The Sublime

              I found both Schiller and Kant’s definitions of the sublime intensely interesting, in that both are laced with the idea that the sublime offers some sort of escape to the inherent struggle of human limitations. From the start of his essay, as the basis of his argument, Schiller draws out a disconnection within man: the instinct of his free will vs. the limitations of his capabilities.  Using the inescapability of death as an example, he writes, “By no means can he be the being which wills, if there is even but a single case where he absolutely must [do] what he does not will.”[1] So then, if man is a free-willed being, and yet does not have sovereign ability to exert the entirety of his will, therein lies an internal conflict that must somehow be reconciled. Schiller argues that the sublime is the remedy, for it proves man’s power in a way that makes up for his powerlessness. He writes, “through beauty alone would we therefore eternally never learn[2], that we are determined and able to prove ourselves as pure intelligences. In the sublime, on the contrary, reason and sensuousness do not harmonize, and precisely in this contradiction between both lies the charm wherewith it seizes our soul” (pg.3). The sublime does not attempt to eradicate the reality of humanity’s limitations, but rather chooses to embrace them— to marvel at them, to stand in awe—and in choosing submission, proves his will’s dominion.

                Likewise, Kant makes a similar argument. He posits that the sublime is a feeling, and one that results from a state in which we are completely limited: “Nature is sublime in those of its appearances whose intuition carries with it the idea of their infinity. But the only way for this to occur is through the inadequacy of even the greatest effort of our imagination to estimate an object’s magnitude[3]” (pg. 524).  Without this state of inability, we would have no means by which to prove our ability—our superiority: “displeasure arises from the imagination’s inadequacy… but at the same time also a pleasure, aroused by the fact that this very judgment… is itself in harmony with rational ideas, insofar as striving toward them is still a law for us” (pg.525). We take pride in the fact that we cannot understand, because reason follows that we have limited understanding, and we are essentially proving ourselves right. Irony at its finest.

                However, further irony exists in that both thinkers also posit that the sublime only exists in situations lacking real physical danger. Schiller notes that whereas real danger catches us by surprise, and cuts our power from beneath us, “the artificial misfortune of the pathetic…finds us in full armament, and because it is merely imagined, so the independent principle in our soul gains room to assert its absolute independence” (pg8).  So then, real danger proves we have no power; imagined danger lets us pretend that we do? Kant writes it this way: “We cannot pass judgment at all on the sublime if we are afraid. For we flee from the sight of an object that scares us, and it is impossible to like terror that we take seriously” (pg. 527).

                So then, Schiller and Kant both turn the sublime from an adjective to describe some third party, into a form of pride for the subjective individual. It is a “feeling” (Kant, pg.525) rather than a description, and a feeling of pride in the superiority and ultimate control of humankind. However, from my interpretation, this sense of the sublime does nothing but shine negatively on human nature. We need so badly to feel omnipotent, that we crave “disharmony” (Schiller) and “inadequacy” (Kant) in order to prove to others and ourselves that we reign like gods. However, we flee from anything that may prove otherwise—any real confrontation of danger; it is all merely a guise. True, it deflects the internal conflict Schiller posed between the desire to have complete will and the inability to escape the laws of nature; however, it does so only by self-deceit. By the very fact that we can only experience the sublime where there is a lack of any real danger, does this not prove that we cannot overpower nature—that we do not have complete freedom of will over it—and that the attempt to evade that reality shows more weakness than anything else? Perhaps man is a subordinate power in this universe—and perhaps only free-willed within the boundaries of the way our universe works under the authority of the power that actually does govern it. Whatever one believes that power to be (even if non-existent), I am willing to argue that we are not it—by proof of the fact that we struggle so intensely, and yet only half-successfully, to establish control.

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[1] On the Sublime by Friedrich Schiller

[2] He argues elsewhere that beauty is a freedom found by a form of displaced preoccupation: “A mind which has been ennobled so far as to be more moved by the form than by the matter of things, and…to draw a free pleasure from the mere reflection upon the phenomenon’s manner, such a mind carries in itself an inner fullness of life that can not be lost” (pg.2). In other words, recognition of nature’s beauty supersedes the overwhelming reality that we cannot control it. However, he later limits its effectiveness. The relatively shallow preoccupation of beauty is enough to cover an immature understanding of nature; but the maturation into the sublime is vital: “Without the sublime, beauty would make us forget our dignity. In the relaxation of an uninterrupted enjoyment, we would forfeit all vigor of character” (pg.8). 

[3] Critique of Judgment by Immanuel Kant