§ 1. I have said that humility is the virtue of a great spirit, while pride belongs to a small and childish one. The magnanimous man holds nothing to be great unless it is truly great. Humility, by a true estimation, disdains all things that swell with a false and human greatness. Pride judges rashly concerning greatness and ardently desires the things which have appeared great. Thus children leap for joy at the splendor of a new garment, at anklets, and at a little feather; they esteem highly houses of clay, a reed horse, a little cart drawn by mice, and their rattles. The magnanimous man judges to be playthings whatever pride pursues with great zeal. We must therefore speak about this virtue and the things connected with it and accompanying it. For that consideration contributes very greatly to the safety of the commonwealth, and I do not know whether in any other kind vices so quickly deceive us beneath the appearance of virtue.
§ 2. Magnanimity is a virtue which is concerned with great things, a virtue of the spirit inclining it toward great and heroic works. Aristotle’s definition in Book IV, Chapter III of the Ethics is customarily suspect to Christians:
δοκεῖ δὴ μεγαλόψυχος εἶναι ὁ μεγάλων αὑτὸν ἀξιῶν, ἄξιος ὤν.
“He appears to be magnanimous who considers himself worthy of great things and is worthy.” For he who falsely judges himself to deserve great things is foolish. But however the Philosopher understood it, his definition can nevertheless be understood so that he may not appear to force pride upon us under the name of magnanimity.
Certainly Saint Thomas, Summa Theologiae II-II, Question 129, Article 3, replies to the fourth objection: “It must be said that in a human being there is found something great which he possesses from the gift of God, and some defect which belongs to him from the weakness of nature. Magnanimity therefore causes a human being to judge himself worthy of great things according to consideration of the gifts which he possesses from God; thus, if he has great virtue of spirit, magnanimity causes him to tend toward perfect works of virtue. The same must be said concerning the use of any other good, for example knowledge or external fortune. Humility, however, causes a human being to reckon himself of little worth according to consideration of his own defect. Likewise, magnanimity also despises those who are high insofar as they fall short of the gifts of God. For it does not esteem those who are high so greatly that it does anything indecent for their sake. But humility honors others and esteems superiors insofar as it beholds something of God’s goods in them. Hence it is said of the just man in Psalm 14: ‘The malignant man has been brought to nothing in his sight,’ which pertains to the contempt of the magnanimous man; ‘but he glorifies those who fear the Lord,’ which pertains to the honor of the humble man. And thus it is clear that magnanimity and humility are not contrary, although they appear to tend toward contraries, because they proceed according to different considerations.”
It is therefore easy for a Christian prince to join humility and magnanimity. For when contempt extends to an insult against God, it must be avenged. Elijah was contemptuously summoned to the tyrant in 4 Kings 1:9. “Man of God, the king has commanded that you come down,” said the captain of fifty, undoubtedly prepared to inflict force upon him if he refused. But Elijah, a magnanimous judge of his own dignity, in which the glory of the divine majesty was concerned, answered and said to the captain of fifty: “‘If I am a man of God, let fire come down from heaven and devour you and your fifty.’ Fire therefore came down from heaven and devoured him and the fifty who were with him.
“And again he sent to him another captain of fifty and his fifty. He spoke to him: ‘Man of God, thus says the king: “Make haste; come down.”’ Elijah answered: ‘If I am a man of God, let fire come down from heaven and devour you and your fifty.’ Fire therefore came down from heaven and devoured him and his fifty. Again he sent a third captain of fifty and the fifty who were with him. When he had come, he bent his knees before Elijah, prayed to him, and said: ‘Man of God, do not despise my soul and the souls of your servants who are with me. Behold, fire came down from heaven and devoured the first two captains of fifty and the fifties who were with them; but now I beseech you to have mercy upon my soul.’ But the angel of the Lord spoke to Elijah, saying: ‘Go down with him; do not fear.’ He therefore arose and went down with him to the king.”
Elijah judged himself worthy of honor, and divine justice approved his judgment. If Aristotle understood this, he spoke with truth itself; but if not, he was led away by the common error of the philosophers.
The force of magnanimity is therefore discerned in every virtue, yet it is distinguished from every virtue. Each virtue is perfect in its own kind. Justice is the constant will to render to each his own, and this in great and small things. It will despoil no one of a denarius or of a talent; it will restore a cottage and a kingdom with the same equity. Religion is the guardian and exhorter of heroic poverty, obedience, and chastity. But these and the other virtues have a special moral worth and beauty from their own objects and circumstances, toward which they constantly impel the spirits in which they have settled.
It is the office of magnanimity to be occupied within the kind of all the virtues and to regard the formal objects of them all, yet in such a way that it makes them material for itself, as they are accustomed to say. Heroic was the chastity of that young man who, bound softly upon a bed of roses, bit off his tongue, spat it into the face of the wanton harlot, and drove her away by a miracle of chastity. But heroic chastity was moved by the beauty of temperance as by the formal character of its object. Magnanimity, however, was also an impelling cause toward so noble a deed, because it regarded it as great and arduous, and because it judged this fitting for a Christian spirit, a spirit nurtured by heavenly grace and a candidate for martyrdom. The formal object of magnanimity, therefore, is the greatness of the works itself. Aristotle rightly says:
μεγαλοψυχία οὖν κόσμος τις εἶναι τῶν ἀρετῶν.
“Magnanimity therefore appears to be a certain ornament of the virtues.” Consequently, no one can be magnanimous without the other virtues.
§ 3. Magnanimity moderates the appetite for honor. First, it prevents men from doing the greatest works, most worthy of honor, out of regard for human glory, and from ceasing to cultivate virtue if there is no hope of honor. For the magnanimous man will save a human being even in darkness and will not desire that deeds worthy of praise be put into the public records, but will desire virtue itself to be his reward. The magnanimous man will not be moved even by disgrace. “There is no surer proof of greatness than that nothing can occur by which you may be provoked.” Seneca, On Anger, Chapter VI.
Yet for the sake of a great honor he will undertake the greatest works—for the honor of which it was said:
Your friends are exceedingly honored;
Their principality is exceedingly exalted.
The magnanimous man values divine honors highly: not with the sacrilegious ambition with which the pagans raved, and in our age the kings of Japan, but those which God alone has determined to confer, with an immense weight of glory, upon those by whom he is loved. But if it is pleasing to recognize and approve a magnanimous commonwealth, prince, or senate, you will consult Aristotle in Book IV, Chapters VII and VIII of the Ethics.
First: μεγάλων ἑαυτὸν ἀξιοῖ, ἄξιος ὤν. He considers himself worthy of great things, being plainly worthy; for he who is worthy of middling things measures himself by his own foot and is modest, not magnanimous. This has been said truly concerning honor. If you consider the thing itself, all ought to emulate the most excellent greatness and degree of virtue. Next, if all are willing to consider the state and condition by which they are Christians, they can judge themselves worthy of honor, because right deeds and successes—κατορθώματα—are gifts of God, not of human strength. Therefore humility, which despises one’s own vileness, and magnanimity, the candid and grateful recollector of divine benefits, do not conflict.
Second: he rejoices moderately and according to right reason in great honors offered with reason by good men. He despises small honors and those bestowed by the common people. He will not rejoice in honor or praise because it is a vain and fragile thing; and just as a vine is not rendered more fruitful by praise, neither is the spirit of the man praised. For he labored for virtue, not for glory; accordingly, he does not desire his deeds to be published. Nevertheless, he rejoices because it is useful to the public that the deeds of the virtues be celebrated: it calls many weak men back from vices, stimulates the imperfect toward virtue, and indeed gives many a source from which to seek examples. The Apostle Paul rejoiced in the desire, weeping, and emulation of the Corinthians, 2 Corinthians 7:7, and in Chapters XI and XII he deservedly and rightfully boasts. He neglects the honors of the common people because they are not given by judgment and customarily are poured more profusely upon the vicious. He knows that those who praise are the worst kind of enemies. He knows that flatteries are more artfully contrived amid great hatreds and contempt. Cato, rejected from the praetorship, played ball in public on the same day. Others, when they heard themselves praised by the people, feared that they had perhaps unwittingly admitted something evil.
Third: οὔτε εὐτυχῶν περιχαρής ἐστιν, οὔτε ἀτυχῶν περίλυπος. He is neither raised up by felicity nor excessively saddened by adversities. Because he is not driven by a light impulse, a great tree is not overturned even by a whirlwind; a reed trembles at every breath. This is that
Virtue ignorant of a sordid refusal, Which shines with honors unstained, And neither takes up nor lays down the axes At the judgment of the people’s breath.
He is greater than calamity and greater even than prosperous circumstances. The Romans presented some appearance of magnanimity; for, defeated in the battle of Cannae, when Hannibal approached the city, they could not endure any mention of peace. And certainly in a conquered people it was a great proof of virtue that they publicly thanked the consul by whose rashness the disaster had occurred because he had not despaired of the commonwealth. Urban VI was remarkably magnanimous. When seditious Romans broke into his palace with arms, he put on the vestments of his dignity and presented himself with great authority to the sight of the enemy; by asking, “Whom do you seek?” he not only dispelled the danger but brought the rioters back to concord and obedience.
Fourth: οὐκ ἔστι μικροκίνδυνος. He does not deign to enter danger for small things. He will not seek riches across the sea, will not be hired into the battle-line for pay, nor give his soul for sale for a little money. Those whom a small thing calls into dangers have small spirits. As easily as children weep from slight sadness, so easily do they fight amid slight danger. That μικροκινδύνευσις, risking danger for trifles, removed a great part of the nobility of Europe, especially of France, while beneath the appearance of high birth it incites the frenzies of challenges and duels.
Fifth: neither is he φιλοκίνδυνος, a lover of danger. He does not love danger. Those whom martial trumpets, horns, and shouting carry off into death imitate the magnanimous man, as do those who without reason expose themselves to dangers. This was formerly censured in many who, from desire for martyrdom, offered themselves to the torments and savagery of the pagans. It belongs to brave men to despise death more than to hate life. He who goes to meet danger and does not first consider what sort it is is more like a beast than a human being. He is courageous who, after the cause and difficulty have been considered, encounters dangers either for a just and honorable reason or certainly from necessity. Such ought both princes and citizens to be. For those who are borne into dangers by impulse and rashness alone, unless they conquer in the first heat and charge, grow faint with delay and are turned into headlong flight. But those who undertake the matter with deliberation are brave precisely because they experience nothing unexpected in the work itself, nor do they repent of their counsels.
Sixth: μεγαλοκίνδυνος δὲ, καὶ ὅταν κινδυνεύῃ, ἀφειδὴς τῷ βίῳ, οὐκ ἄξιον ὂν πάντως ζῆν. “He offers himself to great dangers and in the midst of danger is prodigal of life, as though it were not worthy to live in every manner.” I prefer to render it thus rather than with the interpreter: “As though it were altogether unworthy for him to live.” For the magnanimous man does not judge himself unworthy of life, but judges it unworthy to live in every manner. David avoids a fraternal contest in the camp but advances undaunted against Goliath.
Here the fortitude and great spirit of all the martyrs is described. It shines forth even in this: not only did they endure those things, which belongs properly to fortitude, but they did not even pour forth prayers, did not pray for postponement of punishment or acceleration of death, and held groans and cries within their power. For they thought that the nobility of martyrs ought not merely to be brave and tolerant of pain, but also magnanimous, free amid torments, and taunting tyrants. Hence those sayings, “Turn me and eat,” and innumerable others, by which σεμνοπρέπεια, the majesty of magnanimity, was expressed.
Traces of that virtue are discerned also among the nations. Anaxarchus cried that they should pound the sack of Anaxarchus in a mortar, by this saying more illustrious than by his whole life. Pompey, when he was being killed, covered his head lest he contaminate his triumphs by an indecorous groan or cry. Amid so many wounds Caesar took care εὐσχημόνως πεσεῖν, to fall becomingly. Aristotle therefore said most beautifully that magnanimity is the ornament of all the virtues, for it most powerfully adorns even the supreme act of fortitude itself. Common sense teaches us how great this is. We are moved by the last
words of the dying more than by the recollection of death itself; for if they are courageous, we grieve at the so unworthy ends of such men.
Seventh: he is accustomed to confer a benefit and blushes to receive one, because the latter belongs to an inferior, the former to a superior, while a great spirit refuses to be under obligation.
Eighth: hence he also forgets benefits, not because he is ungrateful, but because he compensates for them with greater ones. And he ought not remember a benefit he has given.
Ninth: he does not readily ask others for anything, both because it diminishes liberty and because, since he esteems human affairs little, he needs few things. Diogenes, when the option of asking was given and freely pressed upon him, asked Alexander not to stand in the way of his sunning himself: with a proud contempt for the king, not a magnanimous one. For the Cynic himself could have moved out of the king’s shadow if he loved the sun’s rays so immoderately. And so I hold the contrary opinion: a magnanimous man will ask for great things, and he will not count it among evils to be bound to another by the bond of gratitude. If, however, he judges the diminution of liberty an evil, let him reckon it among evils to be despised.
It was no less glorious for Dio Chrysostom and the hermits to intercede for the Antiochenes than for Theodosius to mitigate the punishments. With great spirit Saint Gregory placed himself before Attila raging against Italy and did not fear that he might owe a benefit to a most cruel tyrant; rather, he wished provision to be made for the safety of so many peoples. He will therefore seek great things when reason seeks them; he will by no means seek small things to another’s contempt, as Diogenes did like a buffoon.
Tenth: πρὸς τοὺς μὲν ἐν ἀξιώματι καὶ εὐτυχίᾳ μέγαν εἶναι. He conducts himself greatly among those who are in dignity or whose circumstances are very prosperous, but moderately among those of middling station. Aristotle gives the reason: because it is difficult to rise above the powerful and σεμνόν, magnificent, but easy to surpass those of middling station. Therefore to conduct oneself magnificently and boast among the former is not ignoble; among inferiors it is troublesome and hateful.
That rule, not rightly perceived, brought death to Antisthenes, Aristotle’s high-born disciple, as his teacher had foretold him. Nothing is more dangerous than σεμνύνεσθαι, conducting oneself splendidly, among magistrates and nobles in a city. For it arouses enmities and envy, and among princes contempt and frequently hatred. As it belongs to a prudent man to avoid these things, so it belongs to a magnanimous man to despise external splendor. Let him maintain this alone: that he not consent to the vices of the powerful, not flatter, and not lose liberty in stating his opinion. I shall say more about boasting, that false imitator of magnanimity, when I have instructed courtiers and counselors.
Eleventh: this especially belongs to a great spirit, as the same Aristotle admonishes: ὑπηρετεῖν προθύμως—to serve others with a ready spirit. Charity does this toward a brother, humility toward a lord, magnanimity because it is arduous and difficult, but honorable, to be for the advantage of all. For a courageous man is a public good. Francis Xavier thought in a dream that he carried an Ethiopian upon his shoulders, and afterward he did no otherwise, embracing all India, Japan, and China in his spirit. His bed in the hospital was beside the man who was sick most dangerously.
Twelfth: he is slow to act unless a great matter requires speed. For he makes little of small things, does not leap at losses, and does not hurry counsels, but rules and orders. The highest things are not agitated by winds; the stars always hold the same course and do not tremble when it thunders. The majesty of a well-constituted commonwealth hears of dangers without commotion—indeed sees and undertakes them.
Thirteenth: the remaining traits are more guarded: to be φανερόφιλον and φανερόμισον, to have love and hatred in the open; not to live according to another’s judgment; to conceal one’s affairs from the people; not to marvel; to forget injuries; not to speak eagerly about human beings; not to dwell upon praises; not to be querulous; to prefer to possess honorable rather than profitable things. These things are in a great spirit and joined with heroic fortitude.
Magnanimity and fortitude are nevertheless not the same. Fortitude moderates fear and boldness by reason and steels one against death and torments. Magnanimity readily undertakes in every virtue whatever is proposed as great, noble, lofty, and difficult.
Confidence, or trust, is the companion of magnanimity; supported by firm hope, it provides a ready spirit in great affairs short of the danger of death. It is not broken by any difficulties. It surmounts thirst, hunger, labors, and the angers of the powerful made harsh against splendid undertakings. Patience fights against sadnesses arising from difficulties. Security excludes fears. Constancy, perseverance, and longanimity, when hope is deferred and the difficulties of labors, exiles, and prisons endure, maintain the purpose. No less do they strengthen the spirit against miseries, blandishments, and the prayers of relatives, children, and spouses, so that it may not be drawn down from its greatness by any force.
§ 4. The foremost enemy of magnanimity is μικροψυχία, pusillanimity: when someone imagines that the things which right reason counsels ought to be undertaken or done are too great, and his own powers unequal to so great a mass; when he flees as though from some great thing the honor of which he is worthy and which he ought to undertake. It is a grave vice and the ape of humility, from which it departs very far. For humility esteems honor and glory lightly; pusillanimity judges most badly in two matters: it both distrusts its own faculties and gifts and does not place hope in God, and it esteems those things which are not great far too greatly. When this occurs in a grave matter which imposes an obligation, the crime is manifest.
Holy men fled honors; very many bishops were created against their will—to such a degree that someone said: “Certainly he is unworthy of the priesthood unless he has been ordained unwilling; necessity alone excuses him and votes in his favor.” But one thing is flight from honors through contempt for them, which humility effects; another is when they are esteemed excessively lofty, which pusillanimity effects. We see that those same men who, unwilling, were drawn to episcopates by the holy violence of the Church most fiercely defended in those episcopates their right and dignity even at the peril of life, as Cyprian, Athanasius, Chrysostom, Ambrose, and others did.
But pusillanimity belongs to few. Presumption, ambition, and the appetite for vain glory oppose magnanimity just as they oppose humility. They have overturned very many commonwealths and, unless I am mistaken, will overturn very many in the future.
I call that presumption by which a proud man, through harmful ignorance of his own faculties, undertakes works greater than his powers. They seek lofty things, they seek things that will harm them, and with Phaethon they fall from great
attempts. Trajan, after he had carried his arms through the East almost to India and had undertaken an ambitious voyage, striving to equal Hercules and Liber, again lost provinces acquired by many labors and much blood. God is accustomed to cast down that arrogance by an unexpected destruction. Isaiah 16:6: “We have heard the pride of Moab; he is exceedingly proud. His pride, his arrogance, and his indignation are greater than his strength. Therefore Moab shall wail to Moab; all of it shall wail.”
Ambition arises from pride, yet it is vainer than the very elation from which it is born. For pride fervently desires excellence itself contrary to the prescription of right reason. Ambition, a most wretched thing, burns with desire for honors; but honors are testimonies of excellence. All history teaches how many seek honors greater than their due, or seek them on account of false goods or evils, or seek them with crime; and the world overthrown in turn teaches it. This matter was treated in the chapter on humility.
Vain glory arises from the same root and does not differ greatly from ambition. We are treating the appetite for excellence, not the opinion of excellence itself and the praise in which fame also consists, but κενοδοξία, or the implanted desire of the soul by which glory is sought. He who is κενόδοξος, vainglorious, is also ambitious. For he who has placed felicity in the proclamation of another’s voice and desires himself to be esteemed from that, not from conscience, also judges it right that he be honored by the bestowal of magistracies, the conferral of dignities, genuflection, and ceremonies. How much evil vanity has introduced I have already shown above. For first it assails others and then its own authors.
Ἀλαζονείας οὔτις ἐξέφυγε δίκας. No one escapes the punishments of boasting.
It is no less a disgrace for virtue to serve glory than to serve pleasure. Next, this very thing belongs to a small spirit: to seek glory, that is, the most uncertain and fragile thing of all. It is a delicate thing. Most people report what they do not know; they nevertheless cause the lover of glory, while he himself knows that they err, to believe those who do not know—or to rejoice as though he believed them.