as man. Virtue is not a spontaneous natural growth, still less an original endowment of nature. Man has to constitute himself a moral person: slowly and laboriously, out of the original data of individual feeling and impulse, of disposition and environment, he has to raise the structure of ethical manhood. We have seen that, even in the animal life, there is an organisation of impulse; but we regard it as the result of instinct, because it is not self-planned and self-originated, as in man's case, who can say—" A whole I planned." It is the privilege and dignity of a rational being to have the ordering or systematising of impulse in his own hands, to construct for himself the order and system of reason in the life of sensibility. For, as Aristotle truly said, nature gives only the capacity, and the capacity she gives is rather the capacity of acquiring the capacity of virtue, than the capacity of virtue itself. The best reward of virtue is the capacity of a higher virtue; "as it is by playing on the harp that men become good harpers, so it is by performing virtuous acts that men become virtuous, and as at a race it is not they who stand and watch, but they who run, who receive the prize," so is the life of virtue rewarded with the crown of a future that transcends its past.

10. Die to live': the meaning of self-sacrifice.— But the course of true virtue, like that of true love, never did run smooth. Its path is strewn with obstacles, and its very life consists, as Fichte perceived, in the struggle to overcome them. The subjection of the individual, impulsive, sentient self to the order of reason is a Herculean task. The immensity, the infinity, of the task is not indeed to be misinterpreted, as if sensibility were a surd that cannot be eliminated from the moral life. Sensibility is not to be annihilated-in that case the moral task would be an impossible and futile one-but coordinated and harmonised with the rational nature, made the vehicle and instrument of the realisation of the true

or rational self. But this co-ordination is also a subordination: sensibility must obey, not govern. Here we find the relative truth of asceticism, and the deeper truth of the Christian principle of self-sacrifice. The higher or personal self can be realised only through the death of the lower or individual self, as lower and merely individual. In its separateness and independence, the sentient self must die; for there may not be two lives, or two selves. Individuality must become an element in the life of personality, the 'psychological Me' must become the organ and expression of the rational 'I.' I must die, as an individual subject of sensibility, if I would live as a moral person, the master of sensibility. I must crucify the flesh (the Pauline term for the natural, impulsive, and sentient or unmoralised man), if I would live the life of the spirit. I must lose my lower life, if I would find the higher. With the law of the rational spirit comes the consciousness, and the fact, of sin or moral evil-that is, of subjection to mere animal sensibility; and this condemnation, by reason, of the life that is not brought into subjection to its law is a condemnation unto death. But as the life of the lower is the grave of the higher self, so from the death of the lower comes forth, in resurrection glory, the higher and true self. 'Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." Each selfish impulse (and all impulses, even the benevolent, are selfish, in the sense that each seeks its own, and disregards all other claims) must be denied, or brought under the law of the life of the total rational self. Importunity is not the measure of ethical importance, and the 'everlasting Nay' of such self-sacrifice precedes and makes possible the 'everlasting Yea' of a true self-fulfilment. The false, worthless, particular, private, separate self must die, if the true self, the rational personality, is to live.

I have said that this struggle, with its pain and death,

precedes the joy and peace of the higher life. But the sequence is logical rather than chronological; for, in truth, the process of death is always going on, simultaneously with the process of life, or rather death and life are two constant elements, negative and positive, in the life of virtue as we know it. Even the good man dies daily,' daily crucifies the flesh anew. Daily the old or natural man is being put off, and the new or spiritual man put on. There is a daily and hourly death of nature, and a daily and hourly new birth and resurrection of the spirit. As in the life of a physical organism, disintegration mediates a higher integration. La vie c'est la mort.1 Always, therefore, there is pain; but always, beneath the pain, in the depths of the moral being, there is a joy, stronger and more steadfast even than the pain, in the assurance that "old things are passing away, and all things are becoming new "-the joy of the conviction that the struggle is worth while, nay, is the only thing that is ultimately worth while. For "the inward man is being renewed day by day," and, in the joy of that renewal, all the pity of the pain and sorrow that make it possible sinks out of heart and mind, or lends but a deeper and a graver note to the joy which it has purchased and made possible. So ever with the negative goes the positive side of the ethical life. The spirit has ever more room and atmosphere, and its life becomes richer and fuller; as the flesh becomes a willing instrument in its hands, it finds continually new and higher ends for which to use it.

And the goal of the moral life, the ideal after which it strives, is a spontaneity, a freedom, and a naturalness like that of the life of original impulse. As Aristotle said, virtue is first activity (vépyɛa), then habit (ë§ɩ); ἐνέργεια leads to a new δύναμις (or potentiality of activity), as well as δύναμις to ἐνέργεια. The originally

1 Cf. Professor Royce's article on "The Knowledge of Good and Evil" (International Journal of Ethics, Oct. 1893).

indefinite potentiality-the potentiality of either vice or virtue becomes a definite capacity for virtue, and almost an incapacity for vice, in the established character of the good man. This second nature,' which makes virtue so far easy, is virtue's best reward. There is all the difference in the world between the mere rigorist or negatively good man, who thinks out his conduct, and whose life is a continual repression, and the positively good man, who knows the expulsive power of a new affection, and whose goodness seems to bloom spontaneously, like the flower, with a life that "down to its very roots, is free." The one life is stiff, stereotyped, artificial; the other breathes of moral health, and commends goodness to its fellows.

11. Pleasure and happiness. Such a complete moral life we have called self-realisation or self-fulfilment. We might have called it, with Aristotle, happiness,' and thus have reclaimed the word from the exclusive possession of the Hedonists. The good must report itself in sensibility, it must satisfy desire; selfrealisation is at the same time self-satisfaction. But we must distinguish, as Aristotle did, between happiness and pleasure. The name contains a reference to pleasure; but pleasures, even in their sum, do not constitute happiness. Happiness is not the sum or aggregate of pleasures, it is their harmony or system-or rather, the feeling of this harmony. The distinction between happiness and pleasure, even within the sphere of feeling, could hardly be better stated than by Professor Dewey :1 "Pleasure is transitory and relative, enduring only while some special activity endures, and having reference only to that activity. Happiness is permanent and universal. It results only when the act is such a one as will satisfy all the interests of the self concerned, or will lead to no conflict, either present or remote. Happiness is the feeling of the whole self, as opposed to the feeling of Psychology, p. 293.

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some one aspect of self." As misery or unhappiness is not pure pain, or even a balance of pain over pleasure, but lies in the discord of pleasures, so happiness lies in the harmony of pleasures, or in the reference of each to the total self. Happiness is, in a word, the synthesis of pleasures. And, since pleasure is the concomitant of activity, happiness, or the synthesis and harmony of pleasures, depends upon and is constituted by the synthesis of activities, and ultimately by that supreme activity of moral synthesis which we have been considering. We thus ascertain the true place of feeling in the life of goodness, and the partial truth of Hedonism as an ethical theory. We may, with Aristotle, regard pleasure as the bloom of the virtuous life, as the index and criterion of moral progress. But while self-realisation brings self-satisfaction, the former is not to be regarded as instrumental to the latter. The end of life is neither to know nor to feel, but to be. The life of man's total selfhood is its own end,-a doing which is the expression of being, and the medium of higher and fuller being, of a deeper and richer unity of thought and sensibility. In so far as we attain that end, we learn to "think clear, feel deep, bear fruit well." Although its satisfactoriness is not its raison d'être, the life of personality is, in its very essence, a completely satisfying life:

"Resolve to be thyself; and know, that he
Who finds himself, loses his misery."

12. Egoism and altruism.-This interpretation of self-realisation enables us to co-ordinate and unify, not merely the several elements of the individual life, but also the several individual lives. Since each is not a mere individual but a person, in the common personality of all is found the ground of the conciliation and harmony of the several individual lives. As Kant puts it, each man being, in virtue of his rationality, an end-inhimself and each self-legislative, there is found a common