Egoistical Egotist

Supercilious (adj.) haughtily disdainful or contemptuous.

The concept of "sacrifice" in my mind is something noble and unselfish, the act of a person giving up something for the good of another -- like sacrificing one's time or money. Thus I was puzzled by the phrase "the supercilious sacrifice," as Fitzgerald entitles the fourth chapter in Book II. Here we see Amory throwing his reputation to the wind for his friend Alec, taking the blame for immoral sexual activity. He appears to understand all the consequences of his actions: shame, regret, responsibility, possible ruin.. he remembers a story where an innocent person sacrificed for another and eventually committed suicide. He considers how important it is for Alec to remain out of trouble because he has a family.

Does it not seem to you like Amory is doing something honorable, like he isn't such an egotist anymore? It does to me. Yet Amory's thoughts are that he is sacrificing out of his inherent selfish and arrogant nature. We could make this into a philosophical argument about altruism, how it isn't really concern for the welfare of other people -- but rather, it is an egoistical action so that people feel better about themselves. We could say that Amory's sacrifice is committed out of impersonality instead of a pure desire to help. Or is Amory being too critical of himself? He could reason with himself that he was committing an unselfish act, but he chooses to attribute it to selfishness. Could this be just a matter of perspective?

Despite our constant criticisms of Amory as an egotist and an "annoying" character, I cannot help feeling at least a little sympathetic towards him. He attains success in school and college through football and literature but has the courage to abandon these conventions because they are not what he is looking for. He is such a lost soul, trying to find something: success? Love? Himself? In the last chapter he seems to come to a realization and an acceptance of who he is, and he cries out that he knows himself. It is somewhat an unsatisfactory ending for me as a reader, because as I see it: he has no occupation, no religion, no family, no love in his life. By a worldly sort of standard, he is a wretched man. He says he knows himself, but that is all -- I wish we could have known the exact manner in which he uttered this, for perhaps then I would know whether or not I should pity him.