The Sublime

Jandy Stone ENG5374: European Romanticism Dr. Stephen Prickett 19 February 2007 The Importance of the Sublime in the Romantic Aesthetic The term “Romantic” describes a movement both philosophic and artistic, loosely unified by a rejection of neo-classical aesthetic principles. Though the Romantics did not always agree in the specifics of their aesthetic theories, nor did all of them move from theory into practice, many of them found in the idea of the sublime an attractive alternative to the strict rules and forms of the neo-classical era. The Romantics did not create the idea of the sublime, or even share a common conception of it. However, the fact that so many of the Romantic writers in Germany and England especially, but also in France, approached the question of the sublime in their writings indicates how pervasive and important a concept it was. As Samuel Monk shows in his seminal study The Sublime, theorizing on the nature, causes and effects of sublimity was a popular pastime throughout the eighteenth century, starting with the rediscovery of classical rhetorician Longinus. The exact definition of “the sublime” changes from author to author, but most agree that sublimity is marked by grandeur, vastness, incomprehensibility, and the power to cause an intense pleasure in the observer, a pleasure that has transcendent qualities. Though grand ideas in the abstract could be sublime, the concept quickly became associated with nature: huge mountains, wild landscapes, or terrific storms. Edmund Burke makes terror itself the

Stone 2 essential element of the sublime experience (39), a focus mirrored by the growing interest in the gothic novel in the last few decades of the eighteenth century. Perhaps the most important element of the sublime as far as Romanticism is concerned is the emphasis on the effect the sublime object has on the observer. Though eighteenth-century theorists continued to seek objective qualities to define the sublime, the theory came to rely more and more on the subjective response to sublimity, culminating in Immanuel Kant’s explanation of the sublime as purely subjective—that is, sublimity “is not a quality residing in the object, but a state of mind awakened by an object” (Monk 8). This move from objective to subjective is part of the general move toward the emphasis on interior space which allowed Romanticism to come into being. When Pierre Boileau translated Longinus into French in 1674 and popularized his theory of the sublime, neo-classicism held the aesthetic sway throughout Europe, and was especially strong in France. Boileau himself was a firm neo-classicist and did not seem to have a problem reconciling Longinus’ sublime with his own focus on proper neoclassical form—probably because Longinus focused much more on the sublime style as a rhetorical device, rather than on the transcendent effect of the sublime. However, soon the sublime became everything that was not neo-classical in style, yet had a powerful emotional effect: “Beauty came to include, generally speaking those qualities and gentle emotions that neo-classic art sought to embody; sublimity might contain anything else that seemed susceptible of giving aesthetic pleasure provided that it was grand enough and might conceivably ‘transport’” (Monk 55). Hence, the beautiful and the sublime were usually conceived as irreconcilably different. As the century moved toward

Stone 3 Romanticism, the emphasis shifted more and more away from neo-classical rules and more toward an appreciation for the sublime, as mediated through individual perception. Kant was not himself considered a Romantic, but his conception of the sublime as put forward in The Critique of Judgement (1790) both synthesizes eighteenth-century thought (Monk 4) and pervades Romantic discourse of the sublime; therefore, it is appropriate to briefly consider his thoughts. He defined the sublime as that “which is great beyond all comparison” (132) and that which is so powerful (as in nature) that “all resistance would be completely futile” (144). For Kant, the sublime moment occurs when the imagination encounters an object too vast to be comprehended and fails in the attempt, yet reason overcomes the obstacle by recognizing the absurdity of trying to comprehend the totality of the vast object and in that recognition, asserts itself as greater than nature (Modiano 104). Thus, in contrast to Burke, whose sublime was in the moment of terrible crisis itself, Kant’s sublime is in the resolution of the crisis, which elevates man in his power struggle with nature. Samuel Taylor Coleridge begins his theory of the sublime with Kant, but does not follow him completely, incorporating elements of Johann Gottfried von Herder’s aesthetic theory which did not diametrically oppose man and nature. Coleridge’s conception of the sublime denies the need for a moment of supreme crisis, and keeps at bay the conflict between man and nature that both Kant and Friedrich Schiller saw as essential to the sublime (Modiano 108, 114). For Coleridge, the sublime is a transcendent experience, but not necessarily a terrifying one, and rather than seeing in the sublime moment an assertion of human reason over nature, he sees an absorption of the individual into the infinite. Referring to his sense of awe upon entering a Gothic cathedral, he says:

Stone 4 “I am lost to the actualities that surround me, and my whole being expands into the infinite; earth and air, nature and art, all swell up into eternity, and the only sensible impression left is, ‘that I am nothing’” (qtd in Modiano 122). Rather than a denial of existence, though, this statement is an expression of transcendent unity with an entity greater than himself. Coleridge also found sublimity in nature, especially in vague forms that suggest totality but do not express a visual whole (Modiano 115). However, nature for Coleridge, and more so for his close friend William Wordsworth, was not a threat to humanity, as it was for Kant and Schiller, but rather “appears as the medium through which the mind discovers and presents itself” (Weiskel 6). Wordsworth is the epitome of the poetic sublime, and though he was not the eager student of German transcendental thought that Coleridge was, it is probable that he gained some knowledge of the Kantian view of sublimity through his association with Coleridge (Modiano 129). Although Wordsworth’s preface to Lyrical Ballads does not specifically refer to sublimity, it often hints at concepts associated with sublimity. The “spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings” (273) would certainly be a common reaction to a sublime experience, and his intent to “choose incidents and situations from common life” and relate them in “language really used by men” and “at the same time, to throw over them a certain colouring of imagination, whereby ordinary things should be presented to the mind in an unusual way” (264) suggest that a central purpose of Wordsworth’s poetic dogma was to sublimate the ordinary by filtering it through a new point of view, conveniently enough, his own. In Wordsworth’s hands, the sublime becomes more intensely subjective than ever before, leading many to use the term “egotistical sublime” when speaking about his poetry. According to Monk, by the time

Stone 5 the sublime meets the Romantic, the “individual becomes of primary importance; his perception of values becomes significant, and he is left free to express them untrammelled by tradition; truth in aesthetic interpretation of objects becomes a different thing from a representation, an ‘imitation’; it becomes rather an individualistic interpretation of what the artist perceives” (155). Certainly this is true of Wordsworth, whose poems speak of nature only as he personally experienced it.1 Up until the early 1800s, nearly every theory of the sublime had carefully separated the beautiful from the sublime. Coleridge, following Herder, connected the two a little more strongly, though he maintained a differentiation based on objective versus subjective quality in a way very similar to Kant. However, he subtly changes the relationship between them by arguing that any object may become the occasion of sublimity through metaphor and symbolism: “The circle is a beautiful figure in itself; it becomes sublime, when I contemplate eternity under that figure—the Beautiful is the perfection, the sublime the suspension, of the comparing power” (qtd in Modiano 118). It is perhaps a sign of the waning influence of neo-classicism that Coleridge was able to formulate his theory of sublimity such that the sublime becomes a transcendent beauty rather than a transgression of accepted formal structure. At the time, France remained the stronghold of neo-classicism; much of the theorizing on the sublime was done in England and Germany, since, as Monk points out multiple times, French writers tended to be a bit skeptical of the sublime and its rejection of neo-classical boundaries. In fact, this reluctance to move away from neo-classicism in France could explain why Romanticism in France lagged some twenty or thirty years

1

Note especially such passages as lines 93-112 of “Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey” (Poems 360) and the craggy cliff incident found in The Prelude I:373-429 (Prelude 24-25).

Stone 6 behind England and Germany. However, the Frenchman Victor Hugo would fully negate neo-classicism in his work, which seeks to combine the sublime with the grotesque, a goal which requires a slight redefinition of terms. In the early eighteenth-century, the terrible sublime that became the gothic novel could be associated with ugliness, monstrosity, and even the grotesque, in opposition to the perfectly formed and symmetrical neo-classical ideal of beauty. Yet when Hugo uses the terms “sublime” and “grotesque” he means them to be opposite, but opposites that must be brought together in order to create true art. In his Preface to the play Oliver Cromwell, he states that the poetry of the modern age is the drama, that the “characteristic of the drama is the real” and that “the real results from the natural combination of two types, the sublime and the grotesque, which meet in the drama, even as they do in life and in the creation. For true poetry, complete poetry, consists in the harmony of contraries” (47). Hugo never differentiates “beautiful” and “sublime” in the Preface, but treats them as synonyms. The idea of the sublime grotesque is obviously of great import in Notre-Dame de Paris, as Hugo links the grotesque Quasimodo both to the sublime occupation of ringing the huge church bells at the vast cathedral of Notre-Dame and to the novel’s symbol of the sublime, the gypsy Esmerelda. The union of these two contrary figures is emphasized in the final lines of the novel as Quasimodo’s misshapen skeleton is found holding Esmerelda’s remains after her execution (505). Though the symbolism is less clear, Kathryn Grossman suggests that Les Misérables also contains the juxtaposition of the sublime and the grotesque, as Jean Valjean successfully unites his criminal past and his honorable present (13), whereas Javert’s failure to comprehend such a union leads to

Stone 7 confusion and suicide (95). Valjean’s sublime moment comes when the priest Bienvenu sets him free after Valjean has robbed him: His conscience considered in turn these two men placed before it, the bishop and Jean Valjean. Anything less than the first would have failed to soften the second. By one of those singular effects peculiar to this kind of ecstasy, as his reverie continued, the bishop grew larger and more resplendent to his eyes; Jean Valjean shrank and faded away. For one instant he was no more than a shadow. Suddenly he disappeared. The bishop alone remained. (Hugo 113) Valjean transcends his past and unites metaphorically with the bishop, and he is a changed man after this experience. Javert, on the other hand, is unable to cope with Valjean’s transformation: Until now all that he had above him had been to his eyes a smooth, simple, limpid surface; nothing unknown there, nothing obscure; nothing that was not definite, coordinated, chained, precise, exact, circumscribed, limited, shut in, all foreseen; authority was a plane; no fall in it, no dizziness in confronting it. (Hugo 1327) In the characters of Valjean and Javert, Hugo has shown the need of the neoclassical to embrace the Romantic. He was no lover of the rules set down by neoclassical writers: “Let us speak out boldly. […] Let us take the hammer to their theories and systems and treatises. Let us tear down the old stucco-work which conceals the façade of art!” (Preface 68). In the passage quoted above, Javert is clearly rule-bound,

Stone 8 unable to accept values outside of his frame of reference. Valjean, on the other hand, transcends the rules and becomes a truly sublime Romantic hero. Though the sublime is not a uniquely Romantic concept, it paved the way for Romanticism, especially in its emphasis on individual experience and breaking the boundaries of neo-classical form. Romantics writers from Schiller and Herder in Germany to Coleridge and Wordsworth in England took the theories cultivated earlier in the century by Burke, Kant, and others and formed them into the basis for much of their own self-expression. And appropriately enough, Hugo modified both German and English sublimity in order to realize the threat to neo-classical order introduced unwittingly one hundred and fifty years earlier by Boileau and his translation of Longinus, and to mount a direct attack on neo-classicism.

Stone 9 Bibliography Ashfield, Andrew and Peter De Bolla, eds. The Sublime: A Reader in British EighteenthCentury Aesthetic Theory. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996. Burke, Edmund. A Philosophical Enquiry Into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful. Ed. James T. Boulton. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul Ltd., 1958. Coleridge, Samuel Taylor. S.T. Coleridge Collected Works v. 7-8: Biographica Literaria. Ed. James Engell and W. Jackson Bate. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983. Grossman, Kathryn M. Figuring Transcendence in Les Misérables: Hugo’s Romantic Sublime. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1994. Hugo, Victor. Les Misérables. Trans. Lee Fahnestock and Norman MacAfee. New York: Signet Classics, 1987. Hugo, Victor. Notre Dame de Paris. Trans. Jessie Haynes. New York: P.F. Collier & Son, 1902. Hugo, Victor. “Preface to Cromwell.” The Dramas Complete and Unabridged of Victor Hugo Vol. IX and X: Oliver Cromwell. Trans. I.G. Burnham. Philadelphia: George Barrie & Son, 1896. 7-117. Kant, Immanuel. The Critique of the Power of Judgement. Ed. Paul Guyer. Trans. Paul Guyer and Eric Matthews. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Modiano, Raimonda. Coleridge and the Concept of Nature. Tallahassee: Florida State University Press, 1985.

Stone 10 Monk, Samuel H. The Sublime: A Study of Critical Theories in XVIII-Century England. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1960. Porter, Laurence M. Victor Hugo. New York: Twayne Publishers, 1999. Weiskel, Thomas. The Romantic Sublime: Studies in the Structure and Psychology of Transcendence. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1976. Wordsworth, William. The Poems. Ed. John O. Hayden. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1977. ---. From “Preface to Lyrical Ballads.” The Norton Anthology of English Literature. Ed. Jack Stillinger and Deirdre Shauna Lynch. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2006. 263-274. ---. The Thirteen-Book Prelude. Ed. Mark L. Reed. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1991.