LITR 5535 American Romanticism UHCL 2005 sample student research project

LITR 5535: American Romanticism

Sample Student Research Project 2006

Sharon Lockett

20 November 2006

Purple Mountain Majesties: An Ideal Context for the Romantic Sublime

Human nature draws individuals time and again to the awe-inspiring landscapes of America. We travel thousands of miles to visit the Grand Canyon, Niagara Falls, or Mount Rushmore. As natural wonders, these landmarks attract us not because of their intricacies or complexities, but because of their indescribable vastness. We gain pleasure by admiring the aesthetically perfect elements, the colors, textures, and shapes of these landmarks; however, we also become enticed by the apprehension and fear induced by peering over the staggering depth of a precipice or looking down the side of an immense roar of waterfalls. As Samuel H. Monk suggests, "the stupendous in nature, that order of the physical world which clearly lay beyond the conventional formulae for beauty, is shown to be capable of evoking this lofty state of the soul" (209).

This "lofty state of the soul," otherwise known as the sublime, was introduced by Edmund Burke in 1757. According to Burke, the sublime results when fear produces and combines with pleasure to offer an unexplained level of heightened euphoria. "When danger or pain press too nearly, they are incapable of giving any delight," claims Burke, "but at certain distances, and with certain modifications, they may be, and they are, delightful" (40). Burke, like Monk, acknowledges that when the sublime occurs in a natural setting, the impact of the experience is further elevated:

The passion caused by the great and sublime in nature . . . is that state of the soul, in which all its motions are suspended, with some degree of horror. In this case the mind is so entirely filled with its object, that it cannot entertain any other . . . Hence, arises the great power of the sublime, that, it anticipates our reasonings, and hurries us on by an irresistible force. (51)

Burke suggests that when the sublime occurs in nature, the individual experiences an advanced degree of pleasure as nature's unique spiritual and aesthetic qualities amplify the setting. Within this context, as individuals behold nature's imposing, and sometimes threatening, majestic qualities, they find themselves prompted to move from senses of awe or terror to unexplained states of exhilaration.

Burke's notion of the natural sublime fits ideally to our study of American Romanticism as characters throughout our texts discover in the euphoric aspects of nature a transcendent ability to realize sought-after visions and desires. In particular, the sublime encounter prompts Jonathan Edwards in "Personal Narrative" and Duncan Heyward in The Last of the Mohicans to seek afresh their respective dreams and goals. Interestingly, though these heroes aim toward varying goals, nature displays the uncanny ability to provide a backdrop that matches the specific needs of each. In essence, the sublime in nature "anticipates [the] reasonings" (51) of Edwards and Heyward and thus supplies the perfect context. Moreover, as these heroes encounter the sublime, they find it carries a twofold purpose: first, that the pleasure/horror balance provides equilibrium, or stability, as they face rather unpredictable existences; and second, that the experience energizes them to refocus, or to pursue with renewed fervor, their dreams or spiritual goals.

According to Samuel H. Monk, "the sublime, from its beginning ha[s] been connected to the natural world" (205). Indeed, throughout American culture, we attribute nature with spiritual qualities or elements lending to the sublime. As American writers, poets, and lyricists describe the natural scenery of our country, they often use terms such as "majestic," "boundless," "stately," and other carefully selected terms that fittingly portray the overwhelming presence of mountains, plains, chasms, and oceans comprising the American landscape. National songs as well present the breath-taking and awe-inspiring vastness of our country. In "America, the Beautiful," for example, Katharine Lee Bates writes of "spacious skies" and "purple mountain majesties." Irving Berlin, as he wrote "God Bless America," penned verses taking his readers "from the mountains, to the prairies" and "to the oceans, white with foam." And finally, Samuel F. Smith, in "America," confesses: "I love thy rocks and rills, thy woods and templed hills; my heart with rapture thrills, like that above." Smith's "rapture" is echoed time and again as American writers consider the overpowering presence of our country's natural marvels. Using the language of the sublime, American writers and poets find the perfect voice with which to describe the American countryside.

As individuals experience the majesty of nature, and as they become part of it by reconciling its beauty with their own vulnerabilities, the moment of sublime is triggered. According to Burke, the initiation is recognized as "that state of the soul, in which all its motions are suspended, with some degree of horror" (51). In this moment, as the soul finds the point of reconciliation between beauty and horror, and pleasure and trepidation, the individual becomes elevated to a heightened level of spiritual or psychological existence. The sublime experience culminates as the individual undergoes a revitalizing transformation and gains a newfound sense of the transcendent goal or dream. Here, in the moment of transfixion, the individual is also prompted, or "hurrie[d] on by an irresistible force" (Burke 51), to pursue these goals with a renewed fervor.

For Edwards and Heyward, who face personal uncertainties and immeasurable mental and physical obstacles, Burke's "irresistible force" offers a measure of hope. Edwards suffers constant spiritual "inward struggles and conflicts" (Edwards 184), and Heyward seeks escape from an untamed world characterized by daily uncertainties and horror. In "Personal Narrative," Edwards reveals a lifelong battle to counter inner confliction and to achieve spiritual stability through self-examination and reflection. According to Paul David Johnson, "Edwards seeks to distance himself from former experiences that are now inadequate in the fullness of his present knowledge" (272). Having turned away from boyhood convictions, Edwards had "[fallen] again into [his] old ways of sin" and soon after began to struggle with guilt and condemnation (184). "I had great and violent inward struggles" (184), he remembers, but he also laments, after "many conflicts with wicked inclinations, and repeated resolutions," the futility of any attempt to "break off all former wicked ways" (184). Seeking a way to escape these overpowering and eruptive moments of guilt and condemnation, Edwards symbolically turns his soul inside-out and immerses himself in transfixion upon Christian values and the holiness of God.

While Edwards struggles with spiritual shame and unrighteousness, Heyward suffers from unfamiliarity with the wilderness and its barbarically cunning inhabitants. Indeed, as Ian Dennis points out, "the wrong paths are taken, the wrong Indians trusted, [and] the wrong tactics and weapons [are] chosen" (2). Labeling Heyward as "criminally inept," Dennis further asserts that "[Heyward's] inadequacies go far beyond a mere demonstration that he is out of his element" (2). E. W. Pitcher, continuing Dennis's notion, cites Heyward as the "would-be hero of romance" (10). Unfortunately, because of his naiveté, this wilderness "hero" unwittingly allows himself to be duped by Magua and as a result places his companions into heightened states of danger.

When Heyward realizes, after an unsuccessful attempt at capturing Magua, that the injured Iroquois will surely return with increased vengeance, thus threatening the lives of his companions, he finally becomes despondent. Cooper describes the scene: "Glancing his eyes around, with a vain effort to pierce the gloom . . . he felt as if, cut off from human aid, his unresisting companions would soon lie at the mercy of those barbarous enemies" (44). As Heyward continues to sink into hopelessness while imagining the "horrid visages of his lurking foes," his despondency gives way to desperation. Finally, in "utter helplessness," he cries out: "What is to be done? . . . desert me not, for God's sake! remain to defend those I escort, and freely name your own reward!" (44). As evidenced by this penitent plea, the constant, unanticipated battles to ward off deadly Iroquois while protecting his companions have become unbearable for Heyward. Exhausted and disheartened by his own helplessness as well as the unpredictability of survival, he longs to be free from encounters with bloodthirsty savages and unforgiving natural elements in a horrid reality over which he has no control. He cannot succumb, however, to his grief, for the safety of his loved ones prevails. Thus, while Edwards reaches for a loftier goal of spiritual transcendence, Heyward seeks a harsh, earthly goal: to protect the lives of his traveling companions while navigating a barbarous wilderness. And for Heyward, the goal becomes even more crucial because of loyalty to his beloved Alice and her family.

As discussed earlier, even though our heroes seek varying dreams and goals, nature demonstrates a remarkable ability to furnish the ideal context for each encounter. The natural backdrop for Edwards's experience offers the perfect setting because of the spiritual qualities he finds in nature. Janice Knight explains that "Edwards explicitly established a similarity between the calibration of perfection in nature and in Scripture" (542). Michael P. Branch adds to Knight's notion, claiming that Edwards continually "search[ed] for a grand synthesis within which God's plan could be read in the patterns of the physical world" (117). Therefore, as he seeks a spiritual goal, Edwards finds himself drawn to the outdoors where he can commune with nature and God:

God's excellency, his wisdom, his purity and love, seemed to appear in everything; in the sun, moon and stars; in the clouds, and blue sky; in the grass, flowers, trees; in the water, and all nature; which used greatly to fix my mind. (186)

As Edwards beholds natural elements, he sees not only the beauty of nature, but also a context for his relationship with God. Johnson suggests that, for Edwards, the sky is "no longer a simple sky, but a metaphor for his experience of the consciousness of God" (279). Moreover, as Edwards's mind becomes "fixed" by these natural elements, he follows Burke's theory that "the mind is so entirely filled with its object, that it cannot contain any other" (51). W. Clark Gilpin, contributing to the notion of Edwards's mental occupation, adds that "it was the capacity of nature to disclose, exhibit, or reveal its source in the divine fecundity that sustained his attention" (534). As Edwards contemplates the "divine fecundity" and nears the moment of transfixion, he is able to reconcile his human imperfection with God's glory. At this point, the moment of sublime is prompted. The natural backdrop for this encounter proves ideal, for it embodies the very elements of his transcendent goal: spirituality and holiness. Any other context would prove insufficient because it would not offer the holistic embodiment of his goal.

While basking in the spirituality of nature, Edwards is able to move beyond an existence marked by shame and iniquity. And ultimately, he reaches a coveted level of righteousness. During one of several spiritual episodes, Edwards recalls the moment:

[I] found, from time to time, an inward sweetness, that used as it were, to carry me away in my contemplations . . . and a kind of vision, or fixed ideas and imaginations, of being alone in the mountains, or some solitary wilderness, far from mankind, sweetly conversing with Christ, and wrapt and swallowed up in God. (185-186)

As Edwards loses himself in the moment and is "carr[ied] . . . away" with a "vision, or fixed ideas and imaginations," he exemplifies Burke's notion that "the mind is so entirely filled with its object, that it cannot entertain any other" (51). Edwards delights in the pleasure of "sweetly conversing" with Christ. At the same time, however, he endures the pain of undergoing consumption by his Creator. According to William Vaughn, the phrase "swallowed up in God" indicates "Edwards's negation . . . as [he], wafer-like is swallowed . . . in a bizarre and circular sacrament" (134). For Edwards, though, this posture of sacrifice affirms total submission to God. Moreover, the surrender allows for transfer from a carnally-based mentality to one fixed upon heavenly identities. This final transference allows him to surpass psychological and emotional guilt and escape his perceived state of iniquity. Thus, attaining the transcendent goal affirms his righteousness and seals a much longed-for communion with God.

For Heyward, who seeks a physical goal, the tangible aspects of nature lend themselves to his unique sublime experience. In fact, as Steven Blakemore argues, Cooper seems to take a deliberate stance in the nature/sublime connection: "Cooper employed the recognizable language and categories of Burke's Enquiry to contextualize his own sublime and beautiful scenes" (30). Furthering Blakemore's notion, Michael D. Butler adds that "the perversity of the falls lies in its sublimity--in its mingling of extreme contrasts" (122). Indeed, in the mountainous and rustic setting at Glenn's Falls, the "heavy evening breeze," the "roar of the falls," and "thunder rumbling beyond the distant hills," provide an aesthetic experience geared to invoke feelings of sublime (Cooper 66). Vastness of the evening sky is set against the depths of turbulent waters, and cragged mountains tower over deep roaring cataracts and secluded caverns. According to Burke, this "greatness of dimension, is a powerful cause of the sublime" (72). Burke further adds that "height is less grand than depth, and we are more struck at looking down from a precipice, than at looking up at an object of equal height" (72). Moreover, Burke alludes to the sounds of nature, suggesting that "the noise of vast cataracts, raging storms, thunder, or artillery, awakes a great and aweful sensation in the mind" (82).

Heyward's "great and aweful" sensation begins as he steps out of the cavern and admires nature's aesthetic presence. As he glances about, he seems to acknowledge that at this point he will undergo a unique experience: "How much should we prize such a scene, and all this breathing solitude, at any other moment" (Cooper 67). The phrase "at any other moment" indicates that this specific encounter stands unequalled, and he reacts differently to it as opposed to other encounters with nature. This particular "moment," for Heyward, supplies the trigger for his sublime experience, and thus he begins the process of reconciling his human fears with the beautiful, yet overwhelming, manifestations of nature. This natural setting, with its perfectly composed physical characteristics, provides the perfect context for his determinate goal of protecting Alice while navigating an impossible wilderness. Since his goal is physical, not spiritual, the tangible qualities of nature offer the ideal encompassment of his ultimate purpose.

As Heyward experiences the moment of sublime, he, like Edwards, enjoys a temporary reprieve from reality. His experience also compares to that of Edwards in that it brings contradictory elements together to form a uniquely all-consuming, yet satisfying, experience. Heyward senses this fulfillment as the group emerges from the cavern at Glenn's Falls. Cooper describes the scene:

A heavy evening breeze swept along the surface of the river . . . whence it issued heavily and constant, like thunder rumbling beyond the distant hills . . . the scene was as still as night and solitude could make it. (66)

Here, in the natural setting, the tranquility of the night is set against the turbulent stirring of the waters, and as Burke might predict, Heyward's "motions are suspended" as he becomes (51), in silence, transfixed on the scene. The juxtaposition of stillness and thunder, of solitude and fury, transports Heyward to a realm beyond the ordinary. When he finally speaks, the remark encapsulates the meaning of the sublime: “There is nothing to be seen but the gloom and quiet of a lovely evening . . . how much should we prize such a scene . . . !” (Cooper 67). Heyward enjoys relief, of course, in the absence of bloodthirsty natives. However, he also finds himself captivated by the emotional mix of pleasure and trepidation: "Fancy yourselves in security and what now, perhaps, increases your terror, may be made conducive to enjoyment--“ (67).

For both Edwards and Heyward, the balance of pleasure and awe afforded by their sublime encounters offers these heroes stabilizing environments and therefore facilitates their attempts to achieve spiritual, mental, or physical wholeness. For Edwards, this unifying context prompts him further toward holiness. In recounting an experience in his father's pasture, he testifies to an unexplainable feeling:

I seemed to see them both in a sweet conjunction: majesty and meekness joined together: it was a sweet and gentle, a holy majesty: and also a majestic meekness; an awful sweetness; a high, and great, and holy gentleness. (186)

Though Edwards may not be able to explain his emotions, he knows this mixture of gentleness and strength, and of humility and majesty, provides completeness and satisfaction as he remains in the transcendent vision. Gilpin explains that these "images of the new sense and of holiness [render] nature so thoroughly harmonious and benign" (535), as the “sweet conjunction” engulfs his senses and embodies a range of emotion. While Edwards may not define the complexities of his heightened state, subconsciously, though, he may realize that the harmonious balance provided by the pleasure/angst combination affords him a sense of equalization. As Johnson suggests, the combination of majesty and grace becomes a "living metaphor" in which the "majesty of the father [is] mediated by the gentle graciousness of the son, not in the tension of paradox, but as an undulation in the eye as now one" (276). This newly-birthed sacred union, now realized by Edwards, serves to provide stability and assurance in an otherwise unsettled existence marked by episodic shifts between iniquity and righteousness.

While Edwards recounts in his sublime experience the "sweet conjunction [of] majesty and meekness" (186), Heyward verbally acknowledges the juxtaposition, as well as the dynamic combination, of "terror" and "enjoyment." Blakemore describes this unique combination as Cooper's "momentary 'cross' of the sublime and beautiful" (30), and here it provides a unifying context in which Heyward can find strength to maintain poise in an unsettled world. For this frontier hero, volatility of the wilderness, unpredictability of natives, and risks faced daily on an uncertain trail leave him in a perpetual state of turmoil. And as he finds stability, if only for a moment, in the balance of pleasure and pain, he can escape the reality of his perilous situation and find a moment of repose in an ever-threatening wilderness.

In addition to providing balance, the moment of sublime also serves to revitalize Edwards and Heyward and allows them to approach their respective goals with renewed strength and fervor. In Edwards's case, he regains not only a fresh perspective of his relationship with God, but also he displays a rekindled enthusiasm to pursue his Christian mission. Following the experience in his father's pasture, he recalls the tenderness of newfound grace:

After this my sense of divine things gradually increased, and became more and more lively, and had more of that inward sweetness. The appearance of everything was altered: there seemed to be . . . a calm, sweet cast, or appearance of divine glory, in almost everything. (186)

The sublime experience alters Edwards's perception of his own spiritual condition as visions of God's glory overtake personal images of iniquity and shame. "Solitude in nature," claims Gilpin, "elevated Edwards to a realm beyond this world in order that, looking back, he could compose and unify his vocation and accept as beautiful and fitting, and with all humility, the course of events into which his life had been cast" (538). Whereas prior to the experience Edwards had sought God "after a miserable manner" (184), he now rejoices over "great satisfaction as to [his] good estate" (186). This renewed focus allows him to continue his pursuit of spiritual transcendence, and, moreover, a regenerate faith calls him to the pulpit in New York. While fulfilling this new ministerial position, Edwards acknowledges feeling his "sense of divine things . . . in a much higher degree, than [he] had done before" (187). "The delights which I now felt in things of religion," he joyfully recounts, "were of an exceeding different kind" (187).

Like Edwards, who enjoys a "much higher degree" of spiritual wholeness, Heyward demonstrates a revitalization of physical and mental fortitude. Here, Heyward exemplifies Burke's assertion that the sublime "hurries us on by an irresistible force" (57). With a newly-strengthened courage, he finds himself prompted to the courageous task of leaving Alice and Cora in order to assist Hawkeye. Whereas before the sublime experience, Heyward had acquiesced to Alice's plea of "leave us not, Duncan" (Cooper 63), he now, "without waiting for reply," is able to "[tear] himself from the presence of the sisters, and join the scout and his companions" (Cooper 72). Moreover, as "the active Duncan" (Cooper 73), Heyward demonstrates the ability to hold his own during the fray against the Maguas tribe, and "happily, he soon succeed[s] in disarming his adversary . . ." (Cooper 76). Although he eventually relies on "the saving arm of Uncas" to rescue him from the depths of the precipice (Cooper 77), Heyward, having been fortified by the revitalizing sublime experience, "thr[ows] all his energies into [the] effort" (Cooper 76). Until the moment of his pleasure/pain encounter, he has not demonstrated this type of bravery; however, after the experience, at least for a time, he participates in the wilderness venture with newfound courage to protect his female companions.

While Edwards and Heyward experience the sublime in varying spiritual, psychological, or physical contexts--for Edwards the sublime leads to spiritual transcendence, and for Heyward the encounter prompts newfound mental and physical endurance--each finds in the moment a stabilizing context that offers support and reinforcement. As Romantic heroes who face often tumultuous arenas marked by spiritual and physical insecurity and environmental hazards, Edwards and Heyward discover in the natural sublime a context for escape from the frustrations, the hardships, and the complexities of everyday existence. Moreover, they gain strength to focus, or to pursue with renewed fervor, their dreams and spiritual goals. As these individuals long for existence beyond reality, they stand ready to undergo psychological transference into unchartered levels of spiritual and emotional, and attitudinal transcendence and, like other Romantic heroes, they stand ready to welcome both pleasure and awe. In studying their cases, we gain not only a more robust understanding of the sublime effect on Romantic heroes, but also a discovery of nature's participation in the Romantic sublime. As Edwards and Heyward bask in their moments of coveted escape from reality, we witness the applause of nature as it provides not only the perfect context but also the initiation of their sublime experiences. Ultimately, the nature connection serves to affirm the encounter and validates our heroes as true seekers of transcendence. And while our heroes may not always fully comprehend their pathways to heightened emotional or spiritual realms, they continue to strive toward their dreams and goals. In this, they serve as true embodiments of the unyielding Romantic spirit.

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