than have the Hedonists; for the satisfaction the former expect and promise does not apply to the lower spheres of our organic life, but to the loftiest functions of our mind, from which alone a feeling of happiness can emanate.

But if we look into the matter more closely we find that to draw a sharp distinction between the Hedonists and Eudæmonists is more than a little arbitrary. For Pleasure and Happiness differ hardly at all in essentials, but chiefly in degree; and this would at once be obvious if one only took the trouble to define the two ideas, which, however, is mostly not done. And with good reason, for it is impossible to explain Pleasure. You can use synonyms for it; you can look wise and say: Pleasure is that which is agreeable, or that which one desires, that in which one delights, or a certain quality of feeling which accompanies such organic processes as strengthen or vitalize the system; but all that this amounts to is to say in a roundabout way, Pleasure is Pleasure. It is a fundamental fact of our inner consciousness, just as inexplicable as life, or as its antithesis, Pain. But if we assume that Pleasure is something given by subjective experience, then the idea of Happiness can be defined. Happiness is a flooding of the consciousness with sunshine; it is enjoyment of the moment, a sense of living in the present accentuated by pleasurable emotion. If this feeling is organically differentiated, that is, if it springs from a certain section of the mind or mechanism of the body and can be located there, it is ecstasy. It is only felt as Happiness when it is, so to speak, melted, dissolved, distributed throughout the organism, cœnesthetically diffused.

If we agree to this definition we can take Eudæmonism into consideration as an aim of moral action, but Hedonism we shall have to discard from the start. If Morality is to be inhibition, a victory of Reason over Instinct, then it cannot possibly arouse Pleasure, since the first and most immediate source of Pleasure is the surrender to instinct, the satisfaction of the organic appetites; but if one resists them, suppresses them, then one experiences a privation which at best occasions discomfort and may easily cause pain. By its very nature and the mechanism by which it works, Morality can therefore give rise to no pleasure, but only to discomfort. All the same, it can afford a feeling of happiness.

It may be objected that I am guilty of a contradiction when I assume the possibility of Happiness without Pleasure, as I have just described Happiness as a particular kind of Pleasure; but in reality there is no contradiction. For Pleasure springs from a special organic apparatus, whereas Happiness is not a condition of any particular apparatus in our body, but a general feeling that cannot be located; if it is roused by moral actions it originates in the self-satisfaction of Reason, in its pride in the victory over Instinct, in the rapture occasioned by one's own strength of will; therefore, it can well exist without any differentiated pleasurable emotion located in any particular organic apparatus.

Many moral philosophers have for various reasons rejected plausible Eudæmonism as well as Hedonism, and these reasons can all be traced back to the recognition, or at least an inkling, of the fact that moral action in the nature of things must exclude pleasurable emotions; at any rate immediate ones, and such as are perceived by the senses. Perhaps Fichte does this in the most naïve fashion, for he rejects every form of Eudæmonism as the aim of moral action, but admits as its purpose only bliss, that is to say, the self-satisfaction of Reason resulting from action in accordance with its own laws. However, he struggles in vain to deny that this "bliss" is of the nature of a pleasurable emotion, or to interpret it as differing from Eudæmonism. He is only giving the latter another name to make it conform in an orthodox manner with his doctrine of the Supreme Ego. "Baptizo te carpam!" I baptize thee, carp! In this way the pious man complies with the law enjoining abstinence from meat, and with an easy conscience smacks his lips over a roast pheasant which he has dubbed fish.

Plato is among those who most emphatically deny that Pleasure is either the motive force, the accompaniment, the consequence, or the aim of Morality. But a reasonable thinker can derive no profit from his arguments in support of this point of view, for they are rambling, fantastic, mystical and visionary. Plato thinks it a necessary consequence of the very nature of Good that it should be absolutely self-sufficient. For Pleasure is a perpetual growth, a ceaseless longing for more; it can therefore not be self-sufficient, and on this account can not be the foundation of Morality.

However, it is by no means obvious why Morality should not be in a perpetual state of growth (just as Pleasure is, according to Plato), or why it should not constantly desire an increase of its own activities. On the contrary, this craving is just what one would most wish Morality to have. True, it would not then attain self-satisfaction. But what is the good of this self-satisfaction? It is a pleasurable emotion, and according to Plato Morality is supposed to have nothing in common with Pleasure. It is not to be contentment and serene satisfaction, but rather tireless endeavour. However, Plato, of course, cannot admit this, because for him Good and the deity are identical, and being perfect can therefore advance no farther in perfection; and the striving after Good is merely an effort of memory on man's part to call to mind more clearly the deity whom he saw in his spiritual life before birth, and of whom he retains a dim and confused memory in his earthly life. It is plainly idle to waste reasonable criticism upon such visionary arguments.

The Stoics, too, try to sever the connexion between moral conduct and Pleasure, and to conceive the former as a simple activity of human nature, one, moreover, from which they expect no particular satisfaction. They overlook the fact that every activity of the impulses and instincts of man's own nature affords him satisfaction, and that Pleasure is nothing but this very satisfaction of natural instincts. If, then, Morality were, as the Stoics contend, only "Life in harmony with Nature herself," then, like every other satisfaction of natural desires, it should be an ever-flowing source of pleasurable emotions, and this characteristic would be inseparable from it, though the Stoics may vainly try to deny it.

Christianity has an easier job than Stoicism. With harsh severity, disregarding any plea for indulgence in view of the weakness of the flesh, it absolutely excludes the factor of pleasure from the fulfilment of moral duties. But this severity is only apparent. The good and just man can expect no reward for his moral conduct here on earth, but he will find a much more ample one in the life to come. To the devout believer who gives unlimited credit to it, the promise of the joys of paradise has the full value of a cash disbursement. It is somewhat childish juggling with words to deny pleasurable emotion to be the aim of moral conduct if at the same time a most vivid foretaste of the eternal bliss which awaits him after death be given to the virtuous man; as if the anticipation of heavenly bliss were not a pleasurable emotion of the highest degree!

Kant finds it due to his point of view to spurn every weak inclination to Eudæmonism. A Categorical Imperative cannot issue commands with an eye to profit or comfort. That is as clear as daylight. "All Morality of action must be founded on the necessity which arises from duty and respect for the law, and not from love or inclination for the desired result of the action." Schopenhauer,