unnatural restraint of the Pigtail period, and while holding up the mirror to his own day, he at the same time led its taste and the expression of it towards what was simple and natural, by disclosing the treasures which lay hidden in the poetry of the people.  The lyric was freed from the artificiality and convention which had so long ruled it, and although he did not carry out his plan of a history of poetry, his collections and his profound remarks upon them were of great service, sowing a seed that bore fruit in succeeding days.

The popular songs to him were children of the same mother as the plants and flowers.  ’All the songs of such unlettered folk,’[2] he said, ’weave a living world around existing objects, actions, and events.  How rich and manifold they all become!  And the eye can actually see them, the mind realize them; they are set in motion.  The different parts of the song are no more connected together than the trees and bushes in a wood, the rocks in a desert, or the scenes depicted.’  In another place[3] he put the history of feeling for Nature very tersely:  ’There is no doubt that the spirit of man is made gentler by studying Nature.  What did the classics aim at in their Georgics, but under various shapes to make man more humane and raise him gradually to order, industry, and prosperity, and to the power to observe Nature?...’  Hence, when poetry revived in the Middle Ages, she soon recollected the true land of her birth among the plants and flowers.  The Provencal and the romantic poets loved the same descriptions.  Spenser, for instance, has charming stanzas about beautiful wilds with their streams and flowers; Cowley’s six books on plants, vegetables, and trees are written with extraordinary affection and a superfluity of imagination; and of our old Brockes, Gessner says:  ’He observed Nature’s many beauties down to their finest minutiae, the smallest things move his tender feelings; a dewdrop on a blade of grass in the sunshine inspires him.  His scenes are often too laboured, too wide in scope, but still his poems are a storehouse of pictures direct from Nature.  Haller’s Alps, Kleist’s poems and Gessner’s, Thomson’s Seasons, speak for themselves.’

He delighted in Shaftesbury’s praises of Nature as the good and beautiful in the Moralists, and translated it[4]; in fact, in Herder we have already an aesthetic cult of the beauties of Nature.

After the moral disquisitions of Pope, Addison, Shaftesbury, etc., Nature’s influence on man, moral and aesthetic, became, as we have already seen, a favourite theme in Germany too, both in pious and rationalistic circles[5]; but there are few traces of any aesthetic analysis.

The most important one was Kant’s, in his Observations on the Beautiful and Sublime in 1764.  He distinguished, in the finer feeling for Nature, a feeling for the sublime and a feeling for the beautiful.