That even the pursuit of virtue may take an egoistic turn has frequently been recognized: "Woe betides that man," writes Dewey, "who having entered upon a course of reflection which leads to a clearer conception of his own moral capacities and weaknesses, maintains that thought as a distinct mental end, and thereby makes his subsequent acts simply means to improving or perfecting his moral nature." [Footnote: _Ethics_, chapter xviii, Sec 3, p. 384.] He characterizes this as one of the worst kinds of selfishness. The task set himself by the egoist who aims at outshining his fellows in an unselfish self-forgetfulness would seem to be a particularly difficult one; yet we have all met persons who appear to be animated by some such desire. 100. Egoism not Unavoidable.--On such cases as the above the common judgment can hardly be in doubt. But there are cases more questionable. Was Hobbes really self-seeking when he gave the sixpence to the old beggar? Is it egoism that leads the young mother to give herself the exquisite pleasure of feeding and caring for her babes? or that induces the patriot to die for his country? To be sure, both the babes and the fatherland may fall within the limits of the self, as the psychologist has broadly defined it. But they fall within it only in a sense. No doctrine of the mutual inclusion of selves can obliterate the distinction between self and neighbor, and make my neighbor _merely_ a part of myself. The common opinion of mankind is not at fault in basing upon the distinction between selves the further distinction between egoism and altruism. Whatever interests the egoist may have, his ultimate motive to action _cannot_ be the recognition of the desire or will of another. Such can be the motive of the altruist. Human motives are of many sorts, and just what they are it is not always easy to discover. Cornelia, in exhibiting her "jewels," may have been puffed up with pride. When Cyrano de Bergerac threw, with a noble gesture, his purse to the players, his "Mais quel geste!" reveals that he was a player himself and was "showing off." There may be spectacular patriots, who are willing to suffer the extreme penalty for the sake of a place in history. But all maternal affection is not identical with pride; all generous impulses cannot be traced to vanity; all patriotism is not spectacular; nor is the motive to the relief of suffering necessarily the removal of one's own pain. It is one thing to hire Lazarus not to exhibit himself in his shocking plight on our front porch, and it is a distinctly different thing to be concerned about the needs of Lazarus _per se_.