[I. Statement Of Edwards’s System.]
[II. The Legitimate Consequences Of This System.]
[III. An Examination of the Arguments Against a Self-Determining Will.]
A REVIEW OF EDWARDS’S
“INQUIRY
INTO THE
FREEDOM OF THE WILL.”
CONTAINING
- STATEMENT OF EDWARDS’S SYSTEM.
- THE LEGITIMATE CONSEQUENCES OF THIS SYSTEM.
- AN EXAMINATION OF THE ARGUMENTS AGAINST A SELF-DETERMINING WILL.
BY HENRY PHILIP TAPPAN.
“I am afraid that Edwards’s book (however well meant,) has done much harm in England, as it has secured a favourable hearing to the same doctrines, which, since the time of Clarke, had been generally ranked among the most dangerous errors of Hobbes and his disciples.”—Dugald Stewart.
NEW-YORK:
JOHN S. TAYLOR,
THEOLOGICAL PUBLISHER AND BOOKSELLER,
BRICK CHURCH CHAPEL,
1839.
Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1839, by
HENRY PHILIP TAPPAN,
in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, for the
Southern District of New-York.
G. F. Hopkins, Printer, 2 Ann-street.
[INTRODUCTION.]
Discussions respecting the will, have, unhappily, been confounded with theological opinions, and hence have led to theological controversies, where predilections for a particular school or sect, have generally prejudged the conclusions of philosophy. As a part of the mental constitution, the will must be subjected to the legitimate methods of psychological investigation, and must abide the result. If we enter the field of human consciousness in the free, fearless, and honest spirit of Baconian observation in order to arrive at the laws of the reason or the imagination, what should prevent us from pursuing the same enlightened course in reference to the will?
Is it because responsibility and the duties of morality and religion are more immediately connected with the will? This, indeed, throws solemnity around our investigations, and warns us of caution; but, at the same time, so far from repressing investigation, it affords the highest reason why we should press it to the utmost limit of consciousness. Nothing surely can serve more to fix our impressions of moral obligation, or to open our eye to the imperishable truth and excellency of religion, than a clear and ripe knowledge of that which makes us the subjects of duty. As a believer in philosophy, I claim unbounded liberty of thought, and by thinking I hope to arrive at truth. As a believer in the Bible I always anticipate that the truths to which philosophy leads me, will harmonize with its facts and doctrines. If in the result there should appear to be a collision, it imposes upon me the duty of re-examining both my philosophy and my interpretation of the text. In this way I may in the end remove the difficulty, and not only so, but even gain from the temporary and apparent collision, a deeper insight into both philosophy and religion. If the difficulty cannot be removed, then it remains a vexed point. It does not follow, however, that I must either renounce the philosophical conclusion, or remove the text.
If the whole of philosophy or its leading truths were in opposition to the whole of revelation or its leading truths, we should then evidently be placed on the alternative of denying one or the other; but as the denial of philosophy would be the destruction of reason, there would no longer remain in our being any principle on which a revelation could be received. Such a collision would therefore disprove the claims of any system to be from Heaven. But let us suppose, on the other hand, that with every advance of philosophy the facts of the Bible are borne aloft, and their divine authority and their truth made more manifest, have we not reason to bless the researches which have enabled us to perceive more clearly the light from Heaven? A system of truth does not fear, it courts philosophical scrutiny. Its excellency will be most resplendent when it has had the most fiery trial of thought. Nothing would so weaken my faith in the Bible as the fact of being compelled to tremble for its safety whenever I claimed and exercised the prerogative of reason. And what I say of it as a whole, I say of doctrines claiming to be derived from it.
Theologists are liable to impose upon themselves when they argue from the truths of the Bible to the truths of their philosophy; either under the view that the last are deducible from the former, or that they serve to account for and confirm the former. How often is their philosophy drawn from some other source, or handed down by old authority, and rendered venerable by associations arbitrary and accidental; and instead of sustaining the simplicity of the Bible, the doctrine is perhaps cast into the mould of the philosophy.
It is a maxim commended by reason and confirmed by experience, that in pursuing our investigations in any particular science we are to confine ourselves rigorously to its subjects and methods, neither seeking nor fearing collision with any other science. We may feel confident that ultimately science will be found to link with science, forming a universal and harmonious system of truth; but this can by no means form the principle of our particular investigations. The application of this maxim is no less just and necessary where a philosophy or science holds a relation to revelation. It is a matter of the highest interest that in the developements of such philosophy or science, it should be found to harmonize with the revelation; but nevertheless this cannot be received as the principle on which we shall aim to develope it. If there is a harmony, it must be discovered; it cannot be invented and made.
The Cardinals determined upon the authority of Scripture, as they imagined, what the science of astronomy must be, and compelled the old man Gallileo to give the lie to his reason; and since then, the science of geology has been attempted, if not to be settled, at least to be limited in its researches in the same way. Science, however, has pursued her steady course resistlessly, settling her own bounds and methods, and selecting her own fields, and giving to the world her own discoveries. And is the truth of the Bible unsettled? No. The memory of Gallileo and of Cuvier is blessed by the same lips which name the name of Christ.
Now we ask the same independence of research in the philosophy of the human mind, and no less with respect to the Will than with respect to any other faculty. We wish to make this purely a psychological question. Let us not ask what philosophy is demanded by Calvinism in opposition to Pelagianism and Arminianism, or by the latter in opposition to the former; let us ask simply for the laws of our being. In the end we may present another instance of truth honestly and fearlessly sought in the legitimate exercise of our natural reason, harmonizing with truths revealed.
One thing is certain; the Bible no more professes to be a system of formal mental philosophy, than it professes to contain the sciences of astronomy and geology. If mental philosophy is given there, it is given in facts of history, individual and national, in poetry, prophecy, law, and ethics; and as thus given, must be collected into a system by observation and philosophical criticism.
But observations upon these external facts could not possibly be made independently of observations upon internal facts—the facts of the consciousness; and the principles of philosophical criticism can be obtained only in the same way. To him who looks not within himself, poetry, history, law, ethics, and the distinctions of character and conduct, would necessarily be unintelligible. No one therefore can search the Bible for its philosophy, who has not already read philosophy in his own being. We shall find this amply confirmed in the whole history of theological opinion. Every interpreter of the Bible, every author of a creed, every founder of a sect, plainly enough reveals both the principles of his philosophy and their influence upon himself. Every man who reflects and aims to explain, is necessarily a philosopher, and has his philosophy. Instead therefore of professing to oppose the Bible to philosophy, or instead of the pretence of deducing our philosophy solely and directly from the Bible, let us openly declare that we do not discard philosophy, but seek it in its own native fields; and that inasmuch as it has a being and a use, and is related to all that we know and do, we are therefore determined to pursue it in a pure, truth-loving spirit.
I am aware, however, that the doctrine of the will is so intimately associated with great and venerable names, and has so long worn a theological complexion, that it is well nigh impossible to disintegrate it. The authority of great and good men, and theological interests, even when we are disposed to be candid, impartial, and independent, do often insensibly influence our reasonings.
It is out of respect to these old associations and prejudices, and from the wish to avoid all unnecessary strangeness of manner in handling an old subject, and more than all, to meet what are regarded by many as the weightiest and most conclusive reasonings on this subject, that I open this discussion with a review of “Edwards’s Inquiry into the Freedom of the Will.” There is no work of higher authority among those who deny the self-determining power of the will; and none which on this subject has called forth more general admiration for acuteness of thought and logical subtlety. I believe there is a prevailing impression that Edwards must be fairly met in order to make any advance in an opposite argument. I propose no less than this attempt, presumptuous though it may seem, yet honest and made for truth’s sake. Truth is greater and more venerable than the names of great and venerable men, or of great and venerable sects: and I cannot believe that I seek truth with a proper love and veneration, unless I seek her, confiding in herself alone, neither asking the authority of men in her support, nor fearing a collision with them, however great their authority may be. It is my interest to think and believe aright, no less than to act aright; and as right action is meritorious not when compelled and accidental, but when free and made under the perception and conviction of right principles; so also right thinking and believing are meritorious, either in an intellectual or moral point of view, when thinking and believing are something more than gulping down dogmas because Austin, or Calvin, or Arminius, presents the cup.
Facts of history or of description are legitimately received on testimony, but truths of our moral and spiritual being can be received only on the evidence of consciousness, unless the testimony be from God himself; and even in this case we expect that the testimony, although it may transcend consciousness, shall not contradict it. The internal evidence of the Bible under the highest point of view, lies in this: that although there be revelations of that which transcends consciousness, yet wherever the truths come within the sphere of consciousness, there is a perfect harmony between the decisions of developed reason and the revelation.
Now in the application of these principles, if Edwards have given us a true psychology in relation to the will, we have the means of knowing it. In the consciousness, and in the consciousness alone, can a doctrine of the will be ultimately and adequately tested. Nor must we be intimidated from making this test by the assumption that the theory of Edwards alone sustains moral responsibility and evangelical religion. Moral responsibility and evangelical religion, if sustained and illustrated by philosophy, must take a philosophy which has already on its own grounds proved itself a true philosophy. Moral responsibility and evangelical religion can derive no support from a philosophy which they are taken first to prove.
But although I intend to conduct my argument rigidly on psychological principles, I shall endeavour in the end to show that moral responsibility is really sustained by this exposition of the will; and that I have not, to say the least, weakened one of the supports of evangelical religion, nor shorn it of one of its glories.
The plan of my undertaking embraces the following particulars:
I. A statement of Edwards’s system.
II. The legitimate consequences of this system.
III. An examination of the arguments against a self-determining will.
IV. The doctrine of the will determined by an appeal to consciousness.
V. This doctrine viewed in connexion with moral agency and responsibility.
VI. This doctrine viewed in connexion with the truths and precepts of the Bible.
The first three complete the review of Edwards, and make up the present volume. Another volume is in the course of preparation.
[I.]
A STATEMENT OF EDWARDS’S SYSTEM.
Edwards’s System, or, in other words, his Philosophy of the Will, is contained in part I. of his “Inquiry into the Freedom of the Will.” This part comprises five sections, which I shall give with their titles in his own order. My object is to arrive at truth. I shall therefore use my best endeavours to make this statement with the utmost clearness and fairness. In this part of my work, my chief anxiety is to have Edwards perfectly understood. My quotations are made from the edition published by S. Converse, New-York, 1829.
“Sec. I.—Concerning the Nature of the Will.”
Edwards under this title gives his definition of the will. “The will is, that by which the mind chooses anything. The faculty of the will, is that power, or principle of mind, by which it is capable of choosing: an act of the will is the same as an act of choosing or choice.” (p. 15.)
He then identifies “choosing” and “refusing:” “In every act of refusal the mind chooses the absence of the thing refused.” (p. 16.)
The will is thus the faculty of choice. Choice manifests itself either in relation to one object or several objects. Where there is but one object, its possession or non-possession—its enjoyment or non-enjoyment—its presence or absence, is chosen. Where there are several objects, and they are so incompatible that the possession, enjoyment, or presence of one, involves the refusal of the others, then choice manifests itself in fixing upon the particular object to be retained, and the objects to be set aside.
This definition is given on the ground that any object being regarded as positive, may be contrasted with its negative: and that therefore the refusing a negative is equivalent to choosing a positive; and the choosing a negative, equivalent to refusing a positive, and vice versa. Thus if the presence of an object be taken as positive, its absence is negative. To refuse the presence is therefore to choose the absence; and to choose the presence, to refuse the absence: so that every act of choosing involves refusing, and every act of refusing involves choosing; in other words, they are equivalents.
Object of Will.
The object in respect to which the energy of choice is manifested, inducing external action, or the action of any other faculty of the mind, is always an immediate object. Although other objects may appear desirable, that alone is the object of choice which is the occasion of present action—that alone is chosen as the subject of thought on which I actually think—that alone is chosen as the object of muscular exertion respecting which muscular exertion is made. That is, every act of choice manifests itself by producing some change or effect in some other part of our being. “The thing next chosen or preferred, when a man wills to walk, is not his being removed to such a place where he would be, but such an exertion and motion of his legs and feet, &c. in order to it.” The same principle applies to any mental exertion.
Will and Desire.
Edwards never opposes will and desire. The only distinction that can possibly be made is that of genus and species. They are the same in kind. “I do not suppose that will and desire are words of precisely the same signification: will seems to be a word of a more general signification, extending to things present and absent. Desire respects something absent. But yet I cannot think they are so entirely distinct that they can ever be properly said to run counter. A man never, in any instance, wills anything contrary to his desires, or desires anything contrary to his will. The thing which he wills, the very same he desires; and he does not will a thing and desire the contrary in any particular.” (p. 17.) The immediate object of will,—that object, in respect of which choice manifests itself by producing effects,—is also the object of desire; that is, of supreme desire, at that moment: so that, the object chosen is the object which appears most desirable; and the object which appears most desirable is always the object chosen. To produce an act of choice, therefore, we have only to awaken a preponderating desire. Now it is plain, that desire cannot be distinguished from passion. That which we love, we desire to be present, to possess, to enjoy: that which we hate, we desire to be absent, or to be affected in some way. The loving an object, and the desiring its enjoyment, are identical: the hating it, and desiring its absence or destruction, or any similar affection of it, are likewise identical. The will, therefore, is not to be distinguished, at least in kind, from the emotions and passions: this will appear abundantly as we proceed. In other works he expressly identifies them: “I humbly conceive, that the affections of the soul are not properly distinguishable from the will; as though they were two faculties of soul.” (Revival of Religion in New England, part I.)
“God has endued the soul with two faculties: one is that by which it is capable of perception and speculation, or by which it discerns, and views, and judges of things; which is called the understanding. The other faculty is that by which the soul does not merely perceive and view things, but is in some way inclined with respect to the things it views or considers; either is inclined to them, or is disinclined or averse from them. This faculty is called by various names: it is sometimes called inclination; and as it has respect to the actions that are determined or governed by it, is called will. The will and the affections of the soul are not two faculties: the affections are not essentially distinct from the will, nor do they differ from the mere actings of the will and inclination of the soul, but only in the liveliness and sensibleness of exercise.” (The Nature of the Affections, part I.) That Edwards makes but two faculties of the mind, the understanding and the will, as well as identifies the will and the passions, is fully settled by the above quotation.
“Sec. II.—Concerning the Determination of Will.”
Meaning of the term.
“By determining the will, if the phrase be used with any meaning, must be intended, causing that the act of the will or choice should be thus and not otherwise; and the will is said to be determined, when in consequence of some action or influence, its choice is directed to, and fixed upon, some particular object. As when we speak of the determination of motion, we mean causing the motion of the body to be in such a direction, rather than in another. The determination of the will supposes an effect, which must have a cause. If the will be determined, there is a determiner.”
Now the causation of choice and the determination of the will are here intended to be distinguished, no more than the causation of motion and the determination of the moving body. The cause setting a body in motion, likewise gives it a direction; and where there are several causes, a composition of the forces takes place, and determines both the extent and direction of the motion. So also the cause acting upon the will or the faculty of choice, in producing a choice determines its direction; indeed, choice cannot be conceived of, without also conceiving of something chosen, and where something is chosen, the direction of the choice is determined, that is, the will is determined. And where there are several causes acting upon the will, there is here likewise a composition of the mental forces, and the choice or the determination of the will takes place accordingly. (See p. 23.) Choice or volition then being an effect must have a cause. What is this cause?
Motive.
The cause of volition or choice is called motive. A cause setting a body in motion is properly called the motive of the body; hence, analogously, a cause exciting the will to choice is called the motive of the will. By long usage the proper sense of motive is laid aside, and it has come now to express only the cause or reason of volition. “By motive I mean the whole of that which moves, excites, or invites the mind to volition, whether that be one thing singly, or many things conjointly. And when I speak of the strongest motive, I have respect to the strength of the whole that operates to induce a particular act of volition, whether that be the strength of one thing alone, or of many together.” And “that motive which, as it stands in view of the mind, is the strongest, determines the will.” (p. 19.) This is general, and means nothing more than—1. the cause of volition is called motive; 2. that where there are several causes or motives of volition, the strongest cause prevails; 3. the cause is often complex; 4. in estimating the strength of the cause, if it be complex, all the particulars must be considered in their co-operation; and, 5. the strength of the motive “stands in view of the mind,” that is, it is something which the mind knows or is sensible of.
What constitutes the strength of Motive?
“Everything that is properly called a motive, excitement, or inducement, to a perceiving, willing agent, has some sort and degree of tendency or advantage to move or excite the will, previous to the effect, or to the act of will excited. This previous tendency of the motive is what I call the strength of the motive.” When different objects are presented to the mind, they awaken certain emotions, and appear more or less “inviting.” (p. 20.) In the impression thus at once produced, we perceive their “tendency or advantage to move or excite the will.” It is a preference or choice anticipated, an instantaneous perception of a quality in the object which we feel would determine our choice, if we were called upon to make a choice. The object is felt to be adapted to the state of the mind, and the state of the mind to the object. They are felt to be reciprocal.
What is this quality which makes up the previous tendency?
“Whatever is perceived or apprehended by an intelligent and voluntary agent, which has the nature and influence of a motive to volition or choice, is considered or viewed as good; nor has it any tendency to engage the election of the soul in any further degree than it appears such.” Now, as the will is determined by the strongest motive; and as the strength of motive lies in the previous tendency; and as the previous tendency is made up of the quality of goodness; and as the highest degree of this quality in any given case makes the strongest motive; therefore, it follows that the “will is always as the greatest apparent good is.” (p. 20.)
The sense in which the term “good” is used.
“I use the term ‘good’ as of the same import with ‘agreeable.’ To appear good to the mind, as I use the phrase, is the same as to appear agreeable, or seem pleasing to the mind. If it tends to draw the inclination and move the will, it must be under the notion of that which suits the mind. And therefore that must have the greatest tendency to attract and engage it, which, as it stands in the mind’s view, suits it best, and pleases it most; and in that sense is the greatest apparent good. The word good in this sense includes the avoiding of evil, or of that which is disagreeable and uneasy.” (p. 20.)
It follows then that the will is always determined by that which seems most pleasing or appears most agreeable to the mind.
This conclusion is in perfect accordance with the position with which Edwards set out: that will is always as the preponderating desire; indeed, that the will is the same in kind with desire, or with the affections; and an act of will or choice, nothing more than the strongest desire in reference to an immediate object, and a desire producing an effect in our mental or physical being. The determination of will is the strongest excitement of passion. That which determines will is the cause of passion. The strength of the cause lies in its perceived tendency to excite the passions and afford enjoyment. As possessing this tendency, it is called good, or pleasing, or agreeable; that is, suiting the state of the mind or the condition of the affections.
The “good” which forms the characteristic of a cause or motive is an immediate good, or a good “in the present view of the mind.” (p. 21.) Thus a drunkard, before he drinks, may be supposed to weigh against each other the present pleasure of drinking and the remote painful consequences; and the painful consequences may appear to him to be greater than the present pleasure. But still the question truly in his mind, when he comes to drink, respects the present act of drinking only; and if this seems to him most pleasing, then he drinks. “If he wills to drink, then drinking is the proper object of the act of his will; and drinking, on some account or other, now appears most agreeable to him, and suits him best. If he chooses to refrain, then refraining is the immediate object of his will, and is most pleasing to him.” The reasoning is, that when the drunkard drinks, we are not to conclude that he has chosen future misery over future good, but that the act of drinking, in itself, is the object of choice; so that, in the view he has taken of it, it is to him the greatest apparent good. In general we may say, in accordance with this principle, that whenever the act of choice takes place, the object of that act comes up before the mind in such a way as to seem most pleasing to the mind; it is at the moment, and in the immediate relation, the greatest apparent good. The man thus never chooses what is disagreeable, but always what is agreeable to him.
Proper use of the term most agreeable, in relation to the Will.
“I have chosen rather to express myself thus, that the will always is as the greatest apparent good, or as what appears most agreeable, than to say the will is determined by the greatest apparent good, or by what seems most agreeable; because an appearing most agreeable to the mind, and the mind’s preferring, seem scarcely distinct. If strict propriety of speech be insisted on, it may more properly be said, that the voluntary action, which is the immediate consequence of the mind’s choice, is determined by that which appears most agreeable, than the choice itself.” (p. 21, 22.) Here the perception or sense of the most agreeable is identified in express terms with volition or choice. “The will is as the most agreeable,”—that is, the determination of will, which means its actual choice, as a fact of the consciousness is embraced in the sense of the most agreeable; and as the voluntary action, or the action, or change, or effect, following volition, in any part of our being,—as to walk, or talk, or read, or think,—has its cause in the volition, or the “mind’s choice,”—so it is entirely proper to say, either that this voluntary action is determined by the volition or that it is determined by the sense of the most agreeable. Edwards’s meaning plainly is, that the terms are convertible: volition may be called the cause of voluntary action, or the sense of the most agreeable may be called the cause. This is still a carrying out of the position, that the will is as the desire. “The greatest apparent good” being identical with “the most agreeable,” and this again being identical with the most desirable, it must follow, that whenever, in relation to any object, the mind is affected with the sense of the most agreeable, it presents the phenomenon of “volition” or “choice;” and still farther, that which is chosen is the most agreeable object; and is known to be such by the simple fact that it is chosen; for its being chosen, means nothing more than that it affects the mind with the sense of the most agreeable,—and the most agreeable is that which is chosen, and cannot be otherwise than chosen; for its being most agreeable, means nothing more than that it is the object of the mind’s choice or sense of the most agreeable. The object, and the mind regarded as a sensitive or willing power, are correlatives, and choice is the unition of both: so that if we regard choice as characterizing the object, then the object is affirmed to be the most agreeable; and if, on the other side, we regard choice as characterizing the mind, then the mind is affirmed to be affected with the sense of the most agreeable.
Cause of Choice, or of the sense of the most agreeable.
“Volition itself is always determined by that in or about the mind’s view of the object, which causes it to appear most agreeable. I say in or about the mind’s view of the object; because what has influence to render an object in view agreeable, is not only what appears in the object viewed, but also the manner of the view, and the state and circumstances of the mind that views.” (p. 22.)
Choice being the unition of the mind’s sensitivity and the object,—that is, being an affection of the sensitivity, by reason of its perfect agreement and correlation with the object, and of course of the perfect agreement and correlation of the object with the sensitivity, in determining the cause of choice, we must necessarily look both to the mind and the object. Edwards accordingly gives several particulars in relation to each.
I. In relation to the object, the sense of the most agreeable, or choice, will depend upon,—
1. The beauty of the object, “viewing it as it is in itself,” independently of circumstances.
2. “The apparent degree of pleasure or trouble attending the object, or the consequence of it,” or the object taken with its “concomitants” and consequences.
3. “The apparent state of the pleasure or trouble that appears with respect to distance of time. It is a thing in itself agreeable to the mind, to have pleasure speedily; and disagreeable to have it delayed.” (p. 22.)
II. In relation to mind, the sense of agreeableness will depend, first, upon the manner of the mind’s view; secondly, upon the state of mind. Edwards, under the first, speaks of the object as connected with future pleasure. Here the manner of the mind’s view will have influence in two respects:
1. The certainty or uncertainty which the mind judges to attach to the pleasure;
2. The liveliness of the sense, or of the imagination, which the mind has of it.
Now these may be in different degrees, compounded with different degrees of pleasure, considered in itself; and “the agreeableness of a proposed object of choice will be in a degree some way compounded of the degree of good supposed by the judgement, the degree of apparent probability or certainty of that good, and the degree of liveliness of the idea the mind has of that good.” (p. 23.)
Secondly: In reference to objects generally, whether connected with present or future pleasure, the sense of agreeableness will depend also upon “the state of the mind which views a proposed object of choice.” (p. 24.) Here we have to consider “the particular temper which the mind has by nature, or that has been introduced or established by education, example, custom, or some other means; or the frame or state that the mind is in on a particular occasion.” (ibid.)
Edwards here suggests, that it may be unnecessary to consider the state of the mind as a ground of agreeableness distinct from the two already mentioned: viz.—the nature and circumstances of the object, and the manner of the view. “Perhaps, if we strictly consider the matter,” he remarks, “the different temper and state of the mind makes no alteration as to the agreeableness of objects in any other way, than as it makes the objects themselves appear differently; beautiful or deformed, having apparent pleasure or pain attending them; and as it occasions the manner of the view to be different, causes the idea of beauty or deformity, pleasure or uneasiness, to be more or less lively.” (ibid.) In this remark, Edwards shows plainly how completely he makes mind and object to run together in choice, or how perfect a unition of the two, choice is. The state of the mind is manifested only in relation to the nature and circumstances of the object; and the sense of agreeableness being in the correlation of the two, the sense of the most agreeable or choice is such a perfect unition of the two, that, having described the object in its nature and circumstances in relation to the most agreeable, we have comprehended in this the state of mind. On the other hand, the nature and circumstances of the object, in relation to the most agreeable, can be known only by the state of mind produced by the presence of the object and its circumstances. To give an example,—let a rose be the object. When I describe the beauty and agreeableness of this object, I describe the state of mind in relation to it; for its beauty and agreeableness are identical with the sensations and emotions which I experience, hence, in philosophical language, called the secondary qualities of the object: and so, on the other hand, if I describe my sensations and emotions in the presence of the rose, I do in fact describe its beauty and agreeableness. The mind and object are thus united in the sense of agreeableness. I could not have this sense of agreeableness without an object; but when the object is presented to my mind, they are so made for each other, that they seem to melt together in the pleasurable emotion. The sense of the most agreeable or choice may be illustrated in the same way. The only difference between the agreeable simply and the most agreeable is this: the agreeable refers merely to an emotion awakened on the immediate presentation of an object, without any comparison or competition. The most agreeable takes place where there is comparison and competition. Thus, to prefer or choose a rose above a violet is a sense of the most agreeable of the two. In some cases, however, that which is refused is positively disagreeable. The choice, in strictness of speech, in these cases, is only a sense of the agreeable. As, however, in every instance of choosing, there are two terms formed by contemplating the act of choosing itself in the contrast of positive and negative, the phrase most agreeable or greatest apparent good is convenient for general use, and sufficiently precise to express every case which comes up.
It may be well here to remark, that in the system we are thus endeavouring to state and to illustrate, the word choice is properly used to express the action of will, when that action is viewed in relation to its immediate effects,—as when I say, I choose to walk. The sense of the most agreeable, is properly used to express the same action, when the action is viewed in relation to its own cause. Choice and volition are the words in common use, because men at large only think of choice and volition in reference to effects. But when the cause of choice is sought after by a philosophic mind, and is supposed to lie in the nature and circumstances of mind and object, then the sense of the most agreeable becomes the most appropriate form of expression.
Edwards concludes his discussion of the cause of the most agreeable, by remarking: “However, I think so much is certain,—that volition, in no one instance that can be mentioned, is otherwise than the greatest apparent good is, in the manner which has been explained.” This is the great principle of his system; and, a few sentences after, he states it as an axiom, or a generally admitted truth: “There is scarcely a plainer and more universal dictate of the sense and experience of mankind, than that when men act voluntarily and do what they please, then they do what suits them best, or what is most agreeable to them.” Indeed, Edwards cannot be considered as having attempted to prove this; he has only explained it, and therefore it is only the explanation of a supposed axiom that we have been following out.
This supposed axiom is really announced in the first section: “Will and desire do not run counter at all: the thing which he wills, the very same he desires;” that is, a man wills as he desires, and of course wills what is most agreeable to him. It is to be noticed, also, that the title of part I. runs as follows: “Wherein are explained and stated various terms and things, &c.” Receiving it, therefore, as a generally admitted truth, “that choice or volition is always as the most agreeable,” and is itself only the sense of the most agreeable, what is the explanation given?
1. That will, or the faculty of choice, is not a faculty distinct from the affections or passions, or that part of our being which philosophers sometimes call the sensitivity.
2. That volition, or choice, or preference, being at any given moment and under any given circumstances the strongest inclination, or the strongest affection and desire with regard to an immediate object, appears in the constitution of our being as the antecedent of effects in the mind itself, or in the body; which effects are called voluntary actions,—as acts of attention, or of talking, or walking.
3. To say that volition is as the desire, is equivalent to saying that volition is as the “greatest apparent good,” which again means only the most agreeable,—so that the volition becomes again the sense or feeling of the greatest apparent good. There is in all this only a variety of expressions for the same affection of the sensitivity.
4. Determination of will is actual choice, or the production in the mind of volition, or choice, or the strongest affection, or the sense of the most agreeable, or of the greatest apparent good. It is therefore an effect, and must have a determiner or cause.
5. This determiner or cause is called motive. In explaining what constitutes the motive, we must take into view both mind and object. The object must be perceived by the mind as something existent. This perception, however, is only preliminary, or a mere introduction of the object to the mind. Now, in order that the sense of the most agreeable, or choice, may take place, the mind and object must be suited to each other; they must be correlatives. The object must possess qualities of beauty and agreeableness to the mind. The mind must possess a susceptibility agreeable to the qualities of the object. But to say that the object possesses qualities of beauty and agreeableness to the mind, is in fact to affirm that the mind has the requisite susceptibility; for these qualities of the object have a being, and are what they are only in relation to mind. Choice, or the sense of agreeableness, may therefore be called the unition of the sensitivity and the object. Choice is thus, like any emotion or passion, a fact perpetually appearing in the consciousness; and, like emotion or passion; and, indeed, being a mere form of emotion and passion, must ultimately be accounted for by referring it to the constitution of our being. But inasmuch as the constitution of our being manifests itself in relation to objects and circumstances, we do commonly account for its manifestations by referring them to the objects and circumstances in connexion with which they take place, and without which they would not take place; and thus, as we say, the cause of passion is the object of passion: so we say also, in common parlance, the cause of choice is the object of choice; and assigning the affections of the mind springing up in the presence of the object, to the object, as descriptive of its qualities, we say that choice is always as the most beautiful and agreeable; that is, as the greatest apparent good. This greatest apparent good, thus objectively described, is the motive, or determiner, or cause of volition.
In what sense the Will follows the last dictate of the Understanding.
“It appears from these things, that in some sense the will always follows the last dictate of the understanding. But then the understanding must be taken in a large sense, as including the whole faculty of perception or apprehension, and not merely what is called reason or judgement. If by the dictate of the understanding is meant what reason declares to be best, or most for the person’s happiness, taking in the whole of its duration, it is not true that the will always follows the last dictate of the understanding. Such a dictate of reason is quite a different matter from things appearing now most agreeable, all things being put together which relates to the mind’s present perceptions in any respect.” (p. 25.) The “large sense” in which Edwards takes the understanding, embraces the whole intellectual and sensitive being. In the production of choice, or the sense of the most agreeable, the suggestions of reason may have their influence, and may work in with other particulars to bring about the result; but then they are subject to the same condition with the other particulars,—they must appear, at the moment and in the immediate circumstances, the most agreeable. It is not enough that they come from reason, and are true and right; they must likewise suit the state of the mind,—for as choice is the sense of the most agreeable, that only as an object can tend to awaken this sense, which is properly and agreeably related to the feelings of the subject. Where the suggestions of reason are not agreeably related, “the act of the will is determined in opposition to it.” (ibid.)
“Sec. III.—Concerning the meaning of the terms Necessity, Impossibility, Inability, &c. and of Contingence.”
After having settled his definition of choice or volition, and explained the cause of the same, Edwards takes up the nature of the connexion between this cause and effect: viz. motive and volition. Is this connexion a necessary connexion?
In order to determine this point, and to explain his view of it, he proceeds to discuss the meaning of the terms contained in the above title. This section is entirely occupied with this preliminary discussion.
Edwards makes two kinds of necessity: 1. Necessity as understood in the common or vulgar use; 2. Necessity as understood in the philosophical or metaphysical use.
1. In common use, necessity “is a relative term, and relates to some supposed opposition made to the existence of a thing, which opposition is overcome or proves insufficient to hinder or alter it. The word impossible is manifestly a relative term, and has reference to supposed power exerted to bring a thing to pass which is insufficient for the effect. The word unable is relative, and has relation to ability, or endeavour, which is insufficient. The word irresistible is relative, and has reference to resistance which is made, or may be made, to some force or power tending to an effect, and is insufficient to withstand the power or hinder the effect. The common notion of necessity and impossibility implies something that frustrates endeavour or desire.”
He then distinguishes this necessity into general and particular. “Things are necessary in general, which are or will be, notwithstanding any supposable opposition, from whatever quarter:” e. g. that God will judge the world.
“Things are necessary to us which are or will be, notwithstanding all opposition supposable in the case from us.” This is particular necessity: e. g. any event which I cannot hinder. In the discussions “about liberty and moral agency,” the word is used especially in a particular sense, because we are concerned in these discussions as individuals.
According to this common use of necessity in the particular sense, “When we speak of any thing necessary to us, it is with relation to some supposable opposition to our wills;” and “a thing is said to be necessary” in this sense “when we cannot help it, do what we will.” So also a thing is said to be impossible to us when we cannot do it, although we make the attempt,—that is, put forth the volition; and irresistible to us, which, when we put forth a volition to hinder it, overcomes the opposition: and we are unable to do a thing “when our supposable desires and endeavours are insufficient,”—are not followed by any effect. In the common or vulgar use of these terms, we are not considering volition in relation to its own cause; but we are considering volition as itself a cause in relation to its own effects: e. g. suppose a question be raised, whether a certain man can raise a certain weight,—if it be affirmed that it is impossible for him to raise it, that he has not the ability to raise it, and that the weight will necessarily keep its position,—no reference whatever is made to the production of a volition or choice to raise it, but solely to the connexion between the volition and the raising of the weight. Now Edwards remarks, that this common use of the term necessity and its cognates being habitual, is likely to enter into and confound our reasonings on subjects where it is inadmissible from the nature of the case. We must therefore be careful to discriminate. (p. 27.)
2. In metaphysical or philosophical use, necessity is not a relative, but an absolute term. In this use necessity applies “in cases wherein no insufficient will is supposed, or can be supposed; but the very nature of the supposed case itself excludes any opposition, will, or endeavour.” (ibid.) Thus it is used “with respect to God’s existence before the creation of the world, when there was no other being.” “Metaphysical or philosophical necessity is nothing different from certainty,—not the certainty of knowledge, but the certainty of things in themselves, which is the foundation of the certainty of knowledge, or that wherein lies the ground of the infallibility of the proposition which affirms them. Philosophical necessity is really nothing else than the full and fixed connexion between the things signified by the subject and predicate of a proposition which affirms something to be true; and in this sense I use the word necessity, in the following discourse, when I endeavour to prove that necessity is not inconsistent with liberty.” (p. 27, 28, 29.)
“The subject and predicate of a proposition which affirms the existence of something, may have a full, fixed, and certain connexion, in several ways.”
“1. They, may have a full and perfect connexion in and of themselves. So God’s infinity and other attributes are necessary. So it is necessary, in its own nature, that two and two should be four.”
2. The subject and predicate of a proposition, affirming the existence of something which is already come to pass, are fixed and certain.
3. The subject and predicate of a proposition may be fixed and certain consequentially,—and so the existence of the things affirmed may be “consequentially necessary.” “Things which are perfectly connected with the things that are necessary, are necessary themselves, by a necessity of consequence.” This is logical necessity.
“And here it may be observed, that all things which are future, or which will hereafter begin to be, which can be said to be necessary, are necessary only in this last way,”—that is, “by a connexion with something that is necessary in its own nature, or something that already is or has been. This is the necessity which especially belongs to controversies about acts of the will.” (p. 30.)
Philosophical necessity is general and particular. 1. “The existence of a thing may be said to be necessary with a general necessity, when all things considered there is a foundation for the certainty of its existence.” This is unconditional necessity in the strictest sense.
2. Particular necessity refers to “things that happen to particular persons, in the existence of which, no will of theirs has any concern, at least at that time; which, whether they are necessary or not with regard to things in general, yet are necessary to them, and with regard to any volition of theirs at that time, as they prevent all acts of the will about the affair.” (p. 31.) This particular necessity is absolute to the individual, because his will has nothing to do with it—whether it be absolute or not in the general sense, does not affect his case.
“What has been said to show the meaning of terms necessary and necessity, may be sufficient for the explaining of the opposite terms impossible and impossibility. For there is no difference, but only the latter are negative and the former positive.” (ibid.)
Inability and Unable.
“It has been observed that these terms in their original and common use, have relation to will and endeavour, as supposable in the case.” That is have relation to the connexion of volition with effects. “But as these terms are often used by philosophers and divines, especially writers on controversies about free will, they are used in a quite different and far more extensive sense, and are applied to many cases wherein no will or endeavour for the bringing of the thing to pass is or can be supposed:” e. g. The connexion between volitions and their causes or motives.
Contingent and Contingency.
“Any thing is said to be contingent, or to come to pass by chance or accident, in the original meaning of such words, when its connexion with its causes or antecedents, according to the established course of things, is not discerned; and so is what we have no means of foreseeing. But the word, contingent, is abundantly used in a very different sense; not for that, whose connexion with the series of things we cannot discern so as to foresee the event, but for something which has absolutely no previous ground or reason, with which its existence has any fixed connexion.” (p. 31. 32.)
Contingency and chance Edwards uses as equivalent terms. In common use, contingency and chance are relative to our knowledge—implying that we discern no cause. In another use,—the use of a certain philosophical school,—he affirms that contingency is used to express absolutely no cause; or, that some events are represented as existing without any cause or ground of their existence. This will be examined in its proper place. I am now only stating Edwards’s opinions, not discussing them.
Sec. IV. Of the Distinction of natural and moral Necessary and Inability.
We now return to the question:—Is the connexion between motive and volition necessary?
The term necessary, in its common or vulgar use, does not relate to this question, for in that use as we have seen, it refers to the connexion between volition considered as a cause, and its effects. In this question, we are considering volition as an effect in relation to its cause or the motive. If the connexion then of motive and volition be necessary, it must be necessary in the philosophical or metaphysical sense of the term. Now this philosophical necessity Edwards does hold to characterize the connexion of motive and volition. This section opens with the following distinction of philosophical necessity: “That necessity which has been explained, consisting in an infallible connexion of the things signified by the subject and predicate of a proposition, as intelligent beings are the subjects of it, is distinguished into moral and natural necessity.” He then appropriates moral philosophical necessity to express the nature of the connexion between motive and volition: “And sometimes by moral necessity is meant that necessity of connexion and consequence which arises from moral causes, as the strength of inclination, or motives, and the connexion which there is in many cases between these, and such certain volitions and actions. And it is in this sense that I use the phrase moral necessity in the following discourse.” (p. 32.) Natural philosophical necessity as distinguished from this, he employs to characterize the connexion between natural causes and phenomena of our being, as the connexion of external objects with our various sensations, and the connexion between truth and our assent or belief. (p. 33.)
In employing the term moral, however, he does not intend to intimate that it affects at all the absoluteness of the necessity which it distinguishes; on the contrary, he affirms that “moral necessity may be as absolute as natural necessity. That is, the effect may be as perfectly connected with its moral cause, as a natural necessary effect is with its natural cause. It must be allowed that there may be such a thing as a sure and perfect connexion between moral causes and effects; so this only (i. e. the sure and perfect connexion,) is what I call by the name of moral necessity.” (p. 33.)
Nor does he intend “that when a moral habit or motive is so strong that the act of the will infallibly follows, this is not owing to the nature of things!” But these terms, moral and natural, are convenient to express a difference which really exists; a difference, however, which “does not lie so much in the nature of the connexion as in the two terms connected.” Indeed, he soon after admits “that choice in many cases arises from nature, as truly as other events.” His sentiment is plainly this choice lies in the great system and chain of nature as truly as any other phenomenon, arising from its antecedent and having its consequents or effects: but we have appropriated nature to express the chain of causes and effects, which lie without us, and which are most obvious to us; and choice being, “as it were, a new principle of motion and action,” lying within us, and often interrupting or altering the external course of nature, seems to demand a peculiar designation. (p. 34.)
Edwards closes his remarks on moral necessity by justifying his reduction of motive and volition under philosophical necessity. “It must be observed, that in what has been explained, as signified by the name of moral necessity, the word necessity is not used according to the original design and meaning of the word; for, as was observed before, such terms, necessary, impossible, irresistible, &c. in common speech, and their most proper sense, are always relative, having reference to some supposable voluntary opposition or endeavour, that is insufficient. But no such opposition, or contrary will and endeavour, is supposable in the case of moral necessity; which is a certainty of the inclination and will itself; which does not admit of the supposition of a will to oppose and resist it. For it is absurd to suppose the same individual will to oppose itself in its present act; or the present choice to be opposite to, and resisting present choice: as absurd as it is to talk of two contrary motions in the same moving body at the same time. And therefore the very case supposed never admits of any trial, whether an opposing or resisting will can overcome this necessity.” (p. 35.)
This passage is clear and full. Common necessity, or necessity in the original use of the word, refers to the connexion between volition and its effects; for here an opposition to will is supposable. I may choose or will to raise a weight; but the gravity opposed to my endeavour overcomes it, and I find it impossible for me to raise it, and the weight necessarily remains in its place. In this common use of these terms, the impossibility and the necessity are relative to my volition; but in the production of choice itself, or volition, or the sense of the most agreeable, there is no reference to voluntary endeavour. Choice is not the cause of itself: it cannot be conceived of as struggling with itself in its own production. The cause of volition does not lie within the sphere of volition itself; if any opposition, therefore, were made to the production of a volition, it could not be made by a volition. The mind, with given susceptibilities and habits, is supposed to be placed within the influence of objects and their circumstances, and the choice takes place in the correlation of the two, as the sense of the most agreeable. Now choice cannot exist before its cause, and so there can be no choice in the act of its causation. It comes into existence, therefore, by no necessity relating to voluntary endeavour; it comes into existence by a philosophical and absolute necessity of cause and effect. It is necessary as the falling of a stone which is thrown into the air; as the freezing or boiling of water at given temperatures; as sensations of sight, sound, smell, taste, and feeling, when the organs of sense and the objects of sense are brought together. The application of the epithet moral to the necessity of volition, evidently does not alter in the least the character of that necessity. It is still philosophical and absolute necessity, and as sure and perfect as natural necessity. This we have seen he expressly admits, (p. 33;) affirming, (p. 34,) that the difference between a moral and natural necessity is a mere difference in the “two terms connected,” and not a difference “in the nature of the connexion.”
Natural and moral inability.
“What has been said of natural and moral necessity, may serve to explain what is intended by natural and moral inability. We are said to be naturally unable to do a thing, when we cannot do it if we will, because what is most commonly called nature does not allow of it, or because of some impeding defect or obstacle that is extrinsic to the will; either in the faculty of the understanding, constitution of body, or external objects.” (p. 35.) We may make a voluntary endeavour to know something, and may find ourselves unable, through a defect of the understanding. We may make a voluntary effort to do something by the instrumentality of our hand, and may find ourselves unable through a defect of the bodily constitution; or external objects may be regarded as presenting such a counter force as to overcome the force we exert. This is natural inability; this is all we mean by it. It must be remarked too, that this is inability not metaphysically or philosophically considered, and therefore not absolute inability; but only inability in the common and vulgar acceptation of the term—a relative inability, relative to volition or choice—an inability to do, although we will to do.
What is moral inability? “Moral inability consists not in any of these things; but either in the want of inclination, or the strength of a contrary inclination, or the want of sufficient motives in view, to induce and excite the act of will, or the strength of apparent motives to the contrary. Or both these may be resolved into one; and it may be said, in one word, that moral inability consists in the opposition or want of inclination. For when a person is unable to will or choose such a thing, through a defect of motives, or prevalence of contrary motives, it is the same thing as his being unable through the want of an inclination, or the prevalence of a contrary inclination, in such circumstances and under the influence of such views.” (bid.)
The inability in this case does not relate to the connexion between volition and its consequents and effects; but to the production of the volition itself. Now the inability to the production of a volition, cannot be affirmed of the volition, because it is not yet supposed to exist, and as an effect cannot be conceived of as producing itself. The inability, therefore, must belong to the causes of volition, or to the motive. But motive, as we have seen, lies in the state of the mind, and in the nature and circumstances of the object; and choice or volition exists when, in the correlation of mind and object, the sense of the most agreeable is produced. Now what reason can exist, in any given case, why the volition or sense of the most agreeable is not produced? Why simply this, that there is not such a correlation of mind and object as to produce this sense or choice. But wherein lies the deficiency? We may say generally, that it lies in both mind and object—that they are not suited to each other. The mind is not in a state to be agreeably impressed by the object, and the object does not possess qualities of beauty and agreeableness to the mind. On the part of the mind, there is either a want of inclination to the object, or a stronger inclination towards another object: on the part of the object, there is a want of interesting and agreeable qualities to the particular state of mind in question, or a suitableness to a different state of mind: and this constitutes “the want of sufficient motives in view, to induce and excite the act of will, or the strength of apparent motives to the contrary.” And both these may clearly be resolved into one, that above mentioned, viz, a want of inclination on the part of the mind to the object, and a stronger inclination towards another object; or, as Edwards expresses it, “the opposition or want of inclination.” For a want of inclination to one object, implying a stronger inclination to another object, expresses that the state of the mind, and the nature and circumstances of the one object, are not correlated; but that the state of mind, and the nature and circumstances of the other object, are correlated. The first, is a “want of sufficient motives;” the second, stronger “motives to the contrary.” Moral inability lies entirely out of the sphere of volition; volition, therefore, cannot produce or relieve it, for this would suppose an effect to modify its cause, and that too before the effect itself has any existence. Moral inability is a metaphysical inability: it is the perfect and fixed impossibility of certain laws and principles of being, leading to certain volitions; and is contrasted with physical inability, which is the established impossibility of a certain volition, producing a certain effect. So we may say, that moral ability is the certain and fixed connexion between certain laws and principles of being, and volitions; and is contrasted with natural ability, which is the established connexion between certain volitions and certain effects.
Moral inability, although transcending the sphere of volition, is a real inability. Where it exists, there is the absolute impossibility of a given volition,—and of course an absolute impossibility of certain effects coming to pass by that volition. The impossibility of water freezing above an established temperature, or of boiling below an established temperature, is no more fixed than the impossibility of effects coming to pass by a volition, when there is a moral inability of the volition. The difference between the two cases does not lie “in the nature of the connexion,” but “in the two terms connected.”
Edwards gives several instances in illustration of moral inability.
“A woman of great honour and chastity may have a moral inability to prostitute herself to her slave.” (ibid.) There is no correlation between the state of her mind and the act which forms the object contemplated,—of course the sense of the most agreeable or choice cannot take place; and while the state of her mind remains the same, and the act and its circumstances remain the same, there is, on the principle of Edwards, an utter inability to the choice, and of course to the consequents of the choice.
“A child of great love and duty to his parents, may be thus unable to kill his father.” (ibid.) This case is similar to the preceding.
“A very lascivious man, in case of certain opportunities and temptations, and in the absence of such and such restraints, may be unable to forbear gratifying his lust.” There is here a correlation between the state of mind and the object, in its nature and circumstances,—and of course the sense of the most agreeable or choice takes place. There is a moral ability to the choice, and a moral inability to forbear, or to choose the opposite.
“A drunkard, under such and such circumstances, may be unable to forbear taking strong drink.” (ibid.) This is similar to the last.
“A very malicious man may be unable to exert benevolent acts to an enemy, or to desire his prosperity; yea, some may be so under the power of a vile disposition, that they may be unable to love those who are most worthy of their esteem and affection.” (ibid.) The state of mind is such,—that is, the disposition or sensitivity, as not to be at all correlated to the great duty of loving one’s neighbour as one’s self,—or to any moral excellency in another: of course the sense of the most agreeable is not produced; and in this state of mind it is absolutely impossible that it should be produced. “A strong habit of virtue, a great esteem of holiness, may cause a moral inability to love wickedness in general.” (p. 36.) “On the other hand, a great degree of habitual wickedness may lay a man under an inability to love and choose holiness, and render him utterly unable to love an infinitely Holy Being, or to choose and cleave to him as the chief good.” (ibid.) The love and choice of holiness is necessarily produced by the correlation of the mind with holiness; and the love and choice of holiness is utterly impossible when this correlation does not exist. Where a moral inability to evil exists, nothing can be more sure and fixed than this inability. The individual who is the subject of it has absolutely no power to alter it. If he were to proceed to alter it, he would have to put forth a volition to this effect; but this would be an evil volition, and by supposition the individual has no ability to evil volitions.
Where a moral inability to good exists, nothing can be more sure and fixed than this inability. The individual who is the subject of it, has absolutely no power to alter it. If he were to proceed to alter it, he would have to put forth a volition to this effect; but this would be a good volition, and by supposition the individual has no ability to good volitions.
General and habitual, particular and occasional Inability.
The first consists “in a fixed and habitual inclination, or an habitual and stated defect or want of a certain kind of inclination.” (p. 36.)
The second is “an inability of the will or heart to a particular act, through the strength or defect of present motives, or of inducements presented to the view of the understanding, on this occasion.” (ibid.)
An habitual drunkard, and a man habitually sober, on some particular occasion getting drunk, are instances of general and particular inability. In the first instance, the state of the man’s mind has become correlated to the object; under all times and circumstances it is fixed. In the second instance, the state of the man’s mind is correlated to the object only when presented on certain occasions and under certain circumstances. In both instances, however, the choice is necessary,—“it not being possible, in any case, that the will should at present go against the motive which has now, all things considered, the greatest advantage to induce it.”
“Will and endeavour against, or diverse from present acts of the will, are in no case supposable, whether those acts be occasional or habitual; for that would be to suppose the will at present to be otherwise than at present it is.” (ibid.)
The passage which follows deserves particular attention. It may be brought up under the following question:
Although will cannot be exerted against present acts of the will, yet can present acts of the will be exerted to produce future acts of the will, opposed to present habitual or present occasional acts?
“But yet there may be will and endeavour against future acts of the will, or volitions that are likely to take place, as viewed at a distance. It is no contradiction, to suppose that the acts of the will at one time may be against the act of the will at another time; and there may be desires and endeavours to prevent or excite future acts of the will; but such desires and endeavours are in many cases rendered insufficient and vain through fixedness of habit: when the occasion returns, the strength of habit overcomes and baffles all such opposition.” (p. 37.)
Let us take the instance of the drunkard. The choice or volition to drink is the fixed correlation of his disposition and the strong drink. But we may suppose that his disposition can be affected by other objects likewise: as the consideration of the interest and happiness of his wife and children, and his own respectability and final happiness. When his cups are removed, and he has an occasional fit of satiety and loathing, these considerations may awaken at the time the sense of the most agreeable, and lead him to avoid the occasions of drunkenness, and to form resolutions of amendment; but when the appetite and longing for drink returns, and he comes again in the way of indulgence, then these considerations, brought fairly into collision with his habits, are overcome, and drinking, as the most agreeable, asserts its supremacy.
“But it may be comparatively easy to make an alteration with respect to such future acts as are only occasional and transient; because the occasional or transient cause, if foreseen, may often easily be prevented or avoided.” (ibid.)
In the case of occasional drunkenness, for instance, the habitual correlation is not of mind and strong drink, but of mind and considerations of honour, prudence, and virtue. But strong drink being associated on some occasion with objects which are correlated to the mind, as hospitality, friendship, or festive celebrations,—may obtain the mastery; and in this case, the individual being under no temptation from strong drink in itself considered, and being really affected with the sense of the most agreeable in relation to objects which are opposed to drunkenness, may take care that strong drink shall not come again into circumstances to give it an adventitious advantage. The repetition of occasional drunkenness would of course by and by produce a change in the sensitivity, and establish an habitual liking for drink. “On this account, the moral inability that attends fixed habits, especially obtains the name of inability. And then, as the will may remotely and indirectly resist itself, and do it in vain, in the case of strong habits; so reason may resist present acts of the will, and its resistance be insufficient: and this is more commonly the case, also, when the acts arise from strong habit.” (ibid.)
In every act of the will, the will at the moment is unable to act otherwise; it is in the strictest sense true, that a man, at the moment of his acting, must act as he does act; but as we usually characterize men by the habitual state of their minds, we more especially speak of moral inability in relation to acts which are known to have no correlation to this habitual state. This habitual state of the mind, if it be opposed to reason, overcomes reason; for nothing, not even reason itself, can be the strongest motive, unless it produce the sense of the most agreeable; and this it cannot do, where the habitual disposition or sensitivity is opposed to it.
Common usage with respect to the phrase want of power or inability to act in a certain way.
“But it must be observed concerning moral inability, in each kind of it, that the word inability is used in a sense very diverse from its original import. The word signifies only a natural inability, in the proper use of it; and is applied to such cases only wherein a present will or inclination to the thing, with respect to which a person is said to be unable, is supposable. It cannot be truly said, according to the ordinary use of language, that a malicious man, let him be never so malicious, cannot hold his hand from striking, or that he is not able to show his neighbour a kindness; or that a drunkard, let his appetite be never so strong, cannot keep the cup from his mouth. In the strictest propriety of speech, a man has a thing in his power if he has it in his choice or at his election; and a man cannot be truly said to be unable to do a thing, when he can do it if he will.” (ibid.)
Men, in the common use of language, and in the expression of their common and generally received sentiments, affirm that an individual has any thing in his power when it can be controlled by volition. Their connexion of power does not arise from the connexion of volition with its cause, but from the conception of volition as itself a cause with its effects. Thus the hand of a malicious man when moved to strike, having for its antecedent a volition; and if withheld from striking, having for its antecedent likewise a volition; according to the common usage of language, he, as the subject of volition, has the power to strike or not to strike. Now as it is “improperly said that he cannot perform those external voluntary actions which depend on the will, it is in some respects more improperly said, that he is unable to exert the acts of the will themselves; because it is more evidently false, with respect to these, that he cannot if he will; for to say so is a downright contradiction; it is to say he cannot will if he does will: and, in this case, not only is it true that it is easy for a man to do the thing if he will, but the very willing is the doing.” (ibid.)
It is improper, according to this, to say that a man cannot do a thing, when nothing is wanting but an act of volition; for that is within our power, as far as it can be within our power, which is within the reach of our volition.
It is still more improper to say that a man is unable to exert the acts of the will themselves, or unable to produce volitions. To say that a man has power to produce volitions, would imply that he has power to will volitions; but this would make one volition the cause of another, which is absurd. But, as it is absurd to represent the will as the cause of its own volitions, and of course to say that the man has ability to produce his volitions, it must be absurd likewise to represent the man as unable, in any particular case, to produce volitions, for this would imply that in other cases he is able. Nay, the very language is self-contradictory. If a man produce volitions, he must produce them by volitions; and if in any case he is affirmed to be unable to produce volitions; then this inability must arise from a want of connexion between the volition by which the required volition is aimed to be produced, and the required volition itself. So that to affirm that he is unable to will is equivalent to saying, that he cannot will if he will—a proposition which grants the very point it assumes to deny. “The very willing is the doing,” which is required.
Edwards adopts what he calls the “original” and “proper,” meaning of power, and ability, as applied to human agents, and appearing, “in the ordinary use of language,” as the legitimate and true meaning. In this use, power, as we have seen, relates only to the connexion of volition with its consequents, and not to its connexion with its antecedents or motives. Hence, in reference to the human agent, “to ascribe a non-performance to the want of power or ability,” or to the want of motives, (for this is plainly his meaning,) “is not just,” “because the thing wanting,” that is, immediately wanting, and wanting so far as the agent himself can be the subject of remark in respect of it, “is not a being able,” that is, a having the requisite motives, or the moral ability, “but a being willing, or the act of volition, itself. To the act of volition, or the fact of ‘being willing,’” there is no facility of mind or capacity of nature wanting, but only a disposition or state of mind adapted to the act; but with this, the individual can have no concern in reference to his action, because he has all the ability which can be predicated of him legitimately, when he can do the act, if he will to do it. It is evident that there may be an utter moral inability to do a thing—that is the motive may be wanting which causes the volition, which is the immediate antecedent of the thing to be done; but still if it is true that there is such a connexion between the volition and the thing to be done, that the moment the volition takes place the thing is done; then, according to Edwards, the man may be affirmed to be able to do it with the only ability that can be affirmed of him.
We can exert power only by exerting will, that is by putting forth volitions by choosing; of course we cannot exert power over those motives which are themselves the causes of our volitions. We are not unable to do anything in the proper and original and legitimate use of the word when, for the want of motive, we are not the subjects of the volition required as the immediate antecedent of the thing to be done; but we are unable in this use when, although the volition be made; still, through some impediment, the thing is not done. We are conscious of power, or of the want of power only in the connexion between our actual volitions and their objects.
“Sec. V. Concerning the Notion of Liberty, and of moral Agency.”
What is liberty? “The plain and obvious meaning of the words freedom and liberty, in common speech, is power, opportunity, or advantage that any one has to do as he pleases. Or, in other words, his being free from hinderance, or impediment in the way of doing, or conducting in any way as he wills. And the contrary to liberty, whatever name we call it by, is a person’s being hindered or unable to conduct as he will, or being, necessitated to do otherwise.” (p. 38.) Again, “That power and opportunity for one to do and conduct as he will, or according to his choice, is all that is meant by it; without taking into the meaning of the word, anything of the cause of that choice, or at all considering how the person came to have such a volition; whether it was caused by some external motive, or internal habitual bias; whether it was determined by some internal antecedent volition, or whether it happened without a cause; whether it was necessarily connected with something foregoing, or not connected. Let the person come by his choice any how, yet if he is able, and there is nothing in the way to hinder his pursuing and executing his will, the man is perfectly free, according to the primary and common notion of freedom.” (p. 39.)
This is Edwards’s definition of liberty, and he has given it with a clearness, a precision, and, at the same time, an amplification, which renders it impossible to mistake his meaning.
Liberty has nothing to do with the connexion between volition and its cause or motive. Liberty relates solely to the connexion between the volition and its objects. He is free in the only true and proper sense, who, when he wills, finds no impediment between the volition and the object, who wills and it is done. He wills to walk, and his legs obey: he wills to talk, and his intellect and tongue obey, and frame and express sentences. If his legs were bound, he would not be free. If his tongue were tied with a thong, or his mouth gagged, he would not be free; or if his intellect were paralysed or disordered, he would not be free. If there should be anything preventing the volition from taking effect, he would not be free.
Of what can the attribute of Liberty be affirmed?
From the definition thus given Edwards remarks, “It will follow, that in propriety of speech, neither liberty, nor its contrary, can properly be ascribed to any being or thing, but that which has such a faculty, power, or property, as is called will. For that which is possessed of no will, cannot have any power or opportunity of doing according to its will, nor be necessitated to act contrary to its will, nor be restrained from acting agreeable to it. And therefore to talk of liberty, or the contrary, as belonging to the very will itself, is not to speak good sense; for the will itself, is not an agent that has a will. The power of choosing itself, has not a power of choosing. That which has the power of volition is the man, or the soul, and not the power of volition itself. And he that has the liberty, is the agent who is possessed of the will; and not the will which he is possessed of.” (p. 38.)
Liberty is the attribute of the agent, because the agent is the spiritual essence or being who is the subject of the power or capacity of choice, and his liberty consists as we have seen in the unimpeded connexion between the volitions produced in him and the objects of those volitions. Hence, free will is an objectionable phrase. Free agent is the proper phrase, that is, an agent having the power of choice and whose choice reaches effects.
Moral Agent.
“A moral agent is a being that is capable of those actions that have a moral quality, and which can properly be denominated good or evil in a moral sense, virtuous or vicious, commendable or faulty.” (p. 39.)
In what lies the capability of actions having a moral quality?
“To moral agency belongs a moral faculty, or sense of moral good and evil, or of such a thing as desert or worthiness, of praise or blame, reward or punishment; and a capacity which an agent has of being influenced in his actions by moral inducements or motives, exhibited to the view of the understanding or reason, to engage to a conduct agreeable to moral faculty.” (p. 40.)
A moral agent is a being who can perform moral actions, or actions which are subject to praise or blame. Now the same action may be committed by a man or by a brute—and the man alone will be guilty: why is the man guilty? Because he has a moral sense or perception by which he distinguishes right and wrong: the brute has no such sense or perception. The man having thus the power of perceiving the right and wrong of actions—actions and their moral qualities may be so correlated to him as to produce the sense of the most agreeable or choice. Or, we may say generally, moral agency consists in the possession of a reason and conscience to distinguish right and wrong, and the capacity of having the right and wrong so correlated to the mind as to form motives and produce volitions. We might define a man of taste in the fine arts in a similar way; thus,—a man of taste is an agent who has the power of distinguishing beauty and ugliness, and whose mind is so correlated to beauty that the sense of the most agreeable or choice is produced. The only difference between the two cases is this: that, in the latter, the sense of the most agreeable is always produced by the beauty perceived; while in the former, the right perceived does not always produce this sense; on the contrary, the sense of the most agreeable is often produced by the wrong, in opposition to the decisions of reason and conscience.
I have now completed the statement of Edwards’s system, nearly in his own words, as contained in part I. of his work. The remarks and explanations which have been thrown in, I hope will serve to make him more perfectly understood. This end will be still more fully attained by presenting on the basis of the foregoing investigation and statement, a compend of his psychological system, independently of the order there pursued, and without largely introducing quotations, which have already been abundantly made.
COMPEND OF EDWARDS’S PSYCHOLOGICAL SYSTEM.
I. There are two cardinal faculties of the mind. 1. The intellectual—called reason or understanding. 2. The active and feeling—called will or affections.
II. The relation of these to each other. The first precedes the second in the order of exercise. The first perceives and knows objects in their qualities, circumstances, and relations. The second experiences emotions and passions, or desires and choices, in relation to the objects perceived.
III. Perception is necessary. When the understanding and its objects are brought together, perception takes place according to the constituted laws of the intelligence.
IV. The acts of will or the affections are necessary. When this faculty of our being and its objects are brought together, volition or choice, emotions, passions, or desires take place, according to the constituted nature and laws of this faculty.
The objects and this faculty are correlates. In relation to the object, we may call this faculty subject. When subject and object are suited to each other, that is, are agreeable, affections are produced which we call pleasant; when they are not suited, that is, are disagreeable, affections take place which are unpleasant or painful. Every object in relation to subject, is agreeable or disagreeable, and produces accordingly, in general, affections pleasant or painful.
In the perfection and harmony of our being, this correspondence is universal; that is, what is known to be agreeable is felt to be pleasant;—what is known to be disagreeable is felt to be painful. But, in the corruption of our being, this is reversed in respect of moral objects. Although what is right is known to be agreeable, that is, suited to us, it is felt to be painful. But the wrong which is known to be unsuited, is felt to be pleasant. It must be remarked here, that pleasant and agreeable, are used by Edwards and others, as synonymous terms. The distinction I have here made is at least convenient in describing the same objects as presented to the understanding and to the will.
V. The emotions and passions, volitions or choices, are thus produced in the correlation of subject, that is the will, and the object. In assigning the causes of these affections, we may refer to the nature of the will, which is such, as to receive such and such affections when in the presence of such and such objects: or, we may refer to the objects, and say their nature and circumstances are such as to produce such and such affections in the will: or, we may refer to both at once, and say that the affections arise from the state of the mind, and from the nature and circumstances of the object.
VI. The affections of the will stand connected with changes or effects in other parts of our being, as stated antecedents. First, they stand thus connected with muscular action,—as walking, talking, striking, resisting, &c. Secondly, they stand thus connected with mental operations,—as fixing the attention upon any subject of thought and investigation, or upon any imagination, or any idea of the memory.
VII. The affections of the will, when thus connected with effects in other parts of our being, have a peculiar and striking characteristic. It is this: that the effect contemplated takes place at the moment it appears the most agreeable,—the greatest apparent good; which, as Edwards uses these phrases, means, that at the moment the effect contemplated produces the most pleasant affection,—the most intense sense of the agreeable,—it takes place. Thus, when walking seems most pleasant, we walk; when talking, we talk; when thinking on a particular subject, then we think on that subject. Such is the constitution and law of our being. The play of the different parts is reciprocal. Perception must bring up the objects, and the affections of will immediately follow. The most agreeable are dwelt upon by the mind, and perception again takes place particularly with regard to these; and according as objects affect the will, do all the activities of our being come forth.
VIII. Various terms and phrases in common use can be easily explained by this system:—Choice is the sense or the affection of the most pleasant and agreeable. Preference is its synonyme, with scarcely a shade of difference. They both have respect to the act of selection. Volition is another name for this affection of will, and is used more particularly in relation to effects or changes following the affection. Desire is a nascent choice. The strongest desire, at a given moment, is choice. Emotion is an affection, pleasant or painful, according to the quality of the object, but not ripened into desire. It is the first sudden affection arising from an object presented; and with respect to certain objects, it expresses all the enjoyment possible in relation to them,—for example, the emotion of sublimity, produced by an object which can hold no other relation to us. But then the sublimity of the object may be the motive which causes the choice of gazing at it; that is, it connects this act of contemplation with the sense of the most agreeable.
Passion is emotion accompanied by desire in reference to other relations with the object. Thus the emotion of beauty awakened by a flower may be accompanied by the desire of possessing it; and if this desire becomes the strongest desire at the moment, then the passion has the characteristic which makes it choice, and some corresponding effects take place in order to possess it,—as walking towards it, stretching out the hand, &c.
The determination of will is the production or causation of choice. It is used in reference to the immediate and particular choice, in opposition to all other choices.
The will itself is the capacity of being affected by objects with emotion, passion, and desire,—and with that form of passion which we call the sense of the most agreeable or choice, and which is connected with effects or consequents as their stated antecedent.
The motive is the cause of choice, and is complex. It lies in the nature and susceptibilities of the will, and in the nature and circumstances Of the object chosen.
IX. The will and reason may be opposed; that is, what reason commands may seem disagreeable to the will, and of course reason cannot be obeyed. Reason can be obeyed only when her commands produce the sense of the most agreeable.
X. The terms necessity, and freedom or liberty are opposed in reference to will. Freedom or liberty is the attribute of the man—the human soul. The man is free when his volitions or choices are unimpeded,—when, upon choosing to walk, he walks, &c. The man is not free, or is under necessity, when his volitions or choices are impeded,—when, upon choosing to walk, he finds his legs bound or paralysed, &c. Then it is impossible for him to walk,—then he has no liberty to walk,—then he is under a necessity of remaining in one place.
Necessity in any other use is metaphysical or philosophical necessity, and is applied out of the sphere of the will: as the necessity of truth, the necessity of being,—the necessary connexion of cause and effect. Hence,
The connexion between volitions or choices, or the sense of the most agreeable with the motive or cause, is necessary with a philosophical necessity. The necessity of volitions in reference to motives is also called moral necessity. This term moral is given, not in reference to the nature of the connexion, but in reference to the terms connected. Volitions belonging to responsible and moral beings are thus distinguished from those phenomena which we commonly call natural.
XI. An agent is that which produces effects. A natural agent is that which produces effects without volition. A moral agent is one producing effects by volitions, accompanied with an intellectual perception of the volitions and their effects, as right or wrong, and a sense of desert, or of praiseworthiness, or blameworthiness, on account of the volitions and their effects.
Brutes or irresponsible beings are agents that have volitions, but have no reason to perceive right and wrong, and consequently have no sense of desert; and as they cannot perceive right and wrong, they cannot be made the subjects of moral appeals and inducements.
XII. Moral responsibility arises first, from the possession of reason; secondly, from the capacity of choice; thirdly, from natural ability.
Natural ability exists when the effect or act commanded to be accomplished has an established connexion with volition or choice. Thus we say a man has natural ability to walk, because if he chooses to walk, he walks. Natural ability differs from freedom only in this:—The first refers to an established connexion between volitions and effects. The second refers to an absence of all impediment, or of all resisting forces from between volitions and effects.
Hence a man is naturally unable to do anything when there is no established connexion between volition and that thing. A man is naturally unable to push a mountain from its seat. He has no liberty to move his arm when it is bound.
Moral inability is metaphysical or philosophical inability. Philosophical inability in general refers to the impossibility of a certain effect for the want of a cause, or an adequate cause. Thus there is a philosophical inability of transmuting metal; or of restoring the decay of old age to the freshness and vigour of youth, because we have no cause by which such effects can be produced. There is a philosophical inability also, to pry up a rock of a hundred tons weight with a pine lath, and by the hand of a single man, because we have not an adequate cause. Moral inability relates to the connexion between motives and volitions in distinction from natural ability, which relates to the connexion between volitions and actions consequent upon them: but the term moral as we have seen, does not characterize the nature of the connexion,—it only expresses the quality of terms connected. Hence moral inability, as philosophical inability, is the impossibility of a certain volition or choice for the want of a motive or cause, or an adequate motive. Thus there is a moral philosophical inability of Paul denying Jesus Christ, for there is plainly no motive or cause to produce a volition to such an act. There is a moral philosophical inability also, of a man selling an estate for fifty dollars which is worth fifty thousand, because the motive is not adequate to produce a volition to such an act.
Philosophical necessity and inability are absolute in respect of us, because beyond the sphere of our volition.
XIII. Praiseworthiness or virtue, blameworthiness or guilt, apply only to volitions. This indeed is not formally brought out in the part of Edwards’s work we have been examining. His discussion of it will be found in part IV. sec. I. But as it is necessary to a complete view of his system, we introduce it here.
He remarks in this part, “If the essence of virtuousness or commendableness, and of viciousness or fault, does not lie in the nature of the disposition or acts of the mind, which are said to be our virtue or our fault, but in their cause, then it is certain it lies no where at all. Thus, for instance, if the vice of a vicious act of will lies not in the nature of the act, but in the cause, so that its being of a bad nature will not make it at all our fault, unless it arises from some faulty determination of ours as its cause, or something in us that is our fault, &c.” (page 190.) “Disposition of mind,” or inclination,—“acts of the mind,” “acts of will,” here obviously mean the same thing; that is, they mean volition or choice, and are distinguished from their cause or motive. The question is not whether the cause or motive be pure or impure, but whether our virtuousness or viciousness lie in the cause of our volition, or in the volition itself. It plainly results from Edwards’s psychology, and he has himself in the above quotation stated it, that virtuousness or viciousness lie in the volition itself. The characteristic of our personality or agency is volition. It is in and by our volitions that we are conscious of doing or forbearing to do, and therefore it is in respect of our volitions that we receive praise for well-doing, or blame for evil-doing. If these volitions are in accordance with conscience and the law of God, they are right; if not, they are wrong, and we are judged accordingly. The metaphysical questions, how the volition was produced, and what is the character of the cause, is the cause praiseworthy or blameworthy, are questions which transcend the sphere of our volitions, our actions, our personality, our responsibility. We are concerned only with this:—Do we do right? do we do wrong? What is the nature of our volitions?
Nor does the necessary connexion between the motives and the volitions, destroy the blameworthiness and the praiseworthiness of the volitions. We are blameworthy or praiseworthy according to the character of the volitions in themselves, considered and judged according to the rule of right, without considering how these volitions came to exist. The last inquiry is altogether of a philosophical or metaphysical kind, and not of a moral kind, or that kind which relates to moral agency, responsibility, and duty.
And so also we are blameworthy or praiseworthy for doing or not doing external actions, so far only as these actions are naturally connected with volitions, as sequents with their stated antecedents. If the action is one which ought to be done, we are responsible for the doing of it, if we know that upon our willing it, it will be done; although at this very moment there is no such correlation between the action and the will, as to form the motive or cause upon which the existence of the act of willing depends. If the action is one which ought not to be done, we are guilty for doing it, when we know that if we were not to will it, it would not be done; although at this very moment there is such a correlation between the action, and the state of the will, as to form the cause or motive by which the act of willing comes necessarily to exist. The metaphysical or philosophical inquiry respecting the correlation of the state of the will and any action, or respecting the want of such a correlation, is foreign to the question of duty and responsibility. This question relates only to the volition and its connexion with its consequents.
This does not clash at all with the common sentiment that our actions are to be judged of by our motives; for this sentiment does not respect volitions in relation to their cause, but external actions in relation to the volitions which produce them. These external actions may be in themselves good, but they may not be what was willed; some other force or power may have come in between the volition and its object, and changed the circumstances of the object, so as to bring about an event different from the will or intention; although being in connexion with the agent, it may still be attributed to his will: or the immediate act which appears good, may, in the mind of the agent be merely part of an extended plan or chain of volitions, whose last action or result is evil. It is common, therefore, to say of an external action, we must know what the man intends, before we pronounce upon him; which is the same thing as to say we must know what his volition really is, or what his motive is—that is, not the cause which produces his volition, but the volition which is aiming at effects, and is the motive and cause of these effects;—which again, is the same thing as to say, that before we can pronounce upon his conduct, we must know what effects he really intends or wills, or desires, that is, what it is which is really connected in his mind with the sense of the most agreeable.
Edwards and Locke.
Their systems are one: there is no difference in the principle. Edwards represents the will as necessarily determined so does Locke. Edwards places liberty in the unimpeded connexion of volition with its stated sequents—so does Locke.
They differ only in the mode of developing the necessary determination of will. According to Locke, desire is in itself a necessary modification of our being produced in its correlation with objects; and volition is a necessary consequent of desire when excited at any given moment to a degree which gives the most intense sense of uneasiness at that moment. “The greatest present uneasiness is the spur of action that is constantly felt, and for the most part, determines the will in its choice of the next action.” (book 2. ch. 21, § 40.) According to Edwards, desire is not distinguishable from will as a faculty, and the strongest desire, at any moment, is the volition of that moment.
Edwards’s analysis is more nice than Locke’s, and his whole developement more true to the great principle of the system—necessary determination. Locke, in distinguishing the will from the desire, seems about to launch into a different psychology, and one destructive of the principle.
[II.]
THE LEGITIMATE CONSEQUENCES OF EDWARDS’S SYSTEM.
These consequences must, I am aware, be deduced with the greatest care and clearness. The deduction must be influenced by no passion or prejudice. It must be purely and severely logical—and such I shall endeavour to make it. I shall begin with a deduction which Edwards has himself made.
I. There is no self-determining power of will, and of course no liberty consisting in a self-determining power.
A self-determining power of will is a supposed power, which will has to determine its own volitions.
Will is the faculty of choice, or the capacity of desire, emotion, or passion.
Volition is the strongest desire, or the sense of the most agreeable at any given moment.
Volition arises from the state of the mind, or of the will, or sensitivity itself, in correlation with the nature and circumstances of the object.
Now, if the will determined itself, it would determine its own state, in relation to objects. But to determine is to act, and therefore, for the will to determine is for the will to act; and for the will to determine itself, is for the will to determine itself by an act. But an act of the will is a volition; therefore for the will to determine itself is to create a volition by a volition. But then we have to account for this antecedent volition, and it can be accounted for only in the same way. We shall then have an infinite, or more properly, an indefinite series of volitions, without any first volition; consequently we shall have no self-determiner after all, because we can arrive at no first determiner, and thus the idea of self-determination becomes self-destructive. Again, we shall have effects without a cause, for the series in the nature of the case never ends in a first, which is a cause per se. Volitions are thus contingent, using this word as a synonyme of chance, the negative of cause.
Now that this is a legitimate deduction, no one can question. If Edwards’s psychology be right, and if self-determination implies a will to will, or choosing a choice, then a self-determining power is the greatest absurdity possible.
II. It is clearly deducible from this also, that God can exercise a perfect control over his intelligent creatures, or administer perfectly a moral government consisting in the influence of motives.
To any given state of mind, he can adapt motives in reference to required determinations. And when an individual is removed from the motives adapted to his state of mind, the Almighty Providence can so order events as to bring him into contiguity with the motives.
If the state of mind should be such that no motives can be made available in reference to a particular determination, it is dearly supposable that he who made the soul of man, may exert a direct influence over this state of mind, and cause it to answer to the motives presented. Whether there are motives adapted to every state of mind, in reference to every possible determination required by the Almighty Lawgiver, so as to render it unnecessary to exert a direct influence over the will, is a question which I am not called upon here to answer. But in either case, the divine sovereignty, perfect and absolute, fore-determining and bringing to pass every event in the moral as well as the physical world; and the election of a certain number to eternal life, and the making of this election sure, are necessary and plain consequences of this system. And as God is a being all-wise and good, we may feel assured in connexion with this system, that, in the working out of his great plan, whatever evil may appear in the progress of its developement, the grand consummation will show that all things have been working together for good.
III. It is plainly deducible from this system that moral beings exert an influence over each other by the presentation of motives. And thus efforts may be made either to the injury or benefit of society.
IV. If, as Edwards contends, the sense of responsibility, the consciousness of guilt or of rectitude, and consequently the expectation of punishment or reward, connect themselves simply with the nature of the mere fact of volition.—that is, if this is a true and complete representation of consciousness in relation to this subject, then upon the mere fact of volition considered only in its own nature, and wholly independently of its causes, can the processes of justice go forth.
Thus we may view the system in relation both to God and to man.
In relation to God. It makes him supreme and absolute—foreseeing and fore-determining, and bringing everything to pass according to infinite wisdom, and by the energy of an infinite will.
In relation to man. It shuts him up to the consideration of the simple fact of volition, and its connexion as a stated or established antecedent with certain effects. He is free to accomplish these effects, because he can accomplish them if he will. He is free to forbear, because he can forbear if he will. It is affirmed to be the common judgement of men, and of course universally a fact of consciousness, that an individual is fully responsible for the doing of anything which ought to be done, if nothing is wanting to the doing of it but a volition: that he is guilty and punishable for doing anything wrong, because it was done by his volition: that he is praiseworthy and to be rewarded for doing anything right, because it was done by his volition. In vain does he attempt to excuse himself from right-doing on the plea of moral inability; this is metaphysical inability, and transcends the sphere of volition. He can do it if he will—and therefore he has all the ability required in the case. Nothing is immediately wanting but a willingness, and all his responsibility relates to this; he can do nothing, can influence nothing, except by will; and therefore that which goes before will is foreign to his consideration, and impossible to his effort.
In vain does he attempt to excuse himself for wrong-doing on the ground of moral necessity. This moral necessity is metaphysical necessity, and transcends the sphere of volition. He could have forborne to do wrong, if he had had the will. Whatever else may have been wanting, there was not wanting to a successful resistance of evil, anything with which the agent has any concern, and for which he is under any responsibility, but the volition. By his volitions simply is he to be tried. No court of justice, human or divine, that we can conceive of, could admit the plea—“I did not the good because I had not the will to do it,” or “I did the evil because I had the will to do it.” “This is your guilt,” would be the reply of the judge, “that you had no will to do the good—that you had a will to do the evil.”
We must now take up a different class of deductions. They are such as those abettors of this system who wish to sustain the great interests of morality and religion do not make, but strenuously contend against. If however they are logical deductions, it is in vain to contend against them. I am conscious of no wish to force them upon the system, and do most firmly believe that they are logical. Let the reader judge for himself, but let him judge thoughtfully and candidly.
I. The system of Edwards leads to an absolute and unconditional necessity, particular and general.
1. A particular necessity—a necessity absolute in relation to the individual.
It is granted in the system, that the connexion of motive and volition is necessary with an absolute necessity, because this precedes and therefore is not within the reach of the volition. So also, the state of mind, and the nature and circumstances of the object in relation to this state, forming a correlation, in which lies the motive, is dependent upon a cause, beyond the reach of volition. As the volition cannot make its motive, so neither can the volition make the cause of its motive, and so on in the retrogression of causes, back to the first cause. Hence, all the train of causes preceding the volition are related by an absolute necessity; and the volition itself, as the effect of motive, being necessary also with an absolute necessity, the only place for freedom that remains, if freedom be possible, is the connexion of volition and effects, internal and external. And this is the only place of freedom which this system claims. But what new characteristic appears in this relation? Have we here anything beyond stated antecedents and sequents? I will to walk, and I walk; I will to talk, and I talk; I will to sit down, and I sit down. The volition is an established antecedent to these muscular movements. So also, when I will to think on a certain subject, I think on that subject. The volition of selecting a subject, and the volition of attending to it, are stated antecedents to that mental operation which we call thought. We have here only another instance of cause and effect; the relation being one as absolute and necessary as any other relation of cause and effect. The curious organism by which a choice or a sense of the most agreeable produces muscular movement, has not been arranged by any choice of the individual man. The connexion is pre-established for him, and has its cause beyond the sphere of volition. The constitution of mind which connects volition with thinking is also pre-established, and beyond the sphere of volition. As the volition itself appears by an absolute necessity in relation to the individual man, so also do the stated sequents or effects of volition appear by an absolute necessity in relation to him.
It is true, indeed, that the connexion between volition and its objects may be interrupted by forces coming between, or overcome by superior forces, but this is common to cause and effect, and forms no peculiar characteristic; it is a lesser force necessarily interrupted or overcome by a greater. Besides, the interruption or the overcoming of a force does not prove its freedom when it is unimpeded; its movement may still be necessitated by an antecedent force. And this is precisely the truth in respect of volition, according to this system. The volition could have no being without a motive, and when the motive is present it must have a being, and no sooner does it appear than its effects follow, unless impeded. If impeded, then we have two trains of causes coming into collision, and the same necessity which brought them together, gives the ascendency to the one or the other.
It seems to me impossible to resist the conclusion, that necessity, absolute and unconditional, as far at least as the man himself is concerned, reigns in the relation of volition and its effect, if the volition itself be a necessary existence. All that precedes volition is necessary; volition itself is necessary. All that follows volition is necessary: Humanity is but a link of the inevitable chain.
2. General necessity—a necessity absolute, in relation to all being and causality, and applicable to all events.
An event proved to be necessary in relation to an individual—is this event likewise necessary in the whole train of its relations? Let this event be a volition of a given individual; it is necessary in relation to that individual. Now it must be supposed to have a connexion by a chain of sequents and antecedents with a first cause. Let us now take any particular antecedent and sequent in the chain, and that antecedent and sequent, in its particular place and relations, can be proved necessary in the same way that the volition is proved necessary in its particular place and relations; that is, the antecedent being given under the particular circumstances, the sequent must follow. But the antecedent is linked by like necessity to another antecedent, of which it is the sequent; and the sequent is linked by like necessity to another sequent, of which it is the antecedent; and thus the whole chain, from the given necessary volition up to the first cause, is necessary. We come therefore at last to consider the connexion between the first sequent and the first antecedent, or the first cause. Is this a necessary connexion? If that first antecedent be regarded as a volition, then the connexion must be necessary. If God will the first sequent, then it was absolutely necessary that that sequent should appear. But the volition itself cannot really be the first antecedent or cause, because volition or choice, from its very nature, must itself have a determiner or antecedent. What is this antecedent? The motive:—for self-determination, in the sense of the will determining itself, would involve the same absurdities on this system in relation to God as in relation to man; since it is represented as an absurdity in its own nature—it is determining a volition by a volition, in endless retrogression. As the motive therefore determines the divine volition, what is the nature of the connexion between the motive and the volition? It cannot but be a necessary connexion; for there is nothing to render it otherwise, save the divine will. But the divine will cannot be supposed to do this, for the motive is already taken to be the ground and cause of the action of the divine will. The necessity which applies to volition, in the nature of the case must therefore apply to the divine volition. No motives, indeed, can be supposed to influence the divine will, except those drawn from his infinite intelligence, wisdom, and goodness; but then the connexion between these motives and the divine volitions is a connexion of absolute necessity. This Edwards expressly affirms—“If God’s will is steadily and surely determined in everything by supreme wisdom, then it is in everything necessarily determined to that which is most wise.” (p. 230.) That the universe is governed by infinite wisdom, is a glorious and satisfactory thought, and is abundantly contended for by this system; but still it is a government of necessity. This may be regarded as the most excellent government, and if it be so regarded it may fairly be contended for. Let us not, however, wander from the question, and in representing it as the government of wisdom, forget that it is a government of necessity, and that absolute. The volition, therefore, with which we started, is at last traced up to a necessary and infinite wisdom as its first and final cause; for here the efficient cause and the motive are indeed one.
What we have thus proved in relation to one volition, must be equally true in reference to every other volition and every other event, for the reasoning must apply to every possible case. Every volition, every event, must be traced up to a first and final cause, and this must be necessary and infinite wisdom.
II. It follows, therefore, from this system, that every volition or event is both necessary, and necessarily the best possible in its place and relations.
The whole system of things had its origin in infinite and necessary wisdom. All volitions and events have their last and efficient cause in infinite and necessary wisdom. All that has been, all that is, all that can be, are connected by an absolute necessity with the same great source. It would be the height of absurdity to suppose it possible for any thing to be different from what it is, or to suppose that any change could make any thing better than it is; for all that is, is by absolute necessity,—and all that is, is just what and where infinite wisdom has made it, and disposed of it.
III. If that which we call evil, in reality be evil, then it must be both necessary evil and evil having its origin in infinite wisdom. It is in vain to say that man is the agent, in the common acceptation of the word; that he is the author, because the particular volitions are his. These volitions are absolutely necessary, and are necessarily carried back to the one great source of all being and events. Hence,
IV. The creature man cannot be blameable. Every volition which appears in him, appears by an absolute necessity,—and it cannot be supposed to be otherwise than it is. Now the ground of blameworthiness is not only the perception of the difference between right and wrong, and the conviction that the right ought to be done, but the possession of a power to do the right and refrain from the wrong. But if every volition is fixed by an absolute necessity, then neither can the individual be supposed to have power to do otherwise than he actually does, nor, all things considered, can it be supposed there could have been, at that precise moment and in that precise relation, any other volition. The volition is fixed, and fixed by an infinite and necessary wisdom. We cannot escape from this difficulty by perpetually running the changes of—“He can if he will,”—“He could if he would,”—“There is nothing wanting but a will,”—“He has a natural ability,” &c. &c. Let us not deceive ourselves, and endeavour to stop thought and conclusions by these words, “he can if he will”! but he cannot if he don’t will. The will is wanting,—and while it is wanting, the required effect cannot appear. And how is that new volition or antecedent to be obtained? The man cannot change one volition for another. By supposition, he has not the moral or metaphysical ability,—and yet this is the only ability that can produce the new volition. It is passing strange that the power upon which volition is absolutely dependent, should be set aside by calling it metaphysical,—and the man blamed for an act because the consequent of his volition, when the volition itself is the necessary consequent of this power! The man is only in his volition. The volition is good or bad in itself. The cause of volition is none of his concern, because it transcends volition. He can if he will. That is enough for him! But it is not enough to make him blameable, when whether he will or not depends not only upon an antecedent out of his reach, but the antecedent itself is fixed by a necessity in the divine nature itself.
I am not now disputing the philosophy. The philosophy may be true; it may be very good: but then we must take its consequences along with it; and this is all that I now insist upon.
V. It is another consequence of this system, that there can be nothing evil in itself. If infinite wisdom and goodness are the highest form of moral perfection, as indeed their very names imply, then all the necessary consequences of these must partake of their nature. Infinite wisdom and goodness, as principles, can only envelope parts of themselves. It would be the destruction of all logic to deny this. It would annihilate every conclusion that has ever been drawn. If it be said that infinite wisdom has promulged a law which defines clearly what is essentially right, and that it is a fact that volitions do transgress this law, still this cannot affect what is said above. The promulgation of the law was a necessary developement of infinite wisdom; and the volition which transgresses it is a developement of the same nature. If this seems contradictory, I cannot help it. It is drawn from the system, and the system alone is responsible for its conclusions.
If it should be replied here, that every system must be subject to the same difficulty, because if evil had a beginning, it must have had a holy cause, inasmuch as it could not exist before it began to exist,—I answer, this would be true if evil is the necessary developement of a holy cause. But more of this hereafter.
VI. The system of Edwards is a system of utilitarianism. Every volition being the sense of the most agreeable, and arising from the correlation of the object and the sensitivity; it follows that every motive and every action comes under, and cannot but come under, the one idea of gratification or enjoyment. According to this system, there can be no collision between principle and passion, because principle can have no power to determine the will, except as it becomes the most agreeable. Universally, justice, truth, and benevolence, obtain sway only by uniting with desire, and thus coming under conditions of yielding the highest enjoyment. Justice, truth, and benevolence, when obeyed, therefore, are not obeyed as such, but simply as the most agreeable; and so also injustice, falsehood, and malignity, are not obeyed as such, but simply as the most agreeable. In this quality of the most agreeable, as the quality of all motive and the universal principle of the determinations of the will, intrinsic moral distinctions fade away. We may indeed speculate respecting these distinctions,—we may say that justice evidently is right in itself, and injustice wrong in itself; but this judgement has practical efficiency only as one of the terms takes the form of the most agreeable. But we have seen that the most agreeable depends upon the state of the sensitivity in correlation with the object,—a state and a correlation antecedent to action; and that therefore it is a necessary law of our being, to be determined by the greatest apparent good or the most agreeable. Utility, therefore, is not only in point of fact, but also in point of necessity, the law of action. There is no other law under which it is conceivable that we can act.
VII. It follows from this system, again, that no individual can make an effort to change the habitual character of his volitions,—and of course cannot resist his passions, or introduce any intellectual or moral discipline other than that in which he is actually placed, or undertake any enterprise that shall be opposite to the one in which he is engaged, or not part or consequent of the same.
If he effect any change directly in the habitual character of his volitions, he must do it by a volition; that is, he must will different from his actual will,—his will must oppose itself in its own act: but this is absurd, the system itself being judge. As, therefore, the will cannot oppose itself, a new volition can be obtained only by presenting a new motive; but this is equally impossible. To present a new motive is to call up new objects and circumstances in relation to the actual state of the mind, touching upon some principles which had been slumbering under the habitual volitions; or the state of the mind itself must be changed in relation to the objects now before it; or a change must take place both of subject and object, for the motive lies in the correlation of the two. But the volition to call up new objects and circumstances in relation to some principle of the mind that had been slumbering,—for example, fear, must itself have a motive; but the motive to call up objects of fear must preexist; if it exist at all. If it preexist, then of necessity the volition to call up objects of fear will take place; and, it will not be a change effected by the man himself, out of the actually existing state of mind and objects. If there be no such motive pre-existing, then it would become necessary to present a new motive, to cause the choice of objects of fear; and here would be a recurrence of the original difficulty,—and so on, ad infinitum.
If the problem be to effect a change in the state of the mind in relation to existing objects, in the first place, this cannot be effected by a direct act of will, for the act of will is caused by the state of mind, and this would be an effect changing or annihilating its cause.
Nor can it be done indirectly. For to do it indirectly, would be to bring influences to bear upon the state of mind or the sensitivity; but the choice and volition of these influences would require a motive—but the motive to change the state of mind must pre-exist in the state of mind itself. And thus we have on the one hand, to show the possibility of finding a principle in the state of mind on which to bring about its change. And then if this be shown, the change is not really a change, but a new developement of the long chain of the necessary causes and volitions. And on the other, if this be not shown, we must find a motive to change the state of mind in order to a change of the state: but this motive, if it exist, must pre-exist in the state of mind. If it pre-exist, then no change is required; if it do not; then we must seek still an antecedent motive, and so in endless retrogression. If the problem be to change both subject and object, the same difficulties exist in two-fold abundance.
The grand difficulty is to find a primum mobile, or first mover, when the very act of seeking implies a primum mobile, which the conditions of the act deny.
Any new discipline, therefore, intellectual or moral, a discipline opposite to that which the present state of the mind would naturally and necessarily bring about, is impossible.
Of course, it is impossible to restrain passion, to deny or mortify one’s self. The present volition is as the strongest present desire—indeed, is the strongest present desire itself. “Will and desire do not run counter at all.” “A man never in any instance, wills anything contrary to his desires, or desires anything contrary to his will.” (p. 17.) Hence to restrain a present passion would be to will against will—would be to desire opposite ways at the same moment. Desires may be relatively stronger and weaker, and the stronger will overcome the weaker; but the strongest desire must prevail and govern the man; it is utterly impossible for him to oppose any resistance, for his whole power, activity, and volition, are in the desire itself.
He can do nothing but will; and the nature and direction of his volitions are, at least in reference to any effort of his own, immutable as necessity itself.
VIII. All exhortations and persuasions which call upon the man to bestir himself, to think, to plan, to act, are inconsistent and absurd. In all such exhortations and persuasions, the man is urged to will or put forth volitions, as if he were the author, the determiner of the volitions. It may be replied, ‘that the man does will, that the volitions are his volitions.’ But then he wills only passively, and these volitions are his only because they appear in his consciousness. You exhort and persuade him to arouse himself into activity; but what is his real condition according to this system? The exhortations and persuasions do themselves contain the motive power: and instead of arousing himself to action, he is absolutely and necessarily passive under the motives you present. Whether he be moved or not, as truly and absolutely depends upon the motives you present, as the removing of any material mass depends upon the power and lever applied. And the material mass, whether it be wood or stone, may with as much propriety be said to arouse itself as the man; and the man’s volition is his volition in no other sense than the motion of the material mass is its motion. In the one case, the man perceives; and in the other case, the material mass does not perceive—but perception is granted by all parties to be necessary; the addition of perception, therefore, only modifies the character of the being moved, without altering the nature of his relation to the power which moves him. In the material mass, too, we have an analogous property, so far as motion is considered. For as motive cannot determine the will unless there be perception, so neither can the lever and power move the mass unless it possess resistance, and cohesion of parts. If I have but the wisdom to discover the proper correlation of object and sensitivity in the case of individuals or of masses of men, I can command them in any direction I please, with a necessity no less absolute than that with which a machine is caused to work by the application of a steam or water-power.
When I bring motives before the minds of my fellow-beings in the proper relation, the volition is necessarily produced; but let me not forget, that in bringing these motives I put forth volitions, and that of course I am myself moved under the necessity of some antecedent motive. My persuasions and exhortations are necessary sequents, as well as necessary antecedents. The water must run through the water-course; the wheel must turn under the force of the current; I must exhort and persuade when motives determine me. The minds I address must yield when the motives are properly selected.
IX. Divine commands, warnings, and rebukes, when obeyed and yielded to, are obeyed and yielded to by the necessary force which they possess in relation to the state of mind to which they are addressed. When not obeyed and yielded to, they fail necessarily, through a moral inability on the part of the mind addressed; or, in other words, through the want of a proper correlation between them and the state of mind addressed: that is, there is not in the case a sufficient power to produce the required volitions, and their existence of course is an utter impossibility.
Divine commands, warnings, and rebukes, produce volitions of obedience and submission, only as they produce the sense of the most agreeable; and as the will of the creature can have no part in producing this sense, since this would be producing a volition by a volition, it is produced in a correlation antecedent to will, and of course by a positive necessity. This is so clear from all that has gone before; that no enlargement here is required.
When no obedience and submission take place, it is because the divine commands, warnings, and rebukes, do not produce the sense of the most agreeable. And as the will of the creature can have no part in producing this sense, since this would be producing a volition by a volition; and as it is produced in a correlation antecedent to will, and of course by a positive necessity; so likewise the will of the creature can have no part in preventing this sense from taking place. The volition of obedience and the volition of disobedience are manifestations of the antecedent correlations of certain objects with the subject, and are necessarily determined by the nature of the correlation.
Now the Divine Being must know the precise relation which his commands will necessarily hold to the vast variety of mind to which they are addressed, and consequently must know in what cases obedience will be produced, and in what cases disobedience. Both results are equally necessary. The commands have therefore, necessarily and fitly, a two-fold office. When they come into connexion with certain states of mind, they necessarily and fitly produce what we call obedience: when in connexion with other states of mind, they necessarily and fitly produce what we call rebellion: and as all volitions are predetermined and fixed by a necessary and infinite wisdom, and are therefore in their time and place the best, it must follow that rebellion no less than obedience is a wise and desirable result.
The consequences I am here deducing seem almost too shocking to utter. But show me, he that can, that they are not logical deductions from this system? I press the system to its consequences,—not to throw any reproach upon those great and good men who unfortunately were led away by a false philosophy, but to expose and bring to its close this philosophy itself. It has too long been consecrated by its association with the good. I know I shall be justified in the honest, though bold work, of destroying this unnatural and portentous alliance.
X. The sense of guilt and shame and the fear of retribution cannot, according to this system, have a real and necessary connexion with any volitions, but must be regarded as prejudices or errors of education, from which philosophy will serve to relieve us.
Edwards labours to prove, (part iv. sec. 1,) that virtue and vice lie essentially in the volitions themselves, and that of course the consciousness of evil volitions is the consciousness of guilt. I will, or put forth volitions. The volitions are mine, and therefore I am guilty. This reasoning is plausible, but not consequential; for, according to this system, I put forth volitions in entire passivity: the volitions appear necessarily and by Antecedent motives in my consciousness, and really are mine only because they are produced in me. Connected with this may be the perception that those volitions are wrong; but if there is likewise the conviction that they are necessary, and that to suppose them different from what they are, is to suppose what could not possibly have been,—since a series of sequents and antecedents connect these volitions which now appear, by absolutely necessary relations, with a first and necessary cause,—then the sense of guilt and shame, and the judgement I ought to be punished, can have no place in the human mind. It is of no avail to tell me that I will, and, according to the common judgement of mankind, I must be guilty when I will wrong,—if, at the same time, philosophy teaches me that I will under the necessary and inevitable governance of an antecedent motive. The common judgement of mankind is an error, and philosophy must soon dissipate the sense of guilt and shame, and of moral desert, which have hitherto annoyed me and made me fearful: and much more must such a result ensue, when I take into consideration, likewise, that the necessity which determines me, is a necessity which takes its rise in infinite and necessary wisdom.
What is true of guilt and retribution is true also of well-doing and reward. If I do well, the volitions being determined by an antecedent necessity, I could not possibly have done otherwise. It does not answer the conditions of the case at all, to say I might have done otherwise, if I had willed to do otherwise; because the will to do as I actually am doing, is a will that could not have been otherwise. Give me, then, in any action called good, great, noble, glorious, &c. the conviction that the choice of this action was a necessary choice, predetermined in a long and unbroken chain of necessary antecedents, and the sense of praiseworthiness, and the judgement I ought to be rewarded, remain no longer.
Merit and demerit are connected in our minds with our volitions, under the impression that the good we perform, we perform in opposition to temptation, and with the power and possibility of doing evil; and that the evil we perform, we perform in opposition to motives of good, and with the power and possibility of doing good. But when we are informed that all the power and possibility of a conduct opposite to our actual conduct is this,—that if we had put forth opposite volitions, there would have been opposite external acts, but that nevertheless the volitions themselves were necessary, and could not have been otherwise,—we cannot but experience a revulsion of mind. We perhaps are first led to doubt the philosophy,—or if, by acute reasonings, or by the authority of great names, we are influenced to yield an implicit belief,—the sense of merit and demerit must either die away, or be maintained by a hasty retreat from the regions of speculation to those of common sense.
XI. It follows from this system, also, that nature and spirit, as causes or agents, cannot be distinguished in their operations.
There are three classes of natural causes or agents generally acknowledged 1. Inanimate,—as water, wind, steam, magnetism, &c.; 2. Animate, but insensible,—as the life and affinities of plants; 3. Animate and sensitive, or brute animal power.
These all properly come under the denomination of natural, because they are alike necessitated. “Whatever is comprised in the chain and mechanism of cause and effect, of course necessitated, and having its necessity in some other thing antecedent or concurrent,—this is said to be natural; and the aggregate and system of all such things is nature.” Now spirit, as a cause or agent, by this system, comes under the same definition: in all its acts it is necessitated. It is in will particularly that man is taken as a cause or agent, because it is by will that he directly produces phenomena or effects; and by this system it is not possible to distinguish, so far as necessary connexion is considered, a chain of antecedents and sequents made up of motives, volitions, and the consequents of volitions, from a chain of sequents and antecedents into which the three first mentioned classes of natural agents enter. All the several classes have peculiar and distinguishing characteristics; but in the relation of antecedence and sequence,—their relation as causes or agents producing effects,—no distinction can be perceived. Wind, water, &c. form one kind of cause; organic life forms another; brute organization and sensitivity another; intelligent volition another: but they are all necessary, absolutely necessary; and therefore they are the co-ordinate parts of the one system of nature. The difference which exists between them is a difference of terms merely. There is no difference in the nature of the relation between the terms. The nature of the relation between the water-wheel and the water,—of the relation between the organic life of plants and their developement,—of the relation between passion and volition in brutes,—of the relation between their efforts and material effects,—and the nature of the relation between motive and volition,—are one: it is the relation of cause and effect considered as stated antecedent and sequent, and no more and no less necessary in one subject than in another.
XII. It follows, again, that sensations produced by external objects, and all emotions following perception, and all the acts of the intelligence, whether in intuitive knowledge or in ratiocination, are as really our acts, and acts for which we are as really responsible, if responsibility be granted to exist, as acts of volition. Sensations, emotions, perceptions, reasonings, are all within us; they all lie in our consciousness; they are not created by our volitions, like the motions of the hands and feet; they take place by their own causes, just as volitions take place by their causes. The relation of the man to all is precisely the same. He is in no sense the cause of any of these affections of his being; he is simply the subject: the subject of sensation, of perception, of emotion, of reasoning, and of volition; and he is the subject of all by the same necessity.
XIII. The system of punishment is only a system accommodated to the opinions of society.
There is nothing evil in itself, according to this system of necessity, as we have already shown. Every thing which takes place is, in its time, place, and relations generally, the necessary result of necessary and infinite wisdom. But still it is a fact that society are desirous of preventing certain acts,—such as stealing, adultery, murder, &c.; and they are necessarily so desirous. Now the system of punishment is a mere collection of motives in relation to the sense of pain and the emotion of fear, which prevent the commission of these acts. Where these acts do take place, it is best they should take place; but where they are prevented by the fear of punishment, it is best they should be prevented. Where the criminal suffers, he has no right to complain, because it is best that he should suffer; and yet, if he does complain, it is best that he should complain. The system of punishment is good, as every thing else is good. The system of divine punishments must be considered in the same light. Indeed, what are human punishments, when properly considered, but divine punishments? They are comprehended in the pre-ordained and necessary chain of being and events.
XIV. Hence we must conclude, also, that there cannot really be any calamity. The calamities which we may at any time experience, we ought to endure and rejoice in, as flowing from the same perfect and necessary source. But as calamity does nevertheless necessarily produce suffering and uneasiness, and the desire of relief, we may be permitted to hope that perfect relief and entire blessedness will finally ensue, and that the final blessedness will be enhanced just in proportion to the present suffering.
The necessitarian may be an optimist of a high order. It he commits what is called crime, and remorse succeeds, and punishment is inflicted under law, the crime is good, the remorse is good, the punishment is good, all necessary and good, and working out, as he hopes, a result of pure happiness. Nothing can be bad in itself: it may be disagreeable; but even this will probably give way to the agreeable. And so also with all afflictions: they must be good in themselves, although disagreeable,—and will probably lead the way to the agreeable, just as hunger and thirst, which are disagreeable, lead the way to the enjoyments of eating and drinking. All is of necessity, and of a necessary and perfect wisdom.
XV. But as all is of necessity, and of a necessary and perfect wisdom, there really can no more be folly in conduct, or error in reasoning and belief, than there can be crime and calamity, considered as evils in themselves. Every act that we call folly is a necessary act, in its time, place, and relations generally, and is a necessary consequence of the infinite wisdom; but a necessary consequence of infinite wisdom cannot be opposed to infinite wisdom; so that what we call folly, when philosophically considered, ceases to be folly.
In any act of pure reasoning, the relations seem necessary, and the assent of the mind is necessary. This is granted by all parties. But it must be admitted, that when men are said to reason falsely, and to yield their assent to false conclusions, the relations seem necessary to them; and, according to this system, they necessarily so seem, and cannot seem otherwise: and the assent of the mind is also necessary.
The reasoning, to others, would be false reasoning, because it so necessarily seems to them; but to the individual to whom it seems different, it must really be different, and be good and valid reasoning.
Again: as all these different reasonings and beliefs proceed necessarily from the same source, they must all be really true where they seem true, and all really false where they seem false. It would follow, from this, that no one can really be in a false position except the hypocrite and sophist, pretending to believe and to be what he does not believe and what he is not, and purposely reasoning falsely, and stating his false conclusions as if they were truths. I say this would follow, were we not compelled by this system to allow that even the hypocrite and sophist cannot hold a false position, inasmuch as his position is a necessary one, predetermined in its necessary connexion with the first necessary wisdom.
XVI. Another consequence of this system is fatalism,—or, perhaps, more properly speaking, the system is itself a system of fatalism.
This, indeed, has already been made to appear substantially. The word, however, has not yet been used. I here, then, charge directly this consequence or feature upon the system.
Fatalism is the absolute negation of liberty. This system is fatalism, because it is the absolute negation of liberty.
No liberty is contended for, in this system, in relation to man, but physical liberty: viz. that when he wills, the effect will follow,—that when he wills to walk, he walks, &c. “Liberty, as I have explained it, is the power, opportunity, or advantage, that any one has to do as he pleases, or conducting himself in any respect according to his pleasure, without considering how his pleasure comes to be as it is.” (p. 291.)
In the first place, this is no higher liberty than what brutes possess. They have power, opportunity, or advantage, to do as they please. Effects follow their volitions by as certain a law as effects follow the volitions of men.
In the second place, this is no higher liberty than slaves possess. Slaves uniformly do as they please. If the motive be the lash, or the fear of the lash, still, in their case as well as in that of brutes under similar circumstances, the volition which takes place is the most pleasing at the moment. The slave and the animal do what is most pleasing to them, or do according to their pleasure, When the one drags the plough and the other holds it. Nay, it is impossible for any animal, rational or irrational, to act without doing what is most pleasing to him or it. Volition is always as the greatest apparent good, or as the sense of the most pleasant or agreeable.
If any should reply that slaves and animals are liable to be fettered, and this distinguishes them from the free, I rejoin that every being is liable to various restraints; none of us can do many things which in themselves appear desirable, and would be objects of volition if there were known to be an established connexion between them and our wills. We are limited in our actions by the powers of nature around us; we cannot overturn mountains, or command the winds. We are limited in the nature of our physical being. We are limited by our want of wealth, knowledge, and influence. In all these respects, we may, with as much propriety as the slave, be regarded as deprived of liberty. It does not avail to say that, as we never really will what we know to be impossible or impracticable, so in relation to such objects, neither liberty or a want of liberty is to be affirmed; for the same will apply to the fettered slave; he does not will to walk or run when he knows it to be impossible. But in relation to him as well as to every other being, according to this system it holds true, that whether he act or forbear to act, his volitions are as the most agreeable.
All creatures, therefore, acting by volition, are to be accounted free, and one really as free as another.
In the third place, the liberty here affirmed belongs equally to every instance of stated antecedence and sequence.
The liberty which is taken to reside in the connexion between volition and effects, is a liberty lying in a connexion of stated antecedence and sequence, and is perfect according as this connexion is necessary and unimpeded. The highest form of liberty, therefore, is to be found in the most absolute form of necessity. Liberty thus becomes identified also with power: where there is power, there is liberty; and where power is the greatest, that is, where it overcomes the most obstacles and moves on irresistibly to its effects, there is the greatest degree of liberty. God is the most free of all beings, because nothing can impede his will. His volitions are always the antecedents of effects.
But obviously we do not alter the relation, when we change the terms. If liberty lie in the stated antecedence of volition to effects, and if liberty is measured by the necessity of the relation, then when the antecedent is changed, the relation remaining the same, liberty must still be present. For example: when a volition to move the arm is followed by a motion of the arm, there is liberty; now let galvanism be substituted for the volition, and the effect as certainly takes place; and as freedom is doing as we please, or will, “without considering how this pleasure (or will) comes to be as it is;” that is, without taking its motive into the account. So likewise, freedom may be affirmed to be doing according to the galvanic impulse, “without considering how” that impulse “comes to be as it is.”
If we take any other instance of stated antecedence and sequence, the reasoning is the same. For example, a water wheel in relation to the mill-stone: when the wheel turns, the mill-stone moves. In this case freedom may be defined: the mill-stone moving according to the turn of the wheel, “without considering how” that turn of the wheel “comes to be as it is.” In the case of human freedom, freedom is defined, doing according to our volitions, without considering how the volition comes to be as it is; doing “according to choice, without taking into the meaning of the word anything of the cause of that choice.” (p. 39.)
If it be said that in the case of volition, we have the man of whom to affirm freedom; but in the case of the wheel and mill-stone, we have nothing of which liberty can properly be affirmed. I reply, that liberty must be affirmed, and is properly affirmed, of that to which it really belongs; and hence as volition is supposed to belong to the spiritual essence, man; and this spiritual essence is pronounced free, because volition appears in it, and is attended by consequences:—so, likewise, the material essence of the wheel may be pronounced free, because motion belongs to it, and is followed by consequences. As every being that has volition is free, so likewise every thing that hath motion is free:—in every instance of cause and effect, we meet with liberty.
But volition cannot be the characteristic of liberty, if volition itself be governed by necessity: and yet this system which affirms liberty, wherever there is unimpeded volition, makes volition a necessary determination. In the fact of unimpeded volition, it gives liberty to all creatures that have volition; and then again, in the fact of the necessary determination of volition it destroys the possibility of liberty. But even where it affirms liberty to exist, there is no new feature to characterize it as liberty. The connexion between volition and its stated consequences, is a connexion as necessary and absolute as the connexion between the motive and the volition, and between any antecedent and sequent whatever. That my arm should move when I make a volition to this effect, is just as necessary and just as incomprehensible too, as that water should freeze at a given temperature: when the volition is impeded, we have only another instance of necessity,—a lesser force overcome by a greater.
The liberty therefore which this system affirms in the fact of volition and its unimpeded connexion with its consequents, is an assumption—a mere name. It is a part of the universal necessity arbitrarily distinguished and named, its liberty does not reside in human volition, so neither can it reside in the divine volition. The necessary dependence of volition upon motive, and the necessary sequence of effects upon volition, can no more be separated from the divine mind than from ours. It is a doctrine which, if true, is implied in the universal conception of mind. It belongs to mind generically considered. The creation of volition by volition is absurd in itself—it cannot but be an absurdity. The determination of will by the strongest motive, if a truth is a truth universally; on this system, it contains the whole cause and possibility of volition. The whole liberty of God, it is affirmed, is contained in this, to do as pleases him, or, in other words, that what he wills is accomplished, and necessarily accomplished: what pleases him is also fixed in the necessity of his own nature. His liberty, therefore, by its own definition, differs nothing from necessity.
If the movements of mind are necessary, no argument is required to prove that all being and events are necessary. We are thus bound up in a universal necessity. Whatever is, is, and cannot be otherwise, and could not have been otherwise. As therefore there is no liberty, we are reduced to the only remaining alternative of fatalism.
Edwards does not indeed attempt to rebut wholly the charge of fatalism. (part iv. § vi.) In relation to the Stoics, he remarks:—“It seems they differed among themselves; and probably the doctrine of fate as maintained by most of them, was, in some respects, erroneous. But whatever their doctrines was, if any of them held such a fate, as is repugnant to any liberty, consisting in our doing as we please, I utterly deny such a fate.” He objects to fatalism only when it should deny our actions to be connected with our pleasure, or our sense of the most agreeable, that is our volition. But this connexion we have fully proved to be as necessary as the connexion between the volition and its motive. This reservation therefore does not save him from fatalism.
In the following section, (sec. vii.) he represents the liberty and sovereignty of God as consisting in an ability “to do whatever pleases him.” His idea of the divine liberty, therefore, is the same as that attributed to man. That the divine volitions are necessarily determined, he repeatedly affirms, and indeed represents as the great excellence of the divine nature, because this necessity of determination is laid in the infinite wisdom and perfection of his nature.
If necessity govern all being and events, it is cheering to know that it is necessity under the forms of infinite wisdom and benevolence. But still it remains true that necessity governs. If “it is no disadvantage or dishonour to a being, necessarily to act in the most excellent and happy manner from the necessary perfection of his own nature,” still let us remember that under this representation he does act necessarily. Fate must have some quality or form; it must be what we call good or evil: but in determining its quality, we do not destroy its nature. Now if we call this fate a nature of goodness and wisdom, eternal and infinite, we present it under forms beautiful, benign, and glorious, but it is nevertheless fate,—and as such it governs the divine volitions; and through the divine volitions, all the consequents and effects of these volitions;—the universe of being and things is determined by fate;—and all volitions of angels or men are determined by fate—by this fate so beautiful, benign, and glorious. Now if all things thus proceeding from fate were beautiful, benign, and glorious, the theory might not alarm us. But that deformity, crime, and calamity should have place as developements of this fate, excites uneasiness. The abettors of this system, however, may perhaps comfort themselves with the persuasion that deformity, crime, and calamity, are names not of realities, but of the limited conceptions of mankind. We have indeed an instance in point in Charles Bonnet, whom Dugald Stewart mentions as “a very learned and pious disciple of Leibnitz.” Says Bonnet—“Thus the same chain embraces the physical and moral world, binds the past to the present, the present to the future, the future to eternity. That wisdom which has ordained the existence of this chain, has doubtless willed that of every link of which it is composed. A Caligula is one of these links; and this link is of iron. A Marcus Aurelius is another link; and this link is of gold. Both are necessary parts of one whole, which could not but exist. Shall God then be angry at the sight of the iron link? What absurdity! God esteems this link at its proper value. He sees it in its cause, and he approves this cause, for it is good. God beholds moral monsters as he beholds physical monsters. Happy is the link of gold! Still more happy if he know that he is only fortunate. He has attained the highest degree of moral perfection, and is nevertheless without pride, knowing that what he is, is the necessary result, of the place which he must occupy in the chain. The gospel is the allegorical exposition of this system; the simile of the potter is its summary.” He might have added, “Happy is the link of iron, if he know that he is not guilty, but at worst only unfortunate; and really not unfortunate, because holding a necessary place in the chain which both as a whole and in its parts, is the result of infinite wisdom.”
If anything more is required in order to establish this consequence of the system we are examining, I would call attention to the inquiry, whether after a contingent self-determining will there remains any theory of action except fatalism? A contingent self-determining will is a will which is the cause of its own volitions or choices—a self-conscious power, self-moved and directed, and at the moment of its choice, or movement towards a particular object, conscious of ability of choosing, or moving towards, an opposite object. Now what conception have we to oppose to this but that of a will not determining itself,—not the cause of its own volitions,—a power not self-moved and directed,—and not conscious of ability at the moment of a particular choice, to make a contrary choice? And this last conception is a will whose volitions are determined by some power antecedent to itself, not contingently, but necessarily. As the will is the only power for which contingent self-determination is claimed, if it be proved to be no such power, then no such power exists. The whole theory of action and causality will then be expressed as follows:
1. Absolute and necessary connexion of motives and volitions. 2. Absolute and necessary connexion of volitions and effects. 3. Absolute and necessary connexion of all sequents and antecedents in nature. 4. Absolute and necessary connexion of all things existent with a first and necessary principle or cause. 5. The necessary determination of this principle or cause.
Denying a contingent self-determining will, this theory is all that remains. If liberty be affirmed to reside in the 2d particular of this theory, it becomes a mere arbitrary designation, because the nature of the relation is granted to be the same; it is not contingent, but necessary. Nor can liberty be affirmed to reside in the 5th; because in the first place, the supposed demonstration of the absurdity of a contingent self-determining will, by infinite series of volitions, must apply to this great first principle considered as God. And in the second place, the doctrine of the necessary determination of motive must apply here likewise, since God as will and intelligence requires motives no less than we do. Such determination is represented as arising from the very nature of mind or spirit. Now this theory advanced in opposition to a self-determining will, is plainly the negation of liberty as opposed to necessity. And this is all that can be meant by fatalism. Liberty thus becomes a self-contradictory conception, and fatalism alone is truth and reality.
XVII. It appears to me also, that pantheism is a fair deduction from this system.
According to this system, God is the sole and universal doer—the only efficient cause. 1. His volition is the creative act, by which all beings and things exist. Thus far it is generally conceded that God is all in all. “By him we live, and move, and have our being.” 2. The active powers of the whole system of nature he has constituted and regulated. The winds are his messengers. The flaming fire his servant. However we may conceive of these powers, whether as really powers acting under necessary laws, or as immediate manifestations of divine energy, in either case it is proper to attribute all their movements to God. These movements were ordained by his wisdom, and are executed directly or indirectly by his will. Every effect which we produce in the material world, we produce by instrumentality. Our arms, hands, &c. are our first instruments. All that we do by the voluntary use of these, we attribute to ourselves. Now if we increase the instrumentality by the addition of an axe, spade, or hammer, still the effect is justly attributed in the same way. It is perfectly clear that to whatever extent we multiply the instruments, the principle is the same. Whether I do the deed directly with my hand, or do it by an instrument held in my hand, or by a concatenation of machinery, reaching from “the centre to the utmost pole,”—if I contemplate the deed, and designedly accomplish it in this way, the deed is mine. And not only is the last deed contemplated as the end of all this arrangement mine, all the intermediary movements produced as the necessary chain of antecedents and sequents by which the last is to be attained, are mine likewise.