Mapping ‘Wordsworthshire’: A GIS Study of Literary Tourism in Victorian Lakeland

This is an Accepted Manuscript of an article published by Taylor & Francis in Journal of Victorian Culture on 14/08/2015, available online: doi: 10.1080/13555502.2015.1058089

strangers who called [ . . . ] in the course of the season was eight hundred'. 10 These latter figures may be slightly exaggerated, as they seem to have been intended as much to astonish as to inform. 11 But, in the absence of more precise records, they can nevertheless be seen to indicate a general trend: namely that during the 1830s and 1840s an ever-increasing flock of pilgrims was passing by Rydal Mount in the hope of catching a glimpse of the poet. Those travellers who were lucky enough to be received by Wordsworth himself certainly made a point of commemorating the occasion. Some, such as Richard Howitt, were inspired to do so in verse: 'Cheered by the Poet's hospitable smile, j I breathe the air of the song-hallowed pile, j With but half faith what is can really be.' 12 For most Victorian tourists, however, it was not Wordsworth's 'song-hallowed pile' so much as his terraced garden that served as Rydal Mount's main attraction. Wordsworth's garden -long renowned for its scenic vistas -was, after all, the one part of the property that the public could readily access. It was, moreover, widely known to have been laid out by Wordsworth himself, and thus considered by many to bear the imprint of his genius. 13 In this way, as Scott Hess has suggested, the property presented the literary pilgrim with the 'prospect' not only of admiring Wordsworth's view, but also of actually 'sharing the poet's viewpoint, and thus magically sharing something of his consciousness as well'. 14 But this was not the only source of the garden's appeal. For, in addition to bearing trees and shrubs planted by the poet's own hands, Wordsworth's garden was also steeped in literary significance. Over the latter half of his career, after all, Wordsworth had repeatedly publicized this private space as a place of poetic selffashioning. Notably, in his valedictory sonnet 'Adieu, Rydalian Laurels!' he had portrayed himself as a gardener 'braid [ing] j Ground-flowers' beneath the 'shelter' of his 'household bowers'. 15 Elsewhere, in an inscription composed for one of his terraces, he had celebrated the 'humble walk[s]' where he daily wandered, 'scattering to the heedless winds j The vocal raptures of fresh poesy'. 16 These poems, both of which appeared in 1835, evidently made an impression on Wordsworth's readership for, within a year of their publication, at least one passer-by was overheard outside the poet's gates urging her companion to 'get on the wall & snatch a sprig of laurel, or 10. Harriet Martineau, 'Lights of the English Lake District', Atlantic Monthly, 7 (1861), 541-58 (p. 550 anything; we must take something away'. 17 Amusing though it may have seemed at the time, this petty theft was only a sign of things to come. It is certainly 'fortunate', as Stephen Gill has surmised, 'that shrubs grow abundantly in Cumbria'. 18 Soon much bigger bands of relic hunters were ascending the hill to Rydal Mount each summer. In August 1848, for instance, the poet's son-in-law reported having seen a swarm of 'no fewer than 50, or 60' votaries rummaging 'all over the terraces' , each presumably in search of their own souvenir sprig. 19 Such pruning parties were still in vogue when the Hawthornes arrived in the Lakes seven years later. So it comes as little surprise that, when, on their way through Rydal, the family's driver identified a house near 'the foot of the lake' as the home of the late 'Mr. Wardsworth', they dropped off their baggage and returned at once to pinch their own keepsakes from the poet's garden. According to Hawthorne, upon: [r]eaching the house that had been pointed out to us as Wordsworth's residence, we began to peer about, at its front and gables, and over the garden wall on both sides of the road -quickening up our enthusiasm as much as we could, and meditating to pilfer some flower or ivy-leaf from the house or its vicinity, to be kept as sacred memorials. At this juncture a man approached, who announced himself as the gardener of the place, and said that he could show us Wordsworth's garden; -and said, too, that this was not Wordsworth's house at all, but the residence of Mr. Ball, a Quaker gentleman; -but that his grounds adjoined Wordsworth's, and that he had liberty to take visitors through the latter. How queer, if we should have carried away ivy-leaves and tender recollections from the domicile of a respectable Quaker! 20 Now, although it is perfectly possible to suppose that Hawthorne had mistaken his driver's meaning, his notebook frankly suggests that he had been misinformed. Rydal Mount, after all, sits not along the lakeshore but perched on the side of Nab Scar, some 200 yards uphill from the main road. Indeed, given how minutely the approach to Wordsworth's 'mountain home' is described in the guidebooks that the Hawthornes had read, it is a little surprising that they came so close to ransacking the wrong garden. 21 However that may be, the particulars of Hawthorne's account are less For literary pilgrims like the Hawthornes, Rydal Mount was the bud around which all of the Lake District's Wordsworthian associations unfolded. Today, of course, tourists are apt to overlook the house and its gardens altogether, being drawn instead to Dove Cottage, near Grasmere, where the poet and his sister Dorothy settled in 1799, and which in time, as Stephen Hebron has shown, would surpass the Wordsworths' Victorian home as the region's chief literary shrine. 26 Be that as it may, throughout the bulk of the Victorian era, it was Rydal Mount that was known far and wide as 'the crowning honour of the district', the local seat of literary celebrity par excellence. 27 Publicized as Wordsworth's address from the appearance of The Excursion in 1814, and widely displayed both in souvenir prints and on the title page of his Poetical Works, the house and its garden were the most iconic of the various landmarks on which he drew to portray himself as 'a Poet living in retirement.' 28  averred, it was 'with Rydal Mount' that Wordsworth's name was 'more intimately connected than with any other place'. 29 Yet, for all its pre-eminence, Rydal Mount was not the only spot frequented by those Victorian tourists who wished to visit the scenes of Wordsworth's life and works. Indeed, as Samantha Matthews has shown, the poet's former home was closely seconded in prestige by his final resting place in St Oswald's churchyard, in Grasmere, where Hawthorne also paused to collect a few memorial clippings ('I plucked some grass and weeds [ . . . ] from just above his head'). 30 Other places, such as the nearby village of Hawkshead (the scene of the poet's school days) also received a fair share of attention, as did various sites along the course of the Duddon (the river celebrated in Wordsworth's famous sonnets). 31 There were, moreover, locations like Kirkstone Pass, which Hawthorne duly remembered as the scene of the 'aspiring road' described in Wordsworth's 'Ode: The Pass of Kirkstone', or even whole mountains, like Helvellyn, which he had immortalized in his earlier poem 'Fidelity'. 32  When viewed in light of this long list of places, Hawthorne's visit to Rydal appears as what it is: one of a multitude of attempts to read Wordsworth back onto the locations where he had lived and from which he had drawn inspiration. The consolidation of this literary landscape in Victorian guidebooks and in annotated editions of Wordsworth's works has been extensively, if not exhaustively, elaborated elsewhere. 34 But what is generally less well appreciated -even surprising -is the sheer number and the range of different locations that landscape comprised. Indeed, as Saeko Yoshikawa has recently insisted, we should be careful not to underestimate the lengths Victorian guidebooks were willing to go 'to locate [Wordsworth's] poems in the landscape of the district' . 35 Nor for that matter, she continues, should we ignore the extent to which the proliferation of the region's transportation network enabled Victorian tourists to venture further afield: 'Then as now' the Windermere ferry helped tourists 'from Bowness [ . . . ] make their ways to Hawkshead and Coniston', and the railway 'facilitated travel to [ . . . ] Furness Abbey, Black Combe, and the Duddon Valley'. 'Then as now', Yoshikawa concludes, 'the coastal line took passengers to St Bees.' 36 As a consequence, instead of merely being familiar with Rydal Mount and its environs, well-informed Victorian tourists were aware of Wordsworthian places located not only in the centre of the Lake District, but also around its periphery.
Taking these various locations into account significantly broadens our conception of the boundaries of Wordsworthshire. Instead of envisioning a poetic demesne comprising only a handful of key locations, we begin to conceive of a literary landscape that extends outwards across the better part of the greater Lakeland region. Following on from Yoshikawa's observations about transportation, moreover, we can also begin to conceive of a literary landscape whose shape was determined not only by the broader geography of Wordsworth's works, but also by the contours of the local waterways, roadways, and railways that afforded the literary tourist access to the poet's world. Wordsworthshire, it would seem, was both spatially extensive and intensive: a territory defined both by a wide distribution of places and by the presence of corridors or pathways that gathered certain places together. This is an illuminating insight. Equally, however, it is one that presents us with an interpretive challenge. For although documenting the associations of each of the places that comprised Victorian Wordsworthshire is a fairly straightforward task, doing so tells us relatively little about how these places relate to one another or to the physical geography of the Lake District itself. Enumerating the different sites mentioned in Hawthorne's account, for example, may clue us into the importance of Rydal Mount or St Oswald's as places of literary pilgrimage; however, it does not in itself help us to evaluate how their popularity as tourist destinations may have been influenced by their proximity to other places of interest or their accessibility. Nor, for that matter, does a listing of key locations allow us to assess the place those locations occupy within the wider constellation of the region's cultural landmarks. These kinds of spatial and relational details are difficult to determine through the reading of individual accounts, but they are precisely the sorts of details to which mapping -especially mapping aided by Geographic Information Systems (or GIS) technologies -can alert us. Such technologies, as we shall see, facilitate new reading practices that help us to assess multiple accounts comparatively and, geographically, to uncover hidden relations between them.

II. Mapping Wordsworthshire
The general application of GIS technologies in the humanities has occurred recently enough to justify a few words of introduction. Essentially, GIS are computer systems that facilitate the arrangement, visualization, and analysis of geographic informationor, in other words, data about specific locations. 37 Like satellite navigation systems and virtual globes, GIS have a map-based interface that, among other things, enables one to create spatial features, to calculate their proximity, and to gauge their dimension, scope, and scale. Unlike most cognate technologies, however, GIS are also database management systems that assist with the organization, storage, and retrieval of information. They are, accordingly, not only effective tools for integrating data from different sources, but also for representing those data both in a tabular format and in a digital mapping environment. This compound functionality distinguishes GIS as unparalleled resources for compiling information about particular locations and for assessing how the attributes assigned to those locations vary from place to place. Given this, it may come as little surprise that GIS have traditionally been associated with quantitative research in the environmental and social sciences, and particularly in fields that draw on large amounts of statistical data to analyse the geography underlying specific events and phenomena. Clearly, however, GIS also have the potential to aid research in the humanities, especially studies such as this one, which seeks to reconstruct and examine the geographies of nineteenth-century literary tourism. GIS' for humanities scholarship as yet needs to be substantiated through interdisciplinary research. 39 The application of GIS in this article thus represents an important step forward in that it aspires to answer this need. In what follows, then, our objective is twofold. First and foremost, our aim is to build on the foregoing discussion of literary tourism in the Lake District by demonstrating how, in facilitating geographical visualization, GIS can help to guide critical inquiry by highlighting specific spatial patterns for further analysis. Secondly, in doing so, we aim to exemplify how GIS can be meaningfully implemented in literary-historical research. Consider, with this in mind, the dot map displayed in Figure 1, which shows the location of every place in the greater Lakeland region associated with Wordsworth in the sample of two dozen Victorian tourist publications and travel books mentioned above. Wordsworthshire, when surveyed in this way, appears to cover a fair bit of ground: more ground, indeed, than one might expect given the concentration of the contemporary Wordsworth industry around Grasmere. Instead of a single centralized space, we see here a scattered pattern of place-marks that spreads over a significant portion of the region. Many of these place-marks, such as the one for Black Combe, stand in relative isolation. Others, however, such as the ones along the banks of the Duddon, form clusters that follow the contours of the terrain. In so many words, at first glance it seems that Wordsworthshire comprises not only individual outstanding places, but also micro-regional groupings of significant sites.
Dot maps, when used in this manner, offer an elegantly simple way to study the distribution of different locations. As interpretive tools, however, they do have their limitations. By and large this is because they depict each place marked on the map in an identical fashion and, therefore, tend to obscure qualitative differences between them. Gauging qualities such as the number of times an individual place is represented on the map is particularly challenging, especially since GIS applications superimpose multiple place-marks in the same location. Consequently, a dataset may contain multiple references to a particular location and only one reference to another, but on a dot map this difference will not be distinguishable to the naked eye. Another difficulty with dot maps is that they unhelpfully give the impression that each place marked on the map is located in a single, precise location. This can be misleading, especially if the place in question happens to be a lake or a mountain, and thus to extend over a significant amount of space. In order to overcome such representational limitations, geographic information scientists employ spatial analysis techniques, such as density smoothing, which is a standard method for visualizing the relative frequency -and, therefore, prominence -of the various places or areas represented on the map. The technicalities of this process have been Journal of Victorian Culture 295 lucidly explained elsewhere. 40 For the present purposes, it is suffice to say that the more times an individual place appears, the denser the clustering -and the darker the colouration -of the concentric circles around it. The maps thus created, though seemingly less precise, are thus not only easier to interpret, but also have the merit of not misleadingly implying that each place-mark accurately represents the exact position of each location. Accordingly, if we adjust the map in Figure 1 to display the frequency with which each of the various locations mentioned in connection with Wordsworth occurs (see Figure 2), then a rather different pattern begins to emerge. Instead of being spatially diffuse, here Wordsworthshire is shown to be a densely concentrated geographical entity surrounded by several satellite locations. One does, to be sure, find references to outlying sites, such as Brougham Castle, Blackcombe, and St Bees. At the same time, however, most (57%) of the places affiliated with Wordsworth are shown to be located within a mile and a half of Rydal Mount, with the rest falling well within the boundaries of the modern Lake District National Park. Notably, references to Rydal Mount, the most frequently mentioned location, alone account for nearly 10% of the total. Grasmere and St Oswald's churchyard, the next two most frequently mentioned locations, account for 5% and 4% of the total respectively. The Wordsworths' earlier home, Dove Cottage, which began to feature regularly in Lake District tourist publications in the 1870s, accounts for just 2% overall. These percentages help us to make an important qualification to our initial interpretations of the dot map displayed in Figure 1. In doing so, they also confirm, challenge, and extend knowledge about Victorian literary tourism in the Lake District. Specifically, they suggest that whereas some Victorian tourists were as venturesome as Yoshikawa asserts in seeking out remote sites of literary interest, the books and essays that the bulk of their contemporaries would have encountered in fact mainly directed their attention (at least as far as Wordsworth was concerned) to a cluster of locations in the south-eastern half of the district. In effect, as the maps indicate, these publications helped to encourage the development of a more-or-less standardized Wordsworthian tour that gave prominence to places such as Hawkshead, Grasmere, and Rydal: the places where the poet had passed the better part of his days. Accordingly, even though Victorian tourists evidently regarded Wordsworth as the presiding genius of the whole Lakes region, Wordsworthshire (as perceived through the tourist publications of the Journal of Victorian Culture 297 period) seems to have principally comprised locations in the old county of Westmorland and the district of Furness. Equivalent sites in the poet's native Cumberland -including his birthplace in Cockermouth -were, comparatively speaking, fewer and farther between. 41 Taken in turn, the maps in Figures 1 and 2 thus help us to appreciate that although Victorian Wordsworthshire was more spatially extensive than we might suspect, it was nonetheless mainly concentrated around a handful of key locations. Taken together, however, these two maps call our attention to an aspect of the region's geography that is of even greater importance. In particular, they help us to perceive that although these Victorian tourist publications may vary somewhat in their recommended itineraries, their accounts of the literary geography of the Lake District were evidently influenced by the region's road network. Almost all of the Wordsworthian locations to which they direct the reader's attention, after all, either fall along or are at least visible from the Lakeland's main routes, roadways, and mountain passes. Indeed, as the maps presented above illustrate, although some more intrepid tourists and guidebook writers did take in the Wordsworthian sites of the region's remoter valleys (such as Dunnerdale, Ennerdale, and Wasdale), more than three-quarters of the places that Victorian tourist publications regularly affiliated with Wordsworth follow the contours of the Lake District's principal coach roads. Although this may initially seem unsurprising, it is nonetheless of manifest importance as a reminder that the experience of touring the Lakes in the mid-to late nineteenth century was one as much defined by the experience of travel as it was by individual locations. What is even more outstanding, with this in mind, however, is that nearly half of the locations associated with Wordsworth, in fact, fall along one single stretch of road: the old turnpike from Kendal to Keswick, which, for the most part, lies beneath the tarmac of the modern A591 trunk road (see Figure 3).
Upon reflection, that so many of these places fall along this single route makes sense, especially when we consider that this highly scenic road -still regularly voted 'Britain's favourite drive' -has long been an essential link in the Lake District's transportation network. 42 Even today, it is the only main route running through the very heart of the Lakes, covering more ground and, frequently, conveying more traffic than any other road of its class in the region. 43  even more paramount. After being widened and improved by the Ambleside Turnpike Trust, it came to serve as the main conduit between the rail and steamer services at Windermere and the district's two other premier tourist centres: the old market town of Keswick and the burgeoning village of Ambleside. 44 The portion of the route connecting these three resorts -and, not insignificantly, both Rydal and Grasmerewas especially prized. Frequently extolled as affording the traveller views of 'the most beautiful highway-scenery in England' , it was also renowned as 'the trunk of the District', since, as one local guide clarified, it connected 'three-fourths of the other roads' and carried 'by far the largest stream of traffic'. 45 Here, of course, one must recognize that the scenic beauty of this turnpike and its more tangible significance as a trunk road proceeded from the same cause: namely, that, for much of its length, it is flanked on either side by mountainous, and therefore arduous, terrain. It was, accordingly, the choice path to follow through the region's rolling upland landscape. At any rate, it was principally on account of this unique alignment of the local topography, transport infrastructure, and tourist trade that the Ambleside Trust managed not merely to survive but to thrive, even as other trusts throughout the country were beginning to disappear. Indeed, as Lawrence A. Williams has shown, the popularity of this road and its commercial success was a significant factor in preventing the proposed construction of a railway from Windermere to Keswick via Rydal and Grasmere in the mid-1870s. 46 The road most strongly associated with Wordsworth, whose protests against the extension of railways into the Lake District are well known, thus can be seen to have played a crucial role in preserving the peace of his homeland.
The records of the Ambleside Trust's tollgate returns are fragmentary, but those that survive affirm the long-term success of the turnpike road. Notably, in the year of Hawthorne's visit, 21,480 carriages passed through the Trust's tollgate at Troutbeck Bridge alone, with an additional 15,240 vehicles (including the author's carriage) continuing north towards Grasmere and Keswick. 47 Calculating how many of the passengers in those vehicles were tourists, let alone literary tourists, is of course an elusive task, and one in no small way complicated by the difficulties that attend any attempt to define what tourism is or to gauge its economic impact. One could obviously attempt to compensate for such uncertainties by excluding a proportion of those passengers who made the journey by cart or by the mail-coach on the grounds that they were likely travelling for business rather than pleasure. 48 To do so, however, would be to assume that the motivations of any traveller can be so neatly circumscribed, and this is demonstrably not the case. Certainly, as the Hawthornes' tour evinces, even those tourists who sought out the world behind Wordsworth's works were drawn to the Lakes for other reasons: namely, health, rest, and relaxation. But arriving at the precise number of tourists on the turnpike in any given year is, in some sense, beside the point. What really matters here is the correlation that the maps help us discern between this busy coach road, as a space of the traveller's experience, and the sites to which Lakeland visitors flocked during the Victorian era. Recognizing this correlation helps to deepen our appreciation of the relationship between the literary geography of Wordsworthshire and the physical geography of the Lakes region itself. Specifically, it helps us to appreciate how popular interest in the places where Wordsworth had lived, and about which he wrote, was modulated not only by interest in the Lake District's other attractions, but also by material conditions on the ground. The foregoing maps help to emphasize this point, as they show us that the sites most frequently associated with Wordsworth were also those that were not only nearest to the district's principal tourist centres, but also most accessible from its main road. Outlying locations, including the poet's birthplace in Cockermouth, seem to have suffered somewhat on account of their remoteness, as do other key Wordsworthian sites, such as the River Duddon, which one assumes would have attracted even more attention had its course run closer to Ambleside. This is, of course, a useful reminder (as Charles O'Neill and John K. Walton have put it) 'that there were limits to the combined power of [Wordsworth's] poetry and celebrity to channel tourist flows in precise directions' , but it is equally a reminder that the Victorian fascination with the Lakeland's Wordsworthian associations was part of the larger confluence of interests and attractions that drew visitors to the region. 49 Though meaningful in their own right, places connected with the poet became tourist destinations as a result of their relative ease of access, which was determined by other factors, such as the presence of roads, the availability of accommodation, and the lure of additional leisure opportunities. By contrast, locations such as the Duddon Valley and Cockermouth, notwithstanding their strong Wordsworthian associations, drew less attention because of their relative isolation and distance from the major eastern gateways to the region.

III. Touring Wordsworthshire
So far we have focused on assessing the geographical extensiveness and intensiveness of Wordsworthshire, and we have, moreover, documented the marked influence of roads in determining the places towards which literary tourists were principally directed. It is instructive, now, to return to the maps displayed above in order to consider what they suggest about Victorian literary tourists' experience of travelling through the Lakeland landscape as opposed simply to their experience of visiting individual locations. Once again, reading Hawthorne's notebooks is illuminating. Inasmuch as his account exemplifies the experience of many contemporary Lake District tourists, it suggests how visiting the scenes of Wordsworth's life and works was enriched by other local associations, not least with the Lake District's other literary celebrities. Hawthorne's record of journeying along the Ambleside turnpike is of particular importance in this regard, as he mentions having followed the coach road not only to Rydal Mount, but also past a plethora of other key cultural landmarks, including The Knoll ('Miss Martineau's residence'), Nab Cottage ('in which De 49. Charles O'Neill and John K. Walton, 'Tourism and the Lake District: Social and Cultural Histories', in Sustainable Tourism in the English Lake District, 19 -47 (p. 21).

Journal of Victorian Culture 301
Quincey formerly lived, and where Hartley Coleridge lived and died'), and the Swan Inn ('where Scott used to go daily to get a draught of liquor, when he was visiting Wordsworth'), as well as St John's in the Vale (described by 'Scott, in the Bridal of Triermain'), which he visited while on his return from viewing the homes and haunts of Robert Southey, in Keswick. 50 It is by virtue of such passing comments that Hawthorne's account of the literary associations of the Ambleside turnpike offers a glimpse of the larger literary landscape apparent in other Victorian accounts of the Lake District. Consider, to this end, the map in Figure 4, which displays the distribution and frequency of the places associated with 11 other writers who are frequently mentioned in Victorian Lakeland tourist literature: Matthew Arnold, Thomas Arnold, Hartley Coleridge, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Thomas De Quincey, Felicia Hemans, Harriet Martineau, John Ruskin, Sir Walter Scott, Robert Southey, and John Wilson. In total, the names of these individuals are mentioned in connection with specific Lake District places 287 times in the Victorian texts in the Spatial Humanities project's digital library. Intriguingly, as the map illustrates, once again the highest concentration (66%) of these places is located alongside the route of the Ambleside turnpike, with the vast majority being found within a short distance of either Grasmere or Keswick. As the high frequency of house names in the list of these locations suggest, whereas the former pattern is due to the fact that seven of these 11 figures resided, at least periodically, near Grasmere, the latter is due principally to the proportionately high number of places (34%) associated with the author, historian, and Poet Laureate Robert Southey, who lived and died at Greta Hall and is buried in Crosthwaite churchyard, both of which are located in Keswick.
Though an interesting task in its own right, using GIS to tally and to visualize this list of literary locations is important because it enhances our understanding of how roads, such as the Ambleside turnpike, helped to shape the material and imaginative geographies that underpinned Victorian literary tourism in the Lake District. At this level, one can begin to perceive how geographical technologies, such as GIS, afford insights that qualitative geographical theories of movement and mobility can help us to interpret. When we read the texts mapped in Figure 4 alongside the map itself, what we come to perceive is not only how routes such as the Ambleside turnpike channelled tourists to specific places, but also how, in doing so, they linked those places together, enfolding their local associations into a unified stream of experience. 51 More than mere roadways, at this level they functioned as cultural corridors: as pathways that brought together places celebrated for their literary associations and that, accordingly, helped to create the sense of an empirical, affective, and imaginative connection between the present and the past. More than simply lines of transit, they were (to adopt a concept from Tim Ingold) 'storylines': passageways through which the 50. The Centenary Edition, XXI,246,257,256,and 270. 51 traveller, 'recursively picking up the threads of past lives', participates in the narrative creation of place. 52 As such, they had the potential to be appreciated for their association with the celebrated figures who had travelled and lived along them before. Significantly, in the case of the Ambleside turnpike, this sense of a trans-historical connection was further intensified by the fact that the corridor in question was a coach road: a status that, in an era defined by the ascendancy of the railway, imbued it with a profound nostalgic appeal. Even for Hawthorne, who travelled throughout much of England, Scotland, and Wales during the 1850s, the sight of stagecoaches in the Lake District came as a pleasant surprise: 'I suppose there are not many of those machines now running on any road in Great Britain!' 53 For his successors, who witnessed the disappearance of turnpikes across the British countryside during the subsequent decades, this sense of pleasure seems to have only intensified. For many Victorian tourists there was an irresistible charm in being able to travel along the road from Windermere to Keswick by coach. More than simply leading the visitors past places associated with the region's most famous residents, the journey along this old route allowed the tourist to feel something of the sensations of a vanished age and, in the process, to create an experiential relationship with the past. Indeed, one contemporary Lakeland enthusiast went so far as to avow that there was 'no twenty-one miles' coach drive that so stir[red] the imagination'. 54 These are the words of Hardwicke Drummond Rawnsley, who published a serial essay about travelling on the old Ambleside turnpike in the Cornhill Magazine in the late 1880s. Written in the years following the successful opposition to the construction of two railways in the very heart of the Lake District -and, for that matter, on the cusp of the automobile age -this essay casts a nostalgic eye back on an earlier epoch in the region's history and celebrates the curious power of the coach road to bring its past to life. Later reprinted as A Coach Drive at the Lakes, Rawnsley's essay belongs to the cult of sentiment that developed around the stagecoach during the latter half of the nineteenth century, and which, as Ruth Livesey reminds us, was integrally connected with the 'anti-metropolitan regionalism and preservationism' that informed the Tory cultural politics of the age. 55 As a staunch Wordsworthian and preservationist (and later a co-founder of the National Trust), in this essay Rawnsley extols the virtues of the coach road not only for protecting 'the beautiful Romance of Nature', but also for inducing flights of imaginative transport. With words that anticipate what one finds in his better-known collection, Literary Associations of the English Lakes, in this essay he extols coaching along the road from Windermere to Keswick as an ideal way for Lakeland tourists to enter into the lives of the region's celebrated figures.
Rawnsley's essay is notable, even unusual, for the self-conscious attention it pays to the embodied experience of travel on the coach road. At this level, then, it can be appreciated as providing insight into an experience about which many other accounts of the route are silent, but to which the maps displayed above draw our attention. One paragraph, from the opening of the first part of Rawnsley's essay, is worth quoting at length: There is not anywhere in England a drive so full of that mingled natural and human interest which makes scenery so impressive. It is well-nigh impossible for sensitive minds not to feel something of 'the light that never was on sea or land' as they pass the thresholds of the good and great, whose thoughts have helped our England to be pure. In this coach drive to Keswick they not only go by the homes of the thinkers and poets and philosophers, but their foreheads feel the wind and rain that gave such freshness to the seers of the last generation; the sunlight on lake or mountain head that filled their minds with glory fills ours today. The woods and waterfalls that speak to us upon our way spoke also to them. We can in fancy see their familiar forms upon the road, and, as in eastern travels the 'weli' or way-side tomb made the journey's stage rememberable [sic ], so we find in this pilgrim stage through poet-land that the great dead lend it a kind of solemn sweetness, and the dust of two laureates hallows the wonder-giving way. 56 As these statements suggest, the coach road celebrated in Rawnsley's essay is more than just a convenient route. Rather, it is a place to be experienced in its own right, and one  57 Rawnsley's punning on the word 'stage' is particularly significant, as it not only casts the individual points of interest along the road as stages within a pilgrimage, but also underscores the embodied experience of making that pilgrimage in stages along a coach road. Even more compelling, however, is the emphasis Rawnsley places here on the affective experience of the coach drive itself. The pleasure that he describes taking in 'the woods and waterfalls', 'the wind and rain', and 'the sunlight on lake or mountain head' that enable one to share the scenes and sensations that enlivened and inspired the region's 'good and great' is a pleasure one finds in many contemporaneous tourist accounts. As we have seen, this is precisely the sort of sentiment Hawthorne expresses about his visit to the garden at Rydal Mount, where he envisioned Wordsworth wandering and composing verse among his flower beds. Still, whereas for Hawthorne such a moment of spiritual and intellectual communion was rooted in the experience of an individual location, for Rawnsley it was integral to the journey along the coach road itself. Traversing the route, he suggests, possessed its own pleasure because it encouraged the 'sensitive' tourist to recall memories not only of Wordsworth and his contemporaries, but also to enter imaginatively into the bodily experience of their lives. Rawnsley, though extraordinary, was not alone in placing such a singular emphasis on the value of the affective experience of travelling through the Lake District. Notably, writers who advocated touring Wordsworthshire on foot (the mode of transport most famously associated with the poet), emphasized how pedestrian travel allowed the tourist to embody Wordsworth's ethos while taking in places celebrated in his works. As Henry Frith, for one, advised in his essay 'Wanderings in Wordsworthshire' (1881): 'To see the Lakes, go afoot. Take an umbrella and stout boots, a haversack and waterproof [ . . . ] and walk like a Briton.' 58 Admittedly, some Victorian readers saw more affectation than potential for edification in such recommendations. There were naysayers like John Ruskin, after all, who adamantly maintained that the 'localities' of Wordsworth's poems were of 'no consequence' to the appreciation of his verse. 59 Such objections notwithstanding, the desire to experience the literary landscape of the Lake District prevailed throughout the Victorian era. Indeed, although few of Rawnsley's contemporaries were as zealous as Herbert Rix and William Knight (each of whom produced orienteering guides to Wordsworth's Lakeland writings), most readers seem to have agreed that 'Wordsworth could not be properly appreciated without some knowledge of the Lake Country'. 60 As Knight, for one, reasoned, possessing such knowledge was indispensable, since consulting the places that had inspired Today, these might sound like the words of a man trying to give his hobbyhorse the trappings of scholarly sophistication. Yet it is clear that Knight's view was far from unique. Certainly, when trawling through tourist publications from the last decades of the century, one discovers a trove of books and essays with titles such as 'Walks and Visits in Wordsworth Country', Through the Wordsworth Country, and 'A Tour in Wordsworth Country', suggesting that the appeal for making a literary pilgrimage to the Lakes had continued to increase. Among these other works Rawnsley's sentimental account of coaching on the route of the old Ambleside turnpike stands out as unique on account of the sustained attention it devotes to the experience of travel itself. Taken together, however, all of these works present embodied movement as integral to the practice of literary tourism. Whether by walking, wandering, or driving, the reader is encouraged to engage with the literary landscape of the Lake District by moving through it. Taking note of this emphasis in Victorian travelogues and guidebooks enables us to appreciate the striking concentration in these publications (highlighted by the maps included above), of sites of literary interest located along the thoroughfares of the region, and in particular along the Ambleside turnpike. Reading the maps and these tourist publications in light of each other, as we have done here, helps us to enhance our understanding of the multifaceted nature of Victorian literary tourism in the Lake District. Specifically, it draws our attention to how modes of mobility and the physical contours of the terrain informed the experience of the tourist. Accordingly, instead of only conceiving of Wordsworthshire as a landscape comprised of individual locations, we also begin to appreciate it as a landscape defined by the experience of travelling between those locations along the Lake District's roadways and thoroughfares.

IV. Conclusion
This article has focused primarily on the relationship between the imaginative and physical geographies of Victorian literary tourism in the Lake District. For heuristic reasons, in this study we have assumed a relative consistency across the period represented by the tourist publications in the Spatial Humanities project's digital collection. One further step in developing the research presented here would be to work with a series of historically stratified GIS visualizations based on a larger sample of texts in order to evaluate whether there is significant variation in the prominence of specific locations and routes over time. The preceding pages have paved the way for such research by demonstrating the efficacy of implementing GIS to detect spatial patterns that can focus and guide scholarly inquiry. In this analysis, we have used Victorian tourist literature to identify literary locations in the Lake District, and we have mapped those locations onto digital cartographic representations of the region in 61. William Knight, The English Lake District as Interpreted in the Poems of Wordsworth (Edinburgh: David Douglas, 1878), p. xii.

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order to assess the geographic relationships between them and their surroundings. Considering these relationships, in turn, returns us to the tourist literature itself with a new alertness to the physical, affective, and imaginative experience of the journeys recorded therein. Thus, just as travel for the Victorian literary tourist gave access to the empirical world of Wordsworth and his contemporaries, so modern geographical technologies allow us to reconstruct and reconsider the experiential world of the Victorian literary tourist.