ever thought." The spots he enjoyed most are Matlock High Tor, and wild places on the Dore and the Derwent, Aysgarth Force in the Eure, and rocky Gordale. He noted especially waterfalls and rivers. Of the Derwent at Matlock he says:

"It is a most romantic and beautiful ride. The river is sometimes hid behind trees, sometimes it glides smooth and calm, sometimes a distant fall is heard; here it tumbles over a ledge of rocks stretching quite across, there it rushes over rude fragments, torn by storms from the impending masses. Each side, but particularly the farther one, is bordered by lofty rocks, generally clothed with wood, in the most picturesque manner.”

Passages such as this, though perhaps not very effective, show an attention arrested by the beauties of nature. There is a closeness of detail indicating first-hand observation, and the prevailing tone shows that Mr. Bray justly claims for himself "a taste for nature in her genuine simplicity."

Of the Travels after 1778, numerous as they are, few need special mention, because almost no really new elements appear in them. A few new tours are sketched out, as to the Isle of Wight and the Isle of Man. But in general the same old ground is gone over, the preference still being accorded to Scotland, Wales, and the English Lakes. In 1796, but three years before Wordsworth went to Dove Cottage, there appeared four new Tours to the Lakes by Rudworth, Walker, Houseman, and Hutchinson. In 1794-5 there were five Tours in Wales. Of a few of these books perhaps some mention should be made.

The Rev. Mr. Shaw's Tour (1788) in the west of England is significant for two reasons. It is one of the first books to make literary associations prominent in the description. He says that Woodstock is classic ground because Chaucer lived there; Horton is sacred because of Milton; Beaconsfield, because of Waller; Windsor Forest, because of Pope; and Stoke Pogis, because of "the sublime and the pathetic Gray." The second point of significance is Mr. Shaw's evident irritation at the apparently overweening attention to mountains. He says that if people could forget Skiddaw and Ben Lomond for a little while they might be able to see the rich beauty of the champaign country about

Malvern Hills. Mr. Shaw goes back to the "crowds and bustle of London with great regret because, he says, no matter what society you find there, nothing can make up for the pensive enjoyments of a feeling mind in a picturesque country.

Hassel's Tour of the Isle of Wight (1790) is in the style of Gilpin's work. The general knowledge of the Lake Country and the general admiration of it is shown by his comparisons. A certain spot has "all the appearance of a Westmoreland scene.” Certain noble hills "rise with all the majesty of the Skiddaw mountains." Hassel's purpose is a search for the picturesque. He especially notes rich effects of color, and the varying lights of sunrise and sunset. He sees nature in a succession of pictures, but his language is free from the technicalities of Gilpin.

Robertson's Tour in the Isle of Man (1794) has little effective description, but it is noteworthy as one of the first books of travel to be infected by the sentimental melancholy of the romancers. His Manxmen "recline by some romantic stream in the true pensive spirit. He visits churchyards and solitary places. He pores over the mazy stream, he watches the rooks, he listens to the sighing evening breeze, very much like one of Mrs. Brooke's lovelorn heroes. Occasionally he has some expressions of deeper import, as when he says that Nature not only charms the eye "but purifies and ennobles the soul." "The mind is filled with divine enthusiasm." He is, however, perhaps adequately characterized by the word "romantic," which he uses until it becomes almost unbearable.

Of Travels in general we may say that the transfer of emphasis from man to nature is strongly marked. The love of nature as shown in Travels is later in development than it is in poetry, but when the new feeling does find expression it sounds no uncertain note, and by the end of the century has reached a statement as bold and unqualified as that which is found in the poetry itself.

The great achievement of the eighteenth century was in the development of fiction. The famous names here are, of course, Richardson, Fielding, Smollett, and Sterne. After them, and also to a less degree, contemporary with them, are many writers of fiction the quality of whose work has consigned them to the list of "The Neglected, the Disdained, the Forgotten," and in most cases it would be a literary misfortune if by any chance they should fall into the fourth class, "The Resuscitated," As literature they are almost unreadable. It is only from the historical point of view that they can arouse any real interest. For the present purpose I do not pretend to have read all the works of fiction written in the eighteenth century. The forty-three mentioned here were selected because by their dates they represent the century as a whole, and because they represent also the various kinds of fiction. I shall first speak of these briefly in chronological order, and then indicate such general statements as may seem the legitimate outcome of the facts presented. The one point to be considered is the use made of external nature in the novel or romance.

The Sir Roger de Coverley papers (Addison and Steele, 1712) are continuous narratives marked by some at least of the characteristics of the coming English novel. Many of these papers purport to be written from the country and Will Wimble complains that they "begin to smell confoundedly of woods and meadows." After a time the author finds himself growing short of subjects in the country and returns to town as the true "field of game for sportsmen of his species." Though written from the country the papers have nothing about country scenes except frequent phrases such as, "We then took a walk in the fields," and one brief 213

description of “a solemn walk of elms," unless, indeed, we might add the pleasure the author took in his friend's poultry yard. The stress is all on country people.

Robinson Crusoe (Defoe, 1719), the first great example of the voyage imaginaire, necessarily regards nature from the point of view of immediate utility. The whole interest of the book rests on the mechanical ingenuity whereby man subdues nature. There are few if any passages where Robinson Crusoe is represented as being in any way sensitive to the beauty or charm of nature.

In Pamela (Richardson, 1740) there is much talk about the value of travel in Great Britain and on the continent, but there is not a word about the scenery of the places visited. Pamela sums up her impressions of travel in England in one sentence. "These excursions have given me infinite delight and pleasure, and enlarged my notions of the wealth and power of the kingdom." (Vol. 3, p. 304.) When Lord B. and Pamela are spending their honeymoon in their Kentish house they plan certain improvements such as cutting a vista through the coppice; they train the vines around the windows because they love the mingled odors of woodbines and jessamines; and they listen for two hours at a stretch to the "responsive songs of two warbling nightingales" (2:163). Earlier in their career, during a walk in the garden, the fragrance from a bank of flowers inspires Lord B. to sing a typical eighteenth century song of which this is one

stanza :

"The purple violet, damask rose,

Each, to delight your senses, blows.
The lilies ope as you appear;

And all the beauties of the year

Diffuse their odours at your feet,

Who give to ev'ry flower its sweet."

There is not a hint in the book of any feeling towards nature except such as is characteristic of the pseudo-classical poetry.

In Joseph Andrews (Fielding, 1742) there are four brief passages in which nature is touched upon. Two of these are evidently meant as satires on the ordinary descriptions of sunrise. The first one is as follows:

"Aurora now began to show her blooming cheeks over the hills, whilst ten millions of feathered songsters, in jocund chorus, repeated odes a thousand times sweeter than those of our laureate " (p. 43. Cf. p. 219). The longest description is of a vale with a winding rivulet, many trees, and soil "spread with a verdure which no paint could imitate," the whole place being such as "might have raised romantic ideas in older minds than those of Joseph and Fanny" (p. 226).

In Jonathan Wild (Fielding, 1743) there are no references to the world of nature.

In David Simple (Sarah Fielding, 1744) the search of the hero for a true friend is so complicated and absorbing an occupation that there is no room for observation of the external world.

In Clarissa Harlowe (Richardson, 1748) there is one simile drawn from nature (2:478), one mention of the "variegated prospects" from Hampstead Heath (3:198) and one reference to an overgrown ivy so thick as to be a shelter from the rain (1:394)• In Roderick Random (Smollett, 1748) there are no references

to nature.

Of the eight passages referring to nature in Tom Jones (Fielding, 1749) two are satirical of the conventional descriptions and similitudes of the day.

"Aurora now first opened her casement, Anglicè, the day began to break" (2: 9).

"As in the month of June, the damask rose, which chance hath planted among the lilies, with their candid hues mixes his vermilion; or, as some playful heifer in the pleasant month of May diffuses her odoriferous breath over the flowery meadows; or as, in the blooming month of April, the gentle, constant dove, perched on some fair bough, sits meditating on her mate," so sits Sophia, "looking a hundred charms, and breathing as many sweets, her thoughts being fixed on her Tommy" (2: 61).

A third passage, also satirical, is,

'And now the moon began to put forth her silver light, as the poets call it (though she looked at that time more like a piece of copper)" (2: 172). There is one appreciative reference to the attractive scenery of Devon and Dorset. The description of Mr.