sublime, so far as sublimity is ascribed to might, that we are
accustomed to represent God as presenting Himself in His wrath and
yet in His sublimity, in the tempest, the storm, the earthquake, etc.;
and that it would be foolish and criminal to imagine a superiority of
our minds over these works of His, and, as it seems, even over the
designs of such might. Hence it would appear that no feeling of the
sublimity of our own nature, but rather subjection, abasement, and a
feeling of complete powerlessness, is a fitting state of mind before
the manifestation of such an object, and this is generally bound up
with the Idea of it during natural phenomena of this kind. Generally in
religion, prostration, adoration with bent head, with contrite, anxious
demeanour and voice, seems to be the only fitting behaviour in presence
of the Godhead; and hence most peoples have adopted and still observe
it. But this state of mind is far from being necessarily bound up with
the Idea of the _sublimity_ of a religion and its object. The man who
is actually afraid, because he finds reasons for fear in himself,
whilst conscious by his culpable disposition of offending against a
Might whose will is irresistible and at the same time just, is not in
the frame of mind for admiring the divine greatness. For this a mood of
calm contemplation and a quite free judgement are needed. Only if he is
conscious of an upright disposition pleasing to God do those operations
of might serve to awaken in him the Idea of the sublimity of this
Being, for then he recognises in himself a sublimity of disposition
conformable to His will; and thus he is raised above the fear of such
operations of nature, which he no longer regards as outbursts of His
wrath. Even humility, in the shape of a stern judgement upon his own
faults,--which otherwise, with a consciousness of good intentions,
could be easily palliated from the frailty of human nature,--is a
sublime state of mind, consisting in a voluntary subjection of himself
to the pain of remorse, in order that its causes may be gradually
removed. In this way religion is essentially distinguished from
superstition. The latter establishes in the mind, not reverence for the
Sublime, but fear and apprehension of the all-powerful Being to whose
will the terrified man sees himself subject, without according Him any
high esteem. From this nothing can arise but a seeking of favour, and
flattery, instead of a religion which consists in a good life.[50]
Sublimity, therefore, does not reside in anything of nature, but only
in our mind, in so far as we can become conscious that we are superior
to nature within, and therefore also to nature without us (so far
as it influences us). Everything that excites this feeling in us,
_e.g._ the _might_ of nature which calls forth our forces, is called
then (although improperly) sublime. Only by supposing this Idea in
ourselves, and in reference to it, are we capable of attaining to the
Idea of the sublimity of that Being, which produces respect in us, not
merely by the might that it displays in nature, but rather by means
of the faculty which resides in us of judging it fearlessly and of
regarding our destination as sublime in respect of it.
§ 29. _Of the modality of the judgement upon the sublime in nature_
There are numberless beautiful things in nature about which we can
assume and even expect, without being far mistaken, the harmony of
every one’s judgement with our own. But in respect of our judgement
upon the sublime in nature, we cannot promise ourselves so easily
the accordance of others. For a far greater culture, as well of the
aesthetical Judgement as of the cognitive faculties which lie at its
basis, seems requisite in order to be able to pass judgement on this
pre-eminent quality of natural objects.
That the mind be attuned to feel the sublime postulates a
susceptibility of the mind for Ideas. For in the very inadequacy of
nature to these latter, and thus only by presupposing them and by
straining the Imagination to use nature as a schema for them, is to
be found that which is terrible to sensibility and yet is attractive.
[It is attractive] because Reason exerts a dominion over sensibility
in order to extend it in conformity with its own realm (the practical)
and to make it look out into the Infinite, which is for it an abyss. In
fact, without development of moral Ideas, that which we, prepared by
culture, call sublime, presents itself to the uneducated man merely as
terrible. In the indications of the dominion of nature in destruction,
and in the great scale of its might, in comparison with which his own
is a vanishing quantity, he will only see the misery, danger, and
distress which surround the man who is exposed to it. So the good,
and indeed intelligent, Savoyard peasant (as Herr von _Saussure_[51]
relates) unhesitatingly called all lovers of snow-mountains fools. And
who knows, whether he would have been so completely wrong, if Saussure
had undertaken the danger to which he exposed himself merely, as most
travellers do, from amateur curiosity, or that he might be able to give
a pathetic account of them? But his design was the instruction of men;
and this excellent man gave the readers of his Travels, soul-stirring
sensations such as he himself had, into the bargain.
But although the judgement upon the Sublime in nature needs culture
(more than the judgement upon the Beautiful), it is not therefore
primarily produced by culture and introduced in a merely conventional
way into society. Rather has it root in human nature, even in that
which, alike with common Understanding, we can impute to and expect of
every one, viz. in the tendency to the feeling for (practical) Ideas,
_i.e._ to the moral feeling.
Hereon is based the necessity of that agreement of the judgement of
others about the sublime with our own which we include in the latter.
For just as we charge with want of _taste_ the man who is indifferent
when passing judgement upon an object of nature that we regard as
beautiful; so we say of him who remains unmoved in the presence of that
which we judge to be sublime, he has no _feeling_. But we claim both
from every man, and we presuppose them in him if he has any culture at
all; only with the difference, that we expect the former directly of
every one, because in it the Judgement refers the Imagination merely to
the Understanding, the faculty of concepts; but the latter, because
in it the Imagination is related to the Reason, the faculty of Ideas,
only under a subjective presupposition (which, however, we believe we
are authorised in imputing to every one), viz. the presupposition of
the moral feeling [in man.[52]] Thus it is that we ascribe necessity to
this aesthetical judgement also.
In this modality of aesthetical judgements, viz. in the necessity
claimed for them, lies an important moment of the Critique of
Judgement. For it enables us to recognise in them an _a priori_
principle, and raises them out of empirical psychology, in which
otherwise they would remain buried amongst the feelings of
gratification and grief (only with the unmeaning addition of being
called _finer_ feelings). Thus it enables us too to place the Judgement
among those faculties that have _a priori_ principles at their basis,
and so to bring it into Transcendental Philosophy.
GENERAL REMARK UPON THE EXPOSITION OF THE AESTHETICAL REFLECTIVE
JUDGEMENT
In reference to the feeling of pleasure an object is to be classified
as either _pleasant_, or _beautiful_, or _sublime_, or _good_
(absolutely), (_jucundum_, _pulchrum_, _sublime_, _honestum_).
The _pleasant_, as motive of desire, is always of one and the same
kind, no matter whence it comes and however specifically different
the representation (of sense, and sensation objectively considered)
may be. Hence in judging its influence on the mind, account is taken
only of the number of its charms (simultaneous and successive), and
so only of the mass, as it were, of the pleasant sensation; and this
can be made intelligible only by _quantity_. It has no reference
to culture, but belongs to mere enjoyment.--On the other hand, the
_beautiful_ requires the representation of a certain _quality_ of
the Object, that can be made intelligible and reduced to concepts
(although it is not so reduced in an aesthetical judgement); and it
cultivates us, in that it teaches us to attend to the purposiveness
in the feeling of pleasure.--The _sublime_ consists merely in the
_relation_ by which the sensible in the representation of nature is
judged available for a possible supersensible use.--The _absolutely
good_, subjectively judged according to the feeling that it inspires
(the Object of the moral feeling), as capable of determining the powers
of the subject through the representation of an _absolutely compelling_
law, is specially distinguished by the _modality_ of a necessity that
rests _a priori_ upon concepts. This necessity involves not merely
a _claim_, but a _command_ for the assent of every one, and belongs
in itself to the pure intellectual, rather than to the aesthetical
Judgement; and is by a determinant and not a mere reflective judgement
ascribed not to Nature but to Freedom. But the _determinability of
the subject_ by means of this Idea, and especially of a subject
that can feel _hindrances_ in sensibility, and at the same time its
superiority to them by their subjugation involving a _modification of
its state_--_i.e._ the moral feeling,--is yet so far cognate to the
aesthetical Judgement and its formal conditions that it can serve to
represent the conformity to law of action from duty as aesthetical,
_i.e._ as sublime or even as beautiful, without losing its purity. This
would not be so, if we were to put it in natural combination with the
feeling of the pleasant.
If we take the result of the foregoing exposition of the two kinds
of aesthetical judgements, there arise therefrom the following short
explanations:
The _Beautiful_ is what pleases in the mere judgement (and therefore
not by the medium of sensation in accordance with a concept of the
Understanding). It follows at once from this that it must please apart
from all interest.
The _Sublime_ is what pleases immediately through its opposition to the
interest of sense.
Both, as explanations of aesthetical universally valid judging,
are referred to subjective grounds; in the one case to grounds of
sensibility, in favour of the contemplative Understanding; in the other
case _in opposition to_ sensibility, but on behalf of the purposes
of practical Reason. Both, however, united in the same subject, are
purposive in reference to the moral feeling. The Beautiful prepares
us to love disinterestedly something, even nature itself; the Sublime
prepares us to esteem something highly even in opposition to our own
(sensible) interest.
We may describe the Sublime thus: it is an object (of nature)
_the representation of which determines the mind to think the
unattainability of nature regarded as a presentation of Ideas_.
Literally taken and logically considered, Ideas cannot be presented.
But if we extend our empirical representative faculty (mathematically
or dynamically) to the intuition of nature, Reason inevitably
intervenes, as the faculty expressing the independence of absolute
totality,[53] and generates the effort of the mind, vain though it
be, to make the representation of the senses adequate to this. This
effort,--and the feeling of the unattainability of the Idea by means
of the Imagination,--is itself a presentation of the subjective
purposiveness of our mind in the employment of the Imagination for
its supersensible destination; and forces us, subjectively, to
_think_ nature itself in its totality as a presentation of something
supersensible, without being able _objectively_ to arrive at this
presentation.
For we soon see that nature in space and time entirely lacks the
unconditioned, and, consequently, that absolute magnitude, which yet is
desired by the most ordinary Reason. It is by this that we are reminded
that we only have to do with nature as phenomenon, and that it must
be regarded as the mere presentation of a nature in itself (of which
Reason has the Idea). But this Idea of the supersensible, which we can
no further determine,--so that we cannot _know_ but only _think_ nature
as its presentation,--is awakened in us by means of an object, whose
aesthetical appreciation strains the Imagination to its utmost bounds,
whether of extension (mathematical) or of its might over the mind
(dynamical). And this judgement is based upon a feeling of the mind’s
destination, which entirely surpasses the realm of the former (_i.e._
upon the moral feeling), in respect of which the representation of the
object is judged as subjectively purposive.
In fact, a feeling for the Sublime in nature cannot well be thought
without combining therewith a mental disposition which is akin to the
Moral. And although the immediate pleasure in the Beautiful of nature
likewise presupposes and cultivates a certain _liberality_ in our
mental attitude, _i.e._ a satisfaction independent of mere sensible
enjoyment, yet freedom is thus represented as in _play_ rather than
in that law-directed _occupation_ which is the genuine characteristic
of human morality, in which Reason must exercise dominion over
Sensibility. But in aesthetical judgements upon the Sublime this
dominion is represented as exercised by the Imagination, regarded as an
instrument of Reason.
The satisfaction in the Sublime of nature is then only _negative_
(whilst that in the Beautiful is _positive_); viz. a feeling that the
Imagination is depriving itself of its freedom, while it is purposively
determined according to a different law from that of its empirical
employment. It thus acquires an extension and a might greater than it
sacrifices,--the ground of which, however, is concealed from itself;
whilst yet it _feels_ the sacrifice or the deprivation and, at the
same time, the cause to which it is subjected. _Astonishment_, that
borders upon terror, the dread and the holy awe which seizes the
observer at the sight of mountain peaks rearing themselves to heaven,
deep chasms and streams raging therein, deep-shadowed solitudes that
dispose one to melancholy meditations--this, in the safety in which we
know ourselves to be, is not actual fear, but only an attempt to feel
fear by the aid of the Imagination; that we may feel the might of this
faculty in combining with the mind’s repose the mental movement thereby
excited, and being thus superior to internal nature,--and therefore
to external,--so far as this can have any influence on our feeling of
well-being. For the Imagination by the laws of Association makes our
state of contentment dependent on physical [causes]; but it also,
by the principles of the Schematism of the Judgement (being so far,
therefore, ranked under freedom), is the instrument of Reason and its
Ideas, and, as such, has might to maintain our independence of natural
influences, to regard as small what in reference to them is great, and
so to place the absolutely great only in the proper destination of the
subject. The raising of this reflection of the aesthetical Judgement
so as to be adequate to Reason (though without a definite concept of
Reason) represents the object as subjectively purposive, even by the
objective want of accordance between the Imagination in its greatest
extension and the Reason (as the faculty of Ideas).
We must here, generally, attend to what has been already noted, that
in the Transcendental Aesthetic of Judgement we must speak solely of
pure aesthetical judgements; consequently our examples are not to be
taken from such beautiful or sublime objects of Nature as presuppose
the concept of a purpose. For, if so, the purposiveness would be
either teleological, or would be based on mere sensations of an object
(gratification or grief); and thus would be in the former case not
aesthetical, in the latter not merely formal. If then we call the sight
of the starry heaven _sublime_, we must not place at the basis of our
judgement concepts of worlds inhabited by rational beings, and regard
the bright points, with which we see the space above us filled, as
their suns moving in circles purposively fixed with reference to them;
but we must regard it, just as we see it, as a distant, all-embracing
vault. Only under such a representation can we range that sublimity
which a pure aesthetical judgement ascribes to this object. And in
the same way, if we are to call the sight of the ocean sublime, we
must not _think_ of it as we [ordinarily] do, endowed as we are with
all kinds of knowledge (not contained, however, in the immediate
intuition). For example, we sometimes think of the ocean as a vast
kingdom of aquatic creatures; or as the great source of those vapours
that fill the air with clouds for the benefit of the land; or again
as an element which, though dividing continents from each other, yet
promotes the greatest communication between them: but these furnish
merely teleological judgements. To call the ocean sublime we must
regard it as poets do, merely by what strikes the eye; if it is at
rest, as a clear mirror of water only bounded by the heaven; if it is
restless, as an abyss threatening to overwhelm everything. The like is
to be said of the Sublime and Beautiful in the human figure. We must
not regard as the determining grounds of our judgement the concepts
of the purposes which all our limbs serve, and we must not allow this
coincidence to _influence_ our aesthetical judgement (for then it would
no longer be pure); although it is certainly a necessary condition of
aesthetical satisfaction that there should be no conflict between them.
Aesthetical purposiveness is the conformity to law of the Judgement in
its _freedom_. The satisfaction in the object depends on the relation
in which we wish to place the Imagination; always provided that it by
itself entertains the mind in free occupation. If, on the other hand,
the judgement be determined by anything else,--whether sensation or
concept,--although it may be conformable to law, it cannot be the act
of a _free_ Judgement.
If then we speak of intellectual beauty or sublimity, these expressions
are, _first_, not quite accurate, because beauty and sublimity are
aesthetical modes of representation, which would not be found in us at
all if we were pure intelligences (or even regarded ourselves as such
in thought). _Secondly_, although both, as objects of an intellectual
(moral) satisfaction, are so far compatible with aesthetical
satisfaction that they _rest_ upon no interest, yet they are difficult
to unite with it, because they are meant to _produce_ an interest.
This, if its presentation is to harmonise with the satisfaction in the
aesthetical judgement, could only arise by means of a sensible interest
that we combine with it in the presentation; and thus damage would be
done to the intellectual purposiveness, and it would lose its purity.
The object of a pure and unconditioned intellectual satisfaction is
the Moral Law in that might which it exercises in us over all mental
motives _that precede it_. This might only makes itself aesthetically
known to us through sacrifices (which causing a feeling of deprivation,
though on behalf of internal freedom, in return discloses in us an
unfathomable depth of this supersensible faculty, with consequences
extending beyond our ken); thus the satisfaction on the aesthetical
side (in relation to sensibility) is negative, _i.e._ against this
interest, but regarded from the intellectual side it is positive and
combined with an interest. Hence it follows that the intellectual,
in itself purposive, (moral) good, aesthetically judged, must be
represented as sublime rather than beautiful, so that it rather awakens
the feeling of respect (which disdains charm) than that of love and
familiar inclination; for human nature does not attach itself to this
good spontaneously, but only by the authority which Reason exercises
over Sensibility. Conversely also, that which we call sublime in
nature, whether external or internal (_e.g._ certain affections), is
only represented as a might in the mind to overcome [_certain_][54]
hindrances of the Sensibility by means of moral fundamental
propositions, and only thus does it interest.
I will dwell a moment on this latter point. The Idea of the Good
conjoined with affection is called _enthusiasm_. This state of mind
seems to be sublime, to the extent that we commonly assert that
nothing great could be done without it. Now every affection[55] is
blind, either in the choice of its purpose, or, if this be supplied
by Reason, in its accomplishment; for it is a mental movement which
makes it impossible to exercise a free deliberation about fundamental
propositions so as to determine ourselves thereby. It can therefore in
no way deserve the approval of the Reason. Nevertheless, aesthetically,
enthusiasm is sublime, because it is a tension of forces produced
by Ideas, which give an impulse to the mind, that operates far more
powerfully and lastingly than the impulse arising from sensible
representations. But (which seems strange) the _absence of affection_
(_apatheia, phlegma in significatu bono_) in a mind that vigorously
follows its unalterable principles is sublime, and in a far preferable
way, because it has also on its side the satisfaction of pure
Reason.[56] It is only a mental state of this kind that is called
noble; and this expression is subsequently applied to things, _e.g._ a
building, a garment, literary style, bodily presence, etc., when these
do not so much arouse _astonishment_ (the affection produced by the
representation of novelty exceeding our expectations), as _admiration_
(astonishment that does not cease when the novelty disappears); and
this is the case when Ideas agree in their presentation undesignedly
and artlessly with the aesthetical satisfaction.
Every affection of the STRENUOUS kind (viz. that excites the
consciousness of our power to overcome every obstacle--_animi strenui_)
is _aesthetically sublime_, _e.g._ wrath, even despair (_i.e._ the
despair of _indignation_, not of _faintheartedness_). But affections of
the LANGUID kind (which make the very effort of resistance an object
of pain--_animum languidum_) have nothing _noble_ in themselves, but
they may be reckoned under the sensuously beautiful. _Emotions_,
which may rise to the strength of affections, are very different.
We have both _spirited_ and _tender_ emotions. The latter, if they
rise to the height of affections, are worthless; the propensity to
them is called _sentimentality_. A sympathetic grief that will not
admit of consolation, or one referring to imaginary evils to which
we deliberately surrender ourselves--being deceived by fancy--as if
they were actual, indicates and produces a tender,[57] though weak,
soul--which shows a beautiful side and which can be called fanciful,
though not enthusiastic. Romances, lacrymose plays, shallow moral
precepts, which toy with (falsely) so-called moral dispositions, but
in fact make the heart languid, insensible to the severe precept of
duty, and incapable of all respect for the worth of humanity in our
own person, and for the rights of men (a very different thing from
their happiness), and in general incapable of all steady principle;
even a religious discourse,[58] which recommends a cringing, abject
seeking of favour and ingratiation of ourselves, which proposes the
abandonment of all confidence in our own faculties in opposition to
the evil within us, instead of a sturdy resolution to endeavour to
overcome our inclinations by means of those powers which with all our
frailty yet remain to us; that false humility which sets the only
way of pleasing the Supreme Being in self-depreciation, in whining
hypocritical repentance and in a mere passive state of mind--these are
not compatible with any frame of mind that can be counted beautiful,
still less with one which is to be counted sublime.