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The sublime and the utilitarian: Colonial perception of the Drakensberg mountains and the South African veld
In Brief
- Colonial observers established a stark dichotomy, viewing the Drakensberg as sublime and magnificent, aligning with established European aesthetic ideals of grandeur.
- The vast South African veld was often dismissed as monotonous or desolate, with its value defined purely by utilitarian potential such as mining or agricultural transformation.
- This aesthetic division reflected a core tension in the colonial encounter: viewing the land as a source of natural wonder versus seeing it as a raw resource to be conquered and exploited.
- A more nuanced appreciation for the veld existed, recognizing its subtle beauty, strategic importance, and the 'amazing pageantry' of its sunsets.
Main authors
Nineteenth-century colonial descriptions of the South African landscape frequently articulate a stark dichotomy between its two dominant geographical features: the majestic mountain ranges and the expansive, rolling veld. The Drakensberg mountains, in particular, were often cast as repositories of the sublime, evoking awe and reverence with their dramatic topography and untamed wilderness [1, 2]. In contrast, the vast plains of the highveld were regularly characterized as monotonous, uninteresting, or even desolate—a landscape whose value was often measured not by its intrinsic beauty but by its potential for agricultural or mineral exploitation [3, 4]. This division in perception was not merely an aesthetic judgment but reflected a deeper tension inherent in the colonial encounter with a profoundly non-European environment [5, 6].
The landscape became a canvas upon which observers projected their own values, anxieties, and ambitions. Mountains aligned more readily with established European ideals of picturesque and sublime scenery, offering tangible features like peaks, forests, and waterfalls that could be easily categorized and appreciated [7, 8]. The veld, with its subtle gradations, immense scale, and often harsh conditions, resisted easy interpretation and was frequently seen as a blank space requiring “improvement” to realize its potential [9, 10]. This perspective created a fundamental conflict between viewing the land as a source of natural wonder to be experienced and a raw resource to be conquered, cataloged, and ultimately transformed [11]. The struggle to comprehend these alien landscapes reveals the challenge of reconciling imported aesthetic standards with the unique, and often severe, character of the southern African continent [12].
The Mountain as a Theater of Grandeur
Travelers and writers consistently depicted South Africa’s mountainous regions as spectacles of natural grandeur, offering the “finest scenery” in that part of the world . The Drakensberg range, with its lofty peaks reaching over 10,000 feet, was a particular focus of admiration, described as a landscape of “indescribably grand and impressive” character, unlike any other in the region [13]. Accounts abound of thickly wooded valleys, dramatic quartz reefs, and splendid timber forests that rendered the scenery both “grand and wild” . This environment, rich with resources and magnificent vistas, became a symbol of nature in its most powerful and pristine state, a realm that stirred the imagination and promised adventure [14].
This reverence for the mountains taps directly into the European concept of the sublime, an aesthetic experience rooted in a mixture of awe and terror before the overwhelming power of nature . The “fantastically-shaped mountains” and “deep gloomy gorges” were seen as beautiful yet awful, a landscape that inspired admiration mixed with a healthy dose of fear [15]. This wildness was not just an aesthetic quality; it was a tangible reality for those who ventured into the ranges, whether for sport, prospecting, or exploration [16]. The mountains were seen as sources of life, guarding and strengthening the land, yet they also held real dangers, such as the fevers that stalked the foothills, adding a layer of genuine peril to their formidable reputation [17].
However, this vision of the sublime was not universally shared. Some observers, like Viscount James Bryce, found the aridity and bareness of the South African mountains made them “severe and even forbidding” [18]. In contrast to the verdant mountain landscapes of Europe, their scorching, uninviting slopes could seem repellent, beautiful in form but lacking the welcoming appeal of lusher environments . This perspective highlights how the perceived sublimity of the mountains was filtered through a lens of expectation. For some, the raw, untamed power of the Drakensberg was a source of wonder ; for others, its harsh, dry character was a stark and alienating reminder of a landscape fundamentally different from the familiar terrains of the northern hemisphere .
The Veld: A Canvas of Monotony and Utility
In sharp contrast to the celebrated grandeur of the mountains, the great plains of the interior were often dismissed as scenery of little interest . The veld of the Transvaal and Griqualand West was frequently characterized by its perceived lack of picturesque features, an endless expanse where the range of vision was bound only by the “gentle, almost imperceptible, rolls of the ground” [19]. This apparent uniformity led many travelers to find the landscape monotonous, a “howling wilderness” whose primary value lay not in its appearance but in what could be extracted from beneath its surface .
The aesthetic judgment of the veld was compounded by its challenging environmental conditions. The climate was one of extremes, with low rainfall making agriculture and foraging difficult . The highveld, in particular, was notorious for its persistent and inescapable wind, a constant torment for those trekking across its open spaces [20]. For the solitary individual, the immense, seemingly empty landscape could induce a profound sense of personal insignificance and loneliness, a feeling of being adrift under an “unregarding” sky [21]. This perception of the veld as an austere and even hostile environment reinforced the idea that it was a space to be endured or overcome rather than appreciated.
Consequently, the veld was often framed in utilitarian terms, its worth defined by its potential for transformation. Low-lying areas, though prone to fever, were deemed capable of becoming healthy and productive once they were “cleared of bush and drained” by an “industrious race” . The discovery of diamonds radically altered the perception of regions like Griqualand, transforming a landscape once considered worthless into the commercial heart of South Africa, a center of immense wealth and activity [22]. This shift underscores a colonial mindset that appraised the land based on its capacity for generating profit, overlooking its intrinsic qualities until a valuable resource was identified [23]. The plains were thus seen less as a complete landscape and more as a raw material awaiting human intervention to give it purpose and value.
Reimagining the Plains: Subtle Beauty and Strategic Depth
Despite its reputation for monotony, a more nuanced appreciation of the veld emerges in certain accounts. Observers who looked closer found a landscape with its own unique, if subtle, character . Far from being empty, the plains once supported a “marvelous richness of animal life,” with enormous herds of wildebeest, quagga, and buffalo roaming a tract that later travelers would see as denuded [24]. This vision of a vibrant ecosystem, teeming with game, presents a stark counter-narrative to the image of a barren wasteland, suggesting that the perceived emptiness of the veld was a recent, human-made phenomenon .
The aesthetic appeal of the veld, while less dramatic than that of the mountains, revealed itself most profoundly at dawn and dusk. John Buchan, for one, described the veld sunset as an event of “amazing pageantry,” a transcendent moment when a “flood of crimson descends on the world” and transforms the sober daytime landscape into a “riot of colour” [25]. In these fleeting hours, the land itself would recede, and the sky would become the dominant feature, offering a spectacle that, in his view, surpassed even the most celebrated European vistas . This was a virgin soil for a new kind of art, one capable of capturing the poetry of vastness and solitude [26].
Beyond its aesthetic potential, the veld was also recognized for its immense strategic and economic importance. Its open, rolling terrain was perfectly suited for the rapid maneuvering essential to military success on the central plateau [27]. Furthermore, thinkers like Buchan argued that the agricultural capacity of the land represented a vital “permanent asset” for the country . This rural foundation was seen as a necessary counterbalance to the transient, urban-focused wealth generated by mining, providing a source of stability and persistence crucial for the development of a true nation . Even the most arid regions, such as the Kalahari desert, were viewed not as wastelands but as territories of great potential, capable of improvement and essential for controlling the lucrative trade routes to the interior .
The contrasting nineteenth-century appraisals of South Africa’s mountains and veld ultimately reveal more about the cultural and ideological frameworks of the observers than about the intrinsic nature of the land itself. The mountains, with their dramatic peaks and deep valleys, fit comfortably within established European aesthetic categories of the sublime, inviting praise and awe . The veld, however, presented a different kind of landscape—one whose vast scale, subtle features, and austere character defied easy classification and was often interpreted as a void . This interpretive gap was frequently filled with a utilitarian calculus, where the land's value was contingent upon its potential for mineral extraction or agricultural development .
Ultimately, both landscapes confronted the colonial observer with a sense of scale and otherness that was profoundly challenging. The South African environment, whether in its forbidding mountain crags or its boundless plains, evoked a powerful awareness of the “insignificance of man” in the face of a timeless, indifferent nature . While the mountains offered a familiar form of grandeur, it was perhaps the veld, with its harsh winds , spectacular sunsets , and overlooked potential , that demanded a more profound adjustment of perspective. To appreciate the veld was to begin to see the land on its own terms, moving beyond an imported aesthetic to recognize the unique, severe, and compelling beauty of the southern African continent.
