Guest post by Arnt Fredheim, Curator, writer, project manager

The Discovery of Nature: A Historical Debate

I recall a conversation I had with a fellow student of Ancient Greek at the Department of Classics at the University of Oslo in 1993. He argued that people in the eighteenth century simply did not perceive natural beauty and that such appreciation emerged as a cultural construct which humanity first had to learn after its attention had been drawn to it by the Romantic movement. A glance at the descriptions of nature in the works of the troubadour poet Chrétien de Troyes (1135-1190) immediately made me sceptical of this theory. Nevertheless, the conversation inspired me to reflect upon this enduring myth and to consider its validness, and I ventured to check what would happen if I played with the idea that it might be connected to the rhetorical devices of periphrasis and ekphrasis, two important instruments that writers throughout the centuries have employed in order to give fuller expression to their thoughts.

For starters, the short answer to my fellow student's theory is, of course, that the beauty of nature was already being described in ancient literature by authors such as Homer (8th century), Theocritus (c. 300 BCE-died after 260), and Plato (c. 428-c. 348 BCE). What Romanticism introduced was not the discovery of natural beauty itself but rather a particular way of understanding nature, namely as an autonomous aesthetic and spiritual reality, frequently associated with subjective feeling and the sublime.

Nevertheless, there exists a tradition among historians and cultural theorists who have argued that Europeans did not truly "see" nature in the manner we do today until the advent of the modern age. This was often taugth in Norwegian philosophy classes during the 90ies.

The most influential figure in this tradition was probably Jacob Burckhardt (1818-1897). In Die Kultur der Renaissance in Italien (1860), he argued that the Renaissance represented a new discovery both of the individual and of nature. Burckhardt advanced the view that medieval people did not regard nature as an aesthetic landscape in the same way as their Renaissance successors.

This line of thought was further developed by Georg Simmel (1858-1918) in his essay Philosophie der Landschaft (1913). Simmel argued that "landscape" is not something directly given by nature itself, but rather a cultural construction. Nature has always existed; landscape, however, as an aesthetic object, first had to be learned as something worthy of perception and contemplation.

An even more radical version of this argument may be found in Marjorie Hope Nicolson's (1894-1989) fictional novel Mountain Gloom and Mountain Glory (1959). Nicolson demonstrated how mountains were regarded throughout much of European history as frightening, ugly, or even as instruments of divine punishment. Only during the eighteenth century did they begin to be admired for their beauty. This observation has become an important point of reference in studies of the sublime.

The most powerful challenge to this narrative, however, came from the literary historian Ernst Robert Curtius (1886-1956). In Europäische Literatur und lateinisches Mittelalter (1948), he documented extensive traditions of nature description throughout the Middle Ages and demonstrated that enthusiasm for nature was by no means a Romantic invention. Among other things, he drew attention to the classical tradition of the locus amoenus, the pleasant place characterised by trees, water, and shade, a literary motif that extends from antiquity through the Middle Ages and into the Renaissance.

Plato, Nature, and the Origins of Aesthetic Perception

If we return to Plato, we encounter a serious difficulty for the theory that natural beauty was discovered only at a comparatively late stage. In the Phaedrus (370 BCT - 229a–230b), which I will return to soon, shows that an aesthetic appreciation of nature already was present in the fourth century BCE. Similar examples may be found in Theocritus, whose idyllic landscape descriptions bear a striking resemblance to the pastoral poetry of later centuries.

What Romanticism truly contributed, therefore, was not the discovery that nature could be beautiful but the idea that nature possesses an intrinsic spiritual and emotional significance. In the works of Romantic writers such as William Wordsworth and Novalis, nature becomes almost a dialogue partner for the inner life of the individual. This represents something quite different from both Plato's philosophical representations of nature and Schiller's classical idealisations.

Plato's description of the Ilissus demonstrates that natural beauty was already a literary theme in antiquity, whereas Schiller represents an intermediate stage in the development that would eventually lead to the more subjective and emotionally charged conception of nature characteristic of Romanticism. Together, they reveal a fascinating historical trajectory extending from classical representations of nature, through German Classicism, to the Romantic movement.

Periphrasis and Ekphrasis in Plato

There is an intriguing connection between the use of periphrasis and ekphrasis in Plato and Schiller and the broader intellectual historical debate concerning when human beings first came to experience nature as beautiful. Language does not merely communicate information; it shapes the reader's experience of the world and directs attention towards particular aspects of reality. Few rhetorical devices illustrate this more clearly than periphrasis and ekphrasis. Although both originate in the classical rhetorical tradition, they fulfil rather different functions in the works of these two authors. In Plato, they are closely connected with the philosophical process of inquiry and understanding, whereas in Schiller they are more often employed in the service of aesthetic and idealist aims.

A particularly illuminating example of ekphrasis in Plato may be found in the opening of the Phaedrus (227a–230c). Before the dialogue on love and rhetoric begins, Phaedrus leads Socrates beyond the walls of Athens to the banks of the river Ilissus. Around 229a–230b, the landscape is described through its trees, flowing water, shade, and refreshing air. The description is so vivid that the reader is almost invited to enter the scene as a spectator. This is a characteristic feature of ekphrasis: language renders a place visually present before the mind's eye. At the same time, the passage serves a purpose that extends beyond mere ornamentation. The tranquillity of nature stands in deliberate contrast to the bustle of the city and creates a setting conducive to reflection. In this way, the ekphrasis supports the philosophical project of the dialogue by situating thought within a concrete and sensuous environment.

Periphrasis in Plato may be examined in the Symposium (c. 385-380 BCE), particularly in Diotima's discourse on love (201d–212c). Here no simple definition of Eros is offered. Instead, love is characterised through a series of circumlocutions that emphasise its intermediary position between divinity and humanity, wisdom and ignorance. Eros emerges not as a fixed concept but as a dynamic force perpetually seeking what it lacks. Periphrasis therefore functions as a philosophical instrument. By describing the phenomenon indirectly, Plato compels the reader to reflect upon its nature. This is entirely consistent with his broader method, in which understanding is achieved through inquiry and examination rather than through authoritative definitions.

Schiller and the Classical Transformation of Rhetoric

In Schiller, we encounter the same rhetorical devices, though directed towards rather different ends. In Das Lied von der Glocke (1789), the poem opens with a detailed depiction of the bell founder at work. The heat of the furnace, the movement of the molten metal, and the successive stages of the craft are rendered with such vividness that the reader can follow the process in the mind's eye. Yet this ekphrastic description possesses a significance that extends beyond the literal activity being portrayed. The casting of the bell becomes a symbol of human life and social development. Whereas Plato employs ekphrasis to establish a setting for philosophical dialogue, Schiller uses it to give tangible form to abstract ideas concerning culture, community, and human maturation.

A comparable idealising tendency may be observed in the poem Die Künstler (1782). Here art is represented not merely as a human activity but through a series of periphrastic formulations that portray it as a formative force within history. The significance of art is expressed through circumlocutions that associate it with freedom, human perfection, and spiritual development. Periphrasis thus elevates the concept from the particular to the universal. Whereas Plato employs indirect description in order to investigate the essence of a concept, Schiller uses it to emphasise its idealised significance.

From Plato to Romanticism: A Literary Continuum

A comparison of these texts demonstrates how identical rhetorical devices may serve markedly different purposes. In the Phaedrus, ekphrasis transforms the reader into a participant in a philosophical situation, whereas in Das Lied von der Glocke it creates a symbolic image of human existence. In the Symposium, periphrasis is employed to explore the nature of love, whereas in Die Künstler it contributes to the elevation of art into an expression of humanity's highest ideals.

This distinction may be understood as reflecting the literary traditions to which the two authors belong. Plato writes within a philosophical culture that seeks truth through dialogue and conceptual clarification. Schiller writes within the intellectual framework of German Classicism and Idealism, where art is assigned a central role in the cultivation and formation of the human being. Consequently, Plato's use of periphrasis and ekphrasis guides the reader towards knowledge and understanding, whereas Schiller's use of the same devices more often directs the reader towards aesthetic experience and moral elevation.

Yet the affinity between Plato and Schiller remains unmistakable. Both authors demonstrate how language can enable readers to perceive more than what is literally present on the page. Through periphrasis, concepts acquire greater richness and ambiguity; through ekphrasis, ideas become vivid, tangible, and present before the imagination. It is precisely for this reason that these rhetorical devices have retained their significance from antiquity to modern literary criticism.

A continuous line may therefore be traced from Plato to Schiller. Both employ ekphrastic representations of nature, yet they embody two distinct understandings of its significance. For Plato, nature serves as a setting for knowledge and contemplation. In Schiller, it increasingly becomes a medium through which the inner life of the human subject may be explored and reflected upon. Romanticism continues this development by transforming the experience of nature into one of literature's most important expressions of subjective consciousness. Romanticism did not discover the beauty of nature; rather, it discovered a new way of inhabiting it.

In 1993, I had no compelling arguments to offer my fellow student. Had I met him again, we might have chosen a place where a brook murmurs gently and sunlight falls softly through the leaves, a place where we could sit together and revisit the question some thirty three years later. As I remember him, he would undoubtedly have surprised me with entirely new perspectives, perspectives that I would probably have spent the following thirty three years contemplating in turn. Plato, however, possessed a remarkable gift for finding beautiful settings in which to conduct a dialogue, so I would gladly wait for my friend in the Socratian shades under the tree and have a try on a theory or two.

Editorial note

This article reflects the author's own research and interpretation. Mind the Greeks publishes contributions from researchers and writers to foster scholarly dialogue and public engagement with the ancient Greek world. Different interpretations of the evidence and sources are a natural part of academic inquiry.