The treatment of nature in English poetry between Pope and Wordsworth

Armstrong says that the “floating wilderness”

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

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

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,

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

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

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, 302, 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, 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, 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.
• Smith, Thomas (of Derby), 290, 292, 310, 325.
• Smollett, Tobias, 205, 207, 210, 213–14, 289, 342, 350.
• Somerville, William, 21, 30, 32, 41, 42, 112–13, 146, 147.
• “Song to David” (Smart), 151.
• Southcote, Philip, 261.
• Southey, Robert, 128, 199.
• “Spectator, The,” 82, 252.
• Spenser, Edmund, xvii, 83, 121, 136, 142, 264.
• Stephen, Leslie, xx.
• Sterne, Laurence, 210, 213, 343.
• Streater, Robert, 285.
• Stubbs, George, 288, 311.
• “Studies in Poetry and Philosophy” (Shairp), xx.
• Swaine, Francis, 325.
• Swift, Jonathan, 35, 92.
• Switzer, Stephen, 254, 260.
• Sybrecht, John, 284.
• Symonds, J. A., xx, 24, 29.
• “Symphones, Les” (Laprade), xxi.

• Taine, H. A., 56.
• “Task, The” (Cowper), 184, 185, 187, 188, 189, 190, 191, 192, 266, 361.
• “Tatler, The,” 251.
• Taverner, William, 289–90.
• Temple, Sir William, 249–50, 265.
• Tennyson, Alfred, 66, 180.
• Theocritus, 51, 55.
• “Theology in the English Poets” (Brooke), xx.
• “Theory of the Earth” (Burnet), 9, 22.
• Thompson, William, 112, 129–30.
• Thomson, James, xvi, xvii, xviii, xix, xx, 32, 45, 46, 58, 59, 61, 64, 73, 78, 79, 80, 81, 83–101, 106, 107, 108, 109, 111, 113, 119, 121, 130, 140, 141, 142, 143, 167, 172, 174, 175, 190, 193, 196, 210, 272, 320, 322.
• in General Summary passim.
• “Thomson, James: La vie et ses œuvres” (Morel), 101.
• Thornbury, Walter, 315.
• Tickell, Thomas, 12, 21, 29, 42, 52, 116.
• “Tom Jones” (Fielding), 118, 205–6.
• Tours. See under Boswell, Brand, Bray, Brown, Bushe, Cradock, Gilpin, Gray, Hamilton, Hassell, Johnson, Macky, Martin, Rudworth, Shaw, Walker, West, Young (Arthur).
• “Trees, Thirty-two Species of” (Alex. Cozens), 311.
• “Tristram Shandy” (Sterne), 210.
• Turner, J. M. W., vi, 304, 318, 320, 327, 328, 343.
• “Types of Scenery and Their Influence on Literature” (Geikie), xx.

• Unwin, Rev. William, 185, 186.

• Van de Velde, the Elder, 284, 286.
• Van de Velde, the Younger, 284, 286, 287, 288, 325.
• Vandiest, Adrien, 285.
• Vandyck, Sir Anthony, 274, 275, 276, 277, 278, 279.
• Van Dyke, John, 282.
• Van Wyck, Jan, 285.
• “Vathek” (Beckford), 215.
• Veitch, John, xviii, 11, 18, 55, 81.
• Vernet, C. J., 284.
• Verzagen, Henry, 284.
• “Vicar of Wakefield” (Goldsmith), 212.
• “Village, The” (Crabbe), 181, 182.
• Virgil, 263.
• Vivares, François, 291, 310.
• “Voyage en Italie” (Taine), 56.

• Wales, 236, 239, 244, 293, 295, 300, 301, 311, 312, 315, 316, 320, 323, 349.
• Walker, Mr., 244.
• Waller, Edmund, 1, 7, 10, 15, 20, 21, 27, 29, 30, 31, 36, 37, 39, 43, 48, 327.
• Walpole, Horace, 212, 250, 254, 255, 256, 259, 260, 262, 265, 274, 275, 277, 278, 284, 306, 310, 322.
• Warton, Joseph, 81, 111, 112, 134, 139–43, 146, 147, 199, 200;
• in General Summary passim.
• Warton, Thomas, 112, 143–45, 344, 346, 351.
• Watson, Caroline, 280.
• Watts, Isaac, 7, 20, 21, 30, 36, 50.
• Watts, W., 300.
• Webber, John, 322.
• West, Mr., 227, 241, 324.
• Whately, Thomas, 265.
• Whitehead, William, 112, 145–46, 332, 356.
• Whitman, Alfred, 280.
• “Wilson, Etchings after Richard” (Hastings), 302.
• Wilson, Richard, 287, 296–304, 309, 310, 311, 314, 315, 316, 328, 342.
• For books on Wilson see under authors: Beaumont Fletcher, Ruskin, Wright.
• “Wilson, Studies and Designs by,” 302.
• “Wilson, Thirty-seven Sketches and Designs by,” 302.
• Winchilsea, Lady, vi, 23, 59, 61–64, 83, 117, 249, 271;
• in General Summary passim.
• Wissing, William, 276.
• Wolcot, John, 314.
• Woollett, William, 301, 302.
• Wootten, John, 288, 325.
• Wordsworth, William, v, xvii, xviii, xix, xx, 6, 7, 19, 23, 27, 33, 37, 38, 45, 50, 58, 61, 63, 64, 68, 72, 80, 81, 93, 97, 101, 105, 118, 121, 124, 125, 126, 134, 136, 139, 143, 148, 151, 165, 169, 172, 177, 180, 190, 191, 193, 239, 244, 301, 320;
• in General Summary passim.
• Wright, Richard, 313.

• Yalden, John, 11, 20, 31, 42.
• Young, Arthur, 228–30, 232, 241, 344, 348, 355.
• Young, Edward, 5, 15, 16, 20, 21, 22, 30, 31, 89, 112, 119–21, 147, 359, 361, 363.

• “Zeitschrift für Litteraturgeschichte,” xvii.
• “Zeluco” (Moore), 216.
• Zucarelli, A., 297.