The sublime, by definition, suspends comparison within its class. The greatest sublime is wild Nature, the natural world including the heavens. It is the lone member its class, an inherited machine, here before we arrived. Of the greatest machines we invent, they are lesser sublimes: the greatest computer, the greatest ship, the greatest dam, . . .
If the sublime of any class is a moral force, the greatest sublime, wild Nature, should be the greatest moral force. Yet the lesser sublime machines steal the spotlight. They are more approachable and so, to most people, more impressive and more inviting worship than wild Nature. Witness how we rip apart Nature for material to grow technology. It bothers the Saunterer seeing the masses today react as Henry Adam reacted in the hall of dynamos at the Great Exposition in Paris, 1900:
As he grew accustomed to the great gallery of machines, he began to feel the forty-foot dynamos as a moral force, much as the early Christians felt the Cross. The planet itself seemed less impressive, in its old-fashioned, deliberate, annual or daily revolution, than this huge wheel, revolving within arm’s-length at some vertiginous speed, and barely murmuring - scarcely humming an audible warning to stand a hair’s-breadth further for respect for power - while it would not wake the baby lying close against its frame. Before the end, one began to pray to it; inherited instinct taught the natural expression of man before a silent and infinite force. Among the thousands of symbols of ultimate energy, the dynamo was not so human as some, but it was the most expressive. (Quoted from page 380 of The Education of Henry Adams, by Henry Adams, chapter XXV, “The Dynamo and the Virgin,” printed for the Massachusetts Historical Society, 1918.)
For a brief biography of Henry Adams, click here. For the full text of the "The Dynamo and the Virgin," click here.
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