Review:Ā Dietrich von Hildebrand,Ā Aesthetics, Volume I (Hildebrand Project. Pp 508. $19.99); andĀ Liturgy and PersonalityĀ (Hildebrand Project. Pp. 160. $13.99).
Review by Mac Stewart
The Roman Catholic philosopher Dietrich von Hildebrand (1889-1977) spent his childhood immersed in the highest artistic culture. His father, Adolf, was one of the most celebrated German sculptors of his day, and at his villa in Florence (where Dietrich was raised amid the beauties of the Renaissance) he regularly hosted some of the leading artists of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
Although this early formation in high aesthetics came without any explicit reference to the person of Christ (Dietrichās parents were not religious), after his conversion in 1914 Hildebrand would reflect for most of his life on the philosophical and theological importance of beauty. The fruit of this reflection was the two-volume Aesthetics, an āexplosion of insightsā (according to his widow) committed to paper at the end of his life.
One of Hildebrandās purposes is to distinguish between a number of different kinds of beauty. The first distinction is between āmetaphysical beauty,ā on the one hand, and the beauty of the visible and the audible on the other. Metaphysical beauty is āthe reflection, the irradiation, the fragranceā of a moral value (Aesthetics I, p. 84). Alcibiades said of Socrates that he was the most beautiful of men, even though he was physically unattractive, and Hildebrand takes this example as illustrating a kind of beauty that is ontologically prior to the beauty of the visible and the audible.
This kind of beauty is the ānoble faceā of virtue, and yet by describing this beauty as the āirradiationā or āfragranceā of other values, Hildebrand is emphasizing that what is lovable about a virtuous person is not beauty as such (not ābeauty for beautyās sakeā), but rather the particular moral virtues (purity, humility, truthfulness) that ground the personās metaphysical attractiveness. We can grasp the beauty only when weāve grasped the moral value.
By contrast, the beauty of the visible and the audible ā Hildebrandās second kind of beauty ā is not a gratuitous irradiation of a prior and more central value, but rather adheres directly to the material objects because of their form and color; their aesthetic value isĀ their value as visible and audible entities. Following Thomas Aquinas, the beautiful in this sense is that which āpleases when seenā (p. 111).
But Hildebrand makes a further distinction. It is true that what grounds the beauty of visible and audible things is the pleasing arrangement of light, colors, space (for visible things), or tone, pitch, volume (for audible things). But Hildebrand calls this ābeauty of the first degreeā (or āfirst powerā). The central problem of all of aesthetics, though, is that these visible and audible things have āthe ability to be the bearer not only of beauty that appeals to the senses, but also of a sublime spiritual beautyā (p. 152).
When we experience āthe beauty of the Gulf of Naples, or the view from the Capitol to the Campagna and the Sabine Hills, or San Marco in Venice, or Beethovenās Quartet opus 59 no. 1,ā we are experiencing a ābeauty of the second degreeā (or āsecond powerā), a beauty at a higher ontological level than the particular material parts that go to make up the whole, and yet a beauty that still inheres in the material objects. It was this idea of a beauty of the second power that Hildebrand took to be his chief contribution to the field of aesthetics.
Hildebrand often shows in this book his indebtedness to the phenomenology of his philosophical mentors. He begins his analysis of the beautiful from what is āimmediately given,ā wanting to avoid taking his āstarting point in theoriesā (p. 266). But this often leaves the reader wishing he would make a bit more of a sustained argument that the things he identifies as resonant with āsublime spiritual beautyā are in fact objectively so.
He regularly suggests that anyone who reflects āfree of prejudiceā on āHandelās LargoĀ or Bachās Air, or ⦠the dome of the cathedral in Florenceā will have āno difficulty in perceivingā the beauty that inheres in them independently of how anyone reacts to them (p. 57). I do not deny that such things are beautiful; but I would have liked Hildebrand to say a little more than, āDuh, just look at it!ā He is not afraid, as the bookās preface says, to violate with a vengeance Horaceās adage of de gustibus non est disputandumĀ (āIn matters of taste there can be no disputesā).
Hildebrandās examples of beauty sometimes betray a touch of aesthetic elitism, such as his dismissal of jazzās potential for profound spiritual depth (p. 242). Yet another of his works, Liturgy and Personality, might point toward a response on his behalf. Hildebrandās purpose in this earlier book is to highlight the power of liturgy for the forming of personality, but he stresses that this sanctifying effect of the liturgy is not its primary purpose but only a providential byproduct.
The primary purpose of the liturgy is to praise and glorify God in fitting response to his gifts, and therefore we become personalities by way of the liturgy not when we make personal improvement our aim, but rather when we seek Godās glory (p. 2). This provides a helpful qualification to his analysis of beauty, for Hildebrand remarks that anyone seeking beauty (even in the liturgy) simply āin order to attain spiritual cultureā or aesthetic refinement will merely be confirmed in egotism. Those, on the other hand, who truly breathe the spirit of the liturgy become true persons, not simply because it is pretty, but because it ushers them into the creaturely response of adoration due to God.