Every man has a duty to practice the virtue of magnificence, by it he produces works magnificently (meaning "not easily surpassed") in whatever circumstance he finds himself with the resources he possesses without spending beyond what he has (1). And between meanness and prodigality, magnificence rests on a throne. Although not all men are endowed with the wealth of kings they ought to be magnificent for every man is a king in his own right.
He has a share of the Angel's nature— an intellect that allows him to govern his actions and goods. His mind is akin to a king and his body a city. His kingdom is not for himself alone, however. He must lay it at the service of others. Yes, kings are not made to self-serve but to serve, servus servorum Dei. And in particular to serve God by serving the common good.
This is obvious, but obvious words and principles often lose their meaning because men cease to reflect upon their deeper meaning. These seemingly common notions have much to give but men lacking charity do not desire their gifts— of knowledge, understanding, and insight.
Allow me to share what I have received. (I must briefly note that in actuality it is the Angels that grant us these gifts of knowledge). The good is one with beauty, and if man has a duty to practice magnificence to serve God and the common good, he must also serve the common beauty. And how few serve the common beauty by magnificence!
Still, I think many are not culpable. For generations, many have fallen into the trap of approaching the Holy, Roman, Catholic, and Apostolic Religion to either be an ideology to cherish intellectually or a self-help therapy center. Lofty ideals to serve the common beauty either remain ideals for the former and for the latter ideals are astutely kept far away and comfort close.
The only way to move from these tendencies is the cross. The man desiring to serve the common beauty must suffer like the general of an army. He will be faced with staggering perplexities, lack of knowledge, laziness, weariness, indolence, complacency, loneliness, and the list overflows. He must wage a strategic war against the revolution within him and transfigure his domain. If he is privy to converse well he must perfect it and elevate the tonus with tact. If he has some artistic ability he must hone it, admire the best pieces of the past, and thrust forward with fresh works.
But as our Lord has told us, he who is not faithful in small matters will not in the great. Let us then begin by serving the common beauty by adorning our first home, our bodies, with the wealth of knowledge we have received— add rhythm to your speech, or ornament your greeting concisely.
Our second home, the place where we pray, study, eat, and sleep— slowly baptize the home with artifacts of good taste that pique your admiration. Finally the third home, the hearts and minds of our beloved brothers and sisters— refine the image they have of you, not for vanities sake, but to edify them with a decorous example, the fruit of your ceaseless training.
Once our homes are in order then our prospects of victory in restoring the common beauty are more certain, for can a house divided against itself stand?
Sources: (1) Nicomachean Ethics by Aristotle, Edited by Richard McKeon, Book IV, Chapter 2, Page 990.
Painting: The Brown Family by Eastman Johnson (1978)
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