A GLOSSARY OF AESTHETIC TERMS IN
LANDSCAPE & LITERATURE
The Sublime:
The experience of overwhelming power: the viewer feels
obliterated by the vastness and power of the object viewed, until the viewer
finds a means of identifying him/herself with something even greater than the
object viewed. One can look at a mountain and feel dwarfed, to the point of
insignificance, until one imagines a God (or a way of gaining perspective) that
made the mountain.
Longinus:
defines the sublime primarily by its contagion, i.e., we contemplate or view
sublime subjects, or read sublime passages of poetry, and get a rush off them,
a sense of swelling inward importance, even though we're partaking of something
else's grandeur. In Longinus, hyposos, or height, is metaphor presiding over the illusions
endemic to reading: we are uplifted as if instinctively, and our proud flight
exalts our soul as though we had created what we merely heard (7.2)
Burke:
Conditions for sublime perceptions include terror, obscurity, power, privation,
vastness, infinity, succession and uniformity (artificial or architectural
infinity, as with columns), magnitude in building, difficulty, magnificence,
light, color, sound and loudness, suddenness, discontinuity. Sublime
language for Burke is nondescriptive, unclear, strong, full of emotional
abstraction, and inciting sympathy and contagion of passions.
In
painting, a practical way to look for the sublime is to measure the blastedness
of the landscape, barrenness, terror. Look for raw geological time, few plants,
large rocks, ruins, architectural fragments, the vertical axis of cloud masses,
mountains, abysses, natural and supernatural forces (oceans, storms,
earthquake, fire, plagues, Armageddon, general bombast).
Literary/painting
sources: see: Collins' "Ode on the Poetical Character" ll. 55-60,
Wordsworth's and Milton's poetry, Turner's paitings, esp. of Alps, oceans, and
atmospheric intensity; John MartinÕs paintings; FuseliÕs paintings; BlakeÕs
paintings; BeethovenÕs later music; WagnerÕs operas; etc.
The Beautiful:
An aesthetic based in symmetry, softness, intricacy,
attractiveness, fecundity, and powerlessness. Burke defines this as the
feminine component to the clearly masculine sublime; if sublimity is that which
overwhelms us with its power, then beauty is that which overwhelms us with its
need to be protected.
Burke
sexualizes the beautiful by adding to existing definitions of symmetry and fine
detail that of attractiveness--the beautiful for Burke is that which inspires
us to love it. Obviously, he presupposes a masculine viewer holding
considerable power: "we love what submits to us...the smoothness; the
softnesses; the easy and insensible swell; the variety of the surface, which is
never for the smallest space the same; the deceitful maze, through which the
unsteady eye slides giddily." [Note here he is defining the beautfiul as
having the same qualities as a woman's neck and breasts].
Literary/painting
sources: see Pope's poems, especially The Rape of the Lock; comic opera, anything pastoral; Mozart's and Vivaldi's
most spritely and light music; most 18th-century portraiture of women,
especially the painting of Gainsborough, Boucher, and Fragonard.
The Picturesque:
An aesthetic derived from idealized landscape painting, with
crags, flaring and blasted trees, a torrent or winding stream, ruins, and
perhaps a quiet cottage and cart, with contrasting light and shadow. Considered
in the period as the aesthetic mean between Burke's Sublime and Beautiful. The
big seller of the picturesque was William Gilpin, to conducted tours to admire
it. The houses and grounds of many great estates were remodelled to conform to
picturesque rules. Claude glasses were special hand-held mirrors that
one could hold up to a landscape, with oneÕs back turned away from it, and frame
the landscape. They
tended to be shaded in appropriately melancholy and moody colors.
The
1801 Supplement to Johnson's Dictionary defines it as: 1) what pleases the eye;
2) remarkable for its singularity and ability to strike the imagination with
the force of paintings; 3) either proper for a landscape painting, or a
landscape expressed through painting (but inevitably linked to painting). The
picturesque quickly becomes a kind of genre painting, and idealizes rural life,
thereby removing its materiality, not to mention its misery.
See
also Northanger Abbey (chapter 14, page 86 of Oxford paper edition), GilpinÕs books, Uvedale
Price, Essays on the Picturesque as Compared with the Sublime and the
Beautiful and On
the Use of Studying Pictures for the Purpose of Improving Real Landscape. Gilpin likes horses and rural
waifs, while Price is hot for sheep and spaniels--disposition of objects which
by partial and uncertain concealment, excites curiosity.
Pastoral:
Traditionally an unrealistic and urban genre, where a
sophisticated urban dweller waxes nostaligically about the pleasures of rural
life. Full of passionate shepherds and beautiful milk-maids, celebrations of
simple life, simple pleasures, etc. Often, the pastoral becomes a way for writers
to argue that certain things are "natural," because pastoral
shepherds and their environments are equated in these writings with
"nature."
Pope's
defines it as "an imitation of the action of a shepherd," carrying
with it an explicit rejection of realism: "We must use some illusion in
order to render a Pastoral delightful; and this consists in exposing the best
side only of a shepherd's life, and in concealing its miseries."
Samuel
Johnson reacted with his closely argued attack on the neo-classical conventions
of 'golden age' pastoral; and it is his Virgilian definition--'"a poem in
which any action or passion is represented by its effects upon a country
life"' [see Rambler no. 37 (24 July 1750), The Yale Edition of the
Works of Samuel Johnson (Yale UP 1958-68), iii.201]--that pave the way for Hugh Blair's demand
in the 1780s, 'why may not Pastoral Poetry take a wider range?' [see
Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres, ii.346-7.]"
Sensibility:
The capacity to feel; sensitivity to emotion. In the late 18th
century, the capacity to feel deeply and to distinguish between fine gradations
of feeling. Hence, having sensibility comes to mean something similar to having
taste, since people of sensibility are able to feel more and to feel finer
gradations of emotion than normal people. For similar reasons, literature of
sensibility becomes obsessed with the body as an expressive entity. The person
of sensibility has such strong emotional responses to events that she becomes
an object that can be read. Hence, we see late 18th-century texts
fascinated with involuntary displays of emotion, such as fainting, weeping,
sighing, and blushing. For similar reasons, we see them indulge in scenes
designed to elicit an emotional response from their readers, especially deathbed
and prison episodes, scenes in which destitute families are relieved or
prostitutes are reformed, etc.
Where
feeling fine and moral thoughts becomes a means of displaying one's internal virtue, sensibility
becomes paradoxically about performance and truthfulness--is a character
weeping out of real remorse or is he merely acting in order to make other
characters believe he is remorseful? Can one shed false tears, or blush false
blushes?
Literature
of sensibility is also interested in representation emotion as contagious, and as something to be exchanged
like a currency. See Adam Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments, Laurence Sterne's Sentimental
Journey, and Henry
Mackenzie's Man of Feeling.
The Gothic:
Popular architecturally during the second half of the 18th
century, the Gothic competed with Chinoiserie as a home-grown, domestic
(patriotic) aesthetic. We find its beginnings in literature at mid-century --
most notably with Thomas Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry (1757), Thomas Leland's Earl
Strongbow (1762),
and Horace Walpole's The Castle of Otranto (1764). With the dramatic growth of circulating
libraries over the next decades, popular gothic fiction exploded on the scene
in the 1780s and 1790s. It is full of chivalric fantasy; characterized by its
cultural nostalgia--a fascination with the un-modern, the un-civilized, the
ir-rational--articulated in its fascination with haunted abbeys, castles,
superstition, religion, and aestheticized violence. Also a fascination with the
temporal trace--the epitaph, the path, the ruin--where the lost past is
represented in sublime terms through geological time and decay.
Various
studies locate the meaning of the Gothic in different realms--the numinous, the
psychological, the political. Yet they share a common structure; for each of
these approaches sees the Gothic as unveiling or recovering something that
stands outside the boundaries of the natural and social orders, whether it be
the supernatural, the psychologically repressed, or the politically oppressed.
It is an attempt to embody exactly those features of the psyche, the social
order, or the cosmos that most difficult to represent and least liable to be
controlled and assimilated.