2. Self-Realization as Aim of Moral Action.—This realization of selfhood in the right course of action is, however, not the end of a moral act—that is, it is not the only end. The moral act is one which sustains a whole complex system of social values; one which keeps vital and progressive the industrial order, science, art, and the State. The patriot who dies for his country may find in that devotion his own supreme realization, but none the less the aim of his act is precisely that for which he performs it: the conservation of his nation. He dies for his country, not for himself. He is what he would be in dying for his country, not in dying for himself. To say that his conscious aim is self-realization is to put the cart before the horse. That his willingness to die for his country proves that his country's good is taken by him to constitute himself and his own good is true; but his aim is his country's good as constituting his self-realization, not the self-realization. It is impossible that genuine artistic creation or execution should not be accompanied with the joy of an expanding selfhood, but the artist who thinks of himself and allows a view of himself to intervene between his performance and its result, has the embarrassment and awkwardness of "self-consciousness," which affects for the worse his artistic product. And it makes little difference whether it is the thought of himself as materially profiting, or as famous, or as technical performer, or as benefiting the public, or as securing his own complete artistic culture, that comes in between. In any case, there is loss to the work, and loss in the very thing taken as end, namely, development of his own powers. The problem of morality, upon the intellectual side, is the discovery of, the finding of, the self, in the objective end to be striven for; and then upon the overt practical side, it is the losing of the self in the endeavor for the objective realization. This is the lasting truth in the conception of self-abnegation, self-forgetfulness, disinterested interest.

The Thought of Self-Realization.—Since, however, the realization of selfhood, the strengthening and perfecting of capacity, is as matter of fact one phase of the objective end, it may, at times, be definitely present in thought as part of the foreseen consequences; and even, at times, may be the most prominent feature of the conceived results. The artist, for example a musician or painter, may practice for the sake of acquiring skill, that is, of developing capacity. In this case, the usual relationship of objective work and personal power is reversed; the product or performance being subordinated to the perfecting of power, instead of power being realized in the use it is put to. But the development of power is not conceived as a final end, but as desirable because of an eventual more liberal and effective use. It is matter of temporary emphasis. Something of like nature occurs in the moral life—not that one definitely rehearses or practices moral deeds for the sake of acquiring more skill and power. At times the effect upon the self of a deed becomes the conspicuously controlling element in the forecast of consequences. (See p. 382.) For example, a person may realize that a certain act is trivial in its effects upon others and in the changes it impresses upon the world; and yet he may hesitate to perform it because he realizes it would intensify some tendency of his own in such a way as, in the delicate economy of character, to disturb the proper balance of the springs to action. Or, on the other hand, the agent may apprehend that some consequences that are legitimate and important in themselves involve, in their attainment, an improper sacrifice of personal capacity. In such cases, the consideration of the effect upon self-realization is not only permissible, but imperative as a part or phase of the total end.

The Problem of Equating Personal and General Happiness.—Much moral speculation has been devoted to the problem of equating personal happiness and regard for the general good. Right moral action, it is assumed, consists especially of justice and benevolence,—attitudes which aim at the good of others. But, it is also assumed, a just and righteous order of the universe requires that the man who seeks the happiness of others should also himself be a happy man. Much ingenuity has been directed to explaining away and accounting for the seeming discrepancies: the cases where men not conspicuous for regard for others or for maintaining a serious and noble view of life seem to maintain a banking-credit on the side of happiness; while men devoted to others, men conspicuous for range of sympathetic affections, seem to have a debit balance. The problem is the more serious because the respective good and ill fortunes do not seem to be entirely accidental and external, but to come as results from the moral factors in behavior. It would not be difficult to build up an argument to show that while extreme viciousness or isolated egoism is unfavorable to happiness, so also are keenness and breadth of affections. The argument would claim that the most comfortable course of life is one in which the man cultivates enough intimacies with enough persons to secure for himself their support and aid, but avoids engaging his sympathies too closely in their affairs and entangling himself in any associations which would require self-sacrifice or exposure to the sufferings of others: a course of life in which the individual shuns those excesses of vice which injure health, wealth, and lessen the decent esteem of others, but also shuns enterprises of precarious virtue and devotion to high and difficult ends.

Real and Artificial Aspects of the Problem.—The problem thus put seems insoluble, or soluble only upon the supposition of some prolongation of life under conditions very different from those of the present, in which the present lack of balance between happiness and goodness will be redressed. But the problem is insoluble because it is artificial.[183] It assumes a ready-made self and hence a ready-made type of satisfaction of happiness. It is not the business of moral theory to demonstrate the existence of mathematical equations, in this life or another one, between goodness and virtue. It is the business of men to develop such capacities and desires, such selves as render them capable of finding their own satisfaction, their invaluable value, in fulfilling the demands which grow out of their associated life. Such happiness may be short in duration and slight in bulk: but that it outweighs in quality all accompanying discomforts as well as all enjoyments which may have been missed by not doing something else, is attested by the simple fact that men do consciously choose it. Such a person has found himself, and has solved the problem in the only place and in the only way in which it can be solved: in action. To demand in advance of voluntary desire and deliberate choice that it be demonstrated that an individual shall get happiness in the measure of the rightness of his act, is to demand the obliteration of the essential factor in morality: the constant discovery, formation, and reformation of the self in the ends which an individual is called upon to sustain and develop in virtue of his membership in a social whole. The solution of the problem through the individual's voluntary identification of himself with social relations and aims is neither rare nor utopian. It is achieved not only by conspicuous social figures, but by multitudes of "obscure" figures who are faithful to the callings of their social relationships and offices. That the conditions of life for all should be enlarged, that wider opportunities and richer fields of activity should be opened, in order that happiness may be of a more noble and variegated sort, that those inequalities of status which lead men to find their advantage in disregard of others should be destroyed—these things are indeed necessary. But under the most ideal conditions which can be imagined, if there remain any moral element whatsoever, it will be only through personal deliberation and personal preference as to objective and social ends that the individual will discover and constitute himself, and hence discover the sort of happiness required as his good.

Our final word about the place of the self in the moral life is, then, that the problem of morality is the formation, out of the body of original instinctive impulses which compose the natural self, of a voluntary self in which socialized desires and affections are dominant, and in which the last and controlling principle of deliberation is the love of the objects which will make this transformation possible. If we identify, as we must do, the interests of such a character with the virtues, we may say with Spinoza that happiness is not the reward of virtue, but is virtue itself. What, then, are the virtues?

LITERATURE

For asceticism, see Lecky, History of European Morals.

For self-denial, Mackenzie, International Journal of Ethics, Vol. V., pp. 273-295.

For egoism and altruism: Comte, System of Positive Politics, Introduction, ch. iii., and Part II., ch. ii.; Spencer, Principles of Ethics, Vol. I., Part I., chs. xi.-xiv.; Stephen, Science of Ethics, ch. vi.; Paulsen, System of Ethics, pp. 379-399; Sorley, Recent Tendencies in Ethics; Sidgwick, Methods of Ethics, pp. 494-507.

For the doctrine of self-interest, see Mandeville, Fable of Bees; Sidgwick, Methods of Ethics, Book I., ch. vii., and Book II., ch. v.; Stephen, Science of Ethics, ch. x.; Martineau, Types of Ethical Theory, Part II., Book II., Branch I., ch. i.; Fite, Introductory Study, ch. ii.