Sublimity is an all-encompassing word used to describe the emotionally appealing and moving power of a particular noun (thing, person, place); regardless of the context with which it is used, sublimity has always referred to the divinity a thing can encompass. In Longinus’ definition of sublimity, he uses the term to describe the higher elevated thought or language, often used to describe rhetoric and the awe-inspiring or persuasive power of a discourse or text. But in my usage, I will use the definition of sublimity in reference to the loftiness or aesthetic elevation of a particular place or thing; in particular, of a place that has achieved such an inspiring and timeless aura and experience that could transcend any rift of language or philosophy or time. This is in reference to Immanuel Kant’s understanding of sublime – that sublimity is to be found in a formless object, unable to be replicated or shaped by any effort but sublime of its own accord and in its very existence.
I have found a place that has fit this definition, ironically, in a place surrounded and contained by materialism and expensively quantified, capitalistic lifestyles that attempt to cultivate the beautiful in imitation of sublimity, but not quite reaching it. It is so well hidden that it has retained its ethereal quality; in fact, we did not search for it but rather stumbled into it, with a guide that fit the exact caregiver of such a sublime place.
To begin understanding why I chose this place as the subject of sublimity, I will first explain the circumstances that brought me there in the first place. The location of the sublime, a valley in the heart of Capri called Cetrella, can only be accessed by taking the single-person cable car up to the highest peak of the island, and then choosing to take the rocky dirt road down instead of the 10 minute cable car ride back. It is because of this that it is so carefully guarded; the 4 mile steep hike back into Anacapri is no mean feat, and so mostly avoided by those not daring or motivated enough to see the entirety of the island. My group of friends and I begin the hike wearily, only to run into an old Italian/German gentleman that communicates with us through hand gestures, and waves for us to follow him. I guessed his age to be around the 70s, judging from the wiry health of his body and the way he gracefully and expertly maneuvers through the rocky dirt paths, a string of kids a quarter of his age tripping along behind him (we later find out he is close to 90 years old). The road forks, and he leads us down (literally) the road less traveled, a narrow dirt pathway with ribs of tree roots threatening our ankles (I have a splinter as proof) until we reach a clearing with a workshop and, in the distance, the whitewashed domed cap of a church in the distance. Next to the workshop, a terrace is perched precariously on the edge of the cliff, and the gentleman sits us down and yells through the workshop doors, procuring a band of sweaty, middle-aged Italian men from its depths. (The view from the terrace, as well as the site of the clearing and workshop and church itself, as a part of the sublimity of the experience, but more of that later.) They pull chairs and tables and a tablecloth onto the terrace, and then the parade of food begins – a full five course meal, complete with wine, water, and coffee. It’s hospitality that we’re unaccustomed to, and we’re wary of their kindness, but the appeal of the food and the view overpowers us, and we dive in after some hesitation. One of the workmen, in broken English, explains to us who they are and what was this place tucked away in the heart of Capri: the men were part of a society called “Amici di Cetrella”, and they were a group, lead by Antonino (our gentleman guide!) to preserve this valley of Cetrella from the commercialism that the rest of the island had been overtaken with. The land that the terrace, clearing, church, workshop, and a nearby home (that had been transformed into a museum by the society) sat on had been under speculation to be completely mowed over and replaced by a golf course, another by-product of the capitalism that ran the popular vacation spot for the wealthy. Since this speculation, the organization teamed up with locals and the government to fight such attempts to commercialize this last natural gem of Capri; now, the property is carefully managed and kept by the men in the workshop, who work there once a week every summer to repair the foundation and walls of the church, workshop, and museum. We had managed to call on them right after their afternoon meal, and were thereby rewarded with the surplus of their lunch – one of the most delicious meals and wonderful dining experiences I had ever experienced. After our meal, Antonino, our elderly guide, takes care to lead us through a winding path up to the church, behind the church doors and into the basement, where some men reside (their relation to the church was unexplained, but it can be assumed that they are the caretakers or pastors of the church). He explains in hand gestures and repetitive Italian that he had been the one who repaired the crumbling foundation of the church over 25 years ago. There is more to this story, but this description alone is sufficient to begin understanding the sublimity of this place and the experience that brought us there.
The location of Cetrella, as mentioned previously, is nestled in the heart of Capri, a thousand meters up a precarious slope from Anacapri and down an equally precarious path from the peak of the island. The location is key to the sublimity of Cetrella; where the island is marked in time by the commercialism of its tourists and inhabitants, transformed by the wealth of its patrons into a bustling, haughty, narcissistic playground of the elite, Cetrella remains timeless and preserved in a veil of careful seclusion. Without this seclusion, the rarity and magnitude of which its inhabitants, views, and emotional appeal embody would be merely beautiful but not precious or as awe-inspiring. Sublimity can only work if it can induce an emotional response from the onlooker by introducing a remarkable thing that has never been seen before, or can be replicated to be seen somewhere else; the experience of taking in the sublime must exist only in that experience, at that place and nowhere else.
The motivation of the men is also central to the sublimity of the place. Longinus argues that the ethical qualities of the subject of sublimity are key to the magnitude and aesthetic gravity the sublime object holds. Because the “Amici di Cetrella” are attempting to preserve the perfect, untouched and simple beauty of the land from the capitalism that would undoubtedly manipulate it into another product of wealth and class order, they recognize the sublime quality of the land that should not be eradicated. As Kant believed, the sublime is simple and sacred; it can not be manipulated and cultivated for any other purpose than to further its sublimity and the appreciation of it, or it will lose its awe-inducing power. Because this type of qualification of the sublime does not fall under the capitalistic measurement of a thing, the sublimity of it cannot be furthered by capitalism (which aims only to make profit out of its qualified goods). Furthermore, the hospitality and open arms with which we were received, and the generosity of the organization is only further elucidation to the sublime quality of their ungreedy personalities and what Aristotle would refer to as their “divine souls”. The sublime beauty of the valley itself would no longer exist without the morality and good hearts of these men, and so they too are part of the sublime quality of Cetrella.
Finally, it is the site itself and the view it offers that is the most awe-inspiring of all the qualities of the sublime. The terrace, as well as the back of the church, looks out over the aqua-blue waters of the ocean punctuated by the craggy cliffs, rocks, and streaks of white foam speedboats leave behind as they cut through the water. Anacapri can be seen if you climb the sloping stairs to the east side of the church, but aside from the occasional speedboat, one can easily imagine himself in a place completely uninhabited and untouched by man. The site itself looks like a description right out of “Anne of Green Gables”, all filtered rays of light beaming through flowering branches and strands of grass spilling out and tripping you on the fine dirt trails. The freedom and liberty of the land that allows it to take its natural shape means that it is naturally sublime and not shaped and cultivated – sublimity cannot be artificially or premeditatively created, as demonstrated by Cetrella. It has a (physical and aesthetic)loftiness or greatness that can attempt to be imitated by others, attempted to be encapsulated in photographs but the experience with which it comes with can never be duplicated.
This is the sublimity of Cetrella.
