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SOME
THOUGHTS ON BEAUTY
by Mortimer Adler, Ph.D.
Much has been said on the subject of beauty that
will not bear close scrutiny. What is said is often
moving, even uplifting. It frequently gives one the
sense of being on the verge of getting at the heart
of the matter, but like epigrammatic discourse at
its best, it leaves one unsure that the promise of
penetrating in sights can be fulfilled by patient
thought expressed in plain speech.
The test of the intelligibility of any statement
that overwhelms us with its air of profundity is
its translatability into language that lacks the
elevation and verve of the original statement but
can pass muster as a simple and clear statement in
ordinary, everyday speech. Most of what has been
written about beauty will not survive this test. In
the presence of many of the most eloquent
statements about beauty, we are left speechless --
speechless in the sense that we cannot find other
words for expressing what we think or hope we
understand.
This is not to say that, in the discussion of
the great ideas, there has been more disagreement
about beauty than about truth and goodness. With
regard to beauty as with regard to truth and
goodness, the same fundamental issues are argued,
issues concerning their objectivity and
subjectivity. The difference lies in the fact that
with regard to truth and goodness, the issues can
be addressed with a clarity that is lacking in the
case of beauty.
There is less that can be said about beauty with
clarity and precision than can be said about truth
and goodness. In the pages that follow, I am going
to limit myself to observations that can be
expressed in the language of common speech and to
distinctions that I think are immediately
intelligible to common sense.
I will carry the analysis no further than it can
go within these limits. This may leave many
questions unanswered for the reader, but he or she
will at least understand the questions that have
not been answered.
In the tradition of Western thought, two writers
-- and only two -- provide the guidance we need to
proceed along the lines just indicated. One is a
thirteenth-century theologian, Thomas Aquinas; the
other, an eighteenth-century German philosopher,
Immanuel Kant. While these two do not agree with
each other on all points, certain observations made
by Kant help us to understand certain words used by
Aquinas that are critical terms in his definition
of the beautiful.
"The beautiful," Aquinas writes, "is that which
pleases us upon being seen." In this definition of
the beautiful, the two critical terms are "pleases"
and "seen."
Many things please us and please us in different
ways, but everything that pleases us is not
beautiful. If we use the word "pleases" as a
synonym for "satisfies," then any good that we
desire pleases or satisfies us when, coming into
possession of that good, our desire for it is
calmed, put to rest, or made quiescent .
Pleasure itself, bodily or sensual pleasure, is
among the goods that human beings desire. We have a
natural craving for sensory experiences that have
the quality of being pleasant rather than
unpleasant. It is also the case that some human
beings, generally regarded as abnormal, have a
predilection for pain -- for physical pain or for
sensory experiences that are unpleasant in quality
rather than pleasant. When these desires, normal or
abnormal, are gratified, we are pleased or
satisfied.
When sensual pleasure or pain is an object of
desire, it does not differ from food or drink,
wealth or health, knowledge or friendship, as
something needed or wanted. Anything needed or
wanted is something that pleases or satisfies us
when we get it. How, among all the things that
please or satisfy us, shall we identify the special
character of the beautiful as an object that
pleases us?
The answer to this question can be found in
Aquinas's definition. The object we call beautiful
is one that pleases us in a very special way --
"upon being seen". Food and drink, health and
wealth, and most of the other goods we need or want
please us upon being possessed. It is having them,
to use or consume, that pleases us. They please us
when they satisfy our desire to have them, not just
to see them.
Here Kant throws light on the special character
of the pleasure afforded by objects we call
beautiful by telling us that the pleasure must be a
totally disinterested one. What Kant means by
"disinterested" is that the object falls outside
the sphere of our practical concerns. It is an
object we may or may not desire to acquire, to
possess, to use, consume, or in some other way
incorporate into our lives or ourselves. We may be
quite content simply to contemplate or behold it.
Doing just that, and nothing more, gives us the
special delight or joy that we derive from objects
that please us upon being seen. And if, in
addition, we do desire to possess it, we do not
regard it as beautiful because of that fact.
The person who says, as many do, "I do not know
whether that object is beautiful, but I know what I
like, and I do like it," should understand himself
to be acknowledging the disconnection between
enjoyable and admirable beauty. He is, in effect,
saying, "I do not know what expert judges would
think about the intrinsic excellence or perfection
of the object in question, but I do know that it
pleases me to behold or contemplate. It may or may
not be admirable in the judgment of experts, but I
enjoy it nevertheless."
There is one further difference to be noted
between the expert judgment of admirable beauty and
the expression of taste for enjoyable beauty,
whether by experts or by laymen. It requires us to
recall Immanuel Kant's observation that the
apprehension of an object from which we derive
disinterested pleasure is nonconceptual. It is the
apprehension or contemplation of that individual
object as such, not as a particular instance of one
or another kind of object.
Contrariwise, the expert judgment of the
admirable beauty of an object based on its
intrinsic excellence or perfection can not be a
judgment devoid of conceptual content because it is
always a judgment about the individual object, "not
as an individual", but as a particular instance of
a certain kind.
The knowledge that is involved in being an
expert is knowledge about the kind, specimens of
which are being judged. The skill of the expert is
skill in discriminating the degrees of excellence
possessed by less and more admirable specimens of
the kind in question. That is why the person who is
an expert judge of Greek temples will probably not
be an expert judge of Gothic cathedrals, and why
the person who is an expert judge of flowers is
unlikely to be an expert judge of dogs.
The objectivity of truth lies in the fact that
what is true for an individual who happens to be in
error is not true at all. The objectivity of
goodness lies in the fact that what is called good
by an individual whose wants are contrary to his
needs is not really good for him or for anyone
else. What is true for the person whose judgment is
sound ought to be regarded as true by everyone
else. What is good for the person whose desires are
right ought to be regarded as good by everyone
else.
When we come to beauty, the parallelism fails.
What is enjoyable beauty for the individual whose
taste is poor and who derives pleasure from
inferior objects is really enjoyable beauty for him
regardless of what anyone else thinks, including
the experts. What is admirable beauty in the
judgment of the experts may not be enjoyable beauty
for many laymen; nor can we say that they ought to
admire as well as enjoy it because of its intrinsic
excellence. All we can say, perhaps, is that they
ought to learn to enjoy what is admirable.
At the bottom line, it remains the case that the
enjoyable belongs to the sphere of the subjective
-- a matter of individual taste about which there
is no point in arguing. The best wine experts in
the world may all agree that a certain red Bordeaux
of a certain vintage is a supreme specimen of
claret. It does not follow that an individual who
prefers white wine to red, or Burgundies to
clarets, or has a taste for whiskey rather than for
wine, must necessarily enjoy drinking the wine
accorded the gold medal by the experts.
What is true of wines is true of everything else
that, on the one hand, can be judged for its
admirable intrinsic excellence and, on the other
hand, may or may not give pleasure or enjoyment to
the taste of individuals.
One concluding observation. readers who feel
dissatisfied or disappointed by what I have been
able to say about admirable beauty -- the intrinsic
excellence of objects judged admirable by experts
-- have reason on their side. They are justified in
expecting something more: a clear and precise
statement of the features shared in common by all
instances of admirable beauty, whether in nature or
in works of art, and in any and every sphere of
art.
I sympathize with such dissatisfaction or
disappointment. I have suffered it myself. Expert
judges in a given field of art may be able to state
the underlying principles or criteria of intrinsic
excellence in that sphere of workmanship. They
seldom can do so unanimously. But even if they were
all to agree about the objective criteria of
admirable beauty in the field in which they were
experts, even if they all subscribed to principles
by conformity to which a judgment concerning the
admirable beauty of a certain object could claim to
be true, that would still be insufficient.
More can be reasonably expected of the
philosopher who undertakes to deal with the idea of
beauty. In dealing with the ideas of truth and
goodness, the philosopher discharges his
intellectual responsibility. He is able to tell us
what truth and goodness consist in, not in some
particular domain, but universally. That
intellectual responsibility the philosopher does
not seem able to discharge in dealing with the idea
of beauty.
I would have wished to write this in a
philosophical manner not disappointing to its
readers, not failing to provide the clear and
precise statement about what beauty objectively
consists in, which they have good reason to expect.
I have failed for two reasons. One is that I am not
able to find that clear and precise statement in
the literature of the subject. The other is that I
lack the insight or wisdom needed to supply it
myself.
Disappointed readers must, therefore, convert
their dissatisfaction by transforming it into a
challenge -- to do for themselves what has yet to
be done by anyone. To do what? To say what is
common to -- what universal qualities are present
in -- the admirable beauty of a prize-winning rose,
Beethoven's Kreutzer Sonata, a triple play in the
ninth inning of a baseball game, Michelangelo's
Pieta, a Zen garden, Milton's sonnet on his
blindness, a display of fireworks, and so on.
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