The Magnificent Man

The magnificent man is not the type to fall in love so easily, but is the one who is free from all desire and lives a life immense in passion, pulse and power, and seemingly has no time for love, doesn't want it, for it imprisons his spirit and foils his destiny in life. This is because the magnificent man is stronger than others, stronger behind the hint of emotion and stronger within the very depth of his own actuality. However, when I hear a man say he is a "steady, dedicated, self-possessed type," I am sure that he has some definite and perhaps dreadful weakness that he has no means to control—and his acceptance of being average or unexceptional is his way of reminding himself of what he has given up or surrendered in life.
At the same time some men feel that they are too great or too small for love. But I suppose that their conception of love is formed on their own idiosyncrasies, and it is different with every different person. The magnificent man would love in a manner peculiar to himself. He would have to, for he would cease to be an individual. Love is never lacking sentimentality, and the magnificent man would be the least inclined to that malady. Human sentiment, desirable or hateful, valuable or contemptible, is a complex matter in itself. Some say it would be vain to seek the scrutiny of that emotion.
But let me tell you about lust. That's normal and healthy. Love is a different matter altogether. It is a torment that lasts longer and goes so deep there is no capacity for anything else. Yet not one man on earth will avoid the hazard. Well, not all men, as I came to find out. The man I came to know was truly different. The only way I can describe young George Beaver is to approach him as if he were incapable of love and delve into his character from that point of view. In love there is a sense of weakness, a desire to protect, an eagerness to do good and to give pleasure—if not unselfish, at all events a selfishness that marvelously conceals itself. The ability to love is an essential part of one's true character, but George Beaver had no ability to love, himself or others.
Nevertheless, he possessed a source of attraction. How could this despicable person be despicable and insinuate himself into the harmony of the universe? Did we share a common virtue, quality, or vice? Was there some moral significance to be learned? Was William of Auvergne right when he said that variety increases the beauty of the world, and even the things that strike us as terrible or intolerable are necessary to universal order? Well, as you will come to see as I followed this man's first steps toward a new life, even the most despicable people are divine creatures that in some way belong to the providential order of Nature. Surely, the magnificent man must be included in God's design. My intent therefore was to show how George Beaver contributes—in view of the fact that he is contemptible and crude and selfish—to the betterment of the whole. If I accept for a moment that this is absurd or groundless, I have nothing to show when all is said and done.