry.”

Mendes, Moses. “The Seasons.” Bell’s “Fugitive Poets,” Vol. 6.

Mickle, Wm. J. “Poems.” Park’s “British Poets,” Vol. 34.

Miller, Hugh. “Impressions of England and Its People.” London,

1847.

Milton, John. “Poetical Works.” 3 vols. Ed. Masson. New York,

1894.

Monkhouse, Cosmo. “The Earlier English Water-Colour Painters.”

Suley & Co., 1897.

Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley. “Letters and Works.” 2 vols. London,

1887.

Moore, Dr. “Zeluco.” Mrs. Barbauld’s “British Novelists.”

Nettleship, J. T. “George Morland” (“Portfolio,” Dec. 1898).

Nichols, Rose Standish. “English Pleasure Gardens.”

Oliphant, Mrs. M. O. W. “The Reign of Queen Anne.” The Century

Co., 1894.

Paltock, Robert. “The Life and Adventures of Peter Wilkins.” 2

vols. London, 1884.

Parnell, Thomas. “Poetical Works,” London, 1890.

Pattison, William. “Poems.” Anderson’s “British Poets.”

Pennant, Thomas. “Tours in Scotland.” Pinkerton’s “Collection,”

Vol. 3.

Pennecuik, Alexander. “Works in Prose and Verse.” Leith, 1815.

Percy, Bishop. “Reliques of Ancient English Poetry.” 3 vols. Ed.

H. B. Wheatley. London, 1891.

Perry, T. S. “English Literature in the Eighteenth Century.” New

York, 1883.

Petrarca, Francesco. “Lettere Famigliari.” 5 vols. Florence,

1863.

Phelps, W. L. “The Beginnings of the English Romantic Movement.”

Boston, 1893.

Philips, Ambrose. Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol. 14.

Philips, John. Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol. 21.

Pitt, Christopher. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol.

43.

Pope, Alexander. “Works.” 10 vols. Eds. Edwin and Courthope.

London, 1671.

Potter, R. “Poems.” Bell’s “Fugitive Poets,” Vol. 6.

Price, Sir Uvedale. “An Essay on the Picturesque.” London, 1794.

Prior, Matthew. Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vols. 30, 31.

Radcliffe, Mrs. “Romance of a Forest.” 3 vols. London, 1803.

“Mysteries of Udolpho.” 4 vols. London, 1803.

Ramsay, Allan. “Poems.” 2 vols. Paisley, 1877.

Redgrave, Gilbert. “Water-Color Painting in England.” New York,

1892.

Reeve, Cora. “Old English Baron.” Mrs. Barbauld’s “British

Novelists,” Vol. 21.

Repton, Humphrey. “Landscape Gardening and Landscape

Architecture.” Ed. J. C. Loudon. London, 1840.

Richardson, Samuel. “Works.” Ed. Leslie Stephen. 12 vols.

London, 1883.

Robertson, David. “Tour through the Isle of Man.” Pinkerton’s

“Collection,” Vol. 2.

Roscommon, Earl of. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol.

10.

Rouquet. “L’etat des arts en Angleterre et L’Irlande.”

Rowe, Nicholas. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol. 26.

Ruskin, John. “Modern Painters,” 2 vols. Brantwood Ed. London,

1891.

Salaman, Malcolm C. “Old Engravers of England.” London, Cassell

& Co., 1907.

Sandby, Thomas. “Thomas and Paul Sandby.”

Savage, Richard. Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol. 45.

Scott, John. “Poems.” Anderson’s “British Poets,” Vol. 11, Pt. 2.

Shairp, J. C. “On the Poetic Interpretation of Nature.” Boston,

1890.

Shaw, Rev. Mr. “Tour to the West of England.” Pinkerton’s

“Collection,” Vol. 2.

Shenstone, William. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol.

52. “Unconnected Thoughts on Landscape Gardening,” in “Works.” 3

vols. London, 1764–1769.

Sieveking, Albert. “Gardens Ancient and Modern,” 1899.

Smart, Christopher. “Poems.” Chalmers’ “English Poets,” Vol. 16.

“Song to David.” Clarke’s “Less Known British Poets,” Vol. 3.

Smith, Mrs. Charlotte. “The Old Manor House.”

Smollett, Tobias. “Works.” 6 vols. London, 1890.

Somerville, William. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,”

Vol. 47.

Spratt, Thomas. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol. 9.

Stephen, Leslie. “English Thought in the Eighteenth Century.” 2

vols. London, 1887.

Stepney, George. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets.”

Sterne, Laurence. “Works.” Ed. James P. Browne. 2 vols. London,

1885.

Swift, Jonathan. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vols.

39 and 40.

Switzer, Stephen. “The Nobleman, Gentleman, and Gardener’s

Recreation,” 1715 (as “Ichnographia Rustica” 1718).

Symonds, J. A. “Essays Speculative and Suggestive.” London, 1893.

Taine, H. A. “Voyage en Italie.” Paris, 1893.

Temple, Sir William. “Works.” 2 vols. Ed. Jonathan Swift.

London, 1831.

Thompson, William. “Poems.” Anderson’s “British Poets,” Vol. 10.

Thomson, James. “Poetical Works.” 2 vols. Aldine Ed., London,

1867.

Tickell, Thomas. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol. 26.

Veitch, John. “The Feeling for Nature in Scottish Poetry.” 2

vols. Edinburgh, 1887.

Waller, Edmund. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol. 8.

Walpole, Horace. “Works.” 5 vols. London, 1789.

Warton, Joseph. “Poems.” Clarke’s “Less Known British Poets,”

Vol. 3. Dodsley’s “Collection,” Vol. 3. “An Essay on the Genius

and Writings of Pope.” 2 vols. London, 1806.

Warton, Thomas. “Poems.” Anderson’s “British Poets,” Vol. II,

Pt. 2.

Watts, Isaac. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol. 46.

Whateley, Thomas. “Observations on Modern Gardening.” London,

1798.

Whitehead, William. Anderson’s “British Poets,” Vol. II, Pt. 2.

Whitman, Alfred. “The Print Collector’s Handbook,” George Bell,

1901.

Winchilsea, Lady (Anne Finch). “Miscellany Poems on Several

Occasions. Written by a Lady,” 1713. “The Poems of Anne,

Countess of Winchilsea.” Ed. Myra Reynolds. The University of

Chicago Press, 1903.

Wordsworth, William. “Poetical Works.” New York, 1889.

Wright, Thomas, Esq. “The Life of Richard Wilson, Esq., R. A.”

London, 1824.

Yalden, Thomas. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vol. 10.

Young, Arthur. “Tour in Ireland.” Pinkerton’s “Collection,”

Vol. 3. “Tour through Southern Counties.” London, 1772. “Tour

in Ireland.” 2 vols. London, 1780. “A Farmer’s Tour.” 4 vols.

London, 1771.

Young, Edward. “Poems.” Dr. Johnson’s “English Poets,” Vols. 50,

51, 52.

GENERAL INDEX

Addison, Joseph, 8, 21, 25, 31, 33, 45, 52, 80, 82, 83, 203–4, 252,

255, 264, 265.

Akenside, Mark, 12, 19, 30, 47, 112, 123–27, 147, 331, 350, 355–63

(_passim_).

Alexander, William, 322.

Allan, David, 314.

Amherst, The Hon. Alicia, 247, 256.

Amory, Thomas, 9, 208–9, 232, 235, 328, 342, 344.

“Anecdotes of Painting” (Walpole), 262, 274, 278, 284, 310, 322.

“Apollo’s Edict” (Swift), 35.

“Appleton House, Upon” (Marvell), 37, 38, 80.

Armstrong, John, 32, 45, 59, 78, 112, 121, 329, 339, 343, 346.

Armstrong, Sir Walter, 282, 298, 306, 308.

Arnold, Matthew, 62, 63.

Attiret, Père, 271.

Bacon, Francis, 248, 256, 264, 265.

Badeslade, Mr., 248.

Bage, Robert, 216.

Bailey, J. T. H., 320.

“Ballads,” 40, 159–61, 363.

“Bard, The” (Gray), 135, 342.

Barlow, Francis, 285.

Barret, George, 312, 313, 325, 342.

Barrington, Mr., 252.

Beattie, James, 147, 167–73, 222, 331, 333, 337, 342, 344, 345,

346, 349, 353, 356, 358, 359, 361, 363.

Becket, Isaac, 277.

Beckford, William, 215, 317.

Beechey, Sir Thomas, 284.

Bellers, William, 291–92, 310, 342.

Biese, Alfred, xv, xvii, 13, 14, 321.

Birch, W., 300.

Blackmore, Richard, 42.

Blair, Robert, 30, 44, 112, 128–29, 158.

Blake, William, 147, 152, 177–80, 222, 342, 344, 362.

Blomfield and Thomas, 247, 255.

Blümner, Hugo, 48.

Bol, Cornélius, 284.

Boswell, James, 241.

Boul, Philip, 284.

Boulton, William, 305, 306, 308.

Bowles, W. L., 142, 147, 199–202, 335, 342, 350, 363.

Boydell, John, 293, 300, 311, 312, 341, 342.

Boyse, Samuel, 112, 118–19, 354.

Brand, John, 224, 327.

Bray, Mr., 241, 242–43.

Bridgeman, Thomas, 259–60.

“Brief Description of the Orkneys” (Brand), 224–25.

“British Painters” (Cunningham), 294, 296.

Brooke, Henry, 212.

Brooke, Mrs., 211, 222, 352.

Brooke, Stopford, xx.

Brooking, Charles, 288.

Broome, William, 19, 20, 21, 26.

Brown, John, 147–48, 227, 232, 235, 240, 241, 323, 328, 337, 338,

342, 344.

Brown, Lancelot, 265–69.

Browning, Mrs., 62, 63.

Bruce, Michael, 147, 161–63, 331, 348, 350, 356.

Brydall, Robert, 294.

Buck, Samuel, 289.

“Buncle, Life of John,” 9, 208–9, 222, 328.

Burney, Fanny, 215.

Burns, Robert, 147, 179, 194–95, 222, 333, 334, 342, 347, 348, 349,

353, 357, 363.

Burroughs, John, xx.

Bushe, Mr., 225.

Butler, Samuel, 34.

Butts, John, 294.

Byrne, William, 300, 301.

“Caleb Williams” (Godwin), 216.

Canot, P. C., 288, 300.

“Castle of Indolence” (Thomson), 85, 322.

“Castle of Otranto” (Walpole), 212.

“Chace, The” (Somerville), 112, 113, 155.

Chambers, Sir William, 271–72.

Charlanne, Louis, 246.

Chaucer, Geoffrey, xix, 40, 62, 63.

Chinese Influence, 268, 271–72.

“Clarissa Harlowe,” 205.

Classical Period, subdivisions, 1–2;

preference for city life, 2–7;

dislike of grand or terrible in Nature, 7;

mountains, 7–15;

ocean, 15–18;

winter, 18–19;

dislike of remote or mysterious, 19;

sky, 19–23;

pleasure in gentler forms, 24;

description traditional and bookish, 25–27;

similitudes, 27–35;

subordination of nature to man, 36–39;

poetic diction, 39–46;

imitative character of poetry, 46–53;

man the supreme interest, 53–57;

summary, 57.

Cleveley, John, 313, 322.

Cleveley, Robert, 314.

Coleridge, S. T., v, 62, 63, 120, 121, 199, 345, 349, 364.

Collins, William, xix, 112, 121–23, 146, 329, 335, 337, 344, 345,

346, 363.

Congreve, William, 19, 26, 30, 36.

Constable, John, vi, 294, 304, 307, 317, 321.

“Constable, Memoir of the Life of John” (C. R. Leslie), 304, 307.

Cooper, J. G., 112, 127–28, 343, 356, 358.

“Cooper’s Hill” (Denham), 32, 80.

“Country Walk, The” (Dyer), 102, 106, 107, 330, 332.

Coventry, Francis, 112, 132, 206, 261, 342, 345.

Cowley, Abraham, 1, 2, 7, 20, 21, 29, 30, 31, 32, 34, 37, 41, 42,

45, 55, 56.

Cowper, William, xix, xx, 62, 64, 88, 147, 173, 184–94, 196, 222,

266;

in General Summary _passim_.

Cozens, Alexander, 292, 311.

Cozens, John Robert, 292, 317–18, 342.

Crabbe, George, 68, 79, 105, 147, 180–84, 333, 342.

Cradock, Joseph, 239, 323.

Cumberland, Richard, 147, 176–77, 241.

Cunningham, Allan, 294, 296, 314.

“Cyder” (J. Philips), 11, 20, 59, 60, 146, 155.

Dalton, Dr. John, 112, 138–39, 146, 226, 232, 240, 241, 340, 347,

350.

Danckerts, Hendrik, 284.

Davenport, Cyril, 277, 280.

“David Simple” (Sarah Fielding), 205.

Dayes, Edward, 316.

“Délices de la Grande Bretagne et de l’Irlande,” 248.

Denham, John, 1, 7, 11, 32, 80.

“Description of the Western Islands of Scotland” (Martin), 224.

“Descriptive Poem, A” (Dalton), 138, 226, 241.

“Deserted Village, The” (Goldsmith), 166.

Devis, Anthony, 300, 311, 312, 322, 342.

“Diary of John Evelyn,” 8, 9, 247.

Diction, 20–24, 39–49, 60, 92–93, 99–100, 101, 105, 109, 124.

Downing, A. J., 263.

Dryden, John, 1, 2, 4, 15, 19, 29, 30, 31, 33, 34, 40, 41, 42, 43,

45, 46, 47, 50, 51, 121, 342.

Duck, Stephen, 111.

Dyer, John, 30, 31, 33, 42, 45, 72, 101–4, 109, 111, 112, 117, 175;

in General Summary _passim_.

“Eclogues” (Gay), 64, 66.

“Eclogues” (Virgil), 51, 66.

Edwardes, Edwards, 298.

“Eighteenth Century Colour Prints” (Frankau), 280.

“Eighteenth Century, English Literature of the” (Perry), xx, 12.

“Eighteenth Century, English Thought in the” (Stephen), xx.

“Eighteenth Century, History of England in the” (Lecky), xx, 14.

“Eighteenth Century Literature, A History of” (Gosse), xx, 64, 163.

“Elegy in a Country Churchyard” (Gray), 133–35.

Elliott, Mr., 300.

“Emily Montague” (Mrs. Brooke), 211–12, 222.

“England and English People” (Miller), 262.

“England, Fine Arts in” (Britton), 300.

“England, The Art of” (Ruskin), 303.

“Englischen Litteraturgeschichte, Drei Studien zur” (Fischer), xx.

“English Literature, An Illustrated History of”

(Gosse and Garnett), 274.

“English Masters, Old” (Van Dyke), 282.

“English Poets” (Ward), 61.

“English Romantic Movement, The” (Phelps), xx, 133.

“English Water-Colour Painters, The Earlier” (Monkhouse), 290, 292,

313, 315, 317, 318.

“Engravers of England, Old” (Salaman), 28, 285.

Engravers. _See_ under Becket, Byrne, Canot, Elliott, Green,

McArdell, Major, Mason, Ravenet, Reynolds, Rooker, Smith,

Vivares, Watson, Watts, Woollett.

“Enthusiast, The” (Warton), 139, 140, 141, 145, 332.

“Entwickelung des Naturgefühls, Die” (Biese), xvii, 13, 14, 18, 21,

321.

“Epistle, Fourth” (Pope), 258, 272, 328.

“Essays Speculative and Suggestive” (Symonds), xx, 24.

“Etat des arts en Angleterre” (Rouquet), 287.

“Euphorion” (Lee), xx, 24, 160.

“Evelina” (Burney), 215.

Evelyn, John, 8, 55, 247, 265.

“Evergreen, The,” 75, 332.

Falconer, Robert, 16–18, 21, 44.

“Farbenzeichnungen bei den römischen Dichtern” (Blümner), 48.

Farington, Joseph, 311, 315, 316, 342.

“Ferdinand Count Fathom” (Smollett), 207.

Fielding, Henry, 118, 205.

Fielding, Sarah, 205.

“Fleece, The” (Dyer), 30, 31, 101, 102, 103, 104, 155, 331, 342.

Fletcher, A. E., 308.

Fletcher, Beaumont, 296, 298, 303.

“Fool of Quality” (Brooke), 212.

Ford Collection of Wilson’s pictures, 302.

“Forest Scenery” (Gilpin), 313.

Fox, Charles, 321.

Frankau, Julia, 280.

“Fresh Fields” (Burroughs), xx.

Fulcher, G. W., 305.

Gainsborough, Thomas, 278, 281–84, 304–9, 311, 315, 320, 328.

For books on, _see_ under Sir Walter Armstrong, Boulton,

Fulcher, Horne.

Galleries, Art:

British Museum Print Room, 290, 292, 293, 300, 302, 311, 318;

Dulwich, 274, 279, 286, 302;

Glasgow, 302;

Hampton Court, 275, 277, 286;

Manchester, 302;

National, 274, 279, 286, 288, 290, 296, 304, 306, 319;

South Kensington, 281, 285, 288, 289, 291, 292, 302, 304, 313,

316, 317, 318, 319;

Wallace, 282, 286;

Whitworth Institute (Manchester), 289;

Royal Academy, 296.

“Garden, Kensington” (Tickell), 42.

Gardening Exhibition, 249.

Gardens, xviii, 132, 133, 208, 231, 238, 242–43, 261–72.

Gardens, Books on. _See_ under Amherst, Attiret, Bacon,

Barrington, Blomfield and Thomas, Chambers, Coventry, Downing,

Evelyn, Goldsmith, Hazlitt, Howe, Langley, Lawson, London,

Mason, Nichols, Repton, Shenstone, Sieveking, Switzer, Temple,

Walpole, Whateley.

Gardens, Oriental, 271–72.

Gardens, Ruins in, 270–71.

Garth, Dr. Samuel, 21, 24, 25, 46.

Gay, John, 6, 20, 21, 29, 30, 45, 51, 59, 64–68, 73, 75, 77, 78,

83, 92, 114, 121, 167, 288;

in General Summary _passim_.

Geikie, Sir Archibald, xx.

“Gentle Shepherd, The” (Ramsay), 73, 75, 76, 77, 314, 331.

Gilpin, Sawrey, 313.

Gilpin, William, 103, 227, 235–39, 241, 268, 269, 313, 316, 327,

328, 343, 357.

Girtin, Thomas, 318.

Goldsmith, Oliver, xix, 147, 165–67, 212, 262, 265, 271, 333.

Goodwin, Gordon, 280.

Gosse, Edmund, xx, 1, 61, 64, 120, 127, 163, 274.

Gower, Lord R. S., 279, 280, 281.

Graeme, James, 147, 155–56.

Graves, Algernon, 310.

Gray, Thomas, xix, 46, 52, 112, 121, 132, 133–36, 146, 147, 172,

176, 230–33, 235, 241, 310;

in General Summary _passim_.

Green, Valentine, 280.

Greene, Matthew, 112, 116, 146.

Greenhill, John, 276.

“Grongar Hill” (Dyer), 42, 72, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107, 349.

“Guardian, The,” 82, 253, 256, 259, 349.

Hagley Park, 261, 262.

Hamilton, Mr., 225, 262.

Hamilton, William, xviii, 112, 117–18, 350, 352, 354, 356, 359.

Hanscome, Elizabeth, xx.

Hassel, Mr., 244.

Hastings, Thomas, 298, 302.

Hawkesworth, John, 210.

Hazlitt, William, 2, 256.

Hearne, Thomas, 315, 322, 325.

“Hermsprong” (Bage), 216.

Highmore, Joseph, 277.

Hill, Aaron, 5, 121.

Hill, Joseph, 185.

“History of Lady Julia Mandeville” (Mrs. Brooke), 211.

Homer, xix, 17, 39, 54.

Hoppner, John, 284.

Horace, 49, 51, 98, 113, 121.

Horne, H. P., 283.

Houseman, Mr., 244.

Howe, Walter, 265.

Howell, James, 8.

Hudson, Thomas, 277.

Huet, D. P., 256.

Hughes, John, 19, 20, 21, 30, 32, 37.

Humboldt, Alexander von, xv, 12, 54, 321.

“Humphrey Clinker” (Smollett), 213–14, 289.

Hutchinson, Mr., 10, 227, 240–41, 324.

“Hymn” (Thomson), 113, 354.

Ibbetson, J. C., 316.

Inchbald, Mrs., 216.

“Influence française en Angleterre” (Charlanne), 246.

Ireland, 225, 228, 230, 294, 295.

Irwin, Viscount, 265.

Jago, Richard, 112, 131, 147, 269, 342, 348, 349.

Jameson, Mrs., 281.

Jervas, Charles, 277.

Johnson, Dr. Samuel, 3, 10, 109, 121, 122, 209–10, 224, 241, 242,

338.

“Johnson, Life of Dr.,” 3, 10.

“Jonathan Wild” (Fielding), 205.

“Joseph Andrews” (Fielding), 205.

“Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides” (Boswell), 241.

“Journey through England” (Macky), 225.

“Journey to the Hebrides” (Johnson), 241.

“Julia de Roubigné” (Mackenzie), 215.

Keats, John, v, 62, 63, 127, 339.

“Kent, Views of” (Badeslade), 248.

Kent, William, 140, 255, 256, 259, 260, 261, 264, 268, 328.

Kip and Knyff, 248, 249.

Klenze, Camillo von, xx.

Kneller, Sir Godfrey, 276–77, 278, 327.

Knight, R. P., 266–68, 317.

“Kosmos,” xv, 12, 55, 321.

Lake District, The English, 10, 14, 138–39, 148, 150, 176, 226–30,

231, 232, 234–35, 238, 241–42, 243, 244, 292, 295, 307–8, 310,

312, 315, 316, 321, 323, 324.

“Lakes, An Excursion to the” (Hutchinson), 10, 240–41.

“Lakes, A Guide to the” (West), 241.

“Lakes, A Journal in the” (Gray), 232, 241, 310.

Lambert, George, 290.

Lambert, James, 312.

Landscape Backgrounds. _See_ under artist’s names: Beechey,

Gainsborough, Highmore, Hoppner, Hudson, Jervas, Kneller, Lely,

Mytens, Oliver, Opie, Raeburn, Reynolds, Richardson, Romney,

Vandyck, Wissing.

Landscape Painting from 1660 to 1800: period 1660–1707, 284–87;

period 1707–1755, 287–95;

period 1755–1800, 295–320;

artists in foreign lands, 321–22;

dominance of foreign models, 322–26.

_See also_ under names of artists; Alexander, Allan, Barlow,

Barret, Bellers, Bol, Boul, Boydell, Buck, Cleveley,

Constable, Cozens, Danckerts, Dayes, Devis, Farington, Fox,

Gainsborough, Gilpin, Girtin, Hearne, Ibbetson, Lambert,

Lankrink, Looten, Lorraine, Loutherbourg, Mengs, Monamy,

Morland, Norris, Pars, Pether, Place, Pocock, Poussin,

Rogers, Rosa, Runciman, Ruysdael, Sandby, Scott, Serres,

Smith, Streater, Sybrecht, Taverner, Turner, Van de Velde,

Vandiest, Van Wyck, Vernet, Verzagen, Webber, Wilson,

Wootten, Zucarelli.

Landscape Painting, Books on. _See_ under following authors;

Armstrong (Sir Walter), Baily, Biese, Boulton, Brydall,

Cunningham, Davenport, Fletcher (A. E.), Fletcher (Beaumont),

Frankau, Fulcher, Goodwin, Gower, Graves, Hastings, Horne,

Leslie, Manson, Monkhouse, Nettleship, Peter Pindar, Reynolds,

Rouquet, Ruskin, Salaman, Sandby (William), Smith (J. T.),

Thornbury, Van Dyke, Walpole, Whitman, Wright.

Langhorne, John, 147, 148–51, 344, 349, 350, 352, 357, 358, 363.

Langley, Batty, 257–58, 271.

Lankrink, Henry, 284.

Latin, Imitation of, 46–51, 60, 98.

Lawson, William, 248.

Leasowes, 262–63.

Lecky, W. E. H., xx, 14.

Lee, Vernon, xx, 24.

Lely, Sir Peter, 270, 275–76, 277, 281, 284, 285.

Le Nôtre, 246, 247, 248, 327.

Lennox, Mrs., 207.

Leprade, Victor de, xvi.

Leslie, C. R., 304, 307.

“Letter from Keswick” (Brown), 14, 226–27, 241, 323, 328, 337, 338.

“Letters from Antrim” (Hamilton), 225.

Letters quoted:

Beattie, 170;

Bolingbroke, 6;

Brown, 14, 226;

Burns, 194;

Cowper, 173, 184, 185, 186;

Gainsborough, 305, 307, 309;

Goethe, 14;

Gray, 172, 231;

Howell, 8;

Lyttleton, 172;

Montagu, 4;

Petrarch, 12;

Pope, 2, 3, 6, 18, 19, 82, 256;

Thomson, 85, 95, 96, 108;

Walker, 195;

Walpole, 255.

Linton, Sir James D., 304.

Logan, John, 147, 163–64, 336, 339.

London, George, 246, 247.

Longford, Mr., 325.

Lock, Rev. John, 313.

Lock, William, 296, 298.

Looten, John, 284.

Lorraine, Claude, 264, 287, 291, 294, 312, 322, 323, 324.

Loutherbourg, James de, 314, 315.

Lowell, J. R., 33, 348.

Lyttleton, Lord, 5, 7, 18, 26, 148, 172, 261.

McArdell, J., 277, 280.

MacClintock, W. D., 93.

Mackenzie, Henry, 213, 215, 352.

McLaughlin, Edward T., xx, 13, 19, 23.

Macky, Mr., 225.

Macpherson, James, xx, 147, 156–59.

Major, Thomas, 305.

Mallet, David, 3, 33, 45, 84, 85, 107–9, 111, 112, 224;

in General Summary _passim_.

“Man of Feeling, The” (Mackenzie), 213.

Manson, James A., 320.

Marriott, Mr., 27.

Martin, Mr., 224.

Marvell, Andrew, 2, 10, 34, 37, 38, 80, 87.

Mason, I., 291, 300.

Mason, William, 112, 132–33, 240, 250, 255, 256, 263–64, 270, 323,

324.

“Mediaeval Life and Literature” (McLaughlin), xx, 13, 19, 24.

Mendes, Moses, 112, 130–31, 339.

Mengs, Raphael, 284.

Mickle, W. J., 147, 153–55;

in General Summary _passim_.

Miller, Hugh, 262.

Milton, John, xvii, xix, 2, 11, 30, 31, 33, 44, 47, 62, 63, 89, 93,

121, 132, 140, 142, 144, 156, 162, 200, 254, 256, 264.

“Minstrel, The,” 167, 172, 173, 331, 333, 346, 358, 361.

“Modern Painters” (Ruskin), xvi, 23, 54.

Monamy, Peter, 288, 325.

Monkhouse, Cosmo, 289, 292, 313, 315, 317, 318.

Montagu, Lady M. W., 18, 19, 265.

Morland, George, 285, 318–20.

For books on, _see_ under authors: Bailey, Manson,

Nettleship.

Moor Park, 250.

Morel, Leon, 201.

Mountains, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 59, 65, 68, 77, 99, 104,

131, 132, 135, 138–39, 140, 153, 156, 162, 170, 176, 208–9,

213–14, 220–21, 226–27, 231, 237, 238, 239, 240, 301, 307–8,

311, 312, 315, 317–18, 321, 341–42, 349–50.

“Mysteries of Udolpho” (Radcliffe), 219, 222.

Mytens, Daniel, 275.

“Naive und sentimentalische Dichtung” (Schiller), xv.

“Nature in German Literature, Treatment of” (Batt), xx.

“Nature in Old English Poetry, Feeling for” (Hanscome), xx, 11.

“Nature in Scottish Poetry, Feeling for” (Veitch), xviii, 18, 55,

81.

“Nature in Works of Nicholas Lenau, Treatment of” (Von Klenze), xx.

Nettleship, J. T., 320.

Nichols, Rose S., 248, 251.

“Night Thoughts” (Young), 21, 30, 120, 361.

“Nocturnal Revery” (Winchilsea), 62, 337, 348, 354.

Norris, John, 293, 294.

“Observations on the Faerie Queen” (Warton), 145.

“Observations on Picturesque Beauty” (Gilpin), 268.

Ocean, 15–18, 69, 99, 119–20, 154.

“Ode to Evening” (Collins), 329, 345.

“Old English Baron, The” (Reeve), 214.

“Old Manor House” (Mrs. Smith), 217–19.

Oliphant, Mrs., 277.

Oliver, Isaac, 274.

Opie, John, 284.

Paltock, Robert, 206.

“Pamela” (Richardson), 304–5.

“Paradise Lost” (Milton), 30, 31, 44, 46, 254, 334.

Parnell, Thomas, 12, 21, 26, 31, 33, 45, 48, 59, 68–71, 83, 106,

117, 271;

in General Summary _passim_.

Pars, William, 322.

Pasquin, Anthony, 324.

“Pastorals” (A. Philips), 51, 60, 61, 66, 67, 80, 332.

“Pastorals” (Gay), 66–68.

“Pastorals” (Pope), 51.

Pattison, William, 59, 71–72, 331, 358.

Pennant, Thomas, 233–35, 240, 241, 344.

Pennecuik, Alexander, 9, 73, 225.

Percy, Bishop, 40, 159–61.

“Peregrine Pickle” (Smollett), 207.

Perry, T. S., xx, 12.

Peter Pindar. _See_ Wolcot.

“Peter Wilkins” (Paltock), 206.

Pether, Abraham, 316.

Petrarch, 12.

Phelps, W. L., xx, 133.

Philips, Ambrose, 30, 35, 51, 59, 60–61, 66, 82, 83, 332, 335, 339,

352, 356.

Philips, John, 11, 20, 58, 59–60, 146, 336, 341, 344, 356.

Pitt, Christopher, 19, 20, 21, 42, 45, 50.

Place, Francis, 285.

“Pleasures of the Imagination” (Akenside), 12, 123, 124, 125, 126,

331, 361.

Pocock, Nicholas, 314.

“Poetic Interpretation of Nature” (Veitch), xix, 59, 93.

“Pompey the Little” (Coventry), 206.

Pope, Alexander, xviii, 2, 3, 5, 12, 16, 18, 26, 30, 32, 33, 39,

40, 47, 48, 50, 51, 52, 57, 61, 66, 80, 81, 82, 83, 98, 111,

113, 121, 142, 146, 253, 255, 256, 258, 259, 264, 265, 272,

327.

“Pope, Essay on” (Warton), 81, 142, 143, 147, 333.

Portraiture, Landscape in. _See_ Landscape Backgrounds.

Potter, Rev. R., 136–37, 336, 342, 348, 349.

Poussin, Nicholas, 176, 262, 287, 322, 323, 324.

Price, Sir Uvedale, 267–68.

Prior, Matthew, 20, 21, 22, 26, 30, 32, 33.

“Quixote, The Spiritual” (Lennox), 267, 270.

Radcliffe, Mrs., 219–22, 241, 327, 328, 334, 343, 344, 348, 357.

Raeburn, Sir Henry, 284.

Ramsay, Allan, xviii, xix, 32, 59, 72–77, 83, 113, 143, 146;

in General Summary _passim_.

“Rasselas” (Johnson), 209–11.

Rathbone, John, 316.

Ravenet, S. F., 288.

Reeve, Clara, 209–11.

“Reliques of Ancient Poetry” (Percy), 41, 159.

Relph, Joseph, 112, 128–29, 146, 147, 241, 336.

Repton, Humphrey, 256, 268–69, 327.

Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 278, 279–81, 283, 303.

For books on, _see_ under authors: Davenport, Frankau,

Goodwin, Gower, Salaman, Whitman.

Reynolds, S. W., 280.

Riccaltoun, Robert, 59, 78, 79, 346.

Richardson, Jonathan, 277.

Richardson, Samuel, 102, 204, 205, 207, 327.

“Ride over Skiddaw” (Radcliffe), 241.

Robertson, Mr., 245.

“Robinson Crusoe” (Defoe), 204.

“Roderick Random” (Smollett), 205.

Rogers, Mr., 294.

“Romance of a Forest” (Radcliffe), 219, 222.

Romney, George, 284.

Rooker, E. and M., 300, 301.

Rosa, Salvator, 177, 262, 264, 287, 322, 323, 324.

Rouquet, M., 287, 288, 295.

Rousseau, J. J., 14, 141.

Rudworth, Mr., 244.

Runciman, Alexander, 293.

Ruskin, John, xvi, 23, 54, 303, 318.

Ruysdael, Jacob I., 264, 285, 287, 323, 324.

Salaman, M. C., 280, 286.

Sandby, Paul, 290, 293, 311–12, 313, 341, 342.

“Sandby, Thomas and Paul” (Sandby), 311.

Sandby, William, 311.

Savage, Richard, 19, 29, 109–11, 336, 340, 346.

Scotland, 224, 231, 233, 234, 241–42, 244, 285, 287, 293, 294, 295,

312, 315, 318, 320, 338, 349.

“Scotland, Second Tour in” (Pennant), 233.

Scott, John, 19, 147, 173–76, 180, 193, 222, 310;

in General Summary _passim_.

Scott, Samuel, 288, 310, 325.

Scott, Sir Walter, v, xvii, xx, 262, 349, 364.

“Seasons, The.” _See_ Thomson.

“Sentiment de la nature, La” (Laprade), xvi.

“Sentimental Journey, A” (Sterne), 213.

Serres, Dominic, 313.

Serres, J. T., 314, 325.

Seymour, James, 288.

Shairp, J. C., xix, 59, 77, 93.

“Shakespeare to Pope, From” (Gosse), 1.

Shakspere, William, xvi, xvii, xviii, xix, 41, 121, 142, 200.

Shaw, Rev. Mr., 244.

Shelley, P. B., v, xvii, 15, 62, 63, 121, 180, 339, 345, 346.

Shenstone, William, 5, 7, 19, 21, 26, 37, 45, 47, 48, 112, 113–16,

143, 146, 147, 175, 262–63, 269;

in General Summary _passim_.

“Shepherd’s Week, The” (Gay), 64, 66.

“Shipwreck, The” (Falconer), 17, 21, 45.

Sheridan, P. B., 28.

Sieveking, A. F., 249, 257.

“Simple Story, A” (Inchbald), 216.

“Sir Charles Grandison” (Richardson), 207–8.

“Sir Launcelot Greaves” (Smollett), 210.

“Sir Roger de Coverley” (Addison), 203.

Smart, Christopher, 146, 147, 151–53.

Smith, Mrs. Charlotte, 216–19, 334.

Smith, George (of Chichester), 291, 324.

Smith, J. R., 277, 280.

Smith, J. T., 319.