Depictions of “Sublime Disappointment” from the 18th to 21st Centuries: An Inquiry into the Nature of Aesthetic Poignancy

Edgar Allan Poe’s notion of sublime disappointment has far-reaching implications in the realm of art and perfectly encapsulates a significant facet of Romantic attitudes towards literature, the visual arts, music, and philosophy. This notion is a timeless one that can be seen permeating aesthetic discourse in eras before the Romantic, as well as today. In this paper, I will specifically describe how one can observe sublime disappointment in the showpiece aria from Christoph Willibald Gluck’s opera, Orfeo ed Euridice, Wagner’s “Liebestod” scene from Tristan und Isolde, and in André Aciman’s 2007 novel, Call Me by Your Name. I will also discuss the implications of this concept in the overall attitudes of many Romantics, such as Rousseau and J.M.W. Turner, and will touch upon some of the ways in which their legacies persist to this day.

In “The Poetic Principle,” Poe outlines this theory of sublime disappointment by describing the act of being moved to tears in an aesthetic experience. He writes that this emotional response is brought about “not… through an excess of pleasure, but through a certain… sorrow at our inability to grasp now, wholly… those divine and rapturous joys of which through (art)… we attain but brief and indeterminate glances (1437). In describing this dynamic, Poe notes how there is a disappointment that one feels in the aesthetic experience of beauty, for while it may be wonderful, it leaves the experiencer wanting.

Christoph Willibald Gluck explores this bittersweet facet of the aesthetic experience in his aria, "Che farò senza Euridice" (or "J'ai perdu mon Euridice," depending on which version of the work you're looking at), from his opera, Orfeo ed Euridice. In the scene in which it takes place (in keeping with the story as told by countless writers from antiquity, most notably Virgil and Ovid), Orpheus has rescued his love, Eurydice, from the underworld. Hades has warned him, however, that he can only lead her back to Earth if he promises not to look at her until they've left the underworld. Unfortunately, Orpheus is unable to keep this promise, and Eurydice dies once again, never to return to the realm of the living. Orpheus subsequently sings an aria expressing his loss, which translates to "What shall I do without Eurydice?"

In this aria, Gluck communicates sublime disappointment on many different levels. To begin, it is a perfect, literal example of the "indeterminate glances" of the sublime that Poe described and how they can result in loss, as one recognizes just how far away from it one really is. In the case of this aria, the sublime comes in the form of Euridice, who is the object of Orpheus' affection, and who is wrenched away from him the moment that the two are closest to realizing their love for one another. To compound the grief that Orpheus subsequently feels, he knows that it is precisely because he tried to hold on too tightly to the idea of Eurydice that his loss is brought about. His inability to refrain from looking at her represents his attempt to thwart the "disappointment" part of "sublime disappointment," in that he tries to give form to his imagined conception of her sublimity. However, instead of encountering her/the sublime, he is left with nothing.

The notion of sublime disappointment is also reflected in the music of this aria, as it is set in the major mode, is quite diatonic, and features a relatively simple but lively accompaniment. Without knowing its context, one would assume that it is an upbeat piece, except for the brief B section, which is in a minor key. (However, because this aria is in rounded binary form, the uneasiness in the listener that the B section inspires is short-lived.) “Che Faro’s” lack of chromaticism and the simplicity of both its melodic line and accompanimental figures leave the listener feeling placated. What makes the piece so emotionally devastating, though, is that, despite its “happy” musical features, it is a profound expression of loss. The overall effect that this creates results in the kind of juxtaposition between pain and pleasure that is so characteristic of sublime disappointment.

As demonstrated by the dynamic at play in this aria, the relationship between the sublime and an object of love encapsulates what is arguably the essence of sublime disappointment: innate in humankind there is a desire to erase the distinction between subject and object in a state of ecstasy – whether that object is a piece of art or another individual. However, disappointment sets in when one realizes that this conflation is not possible. That being said, this act is one that Wagner famously and elegantly portrays in the finale of what many consider to be his magnum opus, Tristan und Isolde. 

Wagner’s decision to use an unprecedented level of chromaticism throughout Tristan could itself be conceptualized as a breakdown between subject and object. Suppose humans fundamentally draw intrapsychic distinctions between the self and the other through the use of language. In that case, logical systems, which necessarily must be filtered through the cognitive lens of language, can be understood as an outgrowth of this act of distinction. Under this framework, in music, the analog of the symbolic order would be traditional practices regarding form and harmony. This analogy holds up, as things like functional tonal harmony represent complex logical systems used to communicate (specifically musical) ideas using a shared vocabulary. However, Wagner’s music entailed innovations in the realm of pretty much every dimension of the medium, whether it be vocal writing, orchestration, harmony, or form. In challenging the rules of music that had theretofore been required of composers to adhere, Wagner indicated that his overall endeavor was to get at this more non-symbolic experience of music. This non-symbolic state, as will hopefully soon be evident, can be thought of as synonymous with the “sublime” and is most evidently manifested by Wagner in Tristan...

The music of the bulk of Tristan und Isolde represents a depiction of the state of “disappointment” in “sublime disappointment,” as it eschews the traditional feelings of resolution brought about by cadences. In choosing to remain tonally ambiguous throughout the whole opera, Wagner instills a certain subconscious level of anxiety in the listener. It is only in the final “Liebestod” scene that he writes the opera’s first perfect authentic cadence. Not only does this give the listener the resolution that they have yearned for throughout the entire opera, but it also represents the ultimate, sublime consummation of Tristan and Isolde’s love.

To understand Wagner’s representation of this act, one must first understand where this aria is situated in the opera. The Liebestod, or “Mild und leise…” comes the moment after Tristan dies from an injury that he sustained while in battle. Isolde, though she is not physically injured herself, is psychically entangled with Tristan as a result of their love and so consequently succumbs to the same fate as her lover in the climax of this scene. In portraying this, Wagner represents a feeling of sublimity that does not differentiate between subject and object – one that culminates in both rapturous feelings of love and death.

Wagner's depiction, like Gluck's, has many different dimensions to it. To begin with, this erasing of distinctions is underscored by the fact that the opera's libretto is, at the risk of being tautologous, set to music. And music has been, for much of its history, considered the only non-symbolic art form. This point can and has been argued, most notably by Eduard Hanslick during the "War of the Romantics" in his book, On the Musically Beautiful. However, if one accepts this premise, it has interesting implications in this work. Specifically, the very nature of its medium confounds our capacity to signify and draw distinctions – something that is clearly reflected in the subject matter to which Wagner sets his music.

One other way the Liebestod represents an erasure of distinctions is that Isolde dies at the scene’s conclusion, and arguably, the differentiation between being and not being is the starkest one there is. Not only is “Mild und leise…”  a representation of the breakdown of subject and object and life and death, but the argument could also be made that this is the best music in Tristan und Isolde and that the opera itself is one of the greatest pieces of music ever written. In light of this, it is potentially one of the best examples of how art can get the listener uniquely close to the experience of the sublime that Poe references.

This interplay between the notion of sublime disappointment and the differentiation between subject and object can also be observed in the 21st-century novel by André Aciman, titled Call Me by Your Name. In fact, there is a direct parallel to "Mild und leise…" at the end of the novel, when the protagonist confesses to the object of his love, "If I should hear that you died, my life as I know it, the me who is speaking with you now, will cease to exist" (240). The psychic entanglement that the two characters experience with one another is further evidenced by the book's very title, as they frequently use their own names to signify one another.

Aciman depicts Oliver and Elio's characters in what could similarly be called a state of sublime entanglement, like that between Tristan and Isolde. However, they are ultimately wrested away from one another, as in Orfeo ed Euridice. In this instance, their separation is a consequence of the fact that they meet in Italy over the summer before Oliver must return to New York for a teaching position. This situation results in, to put it mildly, "disappointment" for the two. However, like in the experience of the specific kind of aesthetic poignancy that Poe describes, there is an acknowledgment in the novel that the two wouldn't spare their loss at the expense of the connection that they did share. Elio's father even at one point notes, "We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should… But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything – what a waste!” (224). In saying this, he acknowledges the beauty in the loss that the two feel because it indicates how meaningful their experiences were with one another, just like in a particularly profound aesthetic encounter.

There is also a line in Call Me by Your Name that speaks to another critical element of sublime disappointment, which may shed some more light on its nature. After the main action of the story is over and Elio and Oliver have lived significant portions of their lives apart, Elio reflects on the meaning of their relationship as it pertains to his present moment. He notes, "Over the years I'd lodged him in the permanent past, my pluperfect lover, put him on ice, stuffed him with memories and mothballs like a hunted ornament confabulating with the ghost of all my evenings" (233). This observation speaks to the fact that the imagined representation of the sublime may be more vibrant than any actual manifestation of it. This conflict, unsurprisingly, results in feelings of disappointment, as both are imperfect vehicles for the sublime – one because it is not "real," and the other because it is finite and transient.

This limbolike state between ecstasy and sadness in experiencing the sublime, in addition to the disappointment that humans feel towards the finite, may be attributable to the nature of consciousness itself. This dynamic is perhaps best illustrated in the domain of the arts (though the same could be said about language in general). Specifically, the artist must pluck out one of the infinite permutations available to him in his given medium and give form to it. In doing so, like with the act of signification, the infinite becomes finite, and the individual is reminded that they are unable to manifest the endless degree of complexity within them and within the world at large. The same is true with any object of desire. As Elio reveals at the end of Call Me by Your Name, the moment he shared with Oliver was ephemeral, so he is resigned to recalling this imagined conception of him. This image may be idealistic, but it is also ultimately disappointing because it is not corporeal.

Roland Barthes observed a similar phenomenon in his book, A Lover’s Discourse. In it, he wrote of a love object, “the being I am waiting for is not real. Like the mother’s breast for the infant, “I create it and recreate it over and over, starting from my capacity to love, starting from my need for it” (39). Here, he is expressing that, regardless of the seeming perfection of a given object, there will always be a tendency for us to compare it to an imagined ideal. Furthermore, this ideal is ultimately unrealizable, as it would entail the dissolution of self and manifestation of all that could be, such as was the case, as Barthes claims, in the pre-symbolic stage of infancy.

This unraveling of self into a pre-symbolic state is clearly a timeless desire, one which, interestingly, is starkly reflected in the work of many other Romantic thinkers. For instance, people like Rousseau and the Transcendentalists speak of an urge to return to the “state of nature” before the distinctions brought about by culture, reason, and potentially even language. In this, too, there is an idealization of something that is not the case. It is not the case that these writers have the capacity to return to this primordial state that they so desire. As a result, they are left to extol its imagined virtues and seek it out in whichever ways they can glimpse it, much like the artist must try to do in his attempt to manifest the infinite potentials inherent in his canvas.

            This trend towards the breakdown of distinction has also played out over the centuries succeeding the Romantic era in the realm of the visual arts -- particularly starting with the work of JMW Turner. His painting, Slave Ship, is an excellent example of his decision to eschew harsh delineations between the component elements of his art, much like Wagner did. In his case, though, Turner uses gradual shades of color rather than harsh lines to differentiate between the sun, the horizon, or the waves. Although he continues to represent actual objects, such as the slave ship itself and the hands of the slaves who have been thrown overboard (in addition to it being clear that the painting is of an ocean scape), his work represents a significant milestone in the trend away from visual realism. This aesthetic trajectory would eventually culminate in impressionism, during which time visual artists did away with representation of the symbolic world altogether, instead opting for the abstract.

            The impressionistic movement in the visual arts begat parallel trends in music, most notably in the work of composers like Claude Debussy. Even his music eventually gave way to the work of Schoenberg, whose serialist method represented the ultimate antithesis of functional tonal harmony, or what could, in light of this paper, be thought of as the musical symbolic order. Movements such as these in the visual and literary arts continued on this path throughout the 20th century, resulting in what has now become known as modernism and post-modernism, the implications of which permeate every facet of contemporary aesthetic life imaginable, whether it be in fashion, architecture, dance, literature, film, music, or even public discourse.

            It is a fascinating endeavor tracing this notion of sublime disappointment that Poe articulated through the ages – whether it be the 18th, 19th, 20th, or 21st centuries, in the work of Gluck, Wagner/Turner, Barthes, or Aciman, respectively. This yearning for an inaccessible, imagined ideal is even reflected in the realm of sound recording. Posterity is unbelievably indebted to the early pioneers of this medium for preserving the performances of the most technically proficient musicians of the last approximately 150 years. And we are equally beholden this very day to the internet for disseminating them and granting our species unprecedented access to art and knowledge in general. However, there is also so much that has been lost to history.

While we do have access to musical recordings of Jenny Lind’s successors and musicians who worked with her, such as Adelina Patti and Peter Schram, the sands of time have maybe forever obscured the recording that she made for Thomas Edison in 1886. The same is the case with Hans von Bulow’s cylinders (Schonberg). We do, however, have recordings of people like Édouard Colonne to give “indeterminate glimpses” into the technique that von Bulow might have possessed with an orchestra. Unfortunately, the recordings that these two giants of the 19th century made have been lost – recordings that, if found, would likely contain two of the most incredible musical performances ever preserved in sound. Of course, one could express this kind of disappointment regardless of how far back recording history stretched. If we had cylinders of these two performers, then we would bemoan the fact that we didn’t have any of Wagner himself, or of Giulia Grisi, etc. This argument could be made ad nauseam throughout the generations, going all the way back to the golden age of the bel canto era with the castrati. The point is that the imagined ideal will invariably be more appealing than the object of beauty or love that one has in front of them. That doesn’t mean, however, that one should take what they have for granted.

It is clear that this notion of sublime disappointment speaks to a fundamental aspect of our humanity – one that manifests throughout time in language, philosophy of the mind, literature, music, and visual art. It also may illuminate what Edmund Burk meant when he wrote that “sublime objects are vast in their dimensions, beautiful ones comparatively small” (Burke). Perhaps he was referring to the fact that that which is beautiful is, by its very nature, finite and can only give us furtive glances of the boundlessness of the imagined sublime. The sublime, in contrast, might entail the dissolution of self that has been outlined in this paper – a sensation that, again, to quote Burke, might be “terrible,” but, when accompanied by feelings of love and awe, may also be the thing that matters most in life.

Works Cited

Aciman, André. Call Me by Your Name. Picador, 2007.

Barthes, Roland. A Lover's Discourse: Fragments. Translated by Richard Howard, Hill and Wang, 1978.

Burke, Edmund. “The Sublime and Beautiful Compared.” Edmund Burke (1729–1797). On the Sublime and Beautiful. The Harvard Classics. 1909–14., www.bartleby.com/24/2/107.html.

Poe, Edgar Allan. “The Poetic Principle.” Edgar Allan Poe: Poetry, Tales, and Selected Essays, The Library of America, 1996, pp. 1430–1454.

Schonberg, Harold C. “The Lost Legends of the Phonograph.” The New York Times, The New York Times Company, 26 Aug. 1979, www.nytimes.com/1979/08/26/archives/music-view-lost-legends-of-the-phonograph.html.

Turner, J.M.W. “The Slave Ship: Slavers Throwing Overboard the Dead and Dying, Typhoon Coming On” . Boston, 1840.