A most incomparable delight it is so to melancholies!

A most incomparable delight it is so to melancholies, and build castles in the air, to go smiling to themselves, acting an infinite variety of parts, which they suppose and strongly imagine they represent, or that they see acted or done.Imagination may become so fanciful that memories are altogether left behind; they exist merely as the starting point of fantasy which may even border on delusion.

We want to show the relevance and importance of melancholy as an aesthetic emotion. Melancholy often plays a role in our encounters with art works, and it is also present in some of our aesthetic responses to the natural environment. Melancholy invites aesthetic considerations to come into play not only in well-defined aesthetic contexts, but also in everyday situations that give reason for melancholy to arise.

But the complexity of melancholy, the fact that it is fascinating in itself, suggests the further thought that it may be considered as an aesthetic emotion per se. To this end, we argue that it is the distinctive character of melancholy, its dual character and its differences from sadness and depression, which distinguishes it as an aesthetic emotion.

When discussing the problem of emotions and art, recent philosophers have most often considered it in two contexts-music and fiction. Music, usually lacking an easily definable propositional content, is an art form in which emotions have the most dominant role to play; in western tradition it is common to describe certain kinds of movements as 'sad' and others as 'joyful', and it is appropriate, in some sense, to feel these emotions while listening to a piece of music.

The emotions considered in these contexts have been, typically, fairly straightforward and uncomplicated, for example, joy, sadness, and especially in respect to fiction, fear in its various degrees, with horror as an extreme. These sorts of emotions point to some of the logical and philosophical issues arising from art and emotions, and although not enough attention has been paid to the nature of these emotions themselves, they are sufficiently understood for exemplifying the dilemmas mentioned. This has also meant, however, that many other significant and interesting emotional qualities have been neglected.

The sublime is one of these emotional qualities that has been neglected, but it has seen a small revival in neo-Kantian aesthetics. Another emotional quality that in some respects resembles sublimity has been almost completely forgotten. Melancholy is no less complex a phenomenon than sublimity, and it has a role to play in many works of art.

Looking further back into the history of philosophy and literature, there are chapters in which the topic is touched upon. There have been many studies of melancholy, but sustained treatments of the concept have been 'clinical', where it is equated primarily with a mental illness or a dominant temperament.

Robert Burton's classic, The Anatomy of Melancholy (1621), is one exception, since its scope is broader than the clinical definition. Still, in these very different and varying accounts melancholy is not explicitly connected to aesthetic considerations except perhaps in some poetic works.The main reason for melancholy's neglect is that it has often been connected too closely or even equated with sadness or depression. Melancholy is easy to lump together with these emotions, and the emotional terms are often used synonymously.

This tendency masks the distinctive nature of melancholy. It is also necessary to distinguish our analysis of melancholy from the clinical tradition: as we understand melancholy, it is not a mental disorder of any kind. We want to progress beyond these rather narrow meanings of the concept and argue that melancholy is a more refined emotion with qualities of its own.

This clinical tradition begins in Aristotle, continues in parts of Burton's analysis, and more recently we find it in works by Freud, Julia Kristeva, and some psychologists who have considered the problems of artistic creativity. In the Greek, we find the clinical origins of the term, 'melaina kole' or 'black bile.' Freud identifies melancholy with the dejection and apathy of depression, and he also links melancholy to narcissism and mania.

Kristeva writes that "the terms melancholy and depression refer to a composite that might be called the melancholy/depressive, whose borders are in fact blurred. . . " Although she is right to note the overlap between depression and melancholy, by aligning her analysis with the clinical tradition she overlooks important differences between the two.

It is useful and illuminating to retain a distinction between melancholy and depression as well as a distinction between the clinical definition of melancholy and the broader emotion-based use of the term although there is also overlap between each use of the term.One of the clearest differences between depression and melancholy is that depression is an emotional state of resignation, whereas melancholy is not. When we feel depressed, we feel unmotivated, unable to complete even the simplest task and unable to see any way forward.

Its reflective or thoughtful aspect also makes it somehow productive. Melancholy is something we even desire from time to time, for it provides an opportunity for indulgent self-reflection. We enjoy this time out for reflection, but the pleasure is also connected to recollecting that which we long for, where this reflective element can be even exhilarating or uplifting.

One feature that connects depression and melancholy is that they can both be experienced as moods. Moods constitute a sub-class of emotions, but they are emotions felt in relation to no explicit object. They seem to come over us without reason, and have the quality of being settled, all-pervasive, and drawn out.

In this way, moods contrast with the sharpness, shock and the immediacy of emotions like fear, anger, or in some cases, sadness, which are directed at objects and also lack the long-lasting flavor of moods.Melancholy is an emotion often occasioned by people or places; we feel melancholic about a lover or friend, or a meaningful place in our lives, perhaps somewhere we have once lived.

The quality of the feeling resembles and overlaps with sadness, but is more refined, involving some degree of pleasure, although not as much as bittersweet pleasure. Melancholy also shares a family resemblance with love, longing, yearning or missing something, as well as feeling nostalgic or the emotion that accompanies reminiscing. Although melancholy clearly belongs to this set of emotions, it is also a distinctive emotion in its own right.

Melancholy's reflective feature lies in the fact that its objects are often indirectly experienced through memories, thoughts or imaginings related to an absent object. The emotion itself seems to grow out of reflection or contemplation, so that melancholy is typically caused by particular memories or thoughts. The melancholic response to a desolate moor might arise from the setting combined with the recollection of particular memories, a narrative of some kind.

The memories that evoke melancholy are, like other memories, vividly real, faint and sketchy or somewhere in between. The reflective aspect of melancholy often involves the effort of recollection, that is, the reflection necessary for retrieving memories that are faint and sketchy. Melancholy can involve shades of other emotions-sadness, love, longing, pleasure and even dread-and each of these emotions may be a response to either a whole narrative or aspects of it.

For example, as the narrative of a past love affair unfolds in memory, a negative feeling, a tinge of sadness, comes when reflecting on the bitter end of the affair; longing and pleasure are felt as we recollect the various pleasures of being with that person; while the dread comes in one sharp moment of recapturing the feeling of loneliness felt without that love.

The emotion of melancholy is not unique in its richness and its dual nature-we have pointed out that the sublime enjoys an analogous position, but it deserves more attention in the context of aesthetics. What is specific, perhaps even unique, to melancholy is the role it can play in our everyday life, in contexts that are not aesthetic in the prima facie sense. When mourning transforms itself into melancholy, when the desperation of a loss has calmed down and is mixed with pleasurable memories, then we have an instance of melancholy, which in itself seems to create an aesthetic context of its own.

The calmness and reflection involved in melancholy resemble the traditional requirement of contemplation in the aesthetic response. Melancholy in this everyday context may lack the intensity of artistic experience, but its refined harmony is no less a significant aesthetic feature. The pleasure of melancholy does not come from excitement or intensity, but indeed rather from overall harmony we are experiencing.

When feeling melancholy in the sense we have outlined, we are in control of the 'lower' emotions; we have won both overwhelming sorrow and joy. The reflection constitutive in melancholy makes it a rational, controllable emotion. We have been able to take some distance from our previous experiences; we have given them a place in our own history. The result is that we are more in harmony with our past, and we can enjoy the feeling of melancholy, rather than sink into sadness.


The writer is an independent political analyst who writes on politics, political and human-centered figures, current and
international affairs.