CONCEPTS OP NATURE IN THE POETRY OF

THOMSON, WORDSWORTH, AND SHELLEY

by

INGRID JUNGHANS PARKER

A THESIS

IN

ENGLISH

Submitted to the Graduate Faculty of Texas Technological College

in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for

the Degree of

MASTER OF ARTS

Approved

August, 1962

AT

Q.dP> X ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

For the development of an interest in this subject

and for the method employed in its treatment, I am indebted

to one of my professors at the University of Munich, Dr. W* H.

Clemen*

I am indebted also to two of my professors at Texas

Technological College, Dr, T,.W» Camp and Dr. W* B, Gates,

for their assistance in the preparation of the thesis.

11

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Page

INTRODUCTION, . o o o o » o a e » o » o » o

Chapter

I. THE CONCEPT OF NATURE IN THOMSON'S SEASONS . . 5

The Author and His Work « . . , • . . . . • 5

Realistic Observation and Description . . o 10

Emotional Aspects of Thomson's Seasons, o . 18

The New Concept of Nature in The Seasons. . 24

II. THE WORDSWORTHIAN TREATMENT OF NATURE. . . , . 26

The Background of Wordsworth's Poetry . . . 26

The Selective Method of Description . . . . 31

Emotional Patterns in Wordsworth's Poetry . 42

The Romantic View of Nature . . . . . . . . ^V

III. THE SPIRITUALIZATION OF NATURE IN SHELLEY'S

X UJ-iXllX • . • . . . . • e a . a . a o . o o . o ^ _J

Shelley's Interest in Nature. . . . . . . . 53

Poetic Exuberance in Description. . . . . . 56

The Fusion of Nature and Feeling. . . < , . . 70

The Idealistic View of Nature in Late

Romanticism . d . o . o . A . o . o o . . . 80

OUJM U I J U O J. UiN » . . . a . o . a a a o . a . . . o a a o . O •-

I J J. l 3 L 1 U L r x l A x n JL . • . . . o o a . . o a a . . a a e s . a O O

iii

INTRODUCTION

The purpose of this study is to show how the concept

of nature in poetry changed and developed in the eighteenth

and early nineteenth centuries. The material has been nar­

rowed down to include only selected works by a major repre­

sentative of each of the three phases of Romanticism: the

Preromantic period, the early Romantic period, and the late

Romantic period. This study will concentrate on a close

adherence to the poetic text, and will distinguish between

its descriptive and emotional aspects.

James Thomson, William Wordsworth, and Percy Bysshe

Shelley were chosen as representatives of their periods.

Each of the three poets seems to present his concept of

nature in a uniform as well as characteristic manner.

James Thomson not only characterizes the Preromantic view

of nature in his Seasons, but also anticipates romantic

emotion in the rapturous feeling for nature. For the Ro­

mantic period, William Wordsworth was chosen rather than

Samuel Taylor Coleridge, because the former approaci.es na­

ture with a definite philosophical idea, which forns ti:e

doctrine of Romantic poetry. The last choice was Percy

Bysshe Shelley. In the increasing spiritualizat ion of r.a-

ture during late Romanticism, he took pernaps a more

extreme stand than either Keats or Byron.

It is necessary to indicate some aspects of nature

poetry during the century preceding Romanticism. The im­

portance of nature in this period has been shown by var-

ious scholars* The Romantics felt themselves to be in

revolt against the principles of the preceding age of

Neoclassicism. Fundamentally, this was a revolt against

form rather than subject matter.

The Age of Pope set up certain principles of compo­

sition which were to produce a classical harmony in poetry,

Nature was systematically "methodised" by means of poetic

diction and emotional restraint. Pope's view of nature is

perhaps typical for the early eighteenth century. In his

"Essay on Criticism," he sees nature as the uniform and

unchanging norm:

First follow nature, and your judgment frame By her just standard, which is still the same: Unerring nature, still divinely bright, One clear, unchanged, and universal light, Life, force, and beauty, must to all impart. At once the source, and end, and test of art.

(11. 68 ff.)

1 C. V. Deane, Aspects of Eighteenth Century Nature

Poetry. Oxford, Basil Blackwell, 1935*. Margaret, M. Fitzgerald, First Follow Nature,

Primitivism in English Poetry 1725 - 1750, New York, King's Crown Press, 1947o

2 Alexander Pope, The Works of, edo John W. Croker,

Whitwell Elwin, London, Murray, 1871, Vol, II, po 37-

The appropriate vehicle of poetic expression was the

octosyllabic couplet, which required a definite restraint

of expression and produced an effect of harmony. The

strictness of meter and rhyme, however, brought with it a

certain artificiality, which was to be attacked by the

Romantics.

The use of poetic diction in the eighteenth century

may have been the result of the defects of the heroic coup­

let. The loss of originality and emphasis in the meter was

corrected by imaginative and unique expressions in the lan­

guage. The use of pun, parallelism, and periphrasis was

originally imaginative in source and pleasing in effect,

but it became more and more artificial and unnatural be­

cause of its popularity* Such circumlocutions as "plumy

race," "wat»,ry tribe," "oaten stop," and "painted meads"

were as ingenious and ornamental in their time as they are

incomprehensible and unnatural to the modern reader.

The scenery of the early eighteenth century was

that of the formal gardens and cultivated parks. Only the

aspects of universal order, even if superimposed by man,

were pleasant to the Neoclassic poet.

The poets of the latter half of the century adhered

in many aspects to the Neoclassic doctrine. The poetic

language of Gray and Collins is still the language of Pope

and Dryden. The Preromantic Akenside sees in nature the

ideal of a universal design. There is, however, a subtle

4

change in the scenery as seen by the Preromantics. The

Wartons, Collins, and Thomson turned from the artificiality

of the man-made scene to the more natural aspects of

primitive forests, mountain areas, and waterfalls. The

view of nature widened perceptibly when the poet described

a magnificent view from the top of a hill, instead of the

pleasant retreat surrounded by sculptured hedges»

CHAPTER I

THE CONCEPT OF NATURE IN THOMSON'S SEASONS

The Author and His Work

It was primarily the publication of The Seasons which

established Thomson's name as a poet* The poem consists of

four parts and a concluding "Hymn*" In the order of the

first collected edition in 1730, they are "Spring," "Summer,"

"Autumn," and "Winter." The 1726 edition of "Winter," how­

ever was the first part to be published.

According to Macaulay,^ Thomson conceived the idea

for the first poem during his early years at school in

Jedburgh. Only after his studies in Edinburgh and during

the first years of his residence in London did Thomson real­

ize his plan to write the poem. Some of the descriptive pas­

sages hark back to Thomson's early experiences in South-

dean, Scotland where the countryside is mountainous and

wooded. Thomson speaks of these childhood experiences in

"Winter":

Cogenial horrors, hail! With frequer;" ""oot, Pleased have I, in my cheerful morn of life. When nursed by careless solitude I lived And sung of Nature with unceasing joy. Pleased have I wandered through your rough domain;

^G. C. Macaulay, James Thomson, London, Macmlllan & Co*, 19O8, pp. 3-4.

Trod the pure virgin-snows, myself as pure; Heard the winds roar, and the big torrent burst; Or seen the deep-fermenting tempest brewed ^ In the grim evening-sky. ("Winter," 11* 6-l4.)^

The literary atmosphere which met Thomson upon his

arrival in London in I725 was by no means hostile to nature

poetry. The publication of "Winter" in I726 had been pre­

ceded by such outstanding works as Pope's "Windsor Forest,"

Gay's "Rural Sports," and Lady Winchilsea's "Nocturnal

Reverie." Nevertheless, Thomson wrote "Winter" much for

his own amusement and out of a nostalgic remembrance of his 5

native Scottish countryside.

The success of the poem may have induced Thomson to

add poems about the other three seasons. During his work

on "Summer" in I727, he received an invitation to visit

Bubb Dodington at his country estate in Eastbury. His ex­

periences with nature during his stay may have influenced

the lines on the view from Richmond Hill, which were added

later.

Thomson composed "Spring" during the same year at

Marlborough Castle. The frequent hunting trips with his

host. Lord Hertford, brought him again in close contact

4 James Thomson, The Complete Poetical Works, ed. J. L,

Robertson, Oxford University Press, London, I9O8. (All quo­tations from The Seasons are taken from this edition.)

5 Macaulay, James Thomson, pp. 13-15«»

7

with nature.

The fall of I729 was spent at Eastbury again. Dur­

ing this year, Thomson wrote "Autumn" and revised The

Seasons for publication. He speaks of his experiences at

Eastbury in "Autumn" and intimates that the poem might have

been written there:

In this glad season, while his sweetest beams The Sun sheds equal o'er the meekened day, Oh, lose me in the green delightful walks Of, Dodington, thy seat, serene and plain;

("Autumn,'' 11. 652=.655o)

In spite of Thomson's frequent contact with the

English countryside during the years from I726 to 1730, it

is impossible to account for all the descriptive passages

in The Seasons from Thomson's own experienceo Ao D.

McKillop shows that Thomson used various books of travel

for his descriptions of foreign countries and strange ani­

mals. Among other works, he names Maupertuis' La figure de

la terre, Lockman's Travels of the Jesuits, Churchill's trav­

el collections, and Pluche's dialogue "Of Mountains" as pos­

sible sources^ He identifies among others Thomson's mountain

catalogue:

Strip from the branching Alps their piny load. The huge encumbrance of horrific woods From Asian Taurus, from Imaus stretched

Alan D. McKillop, The Background of Thomson's Seasons, Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press, 19^2

8

Athwart the roving Tartars sullen bounds; Give opening Hemus to my searching eye. And high Olympus pouring many a stream! Oh, from the sounding summits of the north. The Dofrine Hills, through Scandinavia rolled To farthest Lapland and the frozen main; From lofty Caucasus, . , . ("Autumn," 11. 781-790.)

with passages in Varenius' General Geography.*^ Similarly,

he points out that certain aspects of the description of

tropical birds in "Summer" have parallels in Hans Egede's o

Description of Greenland. The poet obviously relied on

travelbooks for the descriptions of scenes he had never

seen. One has to remember that Thomson did not visit the

continent until after the publication of The Seasons.

Thomson also borrowed many of his scientific ideas

and descriptions from the popular scientific works of his Q

time. He was a great admirer of Newton, and Dr. McKillop

points out that the poet was familiar with Maclaurin's

Account of Sir Isaac Newton's Philosophical Discoveries.

Other sources mentioned are Bradley's New Improvements of

Planting: and Gardening, Burnet's Theory of the Earth, and

Bayle's Pensees sur la comete. Thomson's scientific inter-

est was partly personal. He had studied science at Edin-

burgh. His own love for the scientific approach and his

7 ' 'McKillop, Background, po 85o o

McKillop, Background, p. 150

°McKillop, Background.

book knowledge on the subject strongly influenced the term­

inology and exactness of his descriptions of nature. He

compares the poetic and the scientific approach to natural

phenomena in "Autumn" and concludes:

Not so the man of philosophic eye. And inspect sage; the waving brightness he Curious surveys, inquisitive to know The causes and materials, yet unfixed. Of this appearance beautiful and new*

("Autumn," 11. 1133-1137)

A general outline of the contents and construction of

The Seasons seems necessary before any passages can be taken

from their context for interpretation. The Seasons consists

of four poems in blank verse, "Spring," "Summer," "Autumn,"

and "Winter." Each of the poems deals with the respective

season of the year and discusses natural phenomena and hu­

man activities characteristic of this season. The central

subject is nature in all its visible aspects. Narrative

action serves only as an episodic ornament. Because of the

vivid description, the rapid change of scenes, their univer­

sal validity, the poem is never boring in spite of its lack

of continuous action. It has, however, a somewhat rambling

character because of numerous reflective digressions.

Thomson follows an overall outline of grouping the

appearances and scenes according to their natural succession,

"Winter," for instance, begins with the description of a

rainstorm, progresses to snow and ice and ends in the anti­

cipation of spring. Similar to Milton's "L'Allegro," each

10

poem begins with the sunrise and follows the course of the

day*

Realistic Observation and Description

Thomson's manner of description may be studied in

its two different aspects* Many of the descriptive passages

are worked out into the smallest detail, while others are of

a very vague and generalized type* The passages pertaining

to scenes and animals of his native British Isles are usu­

ally very accurate and detailed in their description* Other

passages, in which Thomson attempts to tell the reader about

other parts of the world, are vague and general. Since the

poet had never seen foreign countries, he had to rely on

travelogues for his information. Two passages from The

Seasons may serve to illustrate the difference in descrip­

tion. In "Spring," Thomson gives a very detailed account

of the life of British birds* A description of the domestic

birds forms a part of it:

The careful hen Calls all her chirping family around. Fed and defended by the fearless cock. Whose breast with ardour flames, as on he walks Graceful, and crows defiance. In the pond The finely-checkered duck before her train Rows garrulous. The stately-sailing swan Gives out his snowy plumage to the gale, And, arching proud his neck, with oary feet Protective of his young. The turkey nigh, Loud-threatening, reddens; while the peacock spreads His every-coloured glory to the sun, And swims in radiant majesty along.

("Spring," llo 772-785)

11

The description of the tropical birds in "Summer" is much

shorter and less detailed:

Wide o'er the winding umbrage of the floods, Like vivid blossoms glowing from afar. Thick-swarm the brighter birds* For nature's hand. That with a sportive vanity has decked The plumy nations, there her gayest hues Profusely pours* But, if she bids them shine Arrayed in all the beauteous beams of day. Yet, frugal still, she humbles them in song.

("Summer," 11. 733-740)

The reader is therefore more concerned with those

descriptions which are derived from Thomson's own expe­

rience. Indeed, the poet uses the subjective "I" throughout'

the poem* It is Thomson himself, who leads the reader on a

stroll through nature. The scenes follow each other in the

order in which the poet sees them. Thus, a view of a wide

expanse of land is always preceded by the climbing of a

hill* It is also noticeable that each poem begins with

the sunrise. The daylight is necessary to the observer of

nature. Each object, each scene is described as it gradu­

ally becomes distinguishable from the dusk. The poet is

equally conscientious in the description of storms from

their earliest signs to their full force. Even a small

hesitation during the walk is faithfully recorded: "I check

my steps, and view the broken scene" ("Summer," 1. 589)•

The description of nature in each of the poems be­

gins with the view of atmospheric phenomena (the sunrise,

for instance). Then the eye turns to the now illumined

12

earth to observe various details. Towards the end of the

poem, the poet returns to a magnificent view of the heavens*

The skies and the celestial bodies have an important part in

the poem. Thomson is always fascinated by light effects.

Some of the most beautiful and characteristic passages con­

cern the different aspects of the sun. Thomson describes

the sun at evening thus:

Till in the western sky, the downward sun Looks out, effulgent, from amid the flush Of broken clouds, gay-shifting to his beam. The rapid radiance instantaneous strikes The illumined mountain, through the forest streams. Shakes on the floods, and in a yellow mist. Far smoking o'er the interminable plain. In twinkling myriads lights the dewy gems*

("Spring," 11. I89-I96)

In the aspect of the sun at noon, he emphasizes the bright­

ness by the dimension of the view:

O'er heaven and earth, far as the ranging eye Can sweep, a dazzling deluge reigns; and all. From pole to pole, is undistinguished blaze*

("Summer," 11. 434-436)

Before a thunderstorm, the sun leaves an unusual impression:

In blazing height of noon. The sun, oppressed, is plunged in thickest gloom.

("Summer," 11. 784-785)

Finally he gives an almost visionary sight of the midnight

sun in the North:

Still, round and round, his spiral course he winds,

13

And as he nearly dips his flaming orb, Wheels up again, and reascends the sky.

("Winter," 11* 871-873)

Descriptions of the sky at night are far more rare*

There is no Romantic glorification of the night in The

Seasons, Darkness as well as cold and winter are symbols

of death. The few passages are, however, characterized by

the same accuracy of observation* The full moon is seen as

a "spotted disk," and the crescent moon is described in the

following manner:

Blank, in the leaden-coloured east, the moon Wears a wan circle round her blunted horns.

("Winter," 11. 124-125)

The other heavenly bodies seem rather unimportant, unless

they are comets and arouse Thomson's scientific interest.

The descriptions of storm, rain, and snow are espec­

ially magnificent. As the characteristics of the various

seasons, they take up much room. There is a wide range of

degree and kind. The spring showers are life-giving* A

thunderstorm in the summer is awe-inspiring:

. . . till over head a sheet Of livid flame discloses wide, then shuts And opens wider; shuts and opens still Expansive, wrapping ether in a blaze. Follows the loosened aggravated roar. Enlarging, deepening, mingling, peal on peal Crushed horrible; convulsing heaven and earth.

("Summer," 11* 1137-1144)

The weather is stormy in autumn:

14

• «t And sometimes too a burst of rain. Swept from the black horizon, broad descends In one continuous flood. Still over head The mingling tempest weaves its gloom, and still The deluge deepens; till the fields around Lie sunk and flatted in the sordid wave.

("Autumn," 11* 330-335)

Similarly, the rain is destructive in winter:

Then comes the father of the tempest forth, Wrapt in black glooms* First, joyless rains obscure Drive through the mingling skies with vapour foul, Dash on the mountain's brow, and shake the woods That grumbling wave below. The unsightly plain Lies a brown deluge; ("Winter," 11. 72-77)

The winter storms increase in violence till finally there is

snow:

The keener tempests come: and, fuming dun From all the livid east or piercing north. Thick clouds ascend, in whose capacious womb A vapoury deluge lies, to snow congealed. Heavy they roll their fleecy world along. And the sky saddens with the gathered storm. Through the hushed air the whitening shower descends. At first thin-wavering; till at last the flakes Fall broad and wide and fast, dimming the day With a continual flow. ("Winter," 11. 223-232)

Thomson is a master in the description of wild nature. The

language in these passages is freer and more magnificent

than the conventional poetic diction of the pastoral scenes,

The reader is impressed and shaken by the masterly account

of common phenomena.

The glance of the poet turns from the heavens to the

earth. Here too, he describes the vast expanse ("o . . let

us sweep / the boundless landscape . * ." "Summer," 11,

15

1408-9) as well as the individual detail (a brook surrounded

by bushes, a forest path, flowering hedges, and fields of

corn)* All of these he passes on his walks in spring, summer,

and autumn, while he regrets to see them hidden in winter*

There is already a hint of Shelley»s style in the

description of wild and romantic places* "That hollowed

rock, grotesque and wild" near the waterfall is his favor>-

ite nook» He loves and admires the magnificence of the

"mountain, horrid, vast, sublime," and watches in fascinated

awe the wild riven

Resistless, roaring, dreadful, down it comes From the rude mountain and the mossy wild. Tumbling through rocks abrupt, and sounding far; Then o'er the sanded valley floating spreads. Calm, sluggish, silent; till, again constrained Between two meeting hills, it bursts a way, Where rocks and woods o'erhang the turbid stream; There, gathering triple force, rapid, and deep. It boils, and wheels, and foams, and thunders through*

("Winter," 11* 97-106)

Even the smallest details of nature and animal life

are taken into consideration* Thomson gives a very charming

description of the life of birds, their courtship, the build­

ing of the nests, the hatching and feeding of the young, and

the first flying lessons. An example of his accurate obser­

vation and masterful rendition is the line: "Up springs the

lark,/ shrill-voiced and loud, the messenger of morn,"

("Spring," 11* 590-591)* One of the typical scenes in

"Autumn" is the gathering of the migrant birds. Even in

"Winter" one finds the exquisite sketch of the redbreast at

16

at the window ("Winter," 11. 245 ff«)»

Thomson also takes a special pleasure in the spring

flowers:

Where, scattered wild, the lily of the vale Its balmy essence breathes, where cowslips hang The dewy head, where purple violets lurk With all the lovely children of the shade;

("Spring," 11* 447-450*)

ort

Fair-handed Spring unbosoms every grace: Throws out the snowdrop and the crocus first. The daisy, primrose, violet darkly blue, And polyanthus of unnumbered dyes. The yellow wallflower, stained with iron browno

("Spring," 11* 529-533)

All of these examples indicate how important sensory

perception is for Thomson* At times, there is a superabun­

dance of epithets, an exuberance of diction, which render

understanding rather difficult*

If the descriptive passages are ordered according to

the senses from which they are derived, those pertaining to

color and light are most numerous* The light effects of the

snowflakes:

Myriads of gems, that in the waving gleam Gay-twinkle as they scatter.

("Winter," 11. 788-789.)

or the colors of the autumn forests:

But see the fading many-coloured woods. Shade deepening over shade, the country round

17

Imbrownj a crowded umbrage, dusk and dun, Of every hue, from wan declining green To sooty dark* ("Autumn," 11* 950-954.)

are typical of many similar passages*

Next to sight, sound is of major importance* From

the wild roar of thunder and storm, the rushing of the river

and rippling of the brook to the singing of birds, the poems

form a symphony of nature:

For music held the whole in perfect peace: Soft sighed the flute; the tender voice was heard. Warbling the varied heart; the woodlands round Applied their choir; and winds and waters flowed In consonance* ("Spring," 11* 267-271.)

The sounds of field and forest join throughout the poems of

The Seasons to form the harmony of nature, which lacks neither

the soft, high notes, nor the sudden harsh trumpet blasts.

The "Hymn" at the end is a spectacular finale, where all of

Nature is a single orchestra playing in honor of God*

Descriptions derived from the sense of taste are

rare. Thomson's sense of smell is acute, however. He never

omits to mention the fragrance of flowers ("Spring," 1. 448.)

and the scent of the hay ("Summer," 1. 358*)., Similarly,

he experiences heat or cold ("Summer," 11. 451 ff, and

"Winter," 11. 805 ffO» the former, however, in a more no­

ticeable way.

It is quite obvious that much of Thomson's descrip­

tion of nature is the result of personal experience. He r.as

an eye for detail as well as for the panoramic view. This

18

almost pedantic accuracy produces a definite realism. It

makes the poems concrete and timeless* Dr. Johnson had a

similar feeling, when he wrote: "The reader of the Seasons

wonders that he never saw before what Thomson shews him,

10

and that he never yet has felt what Thomson impresses."

Emotional Aspects of Thomson's Seasons

The concept of emotion underwent a radical change

during the eighteenth century. The Neoclassic ideal of

reason was hostile to human emotions, while Romanticism

idealized them to a large extent.

Thomson was enough of a Neoclassicist to approach na.

ture with a logically scientific eye when he described it.

It was, however, impossible for him to remain coldly objec­

tive* His poetic temperament constantly interpreted the

observations by the emotions they aroused* In addition to

this emotional sensitivity, Thomson had a deep reverence

and exuberant admiration for the Supreme Being immanent

in nature* This pantheistic religion produced some of the

most purely emotional poetry of the eighteenth century.

This study of the emotional passages in The Seasons

will be based on the Romantic doctrine that nature is the

source and mirror of all human emotions. As such, its

10 Samuel Johnson, Lives of the British Poets, com­

pleted by William Hazlitt, London, No Cooke, 185^, vol. Ill, p* 269.

19

appearances may take on a special meaning for the poet.

They may be the source of his inspiration* And, finally,

they may be the object of a religious feeling*

In many of the descriptive passages, both a mental

and an emotional process can be felt. An emotional expe­

rience almost always precedes the rendition in poetic form.

The emotional element is much stronger in descriptions of

the forces of nature, because they leave a stronger impres­

sion. The descriptions of the dreadful winter storms are

followed by the lines:

• 9 a Dread Winter spreads his latest glooms, And reigns tremendous o'er the conquered year. How dead the vegetable kingdom lies! How dumb the tuneful! Horror wide extends His desolate domain* ("Winter," 11. 1024-1028*)

But even the pleasant aspects of the bountiful autumn may

provoke an exuberance of feeling:

0 Nature! all-sufficient! over all Enrich me with the knowledge of thy works; Snatch me to heaven; thy rolling wonders there, World beyond world, in infinite extent Profusely scattered o'er the blue immense. Show me; ("Autumn," 11. 1352-1357-)

This feeling of horror or gratitude is often the only indi­

cation of a deeper emotion*

In many cases, the language remains so vague that

this emotion can only be felt. An example is the passage

about the first signs of the approaching storm:

20

» * s while from the shore, Eat into caverns by the restless wave. And forest-rustling mountain comes a voice That, solemn-sounding, bids the world prepare*

("Winter," 11. 149-152.)

or the one about the strange and sudden silence afterwards:

Till nature's king, who oft Amid tempestuous darkness dwells alone. And on the wings of the careering wind Walks dreadfully serene, commands a calm;

("Winter," 11* 197-200.)

Here the descriptive text must have been preceded by a

strong personal emotion, a feeling, which Thomson found hard

to express, except in a vague and spiritual fashion.

In "Spring," a human emotion is transferred to nature,

and the result is rendered descriptively. The melancholy of

the lover makes nature seem sad:

'Tis nought but gloom around* The darkened sun Loses his light* The rosy-bosomed Spring To weeping fancy pines; and yon bright arch, Contracted, bends into a dusky vault* All nature fades extinct; ("Spring," 11* 1009-1013o)

But Thomson not only expresses his feelings in the

descriptive passages* At times he admits that nature is the

source of his poetic inspiration* He deliberately searches

for the inspiring influence:

Now, while I taste the sweetness of the shade. While nature lies around deep-lulled in noon. Now come, bold fancy, ("Summer," 11. b29-o31.)

or:

21

Here wandering oft, fired with the restless thirst Of thy applause, I solitary court The inspiring breeze, and meditate the book Of nature, ever open; ("Autumn," 11* 668-67I*)

The lonely poet is revived and strengthened through the con­

tact with nature:

Now the soft hour Of walking comes; for him who lonely loves To seek the distant hills, and there converse With nature, there to harmonize his heart,

("Summer," 11. 1379-1382.)

This healing influence of nature is stressed again and again.

Nature evokes only pure emotions in man, who.

Tb nature's voice attends, from month to month. And day to day, through the revolving year: Admiring sees her in her every shape; Feels all her sweet emotions at his heart;

("Autumn," 11. 1306-1309-)

It is obvious that Thomson expresses his own feelings in all

these passages. He clearly anticipates themes which will

become all important to the Romantic generation. Although

he does not yet reject the material world entirely, Thomson

is capable of pure emotion. In the following passage, the

power of feeling bursts through the limitations of Neoclassic

diction:

He comes! he comes! in every breeze the power Of philosophic melancholy comes! His near approach the sudden-starting tear. The glowing cheek, the mild dejected air. The softened feature, and the beating heart. Pierced deep with many a virtuous pang, declare.

22

O'er all the soul his sacred influence breathes; Inflames imagination; through the breast Infuses every tendernessf and far Beyond him earth exalts the swelling thought* Ten thousand thousand fleet ideas, such As never mingled with the vulgar dream. Crowd fast into the mind's creative eye* As fast the correspondent passions rise. As varied, and as high: devotion raised To rapture, and divine astonishment; The love of nature unconfined,

("Autumn," 11. 1004-1020.)

This truly romantic aspect of the inspired poet lacks neither

freedom of expression nor intensity of feeling* The spiri­

tual experience influences the body. A psychic process is

expressed by physical excitement* The conscious surrender

of body and soul is the very climax of poetic emotion* It

must be noted, however, that Thomson even here uses the Neo­

classic form of personification: "He comes!"

Thomson also describes mystic-religious emotions.

Several passages deal with visionary experiences. They be­

long in the realm of poetic imagination. They are highly

effective because of the subjective "I". Their fantastic

theme may be connected with Thomson's pantheism:

Oh! bear me then to vast embowering shades. To twilight groves, and visionary vales; To weeping grottoes, and prophetic glooms; Where angel forms athwart the solemn dusk, Tremendous, sweep, or seem to sweep along; And voices, more than human, through the void Deep-sounding, seize the enthusiastic ear,

("Autumn," 11. 1031-1037 J

This passage shows a strange juxtaposition of Neoclassic

landscape (grottoes, groves). Romantic vastness (void), :ir..:

23

unreality of imagination (voices, more than human)* A simi­

lar passage is in "Summer":

Shook sudden from the bosom of the sky, A thousand shapes or glide athwart the dusk. Or stalk majestic on* Deep-roused, I feel A sacred terror, a severe delight. Creep through my mortal frame; and thus, methinks, A voice, then human more, the abstracted ear Of fancy strikes. ("Summer," 11* 538-544.)

The spiritual experience has become a dream image*

It is almost incomprehensible to the reader, because it is

a completely personal experience of the poet. The strange

voice may be interpreted as the word of God, speaking through

nature. Spiritual emotion is again expressed physically.

The poet's condition is a passive one. He does not conscious­

ly seek the intoxication of the inspired mind* It is not the

soul of the poet that takes possession of nature, but rather

nature, or the Supreme Being in nature, that takes possession

of the poet's soul. These passages probably mark the height

of emotion, as expressed in The Seasons. The Romantic doc­

trine of the power of imagination is here for the first time

carried to its extreme* The poet is no longer master of his

thought. He submits to inspiration, as to a power outside

the human realm.

The emotions of the poet range from the effects of

simple sensory perceptions, the pleasant or terrifying scenes,

and the poetic inspiration, to mystic-religious visions. His

feeling toward the pantheistic God is genuine and deeply

24

religious. The "Hymn" which Thomson added to The Seasons

and which forms the conclusion, bears witness to the poet's

strong beliefs. He begins it:

These, as they change, Almighty Father! these Are but the varied God* The rolling year Is full of thee.

and ends this final magnificent chorus:

But I lose Myself in him, in light ineffable! Come then, expressive Silence, muse his praise.

The New Concept of Nature in The Seasons

Nature has innumerable aspects for Thomson. It in­

cludes everything that can be grasped with the senses of

sight, hearing, smell, and taste. Nature is not only the

entire cosmos with its wonders and revelations for the

scientist and poet, and the wide earth with all its crea­

tures in the power of the elements; it is also found in the

smallest detail: the redbreast, the flowers of summer, and

the fruits of autumn* It is majestic, wild, and destructive

as well as graceful, charming, and life-giving. Man is na­

ture's subject and master. Nature is as eternal as it is

transitory and changeable* It is a symbol of the continuous

death and rebirth of life.

In short, it is no longer the nature of Pope which

Thomson describes and experiences. The emphasis has shifted

from the reasonable orderliness of Neoclassicism to the

25

natural irregularity of Romanticism. Nature is no longer

the unchanging norm, but the ever-changing ideal. The

poetic view has widened to encompass the whole universe with

all its mysteries*

Another new element is the introduction of poetic

emotion into poetry* Thomson breaks with the tradition

which considered t' ssion as hostile to reason and judgment*

By his love for nature, and especially for the pantheistic

Deity, Thomson is led to express his feelings freely. He

firmly believes that all emotions excited by nature are

basically good and purifying. Thus, Thomson anticipates the

Romantic ideas in a singularly decisive and influential

manner*

CHAPTER II

THE WORDSWORTHIAN TREATMENT OF NATURE

The Background of Wordsworth's Poetry

The year of the publication of the Lyrical Ballads,

1798, is usually considered the most important date of the

Romantic Period in England* Wordsworth's theory of poetry,

as expressed in his famous preface to the second edition

(1801), was to become the doctrine of the new poetic era*

This theory and Wordsworth's philosophic views are important

to the understanding of his nature poetry.

In the preface, Wordsworth explains the purpose and

character of the new poetry collected in the Lyrical Ballads,

considering it a successful endeavor in correcting the arti­

ficiality of Neoclassic poetic diction. A change in subject

matter parallels the simplification of form. Nature and man

in his relationship to nature are the worthiest poetic

themes* Poetry should deal with simple pleasures and sor­

rows, and it should show man in his natural surroundings*

As he stated in his preface,:

The principal object, then, proposed in these Poems was to choose incidents and situations from common life, and to relate or describe them, throughout, as far as was possible in a selection of language really used by men, and, at the same time, to throw over them a certain coloring of imagination, whereby

••\V

26 0'

2?

ordinary things should be presented to the mind in an unusual aspect; and, further and above all, to make these incidents and situations interesting by tracing in them, truly though not ostentatiously, the primary laws of our nature: (Preface to the Second Edi­

tion of Lyrical Ballads.)^^

Wordsworth's doctrine of nature, as it is expressed

in the "Preface" and in his poetry, is rather complex* One

might, however, make the following generalizations^: Outward

nature_J _J;jie source_of poetic and moral inspiration* It is

grasped most effectively by the child, whose senses are not

yet dulled* The young adult retains much of the origirtal

and pure experience and augments it with book learning*^ The

ultimate goal is a return to nature, which will answer the

more diffi^lt questions and prove human knowledge right or

wrong, "The laws of nature are applicable to problems of so- '//,/, _. c

ciety as well as to the passions of the individual. Fro»

the basic concept of the supremacy of nature, Wordsworth_ar­

rives at the doctrine that all things should bear a close

resemblance to nature* In the "Preface," he applies this

doctrine to poetry.

Obviously, the influence of the nature philosophy of

12 the eighteenth century is not negligible» J, W. Beach and

• William Wordsworth, The Poetical Works, ed. Thomas Hutchinson, Ernest de Selincourt, London, Oxford University Press, 1939, P« 935» (All other quotations from Wordsworti: »s works are taken from this edition.)

• J. W. Beach, The Concept of Nature in Nineteenth-Century English Poetry, New York, Macraillan, 1936, Chapters IV, V, VI.

28

No P. Stallknecht^^ made conclusive studies of the various

philosophic trends assimilated by Wordsworth. Professor

Beach traces influences from d'Holbach, Bayle, Hartley, and

Locke in Wordsworth's writings* Especially important to

Wordsworth was Rousseau's association theory and his doc­

trine of the natural goodness of man* Shaftesbury's idea of

the harmony of the universe may have been the basis for

Wordsworth's search for order and design in nature. Profes­

sor Stallknecht points out that Spinoza's theory of intui­

tion has its parallels in Wordsworth's works. Thus, it is_

fairly obvious that the poet was somewhat less than original

in his doctrine* It is, however, significant that he popu­

larised these theories during the Romantic Period.

It is Wordsworth'^personal experience with nature

which led to his interest in its philosophical aspects. Ixil^i^}' /^^'^

- -'^'4-'^

"The Prelude: or Growth of a Poet's Mind," Wordsworth gives .« '

an admirable account of his childhood and nature's subsequent

influence on his development as a poet. In Book I, he de­

scribes his earliest awareness of his surroundings:

Yes, I remember when the changeful earth, And twice five summers on my mind had stamped The faces of the moving year, even then I held unconscious intercourse with beauty Old as creation, drinking in a pure Organic pleasure from the silver wreaths Of curling mist, or from the level plain

" N, P. Stallknecht, Strange Seas of Thought, Bloorr-ington, Indiana University Press, 1958o

.1.1

29

Of waters coloured by impending clouds. ("The Prelude," Book I, 11*

It may be argued that Wordsworth overemphasized his own

sensitivity, but the fact remains that he sought contact

wi th_jiature_Jjir In addition to his

early vacations at Hawkshead, he undertook frequent walking

tours through Lancashire and the Lake Country. Even during

his trip to the continent in 1790> he chose to travel by

foot through France and Switzerland* This manner of travel­

ling naturally tended to take Wordsworth away from the busy / -A

life of the cities* The reconnaissance of the countryside \ , ) '^-

provided such personal experiences as led to the writing of \ '"^^

poems like "The Simplon Pass." The English lakes were, how- ' .-

ever, Wordsworth's favorite haunt. There, he was born and

grew up. In 1800, he moved to Grasmere and lived there for

eleven years. Many of his poems, including "The Prelude,"

were composed during his walks in the surroundings of Dove

Cottage* Wordsworth's nature poetry is undoubtedly basej on

actual experience.

The belief in nature's teachings led Wordsworth al­

most naturally to the concept that the poet has a duty to the

reader* Since the older Wordsworth of "The Excursion" was

really more of a philosopher than of a poet, it is possible

that the young Wordsworth of the Lyrical Ballads may have felt

differently about his moral obligations to the reader. The

poet himself contradicts this possibility in the same

30

preface, when he likens the planned work. The Recluse, to

the body of a gothic church:

Continuing this allusion, he may be permitted to add, that his minor Pieces, which have been long before the public, when they shall be properly ar­ranged, will be found by the attentive Reader to have such connection with the main Work as may give them claim to be likened to the little cells, ora­tories, and sepulchral recesses, ordinarily includ­ed in those edifices.

(Wordsworth, Poetical Works, po 754)

It is obvious that Wordsworth considers his work as a unity*

Similarly, it is implied that his doctrine or poetic purpose

has not been subject to any radical changes.

In contrast to James Thomson's Seasons, ]/Iordsviorth^3 /^''^^Jy^,.^.^^^;^

nature poetry is not confined to a single major work. It j ^H.''' ,_jty ••

may, however, be considered of a uniform character. Both

descriptive and imaginative passages in their purest form • — ^ • • • « — - ~ _ ^ _ ^ . . ^ . . , . ^ „ „ > „ „ . „ . « , . . . — » ^ « . ~ ^ - . — - • • " " " " — = — • • • • ,

are to be found in works of the time between 1793 and 1809*

Of major importance for this study are "Evening Walk" and

"Descriptive Scetches" of the year 1793, "Tintern Abbey" of

1798, the "Immortality Ode" of 1807, the "Prelude" of 1805,

the "Excursion" of 1809, and several of the shorter poems.

In connection with the different subjects of the various

poems, the treatment of nature is sometimes influenced by

the content of the poem in question. In a narrative poem,

for instance, descriptive passages will be analyzed by tlu ir

purpose in the whole.

v '

31

The Selective Method of Description

' '^y

/

.^•n^

'^A:"

Wordsworth's method of description differs from that ' ' ,/ /

of James Thomson in a significant manner. It tends to pro-

duce mood or effect rather than realism. Passages to be /y -i ^

studied are similar in subject matter to those quoted from

The Seasons. They pertain to descriptions of small detail,

of landscape, of animal life, and of light effects* The

strong influence of poetic imagination and descriptions in

narrative poetry are typical of Romanticism and have no sig­

nificant parallels in The Seasons.

trates on a single aspect or detail of a scene. In their t] i^^}>^'*-^'

absolute brevity, the descriptions serve to emphasize a cer-

tain mood* In the poem "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud,"

color and motion of the flowers are the center of interest.

The "dancing" daffodils are given human attributes:

In his short nature poems, Wordsworth often concen-t^

o . o all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees. Fluttering and dancing in the breeze* » . o » » ( , » o * » o < » o o < » < > < > < » < » ' »

They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance,

("I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud")

Similarly, a single detail sometimes serves as the back­

ground of a poem:

Who fancied what a pretty sight

32

This Rock would be if edged around With living snowdrops? Circlet bright! How glorious to this orchard-ground.

(Poems of the Fancy, XIV)

In both instances, detail becomes all important, because it

is more expressive than its surroundings. The dancing daf­

fodils give the impression of vivid movement, while the sol.

id rock adds a touch of permanence to the evanescent spring,

time of the snowdrops.

Whenever Wordsworth describes landscape, he sees it

as a harmonious whole rather than as a scene consisting of

various details. In "Lines composed a few miles above

Tintern Abbey," the cultivated land forms a uniform image:

These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts. Which at this season, with their unripe fruits. Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves 'Mid groves and copses* Once again I see These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines Of sportive wood run wild: (11. 11-16)

The poet uses the same approach in the description of an

evening scene:

Soft as a cloud is yon blue ridge—the Mere Seems firm as solid crystal, breathless, clear And motionless; and, to the gazer's eye, Deeper than ocean, in the immensity Of its vague mountains and unreal sky!

("Evening Voluntaries," VI)

The vagueness of the description is deliberate. The or­

chards "lose themselves" in the distance. The view of the

faraway sea is immense, vague, and unreal.

33

At other times, Wordsworth sees the scene as consist­

ing of various shades of color. In "An Evening Walk," the

"yellowing sun declines,"

To mark the birches' stems all golden light. That lit the dark slant woods with silvery white! The willows weeping trees, that twinkling hoar, Glanc'd oft upturn'd along the breezy shore. Low bending o'er the colour'd water, fold Their moveless boughs and leaves like threads of gold;

("An Evening Walk," 11. 99-104)

and in "Descriptive Sketches," the poet sees a lake:

* . . mid smoking woods, that blue and grey Gleams, streak'd or dappled, hid from morning's ray Slow-travelling down the western hills, to fold Its green-tinged margin in a blaze of gold;

("Descriptive Sketches," 11. 138-142)

/ "SJ ® Is none of the Romantic view of wild nature in

Wordsworth's works. He preferred to see nature as a harmo- \i'-%l

nious whole rather than as an elementary force. The few de-, ^.rnAV^^iCWrt'W^'JSl-,,,-,^..^^^^^^^

••"-W^YVrMVOv-dV

scriptions of storms, waterfalls, and mountain scenes are ^ ' y

usually^ connected with^his experiences abroad. They are also Mt/x

the work of the younger Wordsworth. In "Descriptive Sketches," \ ,

he describes a flooded river in the Alps:

--Fierce comes the river down; the crashing wood Gives way, and half its pines torment the flood; Fearful, beneath the Water-spirits call. And the bridge vibrates, tottering to its fall.

— .- ("Descriptive Sketches," 11, 211-21^)

Equally effective is the mountain scene in the poe::: "The

Simplon Pass":

3 *

• • • • » » » » » » 0 0 8 . 0 . 8 . a 6 . . o .

The stationary blasts of waterfalls, And in the narrow rent, at every turn. Winds thwarting winds bewildered and forlorn. The torrents shooting from the clear blue sky. The rocks that muttered close upon our ears, Black drizzling crags that spake by the wayside As if a voice were in them, the-sick sight And giddy prospect of the raving stream. The unfettered clouds and region of the heavens. Tumult and peace, the darkness and the light

("The Simplon Pass," 11. 5-15)

Both passages point towards the spiritualization of nature.

The water-spirits of the flooded river and the mysterious

voice in the mountain waterfall add a mystic element to the

sublimity of the scene.

In his descriptions of animal life, Wordsworth shows

great interest in birds, but almost none in other animals. / , V J.AW^»^^f;;l^^ < '•M^/ii*'.ilMi.;r»<VJ a':.

The most detailed descriptions are to be found in his earli-^ \,

er poems. Even here, however, he concentrates on a major

single characteristic. In "An Evening Walk," the cock is

the ruler of the farmyard:

Sweetly ferocious round his native walks, Gaz'd by his sister-wives, the monarch stalks; Spur clad his nervous feet, and firm his tread, A crest of purple tops his warrior head. Bright sparks his black and haggard eyeball hurls Afar, his tail he closes and unfurls; Droops, and o'er canopies his regal brow, On tiptoe rear'd he blows his clarion throat,

("An Evening Walk," 11, 129-137)

The waterfowls in the same poem are named specifically and

described in their characteristic activities:

35

Sweet are the sounds that mingle from afar. Heard by the calm lakes, as peeps the folding star. Where the duck dabbles 'mid the rustling sedge. And feeding pike starts from the water's edge. Or the swan stirs the reeds, his neck and bill Wetting, that drip upon the water still; And heron, as resounds the trodden shore, Shoots upward, darting his long neck before.

("An Evening Walk," 11* 301-308)

In the poem "Waterfowl," which was published thirty years

later, the poet's approach has changed. The species are no

longer named and the description consists of one large and

general image of movement:

Mark how the feathered tenants of the flood. With grace of motion that might scarcely seem Inferior to angelical, prolong Their curious pastime! shaping in mid air (And sometimes with ambitious wing that soars High as the level of the mountain-tops) A circuit ampler than the lake beneath— Their own domain; but ever, while intent In tracing and retracing that large round, Their jubilant activity evolves Hundreds of curves and circlets, to and fro, Upward and downward, progress intricate Yet unperplexed, as if one spirit swayed Their indefatigable flight.

("Waterfowl," 11. 1-14)

Wordsworth's sense of color and light is highly de­

veloped. His descriptions of the light effects produced by

sun or moon are, however, poetic interpretations of a cer­

tain mood rather than realistic renderings. The poet's in- \;

terest also seems to center in the light effects of evening

^

and night. Thus, the light is far more subdued in Words­

worth's poetry than, for instance, in Thomson's Seasons.

Vfe y

36

The few descriptions of the sunlight are usually dom­

inated by a mixture of light and shade. Even the noon sun

is hidden by clouds:

When, in the south, the wan noon brooding still. Breath'd a pale stream around the glaring hill. And shades of deep embattl'd clouds were seen Spotting the northern cliffs with lights between;

("An Evening Walk," 11. 53-56)

A similar effect is described in a forest scene:

Inverted shrubs, and moss of darkest green. Cling from the rocks, with pale wood-weeds between; Save that atop, the subtle sunbeams shine. On wither'd briars that o'er the crags recline; Sole light admitted here, a small cascade. Illumes with sparkling foam the twilight shade.

("An Evening Walk," 11. 75-80)

The exception to the rule is the description of a sunset

over the Alps, The passage in question is in "Descriptive

Sketches." Wordsworth thought it necessary to apologize for

the extravagance of this rendition in a footnote. He wrote:

The ideas excited by the stormy sunset I am here de­scribing owed their sublimity to that deluge of light, or rather of fire, in which nature had wrapped the immense forms around me; any intrusion of shade, by destroying the unity of impression, had necessarily diminished its grandeur.

(Wordsworth, Poetical Works, p^ 608)

The poetic description is unusually effective and powerful:

'Till the Sun walking on his western field Shakes from behind the clouds his flashing shield. Triumphant on the bosom of the storm. Glances the fire-clad eagle's wheeling form;

37

Eastward, in long perspective glittering, shine The wood-crown'd cliffs that o'er the lake recline; Wide o'er the Alps a hundred streams unfold. At once to pillars turn'd that flame with gold; Behind his sail the peasant strives to shun The west that burns like one dilated sun, Where in a mighty crucible expire The mountains, glowing hot, like coals of fire.

("Descriptive Sketches," 11. 336-347)

The poem "A Night-Piece" is perhaps the best example

of Wordsworth's interest in the skies at night. In the

first part of the poem, he describes the light effects:

—The sky is overcast With a continuous cloud of texture close, Heavy and wan, all whitened by the Moon, Which through that veil is indistinctly seen, A dull, contracted circle, yielding light So feebly spread that not a shadow falls,

("A Night-Piece," 11. 1-6)

He changes his descriptive approach in the middle of the

poem, when he sees the heavenly bodies in motion:

. . . the clouds are split Asunder,--and above his head he sees The clear Moon, and the glory of the heavens. There in a black-blue vault she sails along, Followed by multitudes of stars, that, small And sharp, and bright, along the deep abyss Drive as she drives: how fast they wheel away, Yet vanish not!—the wind is in the tree, But they are silent;--still they roll along Immeasurably distant; and the vault, Built round by those white clouds, enormous clouds. Still deepens its unfathomable depth,

("A Night-Piece," lU 11-22)

The image of the wheeling and moving celestial bodies may be

compared with the wheeling and moving of the waterfowl in

38

the late rendition. The lack of color is obvious in both

poems* The poem "An Evening Walk," which was composed ten

years before "A Night Piece," contains a description of the

moon which abounds in epithets of color and light:

O « 0 . the rising moon, Frosting with hoary light the pearly ground. And pouring deeper blue to Aether's bound; Rejoic'd her solemn pomp of clouds to fold In robes of azure, fleecy white, and gold,

("An Evening Walk," 11. 392-397) / ,,. '\ ';t'

.1 ' On the whole, the light effects are usually those of ,i ^

djjsk^and^twilight* Wordsworth was obviously fascinated by ^^^^

the "Stealthy withdrawings, interminglings mild,/ Of light W '"'

with shade in beauty reconciled" ("By the Seaside," 11. 'j)~(^)

The influence of poetic imagination in descriptive

passages is strong* Wordsworth not only selects suitable

aspects of a scene, but also emphasizes these features by

imaginative language* He says of the influence of imagina­

tion on description:

• . » the bold wings of Poesy affect The clouds, and wheel around the mountain tops Rejoicing,

("Miscellaneous Sonnets," part iii. No. I)

Various methods are employed to make the language

more expressive and the description more vivid. In "The

Prelude," Wordsworth uses a simile:

• • • a dull red image of the moon

39

Lay bedded, changing oftentimes its form Like an uneasy snake.

("The Prelude," Book VI, 11. 705-707)

Although-imagination is usually applied legitimately

to bring out the striking features of an observation, Words­

worth does not refrain from describing the tricks played by

it. The following passages have a dreamlike quality without

losing the realism of description:

Lo! in the burning west, the craggy nape Of proud Ararat! and, thereupon. The Ark, her melancholy voyage done! Yon rampant cloud mimics a lion's shape; There, combats a huge crocodile—agape A golden spear to swallow! and that brown And massy grove, so near yon blazing town. Stirs and recedes—destruction to escape!

("Sky-Prospect--From the Plain of France")

In "The Excursion," the poet describes an experience on a

lonely mountain path:

The appearance, instantaneously disclosed, Was of a mighty city--boldly say A wilderness of building, sinking far And self-withdrawn into a boundless depth. Far-sinking into splendour—without end! Fabric it seemed of diamond and of gold, With alabaster domes, and silver spires, And blazing terrace upon terrace, high Uplifted; here, serene pavilions bright, In avenues disposed; there towers begirt With battlements that on their restless fronts Bore stars—illumination of all gems! By earthly nature had the effect been wrought Upon the dark materials of the storm Now pacified, ("The Solitary," 11, 834-848)

Closely connected with poetic imagination is also ti:e

40

use of descriptive passages in narrative poetry. Nature not

only forms the background of the plot, but also parallels |

its development in various significant changeso/ The rela- jj *'|

tionship between the human mind and nature is part of Words-/-- ' ' ^" '*^«i*-»iV«?r» .1 >•-

'<^H^,^,.^^,,^.„....,».aafM9im^^*M^^^'^'^''^^ ^"-••^•="***.--*-<:^*.«^S4yvni

worth's philosophic doctrine. The moods of man are mirrored

in the moods of nature* Both "The White Doe of Rylstone"

and "The Idiot Boy" contain instances of this use of de­

scription* The outstanding example, however, is the ballad^-^

of "Peter Bell*" The story is based on the contrast of man's

misery in the disobedience of the laws of nature and his

salvation in their acceptance. Peter Bell is originally

evil, because:

. . « nature ne'er could find the way Into the heart of Peter Bell.

(11. 244-245)

The wildness of his character is paralleled in the wildness

of nature:

In his whole figure and his mien A savage character was seen Of mountains and of dreary moors.

(11* 293-295)

The poem deals essentially with the power of nature to in­

fluence the human character. The experience of one night

changes Peter Bell into a good man. The mysterious forces

of nature are symbolized in the eery atmosphere and the al.

most supernatural aspects of the surroundings:

hi \

All, all is silent—rocks and woods, All still and silent—far and near!

(11, 411-412)

Nature becomes animated when Peter Bell shows his brutality:

The moon uneasy looked and dimmer, The broad blue heavens appeared to glimmer. And the rocks staggered all around--

(11* 483-485)

and:

For in the pool a startling sight Meets him, among the inverted trees

Is it the moon's distorted face? The ghost-like image of a cloud? Is it the gallows there portrayed?

(11, 499-503)

The epithets "inverted" and "distorted" apply to Peter Bell's

character. The "gallows" hints at his unlawfulness. In the

narration of Peter's reeducation, the poet wonders about the

justification of the ways of nature to man:

Dread Spirits! to confound the meek Why wander from your course so far. Disordering colour, form, and stature! —Let good men feel the soul of nature. And see things as they are,

(11. 761^765)

The end justifies the means. Peter Bell has changedr

And now is Peter taught to feel That man's heart is a holy thingj And nature, through a world of death, Breathes into him a second breath. More searching than the breath of spring.

(11, 1071-75)

42

Wordsworth's method of description may be called se­

lective . _ HlsUalghL Mniiard ...j.n ,.paet.ry:..J.M-JLi to searoh-for

effect rather than reaLd-gmw Thus, a single aspect often

seemed more expressive than a complete scene. The use of

imaginative language emphasizes this type of descriptive

poetry*

It is perhaps possible to call Wordsworth a transi­

tional Romanticist, The change in approach between his early

, ,^Pt«vn^*i»^;^•» • . -• .*w»**^'*'-j'«i«f*B* •.'-=*>'

description to an increasingly spiritualized view of nature.

Detailsare replaced by general images| motion is deemed

more effective than colorf and wild nature becomes more and

('

iyAt..i-'3l'iC>V3U'-Wi.r- - .^^JKify.. r>,-.«.\f>-

more harmonized *

Emotional Patterns in Wordsworth's Poetry

In his "Preface to the Second Edition" of the Lyrical

Ballads (1801), Wordsworth maintains that "all good poetry 14

is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feeling." He be..

lieves that it is the poet's duty to reproduce these feel.,

ings in such a manner that the reader may be able to relive

the experience.

Poetic emotion in Wordsworth's poetry is closely con­

nected with his two favorite theories: the influence of

nature on the child and the recollection of things seen and

14 William Wordsworth, Poetical Works, p, 935o

A and late poetry points towards a development from realistic ] J^

43

felt* Emotionally, Wordsworth is torn between the two ex­

tremes of his doctrine* On one hand, he fears that he has

lost the pure feeling of the child, on the other, he feels

that the spirit of nature is still present in momeiats of

poetic inspiration* He combines the extremes in the view

that the "shadowy recollections" of his childhood produce a

brighter and deeper understanding of nature in the adult

poet a

In a study of the emotional patterns in Wordsworth's

poetry, it will be necessary to discuss the spiritual influ-r t>^^iit •!'•</* liitMrf***'*' •"• '^••"tJ'^~-r^*.'--OA»'^ijf^i 1-;;WiJlV.'"'

ence of nature on the child and the poet, the nature of the

experience and its effects, and Wordsworth's alleged panthe-

ism*

Wordsworth distinguishes between the emotional expe-

riences of the child and those of the adult poet. Through a

combination of both, he arrives at a more complete awareness

of all aspects of life. In "Influence of Natural Objects,"

he addresses the spiritual power of nature in deep gratitude?

Wisdom and Spirit of the Universe! Thou Soul, that art the eternity of thought! And giv'st to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion! not in vain. By day or star-light, thus from my first dawn Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me The passions that build up our human soul^ Not with the mean and vulgar works of Manj But with high objects, with enduring things. With life and nature; purifying thus The elements of feeling and of thought, And sanctifying by such discipline Both pain and fear,—until we recognize A grandeur in the beatings of the heart,

("Influence of Natural Objects," 11* 1-14)

44

According to Wordsworth, this influence is to be felt more

strongly in childhood. Both in the "Immortality Ode" and in

"The Prelude," he regrets the fact that the human senses are

dulled as the years progress* He says of his experiences

during childhood:

All that I beheld Was dear, and hence to finer influxes The mind lay open, to a more exact And close communion. Many are our joys In youth, but oh! what happiness to live When every hour brings palpable access Of knowledge, when all knowledge is delight. And sorrow is not there!

("The Prelude," Book II, 11. 281-288)

The close communion with nature requires a high sensitivity.

The poet interprets an experience and temporarily identifies

himself with nature:

Add that whate'er of Terror or of Love Or Beauty, Nature's daily face put on From transitory passion, unto this I was as sensitive as waters are To the sky's influence; in a kindred mood Of passion was obedient as a lute That waits upon the touches of the wind.

("The Prelude," Book III, 11, 133-139)

But the poet finds a consolation for the loss of that "shad­

owy exultation" of his youth, for:

I love the Brooks which down their channels fret, Even more than when I tripped lightly as they; The innocent brightness of a new-born day is lovely yet; O . 0 0 9 . 0 . 0 . 0 0 0 0 O 0 O 0 . O . 0 O 0

Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,

45

To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

("Immortality Ode," 11. I96-206)

For the sensitive and imaginative poet, the impres­

sions and experiences of the past are never lost* Even in

the midst of the hubbub of city-life, Wordsworth feels that

the "Spirit of Nature" is upon him ("The Prelude," Book VII,

lo 766). The power of recollection is one of the divine

gifts of man. Wordsworth expresses the importance of recol­

lection in the poem "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud":

For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills. And dances with the daffodils,

("I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud," 11. 19-24)

The inspiration in retrospect is, of course, an experience

which would be impossible without poetic imagination. The

poet is, in this respect, superior to other mens

This spiritual love acts not nor can exist Without Imagination, which, in truth, Is but another name for absolute power And clearest insight, amplitude of mind, And Reason in her most exalted mood.

("The Prelude," Book XIV, 11. 188-192)

The sensitivity of the poet is so strong that his emotior.s

are at all times the prisoners of his eye, which:

46

0 * « searching out the lines of difference, * * ' * ' » < » « » « » « o < » < » « o « . . o a » o . o * o

o o e by an unrelenting agency Did bind my feelings even as in a chain*

("The Prelude," Book III, 1. 157, 11« 165-166)

Thus, it is understandable that Wordsworth's contacts with

civilization were short and unrewarding. He explains the

reasons in the following lines:

a 0 .1 had known Too forcibly, too early in my life, Visitings of imaginative power For this to last: I shook the habit off Entirely and for ever, and again In nature's presence stood, as now I stand, A sensitive being, a creative soul.

("The Prelude," Book XII, 11. 201. 207)

It is rather difficult to explain the nature of that

spiritual power which influences the poet. It is obvious

that for Wordsworth "from Nature doth emotion come," but he

rarely describes its aspects visually as in this casej

Ye Presences of Nature in the sky And on the earth! Ye visions of the hills! And souls of lonely places! can I think A vulgar hope was yours when ye employed Such ministry . . . .

. . . and thus did make The surface of the universal earth With triumph and delight, with hope and fear, Work like a sea? ("The Prelude," Book I, 11. 6^ ff,)

The image of a stormy sea applied to human emotion is as

startling as it is revealing. Wordsworth considers ti;e

strong feelings of his youth as "extrinsic passions," I: is

47

the adult poet who interprets them as spiritual experiences:

o o o I was only then Contented, when with bliss ineffable I felt the sentiment of Being spread O'er all that moves and all that seemeth still; O'er all that, lost beyond the reach of thought And human knowledge, to the human eye Invisible, yet liveth to the heart;

("The Prelude," Book II, 11, 399=405)

Wordsworth describes this spiritual experience as the result

of a marriage between intellect and universe:

For the discerning intellect of Man When wedded to this goodly universe In love and holy passion, shall find these A simple produce of the common day.

("The Excursion," Prospectus, 11. 52-55)

Wordsworth's attempts to describe the effects of a

spiritual experience remain vague. Both in "The Prelude"

and in "Tintern Abbey" he compares his physical state during

the experience to that during sleep:

Oft in such moments such a holy calm Would overspread my soul, that bodily eyes Were utterly forgotten, and what I saw Appeared like something in myself, a dream, A prospect in the mind,

("The Prelude," Book II, 11. 348^352)

or similarly:

, . . —that serene and blessed mood. In which the affections gently lead us on,— Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep

48

In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy. We see into the life of things.

("Tintern Abbey," 11. 41-49)

In both passages, Wordsworth insists that it is no longer

the eye that sees, but the soul* The moment of inspiration

is a mystic experience.

The question of Wordsworth's alleged pantheism is

still relatively unsettled. The pantheistic concept seems

so typically Romantic that it is tempting to interpret

Wordsworth's poetry from this aspect. It is also a known

fact that the poet was criticized for pantheistic tendencies

during his own lifetime. The results of this criticism are

numerous emendations in the final edition of "The Prelude."

Actually, Wordsworth's statements about his religious

beliefs remain too vague for any definite conclusions, A

comparison of a passage in the original edition of "The

Prelude" with its final version does not offer any proof of

pantheistic tendencies. To give only one example among many,

Wordsworth describes an experience in the following manner

in the 1815 edition:

o o o There appear'd to me The perfect image of a mighty Mind, Of one that feeds upon infinity, That is exalted by an underpresence, The sense of God, or whatsoe'er is dim Or vast in its own being , . ,

("The Prelude," ed, 1815, Book XIII, 11. 68-73)

-J-

49

He changes this passage in the later edition to:

There I beheld the emblem of a mind That feeds upon infinity, that broods Over the dark abyss, intent to hear Its voices issuing forth to silent light In one continuous stream; a mind sustained By recognitions of a transcendent power. In sense conducted to ideal form. In soul of more than mortal privilege*

("The Prelude," ed. 1850, Book XIV, 11* 70-77)

The earlier passage differs from the later one mainly in the

capitalization of "Mind" and the passage "an underpresence,/

The sense of God," for which Wordsworth substitutes "a

transcendent power" in the later version. The capitalization

of "Mind" may, of course, be interpreted as meaning a divine

mind. Wordsworth, however, is not consistent in his capital-

izations* Personifications are not always capitalized, while

simple nouns at other times are capitalized for emphasis.

The fact that he avoids the use of the word "God" in the

later passage seems inconclusive, when one considers the

vagueness of the earlier passage. The "sense of God" is not

necessarily a synonym for the "Divine Being," It is possible

to conclude that Wordsworth emendated not so much because he

felt guilty, but rather to correct ambiguities. It is fairly

obvious that he was not much concerned with the theological

aspects of his doctrine and that passages like the one quoted

from the I815 edition are rather the result of "the sponta­

neous overflow of powerful feelings."

taXAS TECHNDLaclCAL COLLEGl LIBRARY

50

On the whole, Wordsworth's feeling for nature is more

closely related to mysticism than to pantheism. He describes

a mystic experience in "Tintern Abbey":

* o o . . . And I have felt A presence that disturbs me with the joy Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime Of something far more deeply interfused. Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns. And the round ocean and the living air. And the blue sky, and the mind of man: A motion and a spirit, that impels All thinking things, all objects of all thought. And rolls through all things.

("Tintern Abbey," 11. 93-102)

An incident during his childhood is of a similarly mystic

character:

. . « Sometimes it befell In these night wanderings, that a strong desire O'erpowered my better reason, and the bird Which was the captive of another's toil Became my prey; and when the deed was done I heard among the solitary hills Low breathings coming after me, and sounds Of undistinguishable motion, steps Almost as silent as the turf they trod,

("The Prelude," Book I, 11. 317-325)

Nature here reveals herself as the guiding parent. It is a

natural result of the divine origin and power of nature when

Wordsworth states that it was with "the spirit of religious

love/ In which I walked with Nature." ("The Prelude," Book

II, 11. 356-357). The different aspects of the universe in

form, color, sound, and effect become to the poet

Characters of the great Apocalypse,

51

The types and Symbols of Eternity, Of first, and last, and midst, and without end.

("The Simplon Pass," 11. 18-20)

Wordsworth's emotional experiences arise partly from

his nature doctrine. His belief in the moral guidance of

man by nature leads him to reverence its spiritual power.

He traces its influence from the extrinsic passions of his

youth to spiritual experiences of his maturity. The spirits

or presences of nature are all around him and may be called

upon in retrospect. He compares their effects upon man with

the trance-like state of sleep or dream and acknowledges

them with an almost religious love.

The Romantic View of Nature

The approach to nature poetry has undergone several

significant changes since Thomson's Seasons. Wordsworth no

longer endeavors to give the reader a complete and detailed

account of what he has seen or felt. He rather tends to

select those aspects of an experience which seem most signif.

leant and qualifies or emphasizes their effect by the use of

imaginative language. The Romantic poet tends towards an

increasing vagueness in the description of landscape. The

view of a wide expanse of land is not described realistical­

ly, but rather generally in the endeavor to give the iir.pres-

sion of vastness. Nature parallels at all times the moods

of man.

52

The emotional aspects of nature have become increas­

ingly spiritualized since the Preromantics* While Thomson

revered the glory of creation and creator in nature, Words­

worth believes outward nature to be the dwelling of a mystic

power. The influence of this power is beneficent to man. It

sets the rules for human society. Man can no longer lawfully

make a distinction between nature and civilization.

Rousseau's "Retour a la Nature" becomes for the Romantic

poet a mystic experience with spiritual presences, whose

revelations his sensitivity predestines him to make known to

the public* The evasiveness of the emotion is paralleled in

the vagueness of the poetic rendition*

Thus, the scientific approach of Thomson has become a

philosophic approach for Wordsworth. Scientific facts are

for the Romantic poet part of the achievements of civiliza­

tion and as such inferior to the pure emotions excited by

nature* Romantic Poetry, as the expression of these emotions,

ranks superior to knowledge. It "is the breath and finer

spirit of all knowledge, it is the impassioned expression

which is in the countenance of all science." (Wordsworth,

Poetical Works, p, 938)

CHAPTER III

THE SPIRITUALIZATION OF NATURE IN SHELLEY'S POETRY

Shelley's Interest in Nature

The background of Shelley's work is slightly different

from that of the works of his predecessors, Thomson and

Wordsworth. Like these two poets, Shelley was deeply affect­

ed by nature and applied certain philosophical ideas towards

its understanding* In his poetry, however, the emphasis has

shifted from the humble English countryside to the more col­

orful aspects of the Alps and Italy*

Shelley's philosophy relies on the works of the an­

cient Greeks more than on those of the modern philosophers.

In general, he was more concerned with the ideal than with

the real aspects of nature.

The poet's life was deplorably short, but according

to Mrs. Shelley, he valued his experiences highly. She

quotes him as saying: "If I die to-morrow, I have lived to

be older than my father*"^^ In the preface to "The Revolt

of Islam," Shelley himself gives an account of his education

• Percy Bysshe Shelley, The Complete Poetical Works, ed* Thomas Hutchinson, London, Oxford University Press, 195^\ p. xi. (All further quotations from Shelley's work will be taken from this edition.)

53

54

and his knowledge of nature:

I have been familiar from boyhood with mountains and lakes and the sea, and the solitude of forests: Danger, which sports upon the brink of precipices, has been my playmate. I have trodden the glaciers of the Alps, and lived under the eye of Mont Blanc. I have been a wanderer among distant fields, I have sailed down mighty rivers, and seen the sun rise and set, and the stars come forth, whilst I have sailed night and day down a rapid stream among mountains.

(Poetical Works, p, 34)

Shelley's prefaces and the notes by Mrs, Shelley show

the close relationship between biographical facts and

Shelley's works. The poem "Alastor" of 1815 had been pre­

ceded by a tour through Switzerland and Germany, and more

immediately by a trip to the source of the Thames River. It

was written at Windsor Great Park which influenced the for­

est scenery in the poem. In I8l6, Shelley was again in

Switzerland and there was inspired to write "Mont Blanc" by

the view of the magnificent mountain, "The Revolt of Islam"

(1817) was written in England, partly in a boat on the Thames

and partly in the course of his wanderings near Marlow. In

1818, he left for Italy and never returned. The picturesque

scenery of Rome and Pisa influenced "Prometheus Unbound" and

"The Witch of Atlas." His most famous short poems, "Ode to

the Westwind" and "To a Skylark," are based on actual expe«

riences in Italy. Nature was obviously a primary source for

Shelley's poetry.

Studies in the philosophical background of Shelley's

55

works have been made by scholars like Joseph Warren Beach,^^

Neville Rogers, " and Bennett Weaver. ^ The Platonic con­

cept of life and nature influenced Shelley most strongly*

The search for the relationship between ideal beauty and

reality or truth is originally Platonic, Similarly, the

concept of the World Soul which brings creation to perfec­

tion, and the idea of the immortality of nature go back to

PlatoB Shelley himself translated Plato's "Symposium" and

his "Praise of Love." The strong interest in Greek philoso­

phy is the result of Shelley's dissatisfaction with the an­

swers provided by Newton, Hartley, and Darwin. The problem

of the connection between spirit and matter led Shelley to

idealistic Greek philosophy. The spiritualization of

Shelley's concept of nature is the result of this influence.

This study of Shelley's nature poetry is concerned

with the more immediate descriptions and feelings produced

by the poet's experiences in nature. Of major importance

in this connection are "Alastor," "Mont Blanc," "The Sensi­

tive Plant," "Ode to the Westwind," "To a Skylark," and sev..

eral short poems. The long pieces like "Prometheus Unbound,"

1 J. W. Beach, The Concept of Nature \r\ Nineteenth-

Century English Poetry. 17 'Neville Rogers, Shelley at Work, Oxford, Clarendon

Press, 1956.

1 R Bennett Weaver, Toward the Understanding of Sn.e: ley,

Ann Arbor, University of Michigan Press, 1932.

5(>

"The Revolt of Islam," and the dramatic works are excluded.

Poetic Exuberance in Description

The concept of ideal beauty not only strongly influ­

enced the form of Shelley's poetry, but also helped to con­

stitute the theme of his work. The treatment may be narra­

tive or reflective, but it always relies heavily on descrip­

tion* The descriptions of nature quoted in this study

usually carry a deeper meaning in the context.

This study deals primarily with the aspects of the

earth, the patterns of light and darkness, and the use of

synaesthetic imagery. An analysis of entire works is avoid­

ed unless it is necessary for the understanding of Shelley's

methods of description.

Shelley's view of the landscape finds its two extremes

in the ideals of the cave and the isle. The Platonic concept

of the cave as the abode of thought and dream was one of

Shelley's favorites. Thus, the mountain scenery is closely

connected with his philosophic ideas. Descriptions like the

following occur again and again in various poems, but with

similar expressions:

. . . wintry mountains, inaccessibly Hemmed in with rifts and precipices gray. And hanging crags, many a cove and bay,

("The Witch of Atlas," 11, 438^444)

The wildness of the mountainside becomes beautiful to the

57

poet, because it is majestic and pure. His poem "Mont Blanc"

is perhaps the greatest tribute to the wildest and most des­

olate aspect of nature. The description of the ravine at

the foot of the mountain is an example both of Shelley's ac­

curate observation and of his love for wild nature:

« . 0 --dark, deep Ravine— Thou many-coloured, many-voiced vale. Over whose pines, and crags, and caverns sail Fast cloud-shadows and sunbeams: awful scene. Where Power in likeness of the Arve comes down From the ice-gulfs that gird his secret throne. Bursting through these dark mountains like the flame Of lightning through the tempest;

("Mont Blanc," 11. 12-19)

But beyond this scene of power and destruction, Shelley saw

the serenity of the eternal mountain. The snow-capped sum­

mit of Mont Blanc is not only another aspect of ideal beauty,

but also the expression of a power influencing human thought.

The description of the summit and that of the ravine pre­

sents a contrast between harmony and disharmony:

Far, far above, piercing the infinite sky, Mont Blanc appears,--still, snowy, and serene-^ Its subject mountains their unearthly forms Pile around it, ice and rock; broad vales between Of frozen floods, unfathomable deeps, Blue as the overhanging heaven, that spread And wind among the accumulated steeps;

("Mont Blanc," 11, 60-66)

Without doubt, the mountain is a symbol of a Divine Power,

The symbolic nature is indicated by such epithets as "still,"

"serene," and "infinite." The symbol of the whiteness of

58

the snow stresses the purity of inspired thought. The realm

of the mountain is not a human realm. Death awaits those

who attempt to disturb the divine solitude:

o * * The glaciers creep Like snakes that watch their prey, from their far foun­

tains. Slow rolling on; there, many a precipice, Frost and the Sun in scorn of mortal power Have piled: dome, pyramid, and pinnacle, A city of death, distinct of many a tower And wall impregnable of beaming ice.

("Mont Blanc," 11. 100-106)

Apart from the description of a stationary scene, the wild,

mountainous landscape may take on dramatic effects* The

poem "Alastor; or the Spirit of Solitude" is an allegorical

voyage of the mind* The varying description of the scenery

is symbolic of the tragic changes wrought in the poet's soul*

The following passage marks a stage in the poet's search for

love in nature:

* . . On every side now rose Rocks, which, in unimaginable forms. Lifted their black and barren pinnacles In the light of evening, and, its precipice Obscuring the ravine, disclosed above. Mid toppling stones, black gulfs and yawning caves. Whose windings gave ten thousand various tongues To the loud stream. Lo! where the pass expands Its stony jaws, the abrupt mountain breaks, And seems, with its accumulated crags, To overhang the world:

("Alastor," 11. 543-553)

In all its realism, the description has the curious quality

of a nightmare. The "unimaginable forms," the "yawning

59

caves," and the "stony jaws" of the pass remind the reader

of some primeval world of monsters. The effect is heightened

by an echo compared to "ten thousand various tongues."

Closely connected with the mountain scenery are de­

scriptions of waterfalls* In "Alastor" again, the descrip -

tions are effective in the heaping of epithets and verbs of

motion:

« * . Where the mountain, riven, Eicposed those black depths to the azure sky. Ere yet the flood's enormous volume fell Even to the base of Caucasus, with sound That shook the everlasting rocks, the mass Filled with one whirlpool all that ample chasm; Stair above stair the eddying waters rose. Circling immeasurably fast, and laved With alternating dash the gnarled roots Of mighty trees, that stretched their giant arms In darkness over it. ("Alastor," 11. 374-384)

A similar passage occurs somewhat later in the poem. Again,

Shelley stresses the almost supernatural vastness of the

scenes

* . . whilst the broad river. Foaming and hurrying o'er its rugged path. Fell into that immeasurable void Scattering its waters to the passing wind.

("Alastor," 11. 567=570)

Shelley was constantly fascinated by the agitation of

water* Thus, a stormy lake is described in "The Witch of

Atlas":

And whilst the outer lake beneath the lash Of the wind's scourge, foamed like a wounded thing.

60

And the incessant hail with stony clash Ploughed up the waters, and the flagging wing Of the roused cormorant in the lightning flash Looked like the wreck of some wind-wandering Fragment of inky thunder-smoke— « » a

("The Witch of Atlas," 11* 441-447)

The two similes are typical of Shelley's fusion of spirit

and matter* The lake is compared to a wounded animal, where,

as the bird seems like a fragment of smoke*

Occasionally, Shelley describes the contrasting har­

mony and tranquillity of other scenes* These descriptions

are remarkable for their dreamlike quality and their exotic

splendor* The description of the dizzy whirlpool in

"Alastor" is immediately followed by such a scene:

The ghastly torrent mingles its far roar. With the breeze murmuring in the musical woods. Where the embowering trees recede, and leave A little space of green expanse, the cove Is closed by meeting banks, whose yellow flowers Forever gaze on their own drooping eyes. Reflected in the crystal calm*

("Alastor," 11. 402-408)

The poet is a master in the rendition of sound impressions.

In the lines above, he contrasts the roar of the waterfall

with the harmonious sound of the wind in the trees. In an­

other passage, he describes a small brook in three different

aspects, two of which involve sound effects:

« . * —The rivulet Wanton and wild, through many a green ravine Beneath the forest flowed- Sometimes it fell Among the moss with hollow harmony Dark and profound* Now on the polished stones

61

It danced; like childhood laughing as it went: Then through the plain in tranquil wanderings crept, Reflecting every herb and drooping bud That overhung its quietness* —

("Alastor," 11* 494-502)

In "The Question," Shelley admittedly describes a dream

landscape:

I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way, Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring, And gentle odours led my steps astray, Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling Its green arms round the bosom of the stream. But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream*

("The Question," 11* 1-8)

The image in lines six through eight points again towards

the Shelleyan animation of nature. It is especially appro­

priate in the rendition of a dream*

Shelley's love for the sea is connected with his love

of waterfalls and brooks. He usually prefers to see it

stormy, powerful, and majestic* "Alastor" includes a de^

scription of the tempestuous sea which tosses the poet's

boat about mercilessly:

8 0. .A whirlwind swept it on. With fierce gusts and precipitating force. Through the white ridges of the chafed sea* The waves arose. Higher and higher still Their fierce necks writhed beneath the tempest's scourge Like serpents struggling in a vulture's grasp. Calm and rejoicing in the fearful war Of wave ruining on wave, and blast on blast With dark obliterating course, . . .

("Alastor," 11* 320-329)

62

The simile of the serpent and the vulture is one of Shelley's

favorites* It has two purposes in this context? it empha­

sizes the furor of the storm and it hints at the allegorical

character of the forces of nature.

Th0 description ,of the isle of bliss in "Epipsychidion"

contains a passage which illustrates the tranquil aspect of

the sea« Here, Shelley effectively uses an image pertaining

to the love of an animated nature:

e o o where the pebble*.paven shore, Under the. quick, faint kisses of the sea Trembles and sparkles as with ecstasy,--. Possessing and possessed by all that is Within that calm circumference of bliss. And by each other, till to love and live Be onet * * B t» ("Epipsychidion," 11* 546«552)

Unless Shelley describes the barrenness of the moun­

tain scene or the vastness of the sea, he sees the earth

covered with luxuriantly beautiful plant life. A passage in

"Alastor" is typical of his view of the forest:

* . a More dark And dark the shades accumulate* The oak, Expanding its immense and knotty arms, Embraces the light beech. The pyramids Of the tall cedar overarching, frame Most solemn domes within, and far below. Like clouds suspended in an emerald sky. The ash and the acacia floating hang Tremulous and pale* Like restless serpents, clothed In rainbow and in fire, the parasites. Starred with ten thousand blossoms, flow around The gray trunks, * . e *

("Alastor," 11* 430-441)

Although Shelley views the trees individually and with their

63

characteristics, the description is unified. The trees and

parasites are interdependent and form the family of the

forest.

The most completely idealized view of nature is prob­

ably the poet's description of the isle of bliss in "Epi­

psychidion." The isle forms the other extreme of human in­

tellect; thought has its origin in the sanctity of the moun­

tain cave and finds its final haven in the ideal beauty of

the isle of paradise. The following description is exemplary

of Shelley's combination of realism and imagination:

The light clear element which the isle wears Is heavy with the scent of lemon-flowers, Which floats like mist laden with unseen showers, And falls upon the eyelids like faint sleep; And from the moss violets and jonquils peep. And dart their arrowy odour through the brain Till you might faint with that delicious pain. And every motion, odour, beam, and tone, With that deep music is in unison:

. . . . . It is an isle 'twixt Heaven, Air, Earth, and Sea, Cradled, and hung in clear tranquillity.

("Epipsychidion," 11. 446-454; 457-458)

It is quite natural that Shelley should see the flov;er;

as a symbol of everything that is beautiful. Scent and col­

or make them the perfect embellishments of an ideal land.-cape

and Shelley uses them profusely. Thus, tn.ey for- an impor­

tant part of the dream vision in "The Question":

There grew pied wind-flowers and violets, Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth, The constellated flower that never sets;

64

Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, at whose birth The sod scarce heaved;

("The Question," 11* 9-13)

The most famous descriptions of flowers and plant life occur,

as would be expected, in "The Sensitive Plant." The beauty

of the flowers and the ugliness of the weeds are symbolic in

this poem* The lady of the garden is the spirit of beauty,

with whose death all material beauty dies* Shelley gives a

whole catalogue of flowers to illustrate his concept of

ideal beauty:

The snowdrop, and then the violet. Arose from the ground with warm rain wet. And their breath was mixed with fresh odour, sent From the turf, like the voice and the instrument.

Then the pied wind-flowers and the tulip tall, * o o » o o * o o o * o o o * o o o o o o a o o

And the Naiad-like lily of the vale, * o a o * o « * . a * o . o o o * a o . o o * .

And the hyacinth purple, and white, and blue, O 9 O * 0 a a * a 9 O * o o o * a o o a o * o o

And the rose like a nymph to the bath addressed, o o * * * o o * a * B o o 0 , o o o o a o o o o

And the jessamine faint, and the sweet tuberose. The sweetest flower for scent that blows; And all rare blossoms from every clime Grew in that garden in perfect prime.

("The Sensitive Plant," 11. 13 ffo)

These concepts are contrasted with the ugliness symbolized

in the dead plants:

And the leaves, brown, yellow, and gray, and red. And white with the whiteness of what is dead. Like troops of ghosts on the dry wind passed; Their whistling noise made the birds aghast.

("The Sensitive Plant," llo 34-37)

65

and the foulness of the weeds:

And thistles, and nettles, and darnels rank. And the dock, and henbane, and hemlock dank, Stretched out its long and hollow shank. And stifled the air till the dead wind stank.

And plants, at whose names the verse feels loath. Filled the place with a monstrous undergrowth. Prickly, and pulpous, and blistering, and blue. Livid, and starred with a lurid dew.

("The Sensitive Plant," 11. 54-61)

Among the descriptions of heavenly bodies or light

effects, those of the night are far more effective and char­

acteristic in Shelley's poetry. The combination of realism

and imagination is especially notable in the following pas­

sages* In "Alastor," Shelley recreates the atmosphere of

early morning?

The cold white light of the morning, the blue moon Low in the west, the clear and garish hills. The distinct valley and the vacant woods. Spread round him where he stood.

("Alastor," 11* 192-195)

There is usually an eery element in the descriptions of the

moon* It may be blue as in the lines above, or sickly pale:

Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,

("To the Moon," llo 1-2)

or surrounded by a red light

o . . Like the young moon--When on the sunlit limits of the night Her white shell trembles amid crimson air,

("The Triumph of Life," 11« 7' '-81)

The scene of death in "Alastor" is mysteriously lighted by

the crescent moons

The dim and horned moon hung low, and poured A sea of lustre on the horizon's verge That overflowed its mountains* Yellow mist Filled the unbounded atmosphere, and drank Wan moonlight even to fulness: . * *

("Alastor," 11* 602-6o6)

Like other Romanticists, Shelley sees the stars in motion.

In "The Cloud," he combines this aspect with a striking

simile:

The stars peep behind her and peer; And I laugh to see them whirl and flee. Like a swarm of golden bees,

("The Cloud," 11. 52-54)

It is notable that Shelley's light effects, if realistic,

are rarely bright or magnificent* He is more concerned with

subtle shades of coloring or intricate patterns of light.

Thus, in "The Witch of Atlas," there is a description of the

sunlight in the forest which again employs a simile to empha-

size the softness of the colors:

The silver noon into that winding dell. With slanted gleam athwart the forest tops. Tempered like golden evening, feebly fell; A green and glowing light, like that which drops From folded lilies in which glow=worms dwell,

("The Witch of Atlas," 11. 353-357)

In "Epipsychidion," the poet gives an admirable description

of the patterns wrought by light among the exotic plants:

67

•D ., o e » the sky Peeps through their winter-woof of tracery With moonlight patches, or star atoms keen, or fragments of the day's intense serene;—

, Working mosaic on their Parian floors* ("Epipsychidion," 11. 503-507)

The most outstanding characteristic of Shelley's de­

scriptive poetry, apart from the use of simile and allegory,

is perhaps the synaesthetic imagery* Unlike Wordsworth or

Thomson, Shelley does not render each sensory perception in­

dividually but rather several of them simultaneously* This

view of nature is closely connected with his belief in an

all-pervading spirit. Thus, his forests are mazes of var­

ious plants, and the light is like a veil, a tangled hue,

With golden and green light, slanting through Their heaven of many a tangled hue,

("The Sensitive Plant," 11. 43-44)

Similarly, Shelley's dream maidens are "garmented in light*"

His fondness for water, which combines the effects of sound,

motion, and light, may also be a result of his view of a

unified nature. In the poem "To a.Skylark," the water im­

agery is the underlying effect:

From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see As from thy presence showers a rain of melody,

("To a Skylark," 11. 33-35)

Thus, Shelley often mingles two or more sensory perceptior.s

in his descriptions. A passage in "Lines Written Among the

68

Eugenean Hills" shows the use of the visual and olfactory

senses:

'Tis the noon of autumn's glow. When a soft and purple mist Like a vaporous amethyst. Or an air-dissolved star Mingling light and fragrance, far From the curved horizon's bound To the point of Heaven's profound. Fills the overflowing sky;

("Eugenean Hills," 11* 285-293)

Here, material objects like the amethyst or the star become

gaseous forms, whereas at other times light is materialized

into texture;

And the sun's image radiantly intense . * * threaded all the forest's maze With winding paths of emerald fire.

("The Triumph of Life," 11. 345 ff.)

Another instance of the combination of fragrance and light

is in the linesi

9 * * that star's smile, whose light is like the scen^ Of a jonquil when evening breezes fan it.

("The Triumph of Life," 11. 4.9. 420)

A combination of light and sound also occurs frequently.

Both "The Sensitive Plant" and "To a Skylark" contain in­

stances of this form of imagery^

And around them the soft stream did glide and dance With a motion of sweet sound and radiance.

("The Sensitive Plant," 11. ?.. 8)

and similarly:

69

Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream? ("To a Skylark," 1* 85)

In "Mont Blanc," Shelley combines the effects of light and

temperature:

Nor when the flakes burn in the sinking sun, Or the star-beams dart through them:

("Mont Blanc," 11* 133-134)

In "Alastor," the poet uses a relationship between sound and

motionj

* * * —so from his steps Bright flowers departed, and the beautiful shade Of the green groves, with all their odorous winds And musical motions.

("Alastor," 11. 536-539)

Sound and fragrance are identical in "The Sensitive Plant":

Of music so delicate, soft, and intense. It was felt like an odour within the sense;

("The Sensitive Plant," 11. 27-28)

A passage in "Alastor" is perhaps the best example of syn­

aesthetic imagery in Shelley's poetry* It consists of im­

ages of light, sound, motion, and texture:

. . . its music long. Like woven sounds of streams and breezes, held His inmost sense suspended in its web Of many-coloured woof and shifting hues.

("Alastor," 11. 154-157)

Among the Romantics, Shelley was perhaps the most

gifted poet* There is very little mediocrity in his work.

70

A choice vocabulary of colorful epithets gives the language

the beauty which is only paralleled in the idealized subject*

The Shelleyan landscape is dominated by the sea and the moun­

tains* Their majestic aspects are contrasted with the tran­

quillity and ideal beauty of exotic forests and isles* The

use of significant similes tends to spiritualize and animate

the scene* Most effective, however, is the use of synaes­

thetic imagery which produces a uniform and visionary view of

nature.

The Fusion of Nature and Feeling

The influence of Platonism in Shelley's poetry brought

about a new concept of the relation between human intellect

and outward nature* The belief in the all-pervading and

eternal Spirit of the universe is in Shelley applied not on­

ly to external nature, but also to the emotions, the intel­

lect, and the physical being of man. For instance, man is

mirror and part of the universal law of mutability. The

subject of Shelley's poetry is intellectual, its rendition

is descriptive: poems like "The Cloud" or "To a Skylark"

render descriptively the forms in which the spirit of nature

reveals itself* It may perhaps be said that for Shelley the

human emotion, the external forms of nature, and the abstract

ideal become interchangeable because identical with each

other*

Thus, Shelley expresses emotions either symbolically

71

through nature description, as in "Alastor," or he identi­

fies them with certain forces or laws in nature, as in "Ode

to the Westwind" and several of the love poems, or finally,

he describes them as mystic emotions governed by the eternal

spirit, as in "Mont Blanc*" It is necessary to consider

Shelley's feeling for nature in the love poetry and in pas­

sages dealing with poetic inspiration and spiritual emotions*

Shelley's short love lyrics are all too often neglect­

ed* They show a perfect balance of language and construction

Usually the emotion of the poem is based on various symbols

taken from nature* In "Love's Philosophy," Shelley uses ex­

amples in nature to aid his argument:

The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the Ocean The winds of Heaven mix forever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by law divine In one spirit meet and mingle. Why not I with thine? —

("Love's Philosophy," 11. 1-8)

The view of an overi=-all harmony of nature is typical of

Shelley's poetic philosophy* In "Love's Philosophy," it be^

comes the argument of courtship. In "The Indian Serenade,"

Shelley describes the aspect of love's sweet pain and again

uses nature as an example:

The wandering airs they faint On the dark, the silent stream--The Champak odours fail Like sweet thoughts in a dream;

72

The nightingale's complaint. It dies upon her heart; As I must on thine. Oh, beloved as thou art?

("The Indian Serenade," 11* 9-16)

Similarly, the emotions of unrequited love are expressed by

the example of the withered rose:

The rose that drinks the fountain dew In the pleasant air of noon. Grows pale and blue with altered hue In the gaze of the nightly moon; For the planet of frost, so cold and bright, Makes it wan with her borrowed light*

Such is my heart-("To Constantia," 11. 1-7)

4 * * 0

In "When the Lamp is Shattered," Shelley describes the death

of love and the frailty of the human heart?

Its passions will rock thee As the storms rock the ravens on high; Bright reason will mock thee. Like the sun from a wintry sky. From the nest every rafter Will rot, and thine eagle home Leave thee naked to laughter. When leaves fall and cold winds come.

("When the Lamp is Shattered," 11 25-32)

To complete the cycle, Shelley gives an admirable descrip.

tion of the utter despair which follows the loss of the

loved one in "Epipsychidion":

What storms then shook the ocean of my sleep, Blotting that moon, whose pale and waning lips Then shrank as in the sickness of eclipse;--And how my soul was as the lampless sea.

73

And who was then its Tempest; and when She, The Planet of that hour, was quenched, what frost Crept o'er those waters,- till from coast to coast The moving billows of my being fell Into a death of ice, immovable; —

("Epipsychidion," 11* 308-316)

The imagery in this passage is carried to the extreme, where

the poet identifies himself with nature. His feelings and

emotions are extinguished like the waves of the sea under a

cover of ice*

Like other Romantic poets, Shelley found inspiration

in nature* Unlike other Romanticists, he identified nature

with the spirit of things. Thus, inspiration is to him the

compound of external forms, intellect, and divine spirit*

In "Epipsychidion," he expresses his view of inspiration in

the following manner:

* * . 'tis like thy light. Imagination! which from earth and sky. And from the depths of human fantasy. As from a thousand prisms and mirrors, fills The universe with golden beams, and kills Error, the worm, with many a sun-like arrow Of its reverberated lightning.

("Epipsychidion," 11. I63-I69)

The abstract idea is usually superior to the realistic ob.

ject of poetry, thus:

Be it love, light, harmony, Odour, or the soul of all Which from heaven like dew doth fall. Or the mind which feeds this verse Peopling the lone universe.

("The Eugenean Hills," 11, 315-31^)

74

The effect of external nature is, however, still a strong

influence on Shelley* He describes the effect of the sea on

his poetic emotions in "Stanzas—written in dejection, near

Naples":

I^see the Deep's untrampled floor With green and purple seaweeds strewn; I see the waves upon the shore. Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown: I sit upon the sands alone,— The lightning of the noontide ocean Is flashing round me, and a tone Arises from its measured motion. How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion*

("Stanzas," 11* 10-18)

The poet is an objective observer of nature in the endeavor

to find its meaning:

'Mid the mountains Eugenean I stood listening to the paean With which the legioned rooks did hail The sun's uprise majestical;

("Eugenean Hills," 11. 70-73)

The dream poem, "Triumph of Life," was conceived in the

"green Appenine." Shelley describes the moment of inspira.

tion in the following manner:

* o . before me fled The night; behind me rose the day; the deep

Was at my feet, and Heaven above my head,--When a strange trance over my fancy grew Which was not slumber, for the shade it spread

Was so transparent, that the scene came through As clear as when a veil of light is drawn O'er evening hills they glimmer; and I knew

15

That I had felt that freshness of the dawn ly,l Zu* " * f f - <» « « » o O . * * * . , o „ Ana then a vision on my brain was rolled*

("The Triumph of Life," 11, 26-40)

Sometimes, the poet feels a vague sense of comprehension,

when an aspect of nature arouses a particularly strong emo­

tion:

Summer was dead and Autumn was expiring. And infant Winter laughed upon the land All cloudlessly and cold;—when I, desiring More in this world than any understand. Wept o'er the beauty, which, like sea retiring. Had left the earth bare as the wave-worn sand Of my lone heart, and o'er the grass and flowers Pale for the falsehood of the flattering Hours.

("The Zucca," 11. 1-8)

The death of the Spirit of Beauty, which is just one aspect

of the World Soul, is eternally symbolized in the coming of

winter, which is barren of beauty. In the complete fusion

of idea and matter, winter may become symbolic of all the

evils of the world:

Rough wind, that meanest loud Grief too sad for song; Wild wind, when sullen cloud Knells all the night long; Sad storm, whose tears are vain. Bare woods, whose branches strain. Deep caves and dreary main,-^ Wail, for the world's wrong!

("A Dirge")

Shelley shows himself as the brooding poet in the two pas.-

sages above. In "Hymn to Intellectual Beauty," he expresr.es

most clearly the influence of inspiration on his tliought.

le

The mind of man is capable of divine ideas, if he can grasp

the deep meaning of the universe:

When^musing deeply on the lot ?f_- ff» ^^ ^^t sweet time when winds are wooing All vital things that wake to bring News of birds and blossoming,— Sudden, thy shadow fell on me; I shrieked, and clasped my hands in ecstasy! I vowed that I would dedicate my powers To thee and thine—* . .

("Hymn to Intellectual Beauty," 11. 55-62)

Shelley compares the mind of the poet to a mighty river,

which has its origin in the pure and spiritual heights of an

eternal power. "Mont Blanc" expresses this idea symbolical­

ly in the river Arve, which originates in the remote and

serene power of the mountain. The introduction of the poem

hints at its symbolical meaning:

The everlasting universe of things Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves. Now dark--now glittering--now reflecting gloom--Now lending splendour, where from secret springs The source of human thought its tribute brings Of waters, — . . * ("Mont Blanc," 11. 1-6)

Inspiration for Shelley is, thus, a fusion of intellect and

emotion aroused by external nature. It invariably has its

origin in a power which is spiritual.

Shelley's belief in the presence of a Spiritual Being

in and above external nature finds its expression mainly in

passages which show a mystic emotion or experience. Thi.

Spirit is usually described with human attributes. It

11

speaks, it sees, it moves, and, above all, it is wise* Be­

yond this, the description is deliberately vague and gives

the impression of transparency and impalpability* In

"Alastor," the Spirit is seen as a manifestation of nature:

* o * A Spirit seemed To stand beside him—clothed in no bright robes Of shadowy silver or enshrining light* Borrowed from aught the visible world affords Of grace, or majesty, or mystery; — But, undulation woods, and silent well. And leaping rivulet, and evening gloom Now deepening the dark shades, for speech assuming, Held commune with him, as if he and it Were all that was,—only * . . when his regard Was raised by intense pensiveness, . . * two eyes. Two starry eyes, hung in the gloom of thought. And seemed with their serene and azure smiles To beckon him. ("Alastor," 11. 479-492)

In "Mont Blanc," the mountain is the symbol of the Divine

Spirit, which is the source of thought:

Thou hast a voice, great Mountain, to repeal Large codes of fraud and woe; not understood By all, but which the wise, and great, and good Interpret, or make felt, or deeply feel. O O . . 0 . . O . . . * . * . . . * . . . . . .

Mont Blanc yet gleams on high: -»the power is there, The still and solemn power of many sights. And many sounds, and much of life and death.

("Mont Blanc," 11. 80^83; 127- 129)

The lady of light is one of the recurring figures in

Shelley's poetry. The ideals of love, beauty, and wisdom

are combined in her symbolic appearance. She is clothed in

veils of wind or light ("Alastor" and "Witch of Atlas"),

walks with airy step ("The Sensitive Plant"), and her voice.

78

like music or love, speaks eternal truths. In "Alastor,"

the vision of the beautiful maiden symbolizes human love

which the poet has lost* In "The Sensitive Plant," she is

the Spirit of Beauty without which beautiful things cannot

exist* Shelley describes the influence of this ideal figure

upon himself in "Epipsychidion":

There was a Being whom my spirit oft Met on its visioned wanderings, far aloft. In the clear golden prime of my youth's dawn. Upon the fairy isles of sunny lawn, Amid the enchanted mountains, and the caves Of divine sleep, and on the air-like waves Of wonder-level dream, whose tremulous floor Paved her light steps;—on an imagined shore. Under the gray beak of some promontory She met me, robed in such exceeding glory. That I beheld her not. In solitudes Her voice came to me through the whispering woods. And from the fountains, and the odours deep Of flowers, . * * * Her Spirit was the harmony of truth,—

("Epipsychidion," 11. 190-203; 2l6)

In the complete fusion of matter and spirit, the mind

as well as the body of the poet are part of the great Whole.

In the purest form of spiritual mysticism, the poet identi­

fies himself with the spiritual powers of nature and loses

himself in them* The death scene in "Alastor" is an example

of such a gradual absorption of the poet's body and mind in

nature:

« * . Now upon the jagged hills It rests, and still as the divided frame Of the vast meteor sunk, the Poet's blood, That ever beat in mystic sympathy With nature's ebb and flow, grew feebler still:

79

And when two lessening points of light alone Gleamed through the darkness, the alternate gasp Of his faint respiration scarce did stir The stagnate night: —till the minutest ray Was quenched, the pulse yet lingered in his heart* It paused««it fluttered* But when heaven remained Utterly black, the murky shades involved An image, silent, cold, and motionless. As their own voiceless earth and vacant air* Even as a vapour fed with golden beams o . * was now that wondrous frame-No sense, no motion, no divinity-^. A fragile lute, on whose harmonious strings The breath of heaven did wander—a bright stream Once fed with many-voiced waves—a dream Of^youth, which night and time have quenched forever. Still, and dark, and dry, and unremembered now*

("Alastor," 11* 649-671)

A similar transformation of the poet's thought into an as-

pect of nature is to be found in "Ode to the Westwind*"

Shelley wants to become part of the wild windg

Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!

("Ode to the Westwind," 11. 53-54)

The wish to escape a cruel world leads to a complete identi.

fication with this power of nature:

0 * 0 Be thou. Spirit fierce. My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!

(11* 61-62)

But the poet returns to his purpose among mankind. He hopes

that the wind will carry his poetic message over the wide

earth:

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth'.

80

And, by the incantation of this verse.

Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!

(11* 63-67)

Thus, the spiritual death of the poet becomes a rebirth of

the ideal, for:

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? (u 70)

Shelley's emotions have their source in nature and

intellect* The external universe is governed by a transcend­

ent Power which is an abstract idea. Shelley calls it

Beauty, Intellect, Truth, or Freedom. He gives it an alle­

gorical form and places it into an allegorical setting. His

feelings of passionate love or reverent awe are directed at

this ideal, which he finds in all aspects of external nature.

The mystic relationship between poet and ideal leads to a

complete fusion of spirit and matter. The poet becomes a

part of nature*

The Idealistic View £f Nature

in Late Romanticism

The poetic improvement on nature was to WordsiA orth a

question of style. He described what he actually saw, but

eliminated all aspects which would destroy the effectiveness

of the description. Shelley described an ideal scene or

feeling by using real observations, or an actual experience

81

by transforming it into an ideal one* Thus, realism is to

Shelley an aid to express an otherwise elusive idea.

Shelley's descriptions of nature are always idealized.

The majesty of mountains, the motion of water, and the in­

tricate design of luxuriant plant life are his most important

subjects* They symbolize in turn the superiority of pure

thoughts, the mutability of life, and the interrelation of

all living things* He uses simile, synaesthetic imagery,

and unusual light effects to emphasize the allegoric char­

acter of his descriptions* The idea of the "woof" or web of

light, water, sound, fragrance, and plants is symbolic of

the unity of all of nature.

In contrast to Wordsworth, who saw emotions as de­

rived from nature, Shelley understood them to be manifesta­

tions of the Divine Ideal and as such related to the moods

in nature* They are for him almost identical with intellect.

Nature is still the source of inspiration, because an ideal

truth is expressed in it more purely than in human thought.

Thus, Shelley peopled his scenes with allegorical figures

portraying the poet and the abstract ideal. This fusion of

the real and the ideal is paralleled by a fusion of the

poet's mind and body with nature* In the exaltation of pure

thought and inspiration, the poet identified himself with

the forces of nature. Nature has become completely spirit­

ualized.

CONCLUSION

Even so limited a study of nature poetry as this may

give certain general insights into the changes which a poetic

subject may undergo during different literary periods* Na­

ture is one of the key interests of the Romantic Period* It

is celebrated in all three phases of English Romanticism.

Yet, each phase emphasizes a different aspect* It is rather

dangerous to arrive at any definite conclusions, because

many of the distinguishing aspects between Thomson, Words­

worth, and Shelley may simply be results of the individual

characteristics of each man. Thus, it is necessary to limit

any deductions to those general aspects of nature poetry

which seem to form significant parts of a development*

The approach to the subject matter underwent a number

of changes. The Preromantic Thomson, still influenced by

the reasonableness of Neoclassicism, endeavored to give a

complete and realistic view of nature in all her aspects.

Although his detailed descriptions are at times charming and

rather impressive, Thomson's scientific approach to natural

appearances and his tendency to catalogue are essentially un-

poetic. Wordsworth originally subscribed to detailed and

realistic description, but soon turned to a more effective

method of selecting the most characteristic and poetically

impressive views of nature. With the change of the centui\v,

82

83

the moving and changing aspects of the universe became more

important than the stationary scene* Shelley used this

selective approach for a new means. To him, mutability in

nature became a symbol of an abstract idea. Nature in all

her aspects is an allegory of human life as well as of divine

ideals. Thus, the approach to the subject has developed

from the realistic and scientific description of the actual

scene to the idealized rendition of landscape as symbolic of

values behind external nature.

The emotional aspects of Romantic poetry are closely

connected with the belief in a spiritual presence in nature.

In Thomson's case, this emotion takes the form of deep ad­

miration for a pantheistic God who is the central and ruling

power of the revolving year. The concept of the inspired

poet is already expressed in The Seasons, but it is only in

the sense of the poet who is inspired by magnificent views

to moralize on life and society. Thus, the relationship

between poet and nature is still relatively loose and based

mainly on admiration. Wordsworth develops the feeling of

admiration into the deeper emotion of wonder at the mysteries

of nature* Although no longer connected with religious as­

pects, his emotions are more immediate and constant than

Thomson's. The poet deliberately seeks the inspiring influ­

ence of nature and endeavors to interpret it. Shelley,

similarly, sees a deeper meaning in external nature. He be­

lieves in an interrelation of all things visible and spiritua:

84

Thus, external nature can express spiritual emotion. The

poet's mind as well as the mountain, the sea, or the forest

is a manifestation of the abstract ideal and the poet can

transfer his emotions into any aspect of nature* Poetic

emotion has thus reached the depth of a spiritual transcen­

dency over the human body and mind. The humble admiration

of the Preromantics:

« 0 « Deep-roused, I feel A sacred terror, a severe delight. Creep through my mortal frame; . . . .

(The Seasons, "Summer," 11. 540-542)

has become in turn the eagerly sought moment face to face

with eternity, the feeling of

. . . a sense sublime Of something far more deeply interfused,

("Tintern Abbey," 11. 95-96)

and the final and complete loss of the self in nature:

, . a Be thou. Spirit fierce. My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!

("Ode to the Westwind," 11. 61-62)

A comparison of the styles of the three poets has to

be general because of the metrically different works. The

Seasons is marked by the influence of poetic diction. The

description of nature abounds in classical allusions such as

zephyrs and Aurora, the scene is peopled with "youthful

swains" and filled with "the footed and the feathered game.,"

85

It was primarily this artificiality of poetic language in

the eighteenth century which caused the Romantic revolt.

Wordsworth's style is distinctly simple. He uses only such

expressions as are common among the humble people he de­

scribes o The late Romantics turned again to a more ornate

form of poetic language which was more suitable to the

idealistic view of nature. Poetic artistry is at its best

in the masterful use of imagery and simile in Shelley's

poetry.

The Romantic Era is commonly seen as a whole, because

such concepts as the interest in nature, in primitive ages,

and in human emotions are to be found in all major works of

the periodo It is, however, significant that these concepts

have been developed gradually and that the Romantic Age con­

sists of three distinct phases, each of which marks a step

in the development.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Texts

^^"""lobert^n^V ^ Complete Poetical Works, ed. J. L. Robertson, London, Oxford UniversitjTpFiss, 1908.

Wordsworth, William. The Poetical Works, ed. Thomas Hutch-Press; 1939! Selincourt, London, Oxford University

Shelley, Percy Bysshe. The Complete Poetical Works, ed. inomas Hutchinson, London, Oxford University Press, I952

Critical Works

Coleridge, S, T. Biographia Literaria, ed. J. Co Metcalf, New York, Macmlllan, I926Z

Baker, Carlos. Shelley's Major Poetry, Princeton, Princeton University Press, I948*

Beach, J. W* The Concept of Nature in Nineteenth-Century English Poetry, New York, .Macmlllan, I936.

Bloom, Harold. Shelley's Mythmaking, New Haven, Yale University Press, 1959*

Blunden, Edmund. Nature in English Literature, London, Hogarth, I949.

Bowra, C, M. The Romantic Imagination, Cambridge, Harvard University Press, I949.

Butter, Peter. Shelley's Idols of the Cave, Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press, 195^.

Deane, C. V. Aspects of Eighteenth Century Nature Poetry, Oxford, Blackwell,"T933T

Fitzgerald, M. M. First Follow Nature, New York, King's Crown Press, I9W7Z

Fogle, R. H. The Imagery of Keats and Shelley, Chapel Hill, University of North Carolina Press, 1949,

86

87

Hoffman, H, L. An Odyssey of the Soul, New York, Columbia University Press, I933.

Johnson, Samuel. Lives of the British Poets, London, Cooke, 1854. ' ' '

Jones, John. The Egotistical Sublime, London, Chatto & Windus, 193Zr7 ""

Ker, W. P. Form and Style in Poetry, ed. R. W. Chambers, London, Macmlllan, I928.

Knight, G, W« The Starlit Dome, New York, Barnes & Noble, i960.

Kurtz, B. P. The Pursuit of Death, New York, Oxford Univer­sity Press7T933»

Lacey, Norman. Wordsworth's View of Nature, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 19"4H.

Logan, J. V. Wordsworthian Criticism, Columbus, Ohio State University Press, I947.

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