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Word Gems 

exploring self-realization, sacred personhood, and full humanity

Dr. Mortimer J. Adler's 

Six Great Ideas

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In the medieval catalogue of the transcendental values, truth
and goodness are among the six all-encompassing ideas ac-
corded this status, but beauty is not. The reason given is that,
viewed in one way, beauty is a special kind of goodness; and
viewed in another, that kind of goodness is also a special kind
of truth.

The special kind of goodness that is enjoyable beauty is
marked by the character of the pleasure it affords—a purely
disinterested pleasure. The ordinary things we regard as good
please or satisfy us when we acquire or possess them, use or
consume them. They are goods to have. We are practically in-
terested in having them. The pleasure we get from having them
is hardly disinterested.

In contrast, the enjoyable beauty of an object is a good we do
not wish to acquire or possess; we are pleased simply to know
it—to apprehend or contemplate it. Ordinary goodness and the
special kind of goodness that is enjoyable beauty thus differ in
the way in which the object is related to us.

When we consider the object in itself, quite apart from its
relation to us, we are concerned with its admirable, not its
enjoyable, beauty. As with enjoyable beauty, so with admira-
ble beauty, beauty is a special kind of goodness.

All sorts of objects are ranked or graded according to the
degree of their intrinsic excellence or perfection. As we ob-
served in an earlier chapter, experts judge the merit of coffees,
teas, wines, liquors of all sorts. The grading that results in a
scale of merit can be interpreted as signifying which is most
admirable for its intrinsic excellence as that kind of thing, and
which others, in descending degrees, stand lower in the scale
of admirability.

The degrees of admirable excellence or goodness that are as-
signed such consumable products as coffees or wines, or such
usable products as knives, swords, or other tools, belong in the
category of goods to have —goods we are interested in acquiring,
either to consume or use.

Admirable beauty is a special kind of admirable excellence or goodness. It belongs in the category of goods to know, not to have, consume, or use.

The distinctive character of admirable beauty as a special kind of goodness, like that of enjoyable beauty, lies in the special way that the goodness of the object stands in relation to us.

Quite apart from its relation to us, the admirable excellence
of an object (whether it is an object to acquire, for use or con-
sumption, or an object to apprehend simply for the enjoyment
of contemplating it) is a special kind of goodness in still another
way. In an earlier chapter, we referred to this special kind of
goodness as the goodness that is commensurate with the being
of the thing itself.

The degree of such goodness that different modes of exis-
tence have is the same as the degree of being or existence that
they have. That which has a higher grade of being, accompanied by more power to act and react, has commensurately a
higher grade of existential goodness. As we observed, a pearl
may be more valuable than a mouse, more valuable either for
use or in exchange, but a mouse has more existential goodness
than a pearl because, being a living organism, it has more
power to act and react than an inert pebble. It is better to be a
mouse than a pearl. Existential goodness belongs in the cate-
gory of the good to be, quite different from the good to have, the
good to do, or the good to know.

The lower and higher grades of existential goodness that are
exemplified by the comparison of a mouse and a human being
represent a ranking that involves different kinds, species, or
modes of being. Within a given kind, species, or mode of
being, individual instances or specimens of that kind can also
be graded for their intrinsic excellence or perfection.

That is precisely what is done by those who grade wines and
coffees, knives, swords, and other tools for their degree of ad-
mirable excellence as things to be consumed or used. It is also
precisely what is done by the expert judges who award blue
ribbons or gold medals at flower or dog shows. They, too, are
grading objects for their admirable excellence as objects, not to
be used or consumed but rather as objects to behold with en-
joyment.

In both cases, the degree of admirable excellence attributed
to the object by the ranking accorded it is its degree of goodness
as an instance or specimen of that kind of thing. The most
admirable rose or orchid is the rose or orchid that conforms
most perfectly to the idea of a rose or orchid. Perhaps we should
say that it best exemplifies the ideal rose or orchid. It is every-
thing that a rose or orchid ought to be. It has all the perfections
that should belong to being a rose or an orchid.

Theology provides us with an understanding of this special
kind of goodness. It cannot be obtained from any other way of
thinking about things. The ranking of pearls, mice, and men as
having degrees of existential goodness commensurate with
their grade of being leads, of course, to the acknowledgment of
the supreme existential goodness of God as commensurate with
God's existence as the Supreme Being. The theologian goes
further. Thinking of God as the creator of things, he looks upon
each kind of thing and, within every kind, each individual
instance or specimen of that kind as the product of creative
ideas in the mind of God.

At this point, the theologian introduces, the notion of a spe-
cial kind of truth—an existential truth that is identical with the
existential goodness of things. Our ordinary notion of truth
places truth in the mind of man when what it thinks conforms
to the way things are. But, the theologian tells us, there is also
a truth in things themselves, an existential truth that they pos-
sess when things conform to creative ideas in the mind of God.

Hence, when we say of the perfect rose or orchid that it is
everything that a rose or orchid should be, its admirable intrin-
sic excellence consists in its having a perfection that is at once
existential goodness and existential truth by conformity with
the ideal that is the idea of a rose or orchid in the mind of God.

Those who are inclined to dismiss theology for one reason or
another can grasp the same point by substituting for creative
ideas in the mind of God regulative ideals in the mind of man.
Turning our attention from the things of nature to works of art,
the substitution looks to the creative ideas in the mind of the
artist. One aspect of the intrinsic excellence of a work of art—
its existential goodness and truth—derives from the degree to
which it conforms to the creative idea in the mind of its maker.

There is one judgment that the artist and only the artist can
make. Only the artist can say whether the work produced is
true to the creative idea from which it issued. Only the artist
can judge how good it is in the sense of its being a faithful
execution of what he or she had in mind.

However, when the artist's work is judged by others for its
intrinsic excellence, the conformity of the object to the idea in
the artist's mind and the fidelity of his or her execution of that
idea are by no means enough. These are not the only considerations, nor are they ever the main considerations. The objective critic of the artist's work, as compared with the artist him-
self or herself, is more concerned with the goodness of the
creative idea as represented in the work produced by it.

The contemplation of enjoyable beauty consists, as we have
seen, in a special kind of knowing—the nonconceptual appre-
hension of the individual object as such. So, too, the judgment
by the artist himself of the admirable beauty of his work is a
special kind of judgment—a judgment of the individual work
with reference only to the creative idea that produced it. The
judgment of the admirable beauty of the same work by the
expert who is not the artist is a judgment that involves a con-
ceptual framework—an understanding of the genre or kind to
which the individual work belongs.

The admirable beauty of works of art that belong to different
genres is incomparable. It is possible to say that a certain
Greek temple or Gothic cathedral is more admirable than
another, but one cannot say that the admirable beauty of a
Gothic cathedral, for example, is greater or less than the ad-
mirable beauty of an Egyptian, Greek, or Romanesque temple.
One cannot say that the admirable beauty of the Byzantine
mosaics displayed in Ravenna or in Istanbul is greater or less
than the admirable beauty of the impressionist paintings dis-
played in the Jeu de Paume in Paris. Even more incomparable
is the admirable beauty of a building, a painting, a statue, a
lyric, a drama, a novel, a song, a sonata, a symphony, a ballet,
a motion picture, and so on.

Because of this, beauty differs radically from truth and good-
ness in one very important respect. Mankind can make progress
in the pursuit of truth. Mankind can also make progress in the
sphere of goodness, advancing from less to more perfect politi-
cal, social, and economic institutions or arrangements. But
there is no possibility of progress in the sphere of beauty.

The transition from Egyptian to Greek temples, from Greek
to Romanesque temples, or from these to Gothic cathedrals is
not an advance to greater perfection in the sphere of beauty as
the transition from a society in which chattel slavery is a legally
recognized institution to one in which chattel slavery has been
legally abolished is an advance in the sphere of the goodness
that is justice.

Finally, we come to the goodness of enjoyable beauty itself
—its goodness as a good in human life that contributes to hap-
piness.

Aristotle wisely observed that human beings cannot live
without pleasure. Pleasure is a real good that satisfies one of
man's basic inherent needs. Aristotle then goes on to point out
that if human beings are deprived of the pleasures of the spirit,
they are likely to indulge inordinately in the pleasures of the
flesh.

Inordinate indulgence in the pleasures of the flesh involves
wanting too much of one real good, and this can interfere with
the acquirement of other real goods. Protection against such
overindulgence comes from the spiritual—the disinterested—
pleasure that we experience in the enjoyment of beauty.

The proposition that human beings cannot live without plea-
sure thus turns into the proposition that human beings cannot
live well unless they moderate their pursuit of bodily pleasures
by finding another and a different kind of pleasure in the enjoy-
ment of beauty.

We must not allow ourselves to interpret this insight in a
manner that tends to become elitist. The enjoyment of beauty
is not confined to the lives of those who have the habit of
visiting museums, attending concerts or ballets, going to the
theater, or reading poetry. It occurs also in the lives of those
who are baseball, basketball, or football fans, those who go to
bullfights, those who watch tennis matches, and so on.

The sports spectator who, beholding an extraordinary play or
action, cries out, "Wow, that's beautiful," is experiencing the
same enjoyment or disinterested pleasure that is experienced
by the auditor of an extraordinary performance of a Beethoven
quartet or by the person who, if it were not impolite, would be inclined to cry out, "Wow, that's beautiful," when witnes-
sing an extraordinary twist of the fan by an actor in a Kabuki
drama or an extraordinary pas de deux by ballet dancers.

In addition, the sports enthusiast or fan is an expert judge of
the intrinsic excellence or admirable beauty of a stunning triple
play, or of a completed forward pass that scores a goal from a
defensive position. So, too, the aficionado of the bullfight not
only enjoys the beauty but is also an expert judge of the excel-
lence of the picador's performance with his bandilleros, of the
grace of the toreador in the handling of the cape, and of the
matador's daring delivery of the final sword thrust that is fatal
to the bull.

Their well-trained and highly cultivated taste in such matters
makes them expert judges who applaud the beauty of the per-
fect or near-perfect play or performance. Compared with them,
the rest of us are mere laymen or amateurs with little taste and
even less expertness of judgment about what is admirable. Our
deficiency here is comparable to our deficiency as laymen when
compared with experts in the field of music, architecture, paint-
ing, or any other of the fine arts.

The goodness of enjoyable beauty lies in the disinterested
pleasure it affords, regardless of the character of the object from
which this pleasure is derived. The pleasure of contemplation is
the pleasure of spectatorship, a pleasure that lifts us up from
our practical involvement in the purposeful or interested activ-
ities that occupy the greater part of our daily lives. It might also
be said to lift us out of ourselves, resulting in a kind of ecstasy.

Once again the theologian can provide us with an illuminat-
ing comment. Human life involves a number of distinct activi-
ties: sleeping and other biologically necessary activities, such
as eating and drinking; working to obtain economic goods or
the means of subsistence; playing for the fun of it; and leisuring
for the improvement of one's mind.

Should we—can we—add resting, where resting is not to be
identified with sleeping or relaxing or playing? Where can we
find rest on earth, a rest that is remotely comparable to the
heavenly rest of the souls who enjoy in heaven the beatific
vision of God?

The contemplation of anything from which we derive the
disinterested or spiritual pleasure of enjoyable beauty also in-
troduces rest into our lives. The goodness of enjoyable beauty
that makes it an indispensable ingredient in the happiness of a
well-lived life consists in its providing us with the rest that all
of us need.

To complete the picture, we must not forget that the restful
experience of enjoyable beauty is not limited to the contempla-
tion of sensible objects. We can experience it as well in the
contemplation of purely intelligible objects—the contemplation
of truths we understand. "Mathematics," wrote Bertrand Rus-
sell, "rightly viewed, possesses not only truth, but supreme
beauty—a beauty cold and austere . . . without appeal to any
part of our weaker nature, without the gorgeous trappings of
painting or music ..." Or, as the poet Edna St. Vincent Millay
wrote in the opening line of her sonnet on Euclid, "Euclid alone
has looked on beauty bare."

Considering the enjoyable beauty of truth, on the one hand,
and, on the other hand, remembering that the admirable
beauty of things having existential perfection is not only a spe-
cial kind of goodness but also a special kind of truth, we may
finally have reached some understanding of what Keats meant
when he wrote, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty," even though it
may not be true that that is "all ye know on earth and all ye
need to know."

If the pursuit of happiness can be successfully conducted in
the fullest measure only if we somehow manage to introduce
into our lives enjoyable beauty and the rest that it affords us,
does making a good life for ourselves require us to seek beauty
wherever we can find it?

A negative answer to that question flows from a common
experience that most of us will attest to. The enjoyment of
beauty happens to us. We do not seek it out. We go to a baseball game, to a museum, or a concert, with the hope, perhaps, that
the ecstatic moment will occur—the moment when, in one way
or another, we exclaim our appreciation of the beautiful. But it
does not always occur, and hoping that it will happen is not the
same as seeking it out.

The most we can do in this direction is to expose ourselves to
the opportunity for experiencing enjoyable beauty that is af-
forded by certain places, performances, events, or occasions.
Whether that good befalls us or not is beyond our control. It is
ultimately a good of chance rather than a good of choice.