An Examination of President Edwards' Inquiry into the Freedom of the Will
by Albert Taylor Bledsoe · English · Gutenberg #35839 · 400,915 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: An Examination of President Edwards' Inquiry into the Freedom of the Will
Author: Albert Taylor Bledsoe
Release date: April 12, 2011 [eBook #35839]
Language: English
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Credits: Produced by Keith G Richardson
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN EXAMINATION OF PRESIDENT EDWARDS' INQUIRY INTO THE FREEDOM OF THE WILL ***
Produced by Keith G Richardson
EXAMINATION
OF
EDWARDS ON THE WILL.
AN EXAMINATION
OF
PRESIDENT EDWARDS' INQUIRY
INTO THE
FREEDOM OF THE WILL.
BY
ALBERT TAYLOR BLEDSOE.
"Man, as the minister and interpreter of nature, does and understands as
much as his observations on the order of nature, either with regard to
things or the mind, permit him, and neither knows more, nor is capable
of more."--_Novum Organum_.
PHILADELPHIA:
H. HOOKER, 16 SOUTH SEVENTH STREET.
1845.
ENTERED, according to act of Congress, in the year 1845, by H. HOOKER,
in the clerk's office of the District Court for the Eastern District of
Pennsylvania.
King & Baird, Printers, 9 George St.
TO
THE REV. WILLIAM SPARROW, D. D.
AS A TOKEN
OF ADMIRATION FOR HIS GENIUS,
AND
AFFECTIONATE REGARD FOR HIS VIRTUES,
This little Volume
IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED,
BY THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS
SECTION I.
OF THE POINT IN CONTROVERSY
SECTION II.
OF EDWARDS' USE OF THE TERM CAUSE
SECTION III.
THE INQUIRY INVOLVED IN A VICIOUS CIRCLE
SECTION IV.
VOLITION NOT AN EFFECT
SECTION V.
OF THE CONSEQUENCES OF REGARDING VOLITION AS AN EFFECT
SECTION VI.
OF THE MAXIM THAT EVERY EFFECT MUST HAVE A CAUSE
SECTION VII.
OF THE APPLICATION OF THE MAXIM THAT EVERY EFFECT MUST HAVE A CAUSE
SECTION VIII.
OF THE RELATION BETWEEN THE FEELINGS AND THE WILL
SECTION IX.
OF THE LIBERTY OF INDIFFERENCE
SECTION X.
OF ACTION AND PASSION
SECTION XI.
OF THE ARGUMENT FROM THE FOREKNOWLEDGE OF GOD
SECTION XII.
OF EDWARDS' USE OF THE TERM NECESSITY
SECTION XIII.
OF NATURAL AND MORAL NECESSITY
SECTION XIV.
OF EDWARDS' IDEA OF LIBERTY
SECTION XV.
OF EDWARDS' IDEA OF VIRTUE
SECTION XVI.
OF THE SELF-DETERMINING POWER
SECTION XVII.
OF THE DEFINITION OF A FREE-AGENT
SECTION XVIII.
OF THE TESTIMONY OF CONSCIOUSNESS
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS.
I ENTERED upon an examination of the "Inquiry" of President Edwards, not
with a view to find any fallacy therein, but simply with a desire to
ascertain the truth for myself. If I have come to the conclusion, that
the whole scheme of moral necessity which Edwards has laboured to
establish, is founded in error and delusion; this has not been because I
came to the examination of his work with any preconceived opinion. In
coming to this conclusion I have disputed every inch of the ground with
myself, as firmly and as resolutely as I could have done with an
adversary. The result has been, that the views which I now entertain, in
regard to the philosophy of the will, are widely different from those
usually held by the opponents of moral necessity, as well as from those
which are maintained by its advocates.
The formation of these views, whether they be correct or not, has been
no light task. Long have I struggled under the stupendous difficulties
of the subject. Long has darkness, a deep and perplexing darkness,
seemed to rest upon it. Faint glimmerings of light have alternately
appeared and disappeared. Some of these have returned at intervals,
while others have vanished for ever. Some have returned, and become less
wavering, and led on the mind to other regions of mingled obscurity and
light. Gladly and joyfully have I followed. By patient thought, and
sustained attention, these faint glimmerings have, in more instances
than one, been made to open out into what has appeared to be the clear
and steady light of truth. If these are not mere fond illusions, the
true intellectual system of the world is far different from that which
has been constructed by the logic of President Edwards.
If his system be false, why, it may be asked, has the Inquiry so often
appeared to be unanswerable? Why has it been supposed, even by some of
the advocates of free agency, that logic is in favour of his system,
while consciousness only is in favour of ours? One reason of this
opinion is, that it has been taken for granted, that either the scheme
of President Edwards or that of his opponents must be true; and hence,
his system has appeared to stand upon immoveable ground, in so far logic
is concerned, only because he has, with such irresistible power and
skill, demolished and trampled into ruins that of his adversaries.
Reason has been supposed to be on his side, because he has so clearly
shown that it is not on the side of his opponents. But the scheme of the
motive-determining power, does not necessarily arise out of the ruins of
the self-determining power; it is only to the imagination that it
appears to do so. Because the one system is false, it does not follow
that the other is true.
There is another and still more powerful reason for the idea in
question. The advocates of free agency have granted too much. The great
foundation principles of the scheme of moral necessity have been
incautiously admitted by its adversaries. These principles have appeared
so obvious at first view, that their correctness has not been doubted;
and hence they have been assumed by the one side and conceded by the
other. Yet, if I am not greatly mistaken, they have been derived, not
from the true oracles of nature, but from what Bacon quaintly calls the
"idols of the tribe." If this be the case, as I think it will hereafter
appear to be; then in order to secure a complete triumph over the scheme
of moral necessity, even on the arena of logic, we must not only know
_how to reason_, but also _how to doubt_.
I fully concur with the younger Edwards, that "Clarke, Johnson, Price,
and Reid have granted too much;" and while I try to show this, I shall
also endeavour to show that President Edwards has assumed too much, not
for the good of the cause in which he is engaged, but for the attainment
of truth.
If his system had not been founded upon certain natural illusions, by
which the true secrets of nature are concealed from our view, it could
never have been the boast of its admirers, "that a reluctant world has
been constrained to bow in homage to its truth." If we would try the
strength of this system then, we must bend a searching and scrutinizing
eye upon the premises and assumptions upon which it is based; we must
put aside every preconceived notion, even the most plausible and
commonly received opinions, and lay our minds open to the steady and
unbiased contemplation of nature, just as it has been created by the
Almighty Architect; we must view the intellectual system of the world,
not as it is seen through our hasty and careless conceptions, but as it
is revealed to us in the light of consciousness and severe meditation.
This will be no light task, I am aware; but whosoever would seek the
truth on such a subject, must not expect to find it by light and
trifling efforts; he must go after it in all the loving energy of his
soul. Let this course be pursued, honestly and perseveringly pursued,
and I am persuaded, that a system of truth will be revealed to the mind,
to which it will not be constrained to render "a reluctant homage," but
which, by harmonizing the deductions of logic with the dictates of
nature, will secure to itself the most pleasing and delightful homage of
which the human mind is susceptible.
Those false conceptions which are common to the human mind, those "idols
of the tribe," of which Bacon speaks, have been, as it is well known,
the sources of some of the most obstinate errors, both in science and in
religion, that have ever infested the world. And it is evident, that
while the assumptions from which any system, however false, legitimately
results, are conceded, it will stand, like a wall of adamant, against
the most powerful artillery of logic. It will remain triumphant in spite
of all opposition. It may be contrary to our natural convictions, and
consequently liable to our suspicions; but it cannot be refuted by
argument. Its advocates may reason correctly, and its adversaries may
appeal to opposite truths; but neither can ever arrive at the truth, and
the whole truth. This has appeared to me to be the case, with respect to
the long controverted question of liberty and necessity.
The above causes, conspiring with some instances of false logic, which
have been overlooked amid so much that is really conclusive, and also
with a number of unsound, yet plausible, devices to reconcile the scheme
of moral necessity with the reality of virtue and free-agency, have, in
the minds of many, rendered the work of President Edwards both an
acceptable and an unanswerable production. Such, at least, is the
conclusion to which I have been constrained to come; but whether this
conclusion be correct or not, it is not for me to determine. Time alone
can show, whether the foundation of his system, like that of truth, is
immutable, or whether, like many which have been laid by the master
spirits of other ages, it is destined to pass away, though not to be
forgotten.
In the above enumeration of causes I have not alluded to those of a
theological nature; because they have been but partial in their
operation. And besides, I have not wished to refer to this subject at
all, except in so far as, is necessary to indicate wherein I conceive
the errors of the Inquiry to consist, and thereby to point out the
course which I intend to pursue in the following discussion.
SECTION I.
OF THE POINT IN CONTROVERSY.
IT is worse than a waste of time, it is a grievous offence against the
cause of truth, to undertake to refute an author without having taken
pains to understand exactly what he teaches. In every discussion, the
first thing to be settled is the point in dispute; and if this be
omitted, the controversy must needs degenerate into a mere idle
logomachy. It seldom happens that any thing affords so much
satisfaction, or throws so much light on a controversy, as to have the
point at issue clearly made up, and _constantly borne in mind_.
What then, is the precise doctrine of the Inquiry which I intend to
oppose? The great question is, says Edwards, what determines the will.
It is taken for granted, on all sides, that the will is determined; and
the only point is, or rather has been, as to what determines it. It is
determined by the strongest motive, says one; it is not determined by
the strongest motive, says another. But although the issue is thus made
up in general terms, it is very far from being settled with any
tolerable degree of clearness and precision; ample room is still left
for all that loose and declamatory kind of warfare in which so many
controversialists delight to indulge.
The question still remains to be settled, what is meant by determining
the will? In regard to this point, the necessitarian does not seem to
have a very clear and definite idea. "The object of our Inquiry," says
President Day, "is not to learn whether the mind acts at all. This no
one can doubt. Nor is it to determine _why we will at all_. The very
nature of the faculty of the will implies that we put forth volitions.
But the real point of inquiry is, _why we will one way rather than
another; why we choose one thing rather than its opposite_," p. 42. One
would suppose from this statement, that we have nothing to do with the
question, _why we put forth volitions_, but exclusively with the
question, why we will _one way rather than another_. Here the author's
meaning seems to be plain, and we may imagine that we know exactly where
to find him; but, in the very next sentence, he declares that the object
of our inquiry is, "what is it that determines _not only that there
shall be volitions_, but what they shall be?" p. 42. In one breath we
are told, that we have nothing to do with the question, why our
volitions are put forth or come into existence; these are admitted to be
implied in the "very nature of the faculty of the will;" but, in the
very next, we are informed that we have to inquire into this point also.
One moment, only one of these points is in dispute, and the next, both
are put in controversy. Surely, this does not indicate any very clear
and definite idea, on the part of President Day, as to the point at
issue.
The notion of President Edwards, on this subject, appears to be equally
unsteady and vacillating. "Thus," says he, "by determining the will, if
the phrase be used with any meaning, _must be intended_, causing that
the act of the _will 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 a 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 another,"
p. 18.
Now, are we to understand from this, that the determination of the will
can only refer to the question, why it is directed to and fixed upon a
particular object, and not to the question, how it comes to put forth a
volition at all? One would certainly suppose so; and that, according to
Edwards, we have nothing to do with the question, "How a spirit comes to
act," but with the question, "why its action has such and such a
particular direction and determination." But this supposition would be
very far from the truth. For he informs us, that "the question is not so
much, How a spirit endowed with activity comes to act, as why it exerts
such an act, and not another; or why it acts with such a particular
determination?" This clearly implies, that although the question, "How a
spirit comes to act," is not chiefly concerned in the present
controversy; yet _it is partly_ concerned in it. This question is
concerned in it, though not _so much_ as the other question, why the act
of the mind is as it is, rather than otherwise.
This is not all. When Edwards attacks the doctrine of his adversaries,
in regard to the determining of the will, he never seems to dream of the
idea, which, according to himself, if the phrase mean any thing, _must_
be attached to it. He treats it as a settled point, that by determining
the will must be intended, not causing volition to be one way rather
than another, but causing it to come into existence. He could take this
expression to mean the one thing or the other, just as it suited his
purpose.
Are these two questions really distinct? Can there be one cause of
volition, and another cause of its particular direction? I answer, there
cannot. No such distinction can be shown to exist by a reference to the
cause of motion. Force is the cause of motion. One force may put a body
in motion; and, afterwards, another force may change the direction of
its motion. Upon a superficial observation, this may seem to illustrate
the distinction in question; but, upon more mature reflection, it will
not appear to do so. For the force which sets a body in motion
necessarily causes it to move in one particular direction, and not
another; because it is impossible for a body to move without moving in a
particular direction. After one force has put a body in motion, another
force, it is true, may change its direction; but in such a case, it is
not correct to say, that one force caused its motion and another the
direction of that motion. For, in reality, both the motion of the body
and its direction, result from the joint action of the two forces; or,
in other words, each force contributes to the motion, and each to its
direction. Both the motion and its direction are caused by what is
technically called, in mechanical philosophy, the "resultant" of the two
forces; and the case is really not different, so far as the distinction
in question is concerned, from the case of motion produced by the action
of a single force. The absurdity of this distinction consists, in
supposing that a body may be put in motion without moving in a
particular direction; and that something else beside the cause of its
motion, is necessary to account for the direction of that motion. The
illustration, therefore, drawn from the phenomena of motion, fails to
answer the purpose for which President Edwards has produced it.
The same absurdity is involved in the supposition, that one thing may
cause volition to exist, and another may cause it to be directed to and
fixed upon a particular object. No man can conceive of a choice as
existing, which has not some particular object. It is of the very nature
and essence of a choice to have some particular direction and
determination. If a choice exists at all, it must be a choice of some
particular thing. Hence, whatever causes a volition to exist, must cause
it to have a particular direction and determination. Let any one show a
choice, which is not the preference of one thing rather than another,
and then we may admit that there is some reason for the distinction in
question; but until then, we must be permitted to regard it as having no
foundation in the nature of things. If it were necessary, this matter
might be fully and unanswerably illustrated; but a bare statement of it
is sufficient to render it perfectly clear.
We shall hereafter see, that the reason why President Edwards supposed
that there is some foundation for such a distinction is, that he did not
sufficiently distinguish between the cause of a thing and its condition.
Although we may suppose that the "activity of the soul" is the cause of
its acting; yet motive may be the indispensable condition of its acting;
and, in this sense, may be the reason why a volition is one way rather
than another. But it is denied that there can be two _causes_ in the
case; one to produce volition, and another to determine its object. We
have seen that such a supposition is absurd; and we shall hereafter see,
that Edwards was led to make it, by confounding the condition with the
cause of volition.
After all, it may be said, that Edwards himself did not really consider
these two things as distinct, but only as different aspects of the same
thing. If so, it will follow, that when he undertook to establish his
own scheme, he represented motive as the cause of volition; and yet when
he was reminded, that the activity of the nature of the soul is the
cause of its actions, he replied, that although this may be very true,
yet this activity of nature is not the "cause why its acts are thus and
thus limited, directed and determined." He replied that the question is
not _so much_, "How a spirit comes to act," as why it acts thus, and not
otherwise. That is to say, it will follow, that he chose to build up his
scheme under one aspect of it, and to defend it under another aspect
thereof; that as the architect of his system, he chose to assume and
occupy the position, that motive is the cause of volition itself; yet as
the defender of it, he sometimes preferred to present this same position
under the far milder aspect, that although "the activity of spirit, may
be the cause why it acts," yet motive is the cause why its acts are thus
and thus limited, &c. In other words, it will follow, that his doctrine
possesses two faces; and that with the one it looks sternly on the
scheme of necessity, whilst, with the other, it seems to smile on its
adversaries.
The truth is, the great question which President Edwards discusses
throughout the Inquiry, as we shall see, is "How a spirit comes to act;"
and the other question, "why its action is thus and thus limited," &c.,
which, on occasion, swells out into such immense importance, as to seem
to cover the whole field of vision, generally shrinks down into
comparative insignificance. As a general thing, he goes along in the
even tenor of his way, to prove that no event can begin to be without a
cause of its existence; and, in particular, that no volition can come
into existence without being caused to do so by motive; and it is only
when it is urged upon him, that "a spirit endowed with activity" may
give rise to its own acts, that he takes a sudden turn and reminds us,
that the question is not so much "how a spirit comes to act?" as "why
its acts are thus and thus limited?"
From the supposition made by Edwards, that "if activity of nature be the
cause why a spirit acts," it has been concluded that he regarded the
soul of man as the efficient cause of its volitions, and motive as
merely the occasion on which they are put forth or exerted. But surely,
those who have so understood the Inquiry, have done so very unadvisedly,
and have but little reason to complain, as they are prone to do, that
his opponents do not understand him. If Edwards makes mind the efficient
cause of volition, what becomes of his famous argument against the
self-determining power, by which he reduces it to the absurdity of an
infinite series of volitions? "If the mind causes its volition," says
he, "it can do so only by a preceding volition; and so on _ad
infinitum_." Is not all this true, on the supposition that the mind is
the efficient cause of volition? And if so, how can any reader of
Edwards, who does not wish to make either his author or himself appear
ridiculous, seriously contend that he holds mind to be the efficient, or
producing cause of volition? There be pretended followers and blind
admirers of President Edwards, who, knowing but little of his work
themselves, are ever ready to defend him, whensoever attacked, even by
those who have devoted years to the study of the Inquiry, by most
ignorantly and flippantly declaring that they do not understand him.
These pseudo-disciples will not listen to the charge, that Edwards makes
the strongest motive the producing cause of volition; but whether this
charge be true or not, we shall see in the following section.
SECTION II.
OF EDWARDS' USE OF THE TERM CAUSE.
WE have already seen that Edwards must be understood as holding motive
to be the cause of volition; but still we cannot make up the issue with
him, until we have ascertained in what sense he employs the term
_cause_. It has been contended, by high authority, that he did not
regard motive as the efficient, or producing cause of volition, but only
as the occasion or condition on which volition is produced. Hence, it
becomes necessary to examine this point, and to settle the meaning of
the author, in order that I may not be supposed to misrepresent him, and
to dispute with him only about words.
The above notion is based on the following passage:
"I would explain," says President Edwards, "how I would be understood
when I use the word _cause_ in this discourse; since, for want of a
better word, I shall have occasion to use it in a sense which is more
extensive, than that in which it is sometimes used. The word is often
used in so restrained a sense as to signify only that which has a
positive efficiency or influence to produce a thing, or bring it to
pass. But there are many things which have no such positive productive
influence; which yet are causes in this respect, that they have truly
the nature of a reason why some things are, rather than others; or why
they are thus rather than otherwise.". . . . "I sometimes use the word
_Cause_, in this Inquiry, to signify any antecedent, either natural or
moral, . . . upon which an event so depends, that it is the ground or
reason, either in whole or in part, why it is, rather than not; or why
it is as it is, rather than otherwise; or, in other words, any
antecedent with which a consequent event is so connected, that it truly
belongs to the reason why the proposition which affirms that event, is
true; whether _it has any positive influence, or not_. And, agreeably to
this, I sometimes use the term _effect_ for the consequence of another
thing, which is perhaps rather an occasion than cause, most properly
speaking." And he tells us, that "I am the more careful thus to explain
my meaning, that I may cut off occasion, from any that might seek
occasion to cavil and object against some things which I may say
concerning the dependence of all things which come to pass, on some
cause, and their connection with their cause," p. 50-1.
This is the portion of the Inquiry on which the younger Edwards founds
his conclusion, that his father did not regard motive as the _efficient_
cause of volition, but only as the occasion, or condition, or antecedent
of volition. He finds this language in the Essays of Dr. West; "We
cannot agree with Mr. Edwards in his assertion, that motive is the cause
of volition;" and he replies, "Mr. Edwards has very particularly
informed us in what sense he uses the term _cause_;" and, in proof of
this, he proceeds to quote a portion of the above extracts from the
Inquiry. Having done this, he triumphantly demands, "Now, does Dr. West
deny, that motive is an antecedent, on which volition, either in whole
or in part depends? or that it is a ground or reason, either in whole or
in part, either by positive influence or not, why it is rather than not?
Surely, he cannot with consistency deny this, since he says, 'By motive
we understand the _occasion_, end or design, which an agent has in view
when he acts.' So that, however desirous Dr. West may be to be thought
to differ, in this point, from President Edwards, it appears that he
most exactly agrees with him," p. 65.
Now, if Edwards really believed that motive is merely the occasion on
which the mind acts, agreeing herein most perfectly with Dr. West, why
did he not say so? Why adhere to the term cause, which can only obscure
such an idea, instead of adopting the word occasion, or condition, or
antecedent, which would have clearly expressed it? Surely, if Edwards
maintained the doctrine ascribed to him, he has been most unfortunate in
his manner of setting it forth; it is a great pity he did not give it a
more conspicuous place in his system. It is to be regretted, that he has
not once told us that such was his doctrine, in order that we might see
for ourselves his agreement with Dr. West in this respect, instead of
leaving it to the initiated few to enlighten us on this subject.
He has, we are told, "very particularly informed us in what sense he
uses the word cause," p. 64. Now is this so? Has he informed us that by
_cause_ he means _occasion?_ He has done no such thing, and his language
admits of no such construction. He merely tells us, that he _sometimes_
uses the term cause to signify an occasion only; but when and where he
so employs it, he has not explained at all. He has not once said, that
when he applies it to motive he uses it in the sense of an occasion, or
antecedent; and, if he had said so, it would not have been true. The
truth is, that he has used the word in question with no little vagueness
and indistinctness of meaning; for he sometimes employs it to signify
merely an occasion, which exerts no positive influence, and sometimes to
signify a producing cause. This is the manner in which he uses it, when
he applies it to motive. In his definition of motive, as the younger
Edwards truly says, he includes "_every cause_ or occasion of volition;"
every thing which has a "tendency to volition;" &c., p. 104. Thus,
according to the younger Edwards himself, the elder Edwards has, in his
definition of motive, included every conceivable cause of volition; and
yet, when Dr. West objects that he makes motive the producing cause of
volition, the very same writer replies that he has done no such thing:
that he has "very particularly explained in what sense he uses the word
cause" when applied to motive, and that he means "by _cause_, no other
than _occasion, reason, or previous circumstance necessary for
volition_; and that in this Dr. West entirely agrees with him," p. 65.
If we may believe the younger Edwards, then, when the author of the
Inquiry says, that motive is the cause of volition, he means that it is
no other than the occasion or previous circumstance necessary to
volition, and not that it is the cause thereof in the proper sense of
the word; and yet that it is the cause thereof in every conceivable
sense of the word! Now, he agrees with Dr. West himself; and again, he
teaches precisely the opposite doctrine! Let those who so fondly imagine
that they are the only men who understand the Inquiry, and that the most
elaborate replies to it may be sufficiently refuted by raising the cry
of "misconstruction;" let them, I say, take some little pains to
understand the work for themselves, instead of merely giving echo to the
blunders of the younger Edwards.
President Edwards says, that the term cause is often used in so
restrained a sense as to signify that which has "a _positive efficiency_
or _influence_ to _produce_ a thing, or bring it to pass." It is in this
restrained sense that I use the word, when I say that President Edwards
regarded motive as the cause of volition; and it is in this sense that I
intend to make the charge good. I intend to show that he regarded
motive, not merely as the occasion or condition of volition, but as that
which _produces_ it. This position, as we have seen, has been denied by
high authority; and therefore it becomes necessary to establish it, in
order that I may not be charged with disputing only about words; and
that although I may be exceedingly "desirous of being thought to differ
with President Edwards" on this subject, yet I do "most exactly agree
with him."
To begin then;--if motive is merely the condition on which the mind
acts, and exerts no influence in the production of volition, it is
certainly improper to say, that it _gives rise to volition_. This
clearly implies that it is the efficient, or producing cause of
volition. On this point, let the younger Edwards himself be the judge.
"That self-determination _gives rise_ to volition," is an expression
which he quotes from Dr. Chauncey, and italicizes the words "gives rise
to," as showing that the author of them regarded the mind as the
efficient cause of volition. Now, President Edwards says, that the
"strongest motive excites the mind to volition;" and he adds, that "the
notion of exciting, is _exerting influence to cause the effect to arise
and come forth into existence_," p. 96. Surely, if to give rise to a
thing, is efficiently to cause it, no less can be said of exerting
influence "to _cause it to arise and come forth into existence_." And if
so, then, according to the younger Edwards himself, the author of the
Inquiry regarded motive as the efficient cause of volition; and yet, on
p. 66 he declares, that President Edwards did not hold "motive to be the
efficient cause of volition;" and that if he has dropped any expression
which implies such a doctrine, it must have been an inadvertency. I
intend to show, before I have done, that there are many such
inadvertencies in his work; the younger Edwards himself being the judge.
Now, it will not be denied, that that which produces a thing, is its
efficient cause. The younger Edwards himself has spoken of an
"_efficient, producing_ cause," in such a manner as to show that he
regarded them as convertible terms, p. 46. He being judge, then, that
which produces a thing, is its efficient cause. I might easily show, if
it were necessary, that he himself frequently speaks of motive as the
efficient, or producing cause of volition; but, at present, I am only
concerned with the doctrine of President Edwards. "It is true," says
President Edwards, "I find myself possessed of my volitions before I can
see the effectual power of any cause to _produce_ them, for the power
and _efficacy_ of the cause is not seen but by the effect," p. 277.
Here, from the volition, from the effect, he infers the operation of the
cause or power which _produces_ it. Now this cause is motive, the
strongest motive; for this is that which operates to induce a choice.
Motive, then, _produces_ volition, according to the Inquiry; it is not
merely the condition on which it is produced.
The younger Edwards declares, that President Edwards did not regard
"motive as the efficient cause of volition," p. 66, but only as the
"occasion or previous circumstances necessary to volition;" in this
respect "most exactly agreeing with Dr. West" himself; and yet he tells
us, in another place, that "every cause of volition is included in
President Edwards' definition of motive," p. 104. Now, does not every
cause of volition include the efficient cause thereof? Does not this
expression include that which is the cause of volition in the real, in
the only proper, sense of the word?
To save the consistency of the author, will it be said, that "every
cause" does not include the efficient cause in his estimation, since in
his opinion there is no such cause? If this should be said, it would not
be true; for the younger Edwards did, as it is well known, regard the
influence of the Divine Being as the efficient cause of volition. He
regarded the Deity as the sole fountain of all efficiency in heaven and
in earth. Hence, if the definition of President Edwards included "every
cause" of volition; it must have included this divine influence, this
efficient cause. Indeed, the younger Edwards expressly asserts, that
this "divine influence" is included in President Edwards' "explanation
of his idea of motive," p. 104. He tells us, then, that President
Edwards regards motive as merely the _occasion_ of volition; and yet
that he considered motive as including the efficient cause of volition!
At one time, motive is merely the antecedent, which exerts no influence;
at another, it embraces the efficient cause! At one time, the author of
the Inquiry "most exactly agrees" with the libertarian in regard to this
all-important point; and, at another, he most perfectly disagrees with
him! It is to be hoped, that President Edwards is not quite so glaringly
inconsistent with himself, on this subject, as he is represented to be
by his distinguished son.
Again. President Edwards has written a section to prove, that "volitions
are necessarily connected with the influence of motives;" which clearly
implies that they are brought to pass by the influence of motives. In
this section, he says, "Motives do nothing, as motives or inducements,
but by their influence. And so much as is _done by their influence_ is
the effect of them. For that is the notion of an effect, something that
_is brought to pass_ by the influence of something else." Here motives
are said to be the causes of volitions, and to _bring them to pass by
their influence_. Is this to make motive merely the condition on which
the mind acts? Is this to consider it as merely an antecedent to
volition, which exerts no influence? On the contrary, does it not
strongly remind one of that "restrained sense of the word cause," in
which it signifies, that which "has an influence to produce a thing, _or
bring it to pass?_"
Once more. In relation to the acts of the will, he adopts the
following language to show that they are necessarily dependent on the
influence of motives: "For an event to have a cause and ground of its
existence, and yet not be connected with its cause, is an inconsistency.
For if the event be not connected with the cause, it is not dependent on
its cause; its _existence_ is as it were _loose from its influence_; and
it may attend it, or it may not; its being a mere contingency, whether
it follows or attends the influence of the cause, or not; and that is
the same thing as not to be dependent on it. And to say the event is not
dependent on its cause, _is absurd_; it is the same thing as to say, it
is not its cause, nor the event the effect of it; for dependence on _the
influence of a cause is the very notion of an effect_. If there be no
such relation between one thing and another, consisting in the connexion
and dependence of one thing on the influence of another, then it is
certain there is no such relation between them as is signified by the
relation of cause and effect," p. 77-8. Now, here we are told, that it
is the very notion of an effect, that it owes its existence to the
influence of its cause; and that _it is absurd_ to speak of an effect
which is loose from the influence of its cause. It is this influence,
"which causes volition to arise and come forth into existence." Any
other notion of cause and effect is absurd and unmeaning. And yet,
President Edwards informs us, that he sometimes uses the term cause to
signify any antecedent, though it may exert no influence; and that he so
employs it, in order to prevent cavilling and objecting. Now, what is
all this taken together, but to inform us, that he sometimes uses the
word in question _very absurdly_, in order to keep us from finding fault
with him? The truth is, that whatever apparent concession President
Edwards may have made, he does habitually bring down the term _cause_ to
its narrow and restrained sense, to its strict and proper meaning, when
he says, that motive is the cause of volition. He loses sight entirely
of the idea, that it is only the _occasion_ on which the mind acts.
I might multiply extracts to the same effect almost without end; but it
is not necessary. It must be evident to every impartial reader of the
Inquiry, that even if the author really meant by the above extracts,
that motive is merely the antecedent to volition; this was only a
momentary concession made to his opponents, with the vague and
ill-defined hope, perhaps, that it would render his system less
obnoxious to them. It had no abiding place in his mind. It was no sooner
uttered than it was repelled and driven away by the whole tenor of his
system. We soon hear him, as if no such thing had ever been dreamed of
in his philosophy, asking the question, and that too, in relation to
motives, "What _can be meant by a cause_, but something that is the
ground and reason of a thing _by its influence_, AN INFLUENCE THAT IS
PREVALENT AND EFFECTUAL," p. 97. Will it be pretended, that this does
not come up to his definition of an efficient cause, as that which
brings something to pass by "a _positive_ influence?" Such a pretext
would amount to nothing; for Edwards has said, that "motives excite
volition;" and "to excite, _is to be a cause in the most proper sense,
not merely a negative occasion, but a ground of existence by positive
influence,_" p. 96.
An efficient cause is properly defined by the Edwardses themselves.
"Does not the man talk absurdly and inconsistently," says the younger
Edwards, "who asserts, that a man is the efficient cause of his own
volitions, yet puts forth no exertion in order to cause it? If any other
way of _efficiently_ causing an effect, be possible or conceivable, let
it be pointed out," p.49. President Edwards evidently entertained the
same idea; for he repeatedly says, that if the mind be the cause of its
own volitions, it must cause them by a preceding act of the mind. The
objection which he urges against the self-determining power, is founded
on this idea of a cause. It is what he means, when he says, that the
term _cause_ is "often used in so restrained a sense as to signify only
that which has a _positive efficiency_ or _influence_ to _produce_ a
thing, or _bring it to pass_."
That President Edwards regarded motive as the efficient or producing
cause of volition, according to his own notion of it, is clear not only
from numerous passages of the Inquiry; it is also wrought into the very
substance and structure of his whole argument. It is involved in his
very definition of the strongest motive. The strongest motive, says he,
is the whole of that which "_operates_ to induce a particular choice."
Now, to say that one thing _operates_ to induce another, or bring it
into existence, is, according to the definition of the younger Edwards
himself, to say that it is the efficient cause of the thing so produced.
If there be any meaning in words, or any truth in the definition of the
Edwardses, then to say that one thing operates to produce another, is to
say that it is its efficient cause. President Edwards, as we have seen,
holds that motive is "the effectual power and efficacy" which produces
volition.
Again. Edwards frequently says, that "if this great principle of common
sense, that every effect must have a cause, be given up, then there will
be no such thing as reasoning from effect to cause. We cannot even prove
the existence of Deity. If any thing can begin to be without a cause of
its existence, then we cannot know that there is a God." Now, the sense
in which this maxim is here used is perfectly obvious; for nothing can
begin to be without an efficient cause, by which it is brought into
existence. When we reason from those things which begin to be up to God,
we clearly reason from effects to their efficient causes. Hence, when
this maxim is applied by Edwards to volitions, he evidently refers to
the efficient causes of them. If he does not, his maxim is misapplied;
for it is established in one sense, and applied in another. If it proves
any thing, it proves that volition must have an efficient cause; and
when motive is taken to be that cause, it is taken to be the efficient
cause of volition.
This is not all. Edwards undertakes to point out the difference between
natural and moral necessity. In the case of moral necessity, says he,
"the cause with which the effect is connected is of a particular kind:
viz., that which is of a moral nature; either some previous habitual
disposition, or some motive presented to the understanding. And the
effect is also of a particular kind, being likewise of a moral nature;
consisting in some inclination or volition of the soul, or voluntary
action." But the difference, says he, "does not lie so much _in the
nature of the connection_, as in the two terms connected." Now, let us
suppose that any effect, the creation of the world, for example, is
produced by the power of God. In this case, the connection between the
effect produced, the creation of the world, and the act of the divine
omnipotence by which it is created, is certainly the connection between
an effect and its efficient cause. The two terms are here connected by a
natural necessity. But we are most explicitly informed, that the
connection between motives and volitions, differs from this in the
nature of the two terms connected, rather than in the nature of the
connection. How could language more clearly or precisely convey the
meaning of an author? To say that President Edwards does not make motive
the efficient cause of volition, is, indeed, not so much to interpret,
as it is to new model, his philosophy of the will.
The connection between the strongest motive, he declares, and the
corresponding volition, is "absolute," just as absolute as any
connection in the world. If the strongest motive exists, the volition is
sure to follow; it necessarily follows; it is _absurd_ to suppose, that
it may attend its cause or not. To say that it may follow the influence
of its cause, or may not, is to say that it is not dependent on that
influence, that it is not the effect of it. In other words, it is to say
that a volition is the effect of the strongest motive, and yet that it
is not the effect of it; which is a plain contradiction. Such, as we
have seen, is the clear and unequivocal teaching of the Inquiry.
In conclusion, if Edwards really held, that motive does not produce
volition, but is merely the occasion on which it is put forth, where
shall we find his doctrine? Where shall we look for it? We hear him
charged with destroying man's free-agency, by making motive the
producing cause of volition; and we see him labouring to repel this
charge. Truly, if he held the doctrine ascribed to him, we might have
expected to find some allusion to it in his attempts to refute such a
charge. If such had been his doctrine, with what ease might he have
repelled the charge in question, and shown its utter futility, by simply
alleging that, according to his system, motive is the occasion, and not
the producing cause, of volition? Instead of the many pages through
which he has so laboriously struggled, in order to bring our ideas of
free-agency and virtue into harmony with his scheme; with what infinite
ease might a single word have brought his scheme into harmony with the
common sentiments of mankind in regard to free-agency and virtue!
Indeed, if Edwards really believed that motive is merely the condition
on which the mind acts, nothing can be more wonderful than his profound
silence in regard to it on such an occasion; except the great pains
which, on all occasions, he has taken to keep it entirely in the
background. If the younger Edwards is not mistaken as to the true import
of his father's doctrine, then, instead of setting it forth in a clear
light, so that it may be read of all men, the author of the Inquiry has,
indeed, enveloped it in such a flood of darkness, that it is no wonder
those who have been so fortunate as to find it out, should be so
frequently called upon to complain that his opponents do not understand
him. Indeed, if such be the doctrine of the Inquiry, I do not see how
any man can possibly understand it, unless he has inherited some
peculiar power, unknown to the rest of mankind, by which its occult
meaning may be discerned, notwithstanding all the outward appearances by
which it is contradicted and obscured.
The plain truth is, as we have seen, that President Edwards holds motive
to be the producing cause of volition. According to his scheme,
"Volitions are necessarily connected with the influence of motives;"
they "are brought to pass by the prevailing and effectual influence" of
motives. Motive is "the effectual power and efficacy" by which they are
"produced." They are not merely caused to be thus, and not otherwise, by
motive; they are "caused to arise and come forth into existence." This
is the great doctrine for which Edwards contends; and this is precisely
the doctrine which I deny. _I contend against no other kind of necessity
but this moral necessity, just as it is explained by Edwards himself_.
Here the issue with President Edwards is joined; and I intend to hold
him steadily to it. No ambiguity of words shall, for a moment, divert my
mind from it. If his arguments, when thoroughly sifted and scrutinized,
establish this doctrine; then shall I lay down my arms and surrender at
discretion. But if his assumptions are unsound, or his deductions false,
I shall hold them for naught. If he reconciles his scheme of moral
necessity with the reality of virtue, with the moral agency and
accountability of man, and with the purity of God; then I shall lay
aside my objections; but if, in reality, he only reconciles it with the
semblance of these things, whilst he denies their substance, I shall not
be diverted from an opposition to so monstrous a system, by the fair
appearances it may be made to wear to the outward eye.
SECTION III.
THE INQUIRY INVOLVED IN A VICIOUS CIRCLE.
THE great doctrine of the Inquiry seems to go round in a vicious circle,
to run into an insignificant truism. This is a grave charge, I am aware,
and I have ventured to make it only after the most mature reflection:
and the justness of it, may be shown by a variety of considerations.
In the first place, when we ask, "what determines the will?" the author
replies, "it is the strongest motive;" and yet, according to his
definition, the strongest motive is that which determines the will.
Thus, says Edwards, "when I speak of the strongest motive, I have
respect to the whole that operates to induce a particular act of
volition, whether that be the strength of one thing alone, or of many
together." If we ask, then, what produces any particular act of
volition, we are told, it is the strongest motive; and if we inquire
what is the strongest motive, we are informed, it is the whole of that
which operated to produce that particular act of volition. What is this
but to inform us, that an act of volition is produced by that which
produces it?
It is taken for granted by President Edwards, that volition is an
effect, and consequently has a cause. The great question, according to
his work, is, what is this cause? He says it is the strongest motive; in
the definition of which he includes every thing that in any way
contributes to the production of volition; in other words, the strongest
motive is made to embrace every thing that acts as a cause of volition.
This is the way in which he explains himself, as well as the manner in
which he is understood by others. Thus, says the younger Edwards, "in
his explanation of his idea of motive, he mentions all agreeable objects
and views, all reasons and arguments, and all internal biases and
tempers, which have a tendency to volition; i. e. every _cause_ or
_occasion_ of volition," p. 104. Every reader of President Edwards must
be satisfied that this is a correct account of his definition of motive;
and this being the case, the whole amounts to just this proposition,
that volition is caused by that which causes it! He admits that it would
be hard, if not impossible, to enumerate all those things and
circumstances which aid in the production of volition; but still he is
quite sure, that the whole of that which operates to produce a volition
does actually produce it! Though he may have failed to show wherein
consists the strength of motives; yet he contends that the strongest
motive, or the cause of volition, is really and unquestionably the cause
of volition! Such is the great doctrine of the Inquiry.
If this is what the Inquiry means to establish, surely it rests upon
unassailable ground. Well may President Day assert, that "to say a
weaker motive prevails against a stronger one is to say, that that which
has the least influence has the greatest influence," p. 66. Now who
would deny this position of the learned president? Who would say, that
that which has the greatest influence has not the greatest influence?
Surely, this great doctrine is to the full as certain as the newly
discovered axiom of professor Villant, that "a thing is equal to
itself!"
President Day, following in the footsteps of Edwards, informs us that
the will is determined by the strongest motive; but how shall we know
what is the strongest motive? "The strength of a motive," says he, "is
not its prevailing, but the power by which it prevails. Yet we may very
properly measure _this power by the actual result!_" Thus are we gravely
informed that the will is determined by that which determines it.
Again. If we suppose there is a real strength in motives, that they
exert a positive influence in the production of volitions, then we
concede every thing to President Edwards. For, if motives are so many
forces acting upon the will, to say that the strongest will prevail, is
simply to say that it is the strongest. But if motives exert no positive
influence, then when we say that one is stronger than another, we must
be understood to use this expression in a metaphorical sense; we must
refer to some property of motives which we figuratively call their
strength, and of which we suppose one motive to possess a greater degree
than another. If this be so, what is this common property of motives,
which we call their strength? If they do not possess a real strength, if
they do not exert an efficient influence; but are merely said,
metaphorically speaking, to possess such power and to exert such
influence; then what becomes of the self-evidence which President
Edwards claims for his fundamental proposition motives exert a real
force, of course the strongest must prevail; but if they only have
something else about them, which we call their strength, it is not
self-evident that the motive which possesses this something else in the
highest degree must necessarily prevail. Hence, the great doctrine of
President Edwards is either a proposition whose truth arises out of the
very definition of the terms in which it is expressed, or it is utterly
destitute of that axiomatical certainty which he claims for it. In other
words, he has settled his great doctrine of the will by the mere force
of a definition; or he has left its foundations quite unsettled.
Motives, as they are called, are different from each other in nature and
in kind; and hence, it were absurd to compare them in degree. "The
strongest motive," therefore, is a mode of expression which can have no
intelligible meaning, unless it be used with reference to the influence
which motives are supposed to exert over the mind. This is the sense in
which it clearly seems to be used by Edwards. The distinguishing
property of a motive, according to his definition, is nothing in the
nature of the motive itself; it consists in its adaptedness "to move or
excite the mind to volition;" nor indeed could he find any other way of
measuring or determining what he calls the strength of motives, since
they are so diverse in their own nature from each other. He could not
have given any plausible definition of the strength of motives, if he
had looked at them as they are in themselves; and hence, he was under
the necessity of defining it, by a reference to the "degree of tendency
or _advantage_ they have to move or excite the will." Thus, according to
the Inquiry, the will is determined by the strongest motive; and yet we
can form no intelligible idea of what is meant by the strongest motive,
unless we conceive it to be that which determines the will. The matter
will not be mended, by alleging that the strongest motive is not defined
to be that which actually determines the will, but that which has the
greatest degree of previous tendency or advantage, to excite or move it;
for we cannot know what motive has this greatest degree of previous
tendency or advantage, except by observing what motive actually does
determine the will.
This leads us to another view of the same subject. The strength of a
motive, as President Edwards properly remarks, depends upon the state of
the mind to which it is addressed. Hence, in a great majority of cases,
we can know nothing about the relative strength of motives, except from
the actual influence which they exert over the mind of the individual
upon whom they are brought to bear. This shows that the universal
proposition, that the will is _always_ determined by the strongest
motive, can be known to be true, only by assuming that the strongest
motive is that by which the will is determined.
The same thing may be made to appear from another point of view. It has
been well said by the philosopher of Malmsbury, "that experience
concludeth nothing universally." From experience we can pronounce, only
in so far as we have observed, and no farther. But the proposition, that
the will is always determined by the strongest motive, is a universal
proposition; and hence, if true at all, its truth could not have been
learnt from observation and experience. It must depend upon the very
definition of the terms in which it is expressed. We cannot say that the
will is in all cases determined by the strongest motive, unless we
include in the very idea and definition of the strongest motive, that it
is such that it determines the will. President Edwards not only does,
but he must necessarily, go around in this circle, in order to give any
degree of clearness and certainty to his doctrine.
That President Edwards goes around in this vicious circle, may be shown
in another way. "It appears from these things," says he, "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 judgment. If by the last 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," p.
25. In this place, President Edwards gives no distinct idea of what he
means by the last dictate of the understanding, which the will is said
to follow in all cases. But in the eighth volume of his works, that
dictate of the understanding which the will is said to follow, is called
the "practical judgment;" and this is defined to be, "that judgment
which men make of things that prevail, so as to determine their actions
and govern their practice." Here again are we informed, that the will
always follows the practical judgment, and that the practical judgment
is that which men make of things that prevail, so as to determine the
will.
The Inquiry itself furnishes abundant evidence, that I have done its
author no injustice. "I have chosen," says he, "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." After all, then, it
seems that choice itself, or volition, is not determined by that which
appears the most agreeable; because, in reality, the sense of the most
agreeable and volition are one and the same thing. But surely, if we
cannot distinguish between choice and the sense of the most agreeable,
then to say that the one always is as the other, is only to say that a
thing is always as it is. Edwards saw the absurdity of saying that a
thing is determined by itself; but he does not seem to have seen how
insignificant is the proposition, that a thing is always as it is, and
not otherwise; and hence this is the form in which he has chosen to
present the great leading idea of his work on the will. And henceforth
we are to understand, that the preference of the mind is always as that
which appears most agreeable to the mind; or, in other words, that the
preference or choice of the mind is always as the choice of the mind.
This is not all. President Edwards himself has frequently reduced the
fundamental doctrine of the Inquiry to an identical proposition. It is
well known, that "to be determined by the strongest motive," "to follow
the greatest apparent good," "to do what is most agreeable," or "what
pleases most," are all different modes of expression employed by him to
set forth the same fundamental doctrine. In speaking of this doctrine,
he says: "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_. To say, that they do what _pleases_
them, but yet not what is agreeable to them, is the same thing as to
say, they do what they please, but do not act their pleasure; and that
is to say, that they do what they please, and yet do not what they
please." Most assuredly, if to deny the leading proposition of the
Inquiry, is to deny that men do what they please when they do what they
please; then to affirm it, is only to advance the insignificant truism,
that men do what they please when they do what they please. It seems to
me, that after President Edwards had reduced his fundamental proposition
to such a truism, he might very well have spared himself the three
hundred pages that follow.
Again, he says: "It is manifest that no acts of the will are contingent,
in such sense as to be without all necessity, or so as not to be
necessary with a necessity of consequence and connection; because every
act of the will is some way connected with the understanding, and is as
the greatest apparent good is, in the manner which has already been
explained; namely, that the soul always wills or chooses that, which in
the present view of the mind, considered in the whole of that view, and
all that belongs to it, appears most agreeable. Because, as we observed
before, nothing is more evident than that, when men act voluntarily, and
do what they please, then they do what appears most agreeable to them;
and to say otherwise would be as much as to affirm, that men do not
choose what appears to suit them best, or what seems most pleasing to
them; or that they do not choose what they prefer, _which brings the
matter to a contradiction_."
Thus, the great fundamental doctrine of the Inquiry is reduced by
Edwards himself to the barren truism, that men do actually choose what
they choose; a proposition which the boldest advocate of free-agency
would hardly dare to call in question. After labouring through a whole
section to establish this position, the author concludes by saying,
"These things may serve, I hope, in some measure to illustrate and
confirm the position laid down in the beginning of this section: viz.
That the will is always determined by the strongest motive, or by the
view of the mind which has the greatest previous tendency to excite
volition. But whether I have been so happy as rightly to explain the
thing wherein consists the strength of motives, or not, _yet my failing
in this will not overthrow the position itself; which carries much of
its own evidence along with it, and is a point of chief importance to
the purpose of the ensuing discourse:_ and the truth of it I hope will
appear _with great clearness_, before I have finished what I have to say
on the subject of human liberty." Truly the position in question, as it
is explained by the author himself, carries not only much, but all, of
its own evidence along with it. Who can deny that a man always does what
he pleases, when he does what he pleases? This truth appears with just
as great clearness at the beginning, as it does at the conclusion, of
the celebrated Inquiry of the author. It is invested in a flood of
light, which can neither be increased by argument, nor obscured by
sophistry.
From the foregoing remarks, it appears, I think, that the fundamental
doctrine of the Inquiry is a barren truism, or a vicious circle. If
Edwards understood the import of his own doctrine, when he reduced it to
the form that a man does what he pleases when he does what he pleases,
it is certainly a truism; and if this is all his famous doctrine amounts
to, it can have no bearing whatever upon the question as to the cause of
volition; for whether the mind be the cause of its own volitions, or
whether the strongest motive always causes them, or whether they have no
causes at all, it is equally and unalterably true, that every man does
what he pleases when he does what he pleases. There is no possible form
of the doctrine of free-agency or contingency, however wild, which is at
all inconsistent with such a truism.
Edwards is not always consistent with himself. He sometimes represents
the greatest apparent good, or sense of the most agreeable, as the cause
of volition; and then his doctrine assumes the form, that the will is
determined by the strongest motive, or the greatest apparent good. And
yet he sometimes identifies a sense of the most agreeable with the
choice itself; and then his doctrine assumes the form that the choice of
the mind is always as the choice of the mind; and to deny it is a plain
contradiction in terms.
From the fact that Edwards has gone round in a circle, it has been
concluded that he has begged the question; but how, or wherein he has
begged it, is a point which has not been sufficiently noticed. The very
authors who have uttered this complaint, have granted him the very thing
for which he has begged. If volition is an _effect_, if it has a
_cause_, then most unquestionably the cause of volition is the cause of
volition. Admit that volition is an effect, as so many libertarians have
done, and then his definition of motive, which includes every cause of
volition, places his doctrine upon an immutable foundation. We might as
well heave at the everlasting mountains as to try to shake it.
Admit that volition is an effect, and what can we say? Can we say, that
the strongest motive may exist, and yet no volition may follow from it?
To this the necessitarian would instantly reply, that it any thing
exists, and no volition follows thereupon, it is evidently not the cause
of volition, and consequently is not the strongest motive; for this,
according to the definition, includes every cause of volition: it is
indeed absurd, to suppose that an effect should not proceed from its
cause: This is the ground taken both by President Edwards and President
Day. It is absurd, says the latter, to suppose that a weaker motive, or
any thing else, can prevail over the stronger--and why? Because the
strongest motive is that which prevails. "If it be said," he continues,
"that _something else_ gives the weaker motive a superiority over the
stronger; _then this something else is itself a motive_, and the united
influence of the two is greater than that of the third," p. 66. Thus,
say what we will, we can never escape this admirable net of words, that
the will is determined by that which determines it.
I do not intend, then, to engage in the hopeless task, of admitting
volition to be an effect, and yet striving to extricate it from "the
mechanism of cause and effect." This ground has long since been occupied
by much abler persons than myself; and if they have failed of success,
falling into innumerable inconsistencies, it is because, on such ground,
success is impossible; and that notwithstanding their transcendant
abilities, they have been fated to contradict themselves.
SECTION IV.
VOLITION NOT AN EFFECT.
THE argument of the Inquiry, as I have shown, assumes that a volition is
an effect in the proper sense of the word; that it is the correlative of
an efficient cause. If it were necessary, this point might be
established by a great variety of additional considerations; but, I
presume that every candid reader of the Inquiry is fully satisfied in
relation to it.
If we mean by an effect, every thing that comes to pass, of course a
volition is an effect; for no one can deny that it comes to pass. Or, if
we include in the definition of the term, every thing which has a
sufficient reason and ground of its existence, we cannot deny that it
embraces the idea of a volition. For, under certain circumstances, the
free mind will furnish a sufficient reason and ground of the existence
of a volition. All that I deny is, that a volition does proceed from the
mind, or from motive, or from anything else, in the same manner that an
effect, properly so called, proceeds from its efficient cause.
This is a point on which I desire to be distinctly understood. I put
forth a volition to move my hand. The motion of the hand follows. Now,
here I observe the action of the mind, and also the motion of the hand.
The effect exists in the body, in that which is by nature passive; the
cause in that which is active, in the mind. The effect produced in the
body, in the hand, is the passive result of the prior direct action of
the mind. It is in this restricted sense, that I use the term in
question, when I deny that a volition is an effect. I do not deny that
it depends for its production upon certain circumstances, as the
conditions of action, and upon the powers of the mind, by which it is
capable of acting in view of such circumstances. All that I deny is,
that volition results from the prior action of mind, or of
circumstances, or of any thing else, in the same manner that the motion
of body results from the prior action of mind. Or, in other words, I
contend that action is the invariable antecedent of bodily motion, but
not of volition; that whatever may be its relations to other things, a
volition does not sustain the same relation to any thing in the
universe, that an effect sustains to its efficient cause, that a passive
result sustains to the direct prior action by which it is produced. I
hope I may be _always_ so understood, when I affirm that a volition is
not an effect.
It is in this narrow and restricted sense that Edwards assumes a
volition to be an effect. He does not say, in so many words, that the
mind cannot put forth a volition, except in the way of producing it by a
preceding volition or act of the will; but he first assumes a volition
to be an effect; and then he asserts, that the mind can be the cause of
no _effect_, (italicising the term effect,) except by the prior action
of the mind. Thus, having assumed a volition to be an effect, he takes
it for granted that it cannot proceed from the mind in any way, except
that in which any effect in the outer world proceeds from the mind; that
is to say, except it be produced by the direct prior action of the mind,
by a preceding volition. Thus he brings the idea of a volition under the
above narrow and restricted notion of an effect; and thereby confounds
the relation which subsists between mind and its volitions, with the
relation which subsists between mind and its external effects in body.
In other words, on the supposition that our volitions proceed from the
mind, he takes it for granted that they must be produced by the
preceding action of the mind; just as an effect, in the limited sense of
the term, is produced by the prior action of its cause. It is in this
assumption, that Edwards lays the foundation of the logic, by which he
reduces the self-determining power of the mind to the absurdity of an
infinite series of volitions.
It is evident that such is the course pursued by Edwards; for he not
only calls a volition, an effect, but he also says, that the mind can
"bring no _effects_ to pass, but what are consequent upon its acting,"
p. 56. And again he says, "The will determines which way the hands and
feet shall move, by an act of choice; and _there is no other way_ of the
will's determining, directing, or commanding any thing at all." This is
very true, if a volition is such an effect as requires the prior action
of something else to account for its production, just as the motion of
the "hands and feet" requires the action of the mind to account for its
production; but it is not true, if a volition is such an effect, that
its existence may be accounted for by the presence of certain
circumstances or motives, as the conditions of action, in conjunction
with a mind capable of acting in view of such motives. In other words,
his assertion is true, if we allow him to assume, as he does, that a
volition is an effect, in the above restricted meaning of the term; but
it is not true, if we consider a volition as an effect in a larger sense
of the word. Hence, the whole strength of Edwards' position lies in the
sense which he arbitrarily attaches to the term _effect_, when he says
that a volition is an effect.
Now, is a volition an effect in such a sense of the word? Is it brought
into existence, like the motion of body, by the prior action of any
thing else? We answer, No. But how shall this point be decided? The
necessitarian says, a moment before the volition did not exist, now it
does exist; and hence, it necessarily follows, that there must have been
a cause by which it was brought into existence. That is to say, it
_must_ be an effect. True, it must be an effect, if you please; but in
what sense of the word? Is volition an effect, in the same sense that
the motion of the body is an effect? This is the question.
And this question, I contend, is not to be decided by abstract
considerations, nor yet by the laying of words together, and drawing
conclusions from them. It is a question, not of logic, but of
psychology. By whatever name you may please to call it, the true nature
of a volition is not to be determined by reference to abstractions, nor
by the power of words; but _by simply looking at it and seeing what it
is_. If we would really understand its nature, we must not undertake to
_reason it out;_ we must _open our eyes_, and _look_, and _see_. The
former course would do very well, no doubt, if the object were to
construct a world for ourselves; but if we would behold the glory of
that which God has constructed for us, and in us, we must lay aside the
proud syllogistic method of the schools, and betake ourselves to the
humble task of observation--of patient, severe, and scrutinizing
observation. There is no other condition on which we can "enter into the
kingdom of man, which is founded in the sciences." There is no other
course marked out for us by the immortal Bacon: and if we pursue any
other we may wander in the dazzling light of a thousand abstractions,
and behold whatever fleeting images of grandeur and of beauty we may be
pleased to conjure up for ourselves; but the pure light of nature and of
truth will be hid from us.
What then is a volition just as it is revealed to us in the light of
consciousness? Does it result from the prior action of mind, or of
motive, or of any thing else? In other words, is it an _effect_, as the
motion of body is an effect!
We always conceive of the subject in which such an effect resides, as
being wholly passive. President Edwards himself has repeatedly said,
that it is the very notion of an effect, that it results from the action
or influence of its cause; and that nothing is any further an effect,
than as it proceeds from that action or influence. The subject in which
it is produced, is always passive as to its production; and just in so
far as it is itself active, it is not the subject of an effect, but the
author of an action. Such is the idea of an effect in the true and
proper sense of the word.
Now does our idea of a volition correspond with this idea of an effect?
Is it produced in the mind, and is the mind passive as to its
production? Is it, like the motion of a body, the passive result of the
action of something else? No. It is not the result of action; it is
action itself. The mind is not passive as to its production; it is in
and of itself an action of the mind. It is not _determined_; it is a
_determination_. It is not a produced effect, like the motion of body;
it is itself an original producing cause. It does seem to me, that if
any man will only reflect on this subject, he must see that there is a
clear and manifest difference between an ACT and an EFFECT.
Although the scheme of Edwards identifies these two things, and his
argument assumes them to be one and the same; yet his language, it
appears to me, frequently betrays the fact, that his consciousness did
not work in harmony with his theory. While speaking of the acts of the
will as effects, he frequently says, that it is the very idea of an
effect that it results from, and is necessarily connected with, the
action of its cause, and that it is absurd to suppose that it is free or
loose from the influence of its cause.
And yet, in reference to volitions, he often uses the expression, "_this
sort_ of effects," as if it did not exactly correspond with the "very
idea of an effect," from which it is absurd to depart in our
conceptions. When he gives fair play to consciousness, he speaks of
different kinds of effects; and yet, when he returns to his theory and
his reasoning, all this seems to vanish; and there remains but one
clear, fixed, and definite idea of an effect, and to speak of any thing
else as such is absurd. He now and then pays a passing tribute to the
power of consciousness, by admitting that the soul exerts its own
volitions, that the soul itself acts; but he no sooner comes to the work
of argument and refutation, than it is motive that "causes them to be
put forth or exerted," p. 96. Ever and anon, he seems to catch a whisper
from the voice of consciousness; and he concedes that he sometimes uses
the term cause to designate that which has not a _positive_ or
_productive_ influence, p. 50-1. But this is not when he is engaged in
the energy of debate. Let Mr. Chubb cross his path; let him hear the
voice of opposition giving utterance to the sentiment, that "in motive
there is no causality in the production of action;" and that moment the
voice of consciousness is hushed in the most profound silence. He rises,
like a giant, in the defence of his system, and he declares, that "to
excite," as motives do, "is positively to do something," and "certainly
that which does something, is the cause of the thing done by it." Yea,
"to excite, _is to cause in the most proper sense, not merely a negative
occasion_, but a ground of existence by _positive influence_," p. 96.
These passages, which are scattered up and down through the Inquiry, in
which the doctrine of liberty seems to be conceded, I cannot but regard
as highly important concessions. They have been used to show that we
misconceive the scheme of Edwards, when we ascribe to him the doctrine
of fate. But when they are thus adduced, to show that we misrepresent
his doctrine, I beg it may be remembered that such evidence can prove
only one of two things; either that we do not understand what he
teaches, or that he is not always consistent with himself.
If he really held the doctrine of fatalism, we ought not to be surprised
that he has furnished such evidence against himself. It is not in the
nature of the human mind to keep itself always deaf to the voice of
consciousness. It is not in the power of any system always to counteract
the spontaneous workings of nature. Though the mind should be surrounded
by those deep-seated, all-pervading, and obstinate illusions, by which
the scheme of fatalism is made to wear the appearance of self-evident
truth; yet when it loses sight of that system, it will, at times, speak
out in accordance with the dictates of nature. The stern and unrelenting
features of fatalism cannot always be so intimately present to the mind,
as entirely to exclude it from the contemplation of a milder and more
captivating system of philosophy. Notwithstanding the influence of
system, how rigid soever may be its demands, the human mind will, in its
moments of relaxation, recognize _in its feelings_ and _in its
utterance_, those great truths which are inseparable from its very
nature.
Let it be borne in mind, then, that there is more than one process in
the universe. Some things are produced, it is most true, by the prior
action of other things; and herein we behold the relation of cause and
effect, properly so called; but it does not follow, that all things are
embraced by this _one_ relation. This appears to be so only to the mind
of the necessitarian; from which one fixed idea has shut out the light
of observation. He no longer sees the rich variety, the boundless
diversity, there is in the works of God: all things and all modes and
all processes of the awe-inspiring universe, are made to conform to the
narrow and contracted methods of his own mind. Look where he will, he
sees not the "free and flowing outline" of nature's true lineaments; he
every where beholds the image of the one fixed idea in his mind,
projected outwardly upon the universe of God; behind which the true
secrets and operations of nature are concealed from his vision. Even
when he contemplates that living source of action, that bubbling
fountain of volitions, the immortal mind of man itself, he only beholds
a _thing_, which is made to act by the action of something else upon it;
just as a body is made to move by the action of force upon it. His
philosophy is, therefore, an essentially shallow and superficial
philosophy. The great name of Edwards cannot shield it from such
condemnation.
SECTION V.
OF THE CONSEQUENCES OF REGARDING VOLITION AS AN EFFECT.
IT has been frequently conceded that a volition is an effect; but to
make this concession, without explanation or qualification, is to
surrender the whole cause of free agency into the hand of the enemy. For
if a volition is an effect, properly speaking, the only question is as
to its efficient cause: it is necessarily produced by its cause.
To make this matter clear, let us consider what is precisely meant by
the term cause when it is thus used? An effect is necessarily connected,
not with the _thing_ which is sometimes called its cause, but with the
_action_ or _positive influence_ of that thing. Thus, the mind, or the
power of the mind, is sometimes said to be the cause of motion in the
body; but this is not to speak with philosophical precision. No motion
of the body is necessarily connected, either with the mind itself, or
with the power of the mind. In other words, if these should lie dormant,
or fail to act, they would produce no bodily motion. But let the mind
act, or will a particular motion, and the body will necessarily move in
consequence of that action. Hence, it is neither with the mind, nor with
the power of the mind, that bodily motion, as an effect, is necessarily
connected; it is with an act of the mind or volition that this necessary
connection subsists. A cause is said to imply its effect: it is not the
mind, but an act of the mind, that implies motion in the body.
This is evidently the idea of Edwards, when he says, as he frequently
does, that an effect is necessarily connected with the _influence_ or
_action_ of its cause. The term _cause_ is ambiguous; and when he says,
that an effect is necessarily connected with its cause, he should be
understood to mean, in accordance with his own doctrine, that the cause
referred to _is the influence_ or _action_ by which it is produced, and
not the thing which exerts that _influence_ or _action_. Thus, although
motives are said to be causes of action, he contends, they can do
nothing except by their influence; and so much as results from their
influence is the effect of that influence, and is necessarily connected
with it.
Now, if a volition is an effect, if it has an efficient cause, what is
that cause? By the _action_ of what is it produced? It cannot be by the
act of the mind, says Edwards, because the mind can produce an _effect_
only by another act. Thus, on the supposition in question, we cannot
ascribe a volition to the mind as its cause, without being compelled to
admit that it results from a preceding act of the mind. But that
preceding act, on the same supposition, will require still another
preceding act to account for its production; and so on _ad infinitum_.
Such is the absurdity which Edwards delighted to urge against the
self-determining power of the mind. It is triumphantly based on the
concession that a volition is an effect; that as such the prior _action_
of something else is necessary to account for its existence. And if we
suppose, in accordance with the truth, that a volition is merely a state
of the mind, which does not sustain the same relation to the mind that
an effect does to its efficient cause, this absurdity will vanish. The
doctrine of liberty will no longer be encumbered with it.
Now, proceeding on the same supposition, let us conceive of a volition
as resulting from the influence exerted by motive. If an _act_ of the
mind is an effect, surely we may say, that the act or productive
influence of motive, or of any thing else, is likewise an effect; and
consequently must have a cause to account for its existence; and so on
_ad infinitum_. Hence, the very absurdity which Edwards charges upon our
system, really attaches to his own.
Will it be said that this _ad infinitum_ absurdity does not result from
the supposition in question, but from the fact that the mind can do
nothing except by its action or influence? It is very true, as Edwards
repeatedly declares, that the mind can be the cause of no _effect_,
except by a preceding act of the mind. The truth of this proposition is
involved in the very idea which he attaches to the term _effect_, and it
is based upon this idea alone. And we may say, with equal propriety,
that motive can be the cause of no _effect_, except by its action or
productive influence. Indeed, Edwards himself expressly says, that
motives can do nothing, except by an exertion of their influence, or by
operating to produce effects. Thus, the two cases are rendered perfectly
parallel; and afford the same foundation on which to erect an infinite
series of causes.
To evade this, can it be pretended, that motive just exerts this
influence of itself? May we not with equal, nay, with infinitely greater
propriety, contend that mind just exerts its own positive influence of
itself? Or, will it be said, that it is a mistake, to suppose that
Edwards ascribed any real, productive, or causal influence to motives;
that he regarded them as the _occasions_ on which the mind acts, and not
properly as the _causes_ of its action? If so, then the whole scheme of
moral necessity is abandoned, and the doctrine of liberty is left to
stand upon its own foundation, in the undisputed evidence of
consciousness.
The truth is, if we take it for granted, that a volition is an effect,
properly so called, and as such must proceed from the prior action of
something else, we cannot escape the _ad infinitum_, absurdity of the
Inquiry. If we rise from this platform, we cannot possibly ascend in any
direction, without entering upon an infinite series of causes. Whether
we ascend through the self-determining power of the mind, or through the
determining power of motives, or through the joint action of both, we
can save ourselves from such an absurd consequence only by a glaring act
of inconsistency. Hence, we are forced back upon the conclusion that
action may, and _actually does_ arise in the world of mind, without any
efficient or producing cause of its existence, without resulting from
the prior action of any thing whatever. Any other hypothesis is involved
in absurdity.
Let it be assumed, that a volition is, properly speaking, an effect, and
every thing is conceded. On this vantage ground, the scheme of necessity
may be erected beyond the possibility of an overthrow. For, even if we
"suppose that action is determined by the will and free choice," this
"is as much as to say, that it must be necessary, being dependent upon,
and determined by something foregoing; namely, a foregoing act of
choice," p. 199. Let the above position be conceded, and there is no
escape from this conclusion. Nay, the conclusion itself is but another
mode of stating the position assumed.
It is evident, then, that action must take its rise somewhere in the
world, without being caused by prior action; or else there must be an
infinite series of acts. I say it takes its rise in the mind, in that
which is essentially active, and not in matter. Edwards does not say,
that it takes its rise in matter; and hence, there is no dispute on this
point. It is very remarkable, that this objection to his scheme, that it
runs into an infinite series, seems never to have occurred to President
Edwards. He seems to have endeavoured to anticipate and reply to all
possible objections to his system; and yet this, which has occurred to
so many others, appears not to have occurred to himself, for he has not
noticed it.
The younger Edwards has attempted to reply to it. Let us see his reply.
"We maintain," says he, "that action may be the effect of a divine
influence; or that it may be the effect of one or more second causes,
the first of which is immediately produced by the Deity. Here then is
not an infinite series of causes, but a very short series, which
terminates in the Deity or first cause," p. 121. Thus, according to the
younger Edwards, the infinite series of causes is cut short, terminating
in the volition of Deity. What! does the volition of God come into
existence without a cause of its existence? What then becomes of "that
great principle of common sense," so often applied to volition, that no
event can begin to be without a cause of its existence? Is this great
principle given up? Has it become obsolete?
It may be contended, that although human volition is an effect, and so
must have a cause; yet the divine volition is not an effect. The elder
Edwards could not have taken this ground; for he contends, that the
volition of Deity is just as necessarily connected With the strongest
motive, or the greatest apparent good, as is the volition of man.
According to the Inquiry, all volitions, both human and divine, are
necessarily connected with the greatest apparent good, and in precisely
the same manner. The above pretext, therefore, could not have been set
up by him.
This ground, however, is taken by the younger Edwards. "It is granted,"
says he, "that volition in the Deity is not an effect," p. 122; it has
no cause, and here terminates the series. But how is this? Can some
event, after all, begin to be without having a cause of its existence?
without being an effect? By no means. How is it then? Why, says the
learned author, the volitions of the Deity have existed from all
eternity! They have no causes; because they have never begun to be!
"I deny," says he, "that the operations and energies of the Deity _begin
in time_, though the effects of those operations do. They no more begin
in time than the divine existence does; but human volitions all begin in
time," p. 123. This makes all the difference imaginable; for as the
divine acts have existed from all eternity, so they cannot be caused.
But there is an objection to this view. "If it should be said," he
continues, "that on this supposition the effects take place not till
long after the acts, by which they are produced, I answer, they do so in
our view, but not in the view of God. With him there is no time, no
before nor after with respect to time," p. 124.
Now, it will not be denied, that things appear to God just as they are
in themselves; and hence, if his volitions, which are said to exist long
before their effects, even from all eternity, appear to him not to exist
long before them; then they do not in reality exist long before them.
But if the divine volitions do not really exist long before their
effects, but just before them, as other causes do before their effects,
why should they not have causes as well as any other volitions? If they
really exist just before their effects in time, and not long before
them, why do they not exist in time just as much as any other volitions?
and why do they not as much require causes to account for their
existence? If they only seem to us to exist long before their effects,
even from all eternity, how can this mere seeming make any real
difference in the case? There is a very short series, we are told, the
volition of Deity constituting the first link. Has not this first link,
this volition of the Deity, a cause? No. And why? Because it has existed
from all eternity; and so nothing could go before it to produce it. Did
it not exist long before the effect then, which it produces in time? No.
And why? Because in the view of God and in reality, it existed just
before its effect, as all causes do, and therefore there is no real
severance of cause and effect in the case! It really comes just before
its effect in time, and therefore there is no severance of cause and
effect; and yet it really existed before all time, even from all
eternity, and therefore it cannot have a cause! Now is this logic, or is
it legerdemain?
There is no time with God, says the author; then there is no time in
reality; it is all an illusion arising from the succession of our own
thoughts. If this be so, then all things do really come to pass
simultaneously; and if there were a very long series, even an infinite
series of causes and effects, yet would they all come to pass in the
same instant. Indeed, there is very great uncertainty about the
speculations of philosophers in regard to time and space; and we hardly
know what to make of them, except we cannot very well understand them;
but one thing is abundantly certain; and that is, that it is not good
logic, to assert that a particular cause cannot be produced, because it
has existed long before its effect, even from all eternity; and yet
repel objections to this assertion, by alleging that they only seem to
do so, while in reality there is no such tiling. This is to turn from
the illusion to the reality, and from the reality to the illusion, just
as it suits the exigency of the moment. Such are the poor shifts and
shallow devices, to which even gifted minds are reduced, when they
refuse to admit that action, that volition, may take its rise in the
world, spontaneously proceeding from mind itself, without being made to
do so by the action of any thing upon it.
Let us suppose, that a man should tell us, that a producing cause
existed long before its effect; that there was nothing to prevent it
from bringing its effect to pass; and yet, long after it had existed,
its effect sprang up and came into existence; what should we think?
Should we not see that it is absurd, in the highest degree, to say that
an unimpeded causative act existed yesterday, and even from all
eternity, unchanged and unchangeable; and yet its effect did not come to
pass until to-day? Surely, no man in his right mind can be made to
believe this, unless it be forced upon him by the desperate necessities
of a false system; and if any person were told, that although such a
thing may seem absurd to us, inasmuch as the cause seems to exist in
full operation long before its effect, yet it is not so in the view of
God, with whom there is no time, should he not be pardoned if he doubted
the infallibility of his informant?
The truth is, we must reason about cause and effect as they appear to
us; and whether time be an illusion or not, we must, in all our
reasonings, conceive of cause and effect as conjoined in what we call
time, or we cannot reason at all. According to the younger Edwards, the
act of creation, not the mere purpose to create, but the real causative
act of creation, existed in the divine mind from all eternity. Why then
did the world spring up and come into existence at one point of time
rather than another? How happened it, that so many ages rolled away, and
this mighty causative act produced no effect? In view of such a case,
how could the author have said, as he frequently does, that a cause
necessarily implies its effect? How can this be, if a causative act of
the Almighty may exist, and yet, for millions of ages, its omnipotent
energy produce no effect? Indeed, such a doctrine destroys all our
notions of cause and effect; it overthrows "the great principle of
common sense" that cause and effect necessarily imply each other; and
involves all our reasoning from cause to effect, and _vice versa_, in
the utmost perplexity and confusion. It throws clouds and darkness over
the whole field of inquiry.
Since the time of Dr. Samuel Clarke, it has been frequently objected to
the scheme of moral necessity, that it is involved in the great
absurdity of an infinite series of causes. President Edwards urged this
objection against the doctrine of the self-determining power; he did not
perceive that it lay against his own scheme of the motive-determining
power; and hence, he has not even attempted to answer it. This was
reserved for the younger Edwards; and although he has deservedly ranked
high as a logician, I cannot but regard his attempt to answer the
objection in question, as one of the most remarkable abortions in the
history of philosophy.
SECTION VI.
OF THE MAXIM THAT EVERY EFFECT MUST HAVE A CAUSE.
IN a former section, I referred to some of the false assumptions which
have been incautiously conceded to the necessitarian, and in which he
has laid the foundations of his system; but I have not, as yet, alluded
to the argument or deduction in which he is accustomed to triumph. This
argument, strange as it may seem, is a deduction, not from any principle
or general fact which has been ascertained by observation or experience,
but from a self-evident and universal truth.
That every effect must have a cause, is the maxim upon which the
necessitarian takes his stand, and from which he delights to draw his
favourite conclusion. It may be well, therefore, to examine the argument
which has been so frequently erected upon the maxim in question.
Although from various considerations, it has been very justly concluded,
that there is somewhere a lurking fallacy in the argument, yet it has
not been precisely shown where the fallacy lies. Suspicion has been
thrown over it: nay, abundant reason has been shown why it should be
rejected; but yet the fallacy of it should be dragged from the place of
its concealment, and laid open in a clear light, so as to render it
apparent to every eye. If it is a sophism, it certainly can be exposed,
and it should be done.
In order to do this, it will be necessary to consider the nature and use
of the maxim, that every effect must have a cause. I am aware, that no
necessitarian of the present day, would choose to express this maxim as
I have expressed it; for in such a form Mr. Hume has shown that it
contains no information, and is indeed a most insignificant proposition.
And, in truth, what does it amount to? Cause and effect are correlative
terms; and when we speak of an effect, we mean something that is
produced by a cause; and hence, the famous proposition, that every
effect has a cause, amounts only to this, that every effect is an
effect!
After Mr. Hume had caused the subject to be viewed in this light, the
usual mode of expression was dropped; and it has now become the common
practice to say, that there is no change in nature without a cause. But
I do not see how this mends the matter _in the least:_ it may disguise,
but it does not alter the nature or real import of the maxim in
question. For when it is said that every change has a cause, it is
evident that a change is conceived of under the idea of an effect. It is
supposed to be produced by a cause, and therefore it must be considered
as an effect; and if the idea remains precisely the same, I do not see
that giving it a new name, can possibly make any difference in the
meaning of the proposition.
The maxim, that every effect must have a cause, is a self-evident and
universal proposition. Its truth is involved in the very definition of
the terms of which it is composed. In this respect it is like the axioms
of geometry. When it is said, for example, that "the whole is equal to
the sum of the parts," we at once perceive the truth of the axiom;
because the "whole" is merely another name for "the sum of the parts."
It is intuitively certain that they are equal, because they are but
different expressions of the same thing. So, likewise, when it is
affirmed, that every effect or every change in nature has a cause, we
instantly perceive the truth of the proposition; inasmuch as an effect
is that which is produced by a cause. The very idea of an effect implies
its relation to a cause; and to say, that it has one, is only to say,
that an effect is an effect. For if it were not produced by a cause, it
would not be an effect.
The maxim under consideration is as unquestionably true as any axiom in
Euclid. It does not depend for the evidence of its truth upon
observation, or experience, or reasoning; it carries its own evidence
along with it. No sooner are the terms in which it is expressed
understood, than it rivets irresistible conviction on the mind. It is a
fundamental law of belief; and it is impossible for the imagination of
man to conceive, that an effect, or that which is produced by a cause,
should be without a cause. And it were just as idle an employment of
one's time, to undertake to prove such a proposition, as it would be to
attempt to refute it.
Now, one of the fallacies of the argument of the necessitarian is, that
it is an attempt to draw a conclusion from the axiomatical truth above
referred to, as from the major of a syllogism. Every such attempt must
necessarily be vain and fruitless. "Axioms," justly remarks Mr. Locke,
"are not the foundations on which any of the sciences are built." And
again, "It was not the influence of those maxims which are taken for
principles in mathematics, that hath led the masters of that science
into the wonderful discoveries they have made. Let a man of good parts
know all the maxims generally made use of in mathematics never so
perfectly, and contemplate their extent and consequences as much as he
pleases, he will, by their assistance, I suppose, scarce ever come to
know, that the square of the hypothenuse in a right-angled triangle, is
equal to the squares of the two other sides. The knowledge, that the
whole is equal to the parts, and, if you take equals from equals, the
remainder will be equal, helped him not, I presume, to this
demonstration. And a man may, I think, pore long enough on those axioms,
without ever seeing one jot the more of mathematical truths."
The same doctrine is still more distinctly stated by Dugald Stewart. "If
by the first principles of a science," says he, "be meant those
fundamental propositions from which its remoter truths are derived, the
axioms cannot, with any consistency, be called the first principles of
mathematics. They have not, (it will be admitted,) the most distant
analogy to what are called the first principles of natural
philosophy:--to those general facts, for example, of the gravity and
elasticity of the air, from which may be deduced, as consequences, the
suspension of the mercury in the Torricellian tube, and its fall when
carried up to an eminence. According to this meaning of the word, the
first principles of mathematical science are, not the _axioms_ but the
_definitions_; which definitions hold, in mathematics, precisely the
same place that is held in natural philosophy by such general facts as
have now been referred to."
But the doctrine in question rests upon a firmer basis than that of
human authority. Let any man examine the demonstrations in geometry, and
attentively consider the principles from which the conclusions of that
science are deduced, and he will find that they are _definitions_, and
not _axioms_. He will find; that the properties of the triangle are
derived from the definition of a triangle, and those of a circle from
the definition of a circle. And then let him try his own skill upon the
axioms of that science; let him arrange them and combine them in all
possible ways; let him compare them together as long as he pleases, and
determine for himself, whether they can be made to yield a single
logical inference. If the question is thus brought to the test of an
actual experience, I think it is not difficult to foresee, that the
decision must be in favour of the doctrine of Stewart, and that it will
be seen, that no such proposition as that whatever _is, is,_ can even
constitute the postulate, or first principle, in any sound argument; and
that it is only from general facts, such as are ascertained by
observation and experience, that we can derive logical consequences of
any kind whatever, either in relation to matter or to mind.
If there is any truth in the foregoing remarks, or correctness in the
position of Locke and Stewart, it is certainly one of the capital errors
of Edwards, as well as of other necessitarians, that he has undertaken
to deduce his doctrine from a metaphysical axiom, or identical
proposition.
Supposing this to be the case, how has it happened, it may be asked,
that the argument of the necessitarian has appeared so conclusive to
himself, as well as unanswerable to others? The reason is plain. Having
set out with a proposition, which is barren of all consequences, as the
basis of his argument, it became necessary, in order to arrive at the
destined conclusion, to assume, somewhere and somehow, in the course of
his reasoning, the very point which he had undertaken to prove.
Accordingly, this has been done; and the tacit assumption of the point
in dispute seems not to have been suspected by him.
The justice of this remark may be shown, by a reference to the argument
of the necessitarian. When this is reduced to the form of a syllogism,
it stands thus: Every effect has a cause; a volition is an effect; and,
therefore, a volition has a cause. In the middle term, which assumes
that a volition is an effect, the point in dispute is taken for granted,
the whole question is completely begged.
If we take the words in any sense, yet as they are correlative terms,
the maxim that every effect must have a cause is self-evident; and
hence, no conclusion can be drawn from it, unless the conclusion
intended to be drawn is assumed in the middle term of the syllogism. It
either begs the question, or it decides nothing to the purpose. It is
true, that every change in nature must have a cause; that is to say, it
is in some sense of the word an effect, and consequently must have a
corresponding cause; but in what sense does every act of the mind come
under the idea and definition of an effect? This is the question. Is it
brought to pass by the prior action of motive? Is it necessitated? Upon
this precise question, the maxim that every change must have a cause can
throw no light; it only seems to refer to this point, by means of the
very convenient ambiguity of the terms in which it is expressed. The
necessitarian never fails to avail himself of this ambiguity. He seems
both to himself and to the spectator to be carrying on a "great
demonstration;" and this is one reason, perhaps, why the mind is
diverted from the sophistical tricks, the metaphysical jugglery, by
which both are deceived. Let us look a little more narrowly at this
pretended demonstration.
The maxim in question is applied to volition; every change in nature,
even the voluntary acts of the mind, must have a cause. Now according to
Edwards' explanation of the term, this is a proposition which, I will
venture to say, no man in his right mind ever ventured to deny. It is
true, that President Edwards tells us of those, who "imagine that a
volition has no cause, or _that it produces itself_;" and he has very
well compared this to the absurdity of supposing, "that I gave myself my
own being, or that I came into being without a cause," p. 277. But who
ever held such a doctrine? Did any man, in his right mind, ever contend
that "a volition could produce itself," can arise out of nothing, and
bring itself into existence? If so, they were certainly beyond the reach
of logic; they stood in need of the physician. I have never been so
unfortunate as to meet with any advocate of free-agency, either in
actual life or in history, who supposed that a volition arose out of
nothing, without _any cause_ of its existence, or that it produced
itself. They have all maintained, with one consent, that the mind is the
cause of volition. Is the mind nothing? If a man should say, as so many
have said, that the mind produces its own volitions, is that equivalent
to saying, that nothing produces it; that it comes "into being
accidentally, without any cause of its being?" Such is the broad
caricature of their doctrine, which is repeatedly given by President
Edwards.
It is freely admitted, and the advocates of free-agency have always
admitted, that volition has a cause, as that word is frequently used by
Edwards. He tells us, that by cause he sometimes means any antecedent,
whether it exerts any positive influence or no. Now, in this sense, it
is conceded by the advocates of free-agency, that motive itself is the
cause of volition. This is the question: Is motive the efficient, or
producing cause of volition? This is the question, I say; but Edwards
frequently loses sight of it in a mist of ambiguities; and he lays
around him in the dark, with such prodigious strength, that if his
adversaries were not altogether imaginary beings, and therefore
impassible to his ponderous blows, I have no doubt he would have slain
more of them than ever Samson did of the Philistines.
The manner in which the necessitarian speaks of cause in his maxims, and
reasonings, and pretended demonstrations, is of very great service to
him. It includes, as we are told, every condition or cause of volition;
(what a heterogeneous mass!) every thing without which volition could
not come to pass. Yea, it is used in this sense, when it is said that
motive is the cause of volition. What shall we do, then, with this
broad, this most ambiguous proposition? Shall we deny it? If so, then we
deny that volition has any cause of its existence, and fall into the
great absurdity of supposing "volition to produce itself." Shall we
assent to it, then? If so, we really admit that motive is the efficient
cause of volition; and thus, by denying, we are made to reject our own
doctrine, while, by affirming, we are made to receive that of our
opponents. This way of proposing the doctrine of necessity very strongly
reminds one of a certain trick in legislation, by which such things are
forced into a bill, that in voting upon it, you must either reject what
you most earnestly desire, or else sanction and support what you most
earnestly detest. We should, therefore, neither affirm nor deny the
whole proposition as it is set forth by the necessitarian; we should
touch it with the dissecting knife, and cure it of its manifold
infirmities.
The ambiguity of the term cause is, indeed, one of the most powerful
weapons, both of attack and defence, in the whole armory of the
necessitarian. Do you affirm the mind to be the cause of volition? Then,
forthwith, as if the word could have only one meaning, it is alleged,
that if the mind is the cause of volition, it can cause it only by a
preceding volition; and so on _ad infinitum_. Hence, your doctrine must
needs be absurd; because the word is understood, yea, and will be
understood, in its most restrained and narrow sense. But do you deny
motive to be the cause of volition? Then, how absurd are you again; you
are no longer understood to use the word in the same sense; you now
mean, not only that motive is not the producing cause of volition, but
that there is absolutely nothing upon which it depends for its
existence, and that "it produces itself." Does Edwards affirm that
motive is the cause of volition; that motive causes volition to arise
and come forth into existence; that it is not merely "the negative
occasion" thereof, but the cause in the most proper sense of the word;
that it is "the effectual power which produces volition?" What then?
Dare you assert, in the face of such teaching, that motive is not the
cause of volition? If so, then you are a most obstinate and perverse
caviller; and you are silenced by the information that he _sometimes_
uses the word cause to signify any antecedent, whether it has any
positive influence or no. Yea, he gives this information, he declares,
to "cut off occasion from any that might seek occasion to cavil and
object against his doctrine," p. 51. These, and many other things of the
same kind, are to be found in the writings of Day, and Edwards, and
Collins, and Hobbes; and whosoever may be pleased to follow them,
through all the doublings and windings of their logic, may do so at his
leisure. It is sufficient for my present purpose to remark, that Edwards
has included a number of different ideas in his definition of cause; and
that he turns from the one to the other of these ideas, just as it suits
the exigencies of his argument. It is in this way, as we have seen, that
the famous maxim, that every change in nature must have a cause, has
been made to serve his purpose.
He did not look at a volition and an effect, so as to mark their
differences narrowly, and to proceed in his reasonings according to
them; he set out with the great and universal truth, that every change
in the universe must have a cause; from which lofty position the
differences of things in this nether world were invisible. Having
secured this position to his entire satisfaction, being firmly persuaded
in his own mind, that "nonentity could not bring forth," he supposed he
had gained a strong foothold; and from thence he proceeded to reason
downward to what actually takes place in this lower world!
We are but "the humble servants and interpreters of nature," and we "can
understand her operations only in so far as we have observed them." The
necessitarian takes higher ground than this. He disdains the humble and
patient task of observation. He plants his foot upon an eternal and
immutable axiom; and, turning away from the study of what is, he
magisterially pronounces what _must be_.
It is easy to see how he constructs his system. Every change in nature
must have a cause, says he; this is very true; there is no truth in the
world more certain, according to the sense in which he frequently
understands it. If he means to assert, that nothing, whether it be an
entity, or an attribute, or a mode, can bring itself into existence, no
one disputes his doctrine. It is most true, that there can be no choice
without a mind that chooses, or an object in view of which it chooses; a
mind, an object, and a desire, (if you please,) are the indispensable
prerequisites, the invariable antecedents, to volition; but there is an
immense chasm between this position and the doctrine, that the mind
cannot put forth a volition, unless it is made to do so by the action of
something else upon it. This immense chasm, the necessitarian can cross
only by stepping over from one branch of his ambiguous proposition to
another; he either does this, or he does not reach the point in
controversy at all.
SECTION VII.
OF THE APPLICATION OF THE MAXIM THAT EVERY EFFECT MUST HAVE A CAUSE.
IN the last section I considered the application of the maxim, "that
every effect must have a cause," to the question of necessity. This
maxim figures so largely in every scheme of necessity, and it is relied
upon with so much confidence, that I shall present some further views
respecting its true nature and application. The necessitarian may see
the truth of this maxim clearly, but he applies it vaguely.
He is always saying, "that if we give up this great principle of common
sense, then there is no reasoning from effect to cause; and we cannot
prove the existence of a God." Now I propose to show that we need not
give up "this great principle of common sense;" that we may continue to
reason from effect to cause, and so reach the conclusion that there is a
God, by one of the most incontrovertible of all our mental processes;
and yet we may, with perfect consistency, refuse to apply the maxim in
question to human actions or volitions. In other words, that we may
freely admit the principle in question, and yet reject the application
which the necessitarian is accustomed to make of it.
In order to do this in a perspicuous and satisfactory manner, let us
consider the occasion on which we first became acquainted with the truth
of the principle, that every effect must have a cause. Let us consider
the circumstances under which it is first suggested to the mind. Whence,
then, do we derive the ideas of cause and effect, and of the necessary
connection between them?
Locke, it is well known, supposed that we might derive the idea of
causation by reflecting on the changes which take place in the external
world. The fallacy of this supposition has been fully shown by Hume, and
Brown, and Consin. In the refutation of Locke's notion, these celebrated
philosophers were undoubtedly right; but the two first were wrong in the
conclusion that we have no idea of power at all. Because the ideas of
power and causation are not suggested by the changes of the material
world, it does not follow that we have no such ideas in reality; that
the only notion we have of causation is that of an invariable
antecedence.
The only way in which the mind ever comes to be furnished with the ideas
of cause and effect at all is this: we are conscious that we will a
certain motion in the body, and we discover that the motion follows the
volition. It is this act of the mind, this exertion of the will, that
gives us the idea of a cause; and the change which it produces in the
body, is that from which we derive the idea of an effect. If we had
never experienced a volition, we should never have formed the idea of
causation. The idea of positive efficiency, or active power, would never
have entered into our minds.
The two terms of the sequence, with which we are thus furnished by an
actual experience, is an act of the mind, or a volition, on the one
hand, which we call an efficient cause; and a modification or change in
inert, passive matter, on the other, which we call an effect. It is easy
to see how we rise from this single experience to the universal maxim in
question. We are so made and constituted, by the Author of our nature,
that we cannot help believing in the uniformity of nature's laws, or
sequences. Hence, whenever we see either term of the above sequence, we
are necessarily compelled, by a fundamental law of belief, to infer the
existence of the other.
This fundamental law of belief, by which we repose the most implicit
confidence in the uniformity of nature's sequences, has been recognized
by many distinguished writers in modern times. It is well stated and
illustrated by Dr. Chalmers. "The doctrine of innate ideas in the mind,"
says he, "is wholly different from the doctrine of innate tendencies in
the mind--which tendencies may lie undeveloped till the excitement of
some occasion have manifested or brought them forth. In a newly-formed
mind, there is no idea of nature, or of a single object in nature; yet,
no sooner is an object presented, or is an event observed to happen,
than there is elicited the tendency of the mind to presume on the
constancy of nature. At least as far back as our observation extends,
the law of the mind is in full operation. Let an infant, for the first
time in his life, strike on the table with a spoon; and, pleased with
the noise, it will repeat that stroke with every appearance of a
confident expectation that the noise will be repeated also. It counts on
the invariableness wherewith the same consequent will follow the same
antecedent. In the language of Dr. Thomas Brown, these two terms make up
a sequence, and there seems to exist in the spirit of man not an
underived, but an aboriginal faith in the uniformity of nature's
sequences."--Nat. Theo. p. 121.
Now, the two terms which we find connected in the case before us, is an
act of the mind, and a change or modification of the body. The volition
is the antecedent, and the motion of body is the consequent. And these
two, by virtue of the law of belief above stated, we shall always expect
to find conjoined. Wherever we discover a change or modification, for
example, in the corporeal system of any other person, similar to that
which results from our own volitions, we shall necessarily infer the
existence of a prior act by which it was produced.
Hence, when we witness a change _in the world of matter_, we are
authorized to apply the maxim we have derived in the manner above
explained. We have really no idea of an efficient cause, except that
which we have derived from the phenomena of action. Hence, if we would
not suffer ourselves to be imposed upon by words without meaning, when
we see any change or effect in the material world, we should conclude
that it proceeds from an action of spirit. When we see the same
consequent, we should infer the existence of the same antecedent; and
not suffer our minds to be confused and misled by the manifold
ambiguities of language, as well as by the innumerable illusions of the
fancy. Wherever we see a change in matter, we should infer an act by
which it is produced; and thus, through all the changes and
modifications of the material universe, we shall behold the sublime
manifestations of an ever-present and all-pervading agency of spirit.
By a similar process, we are made acquainted with the existence of an
intelligent and designing First Cause. We learn the connection between
the adaptation of means to an end, and the operations of a designing
mind, by reflecting on what passes within ourselves when we plan and
execute a work of skill and contrivance. And, as we are so made as to
rely with implicit confidence on the uniformity of nature's sequences;
so, without further experience or induction, it is impossible for us to
conceive of any contrivance whatever, without conceiving of it as
proceeding from the hand of a contriver. Thus, we necessarily rise from
the innumerable and wonderful contrivances in nature, to a belief in the
existence of an intelligent and designing mind. In like manner may we
establish the other attributes of God.
But to return to our maxim. We can only infer, from a change or
modification in matter, the existence of an act by which it is produced.
The former is the only idea we have of an effect; the latter is the only
idea we have of an efficient cause. Hence, in reasoning from effect to
cause, we can only reason from a change or modification in matter, or in
that what is passive, to the act of some active power. This lays a
sufficient foundation on which to rest the proof of the existence of
God, as well as the existence of other minds.
But the case is very different when we turn from the contemplation of a
_passive result_ to consider an _efficient cause_--when we turn from the
_motion of body_ to consider the _activity of mind_. In such a case, the
consequent ceases to be the same; and hence we have no right to infer
that the antecedent is the same. We are conscious of an act; we perceive
that it is followed by a change in the outward world; and henceforth,
whenever we observe another change in the outward world, we are
compelled to ascribe it, also, to a similar cause. This conviction
results from the constitution of our minds--from a fundamental law of
belief. But when we contemplate, not a change in the outward world, in
that which is passive, but an act of the mind itself, the case is
entirely different. We have some experience that certain changes in
matter are the results of certain acts; and hence, whenever we observe
similar phenomena, we are under a necessity of our nature to refer them
to similar causes. We merely rely upon our veritable belief in the
uniformity of nature's sequences, without a reliance upon which there
can be no such thing as reasoning, when we ascend from the changes in
the outward world to a belief in the agency of an efficient Cause. But
we have no experience that an act of the mind is produced by a preceding
act of the mind, or by the prior action of any thing else. President
Edwards himself admits that our experience is silent on this subject.
And hence, when we witness an act of the mind, or when we are conscious
of a volition, our instinctive belief in the uniformity of nature's
sequences does not require us to believe that it has an efficient cause;
or, in other words, that it is produced by the prior action of something
else, as the motion of body is produced by a prior act of mind. _A
change in body_ necessarily implies the prior action of something else
by which it is produced; _an act of mind_ only implies the existence of
an agent that is capable of acting. Wherever an act exists, we must
believe that there is a soul, or mind, or agent, that is capable of
acting. We need not suppose that, like a change in body, it is brought
to pass by a prior act. In other words, a change in that which is by
nature passive, necessarily implies an act by which it is produced. But
an act of the mind itself, which is not passive, does not likewise imply
a preceding act by which it is produced. _It only implies the existence
of an agent that is capable of acting, and the circumstances necessary
to action as conditions, not as causes._
Herein, then, lies the error of the necessitarian. He discovers from
experience the connection between an act and a corresponding motion; and
his instinctive belief in the uniformity of nature's sequences
authorizes him to extend this connection to all sequences where the two
terms are the same. That is to say, wherever he discovers a change in
body, he is authorized to infer the existence of a prior act by which it
was produced. But he does not confine himself to this sequence alone. He
does not rest satisfied with the universal principle, that every change
in body, or in that which is passive, must proceed from the prior action
of something else. He makes a most unwarrantable extension of this
principle. He supposes not only that every change in body, but also that
every act of mind, must proceed from the prior action of something else.
Thus he confounds passion and action. He takes it for granted that a
volition is an _effect_--an effect in such a sense that it cannot
proceed from the mind, unless it be produced by the prior act thereof.
He asserts that "the mind cannot be the cause of such an effect," of a
volition, "except by the preceding action of the mind." Thus, in rising
from a single experience to a universal maxim, by virtue of our belief
in the uniformity of nature's laws, he does not confine himself to the
observed sequences; he does not keep his attention steadily fixed on a
change in body as the consequent, and on an act as the invariable
antecedent. On the contrary, from the exceedingly abstruse and subtle
nature of the subject, as well as from the ambiguity of language, he
treats a volition as a consequent, which implies the same kind of
antecedent as does a change in body. Thus, by this unwarrantable
extension or application of his principle, he confounds the _motion of
body_ with the _action of spirit_; than which there could hardly be a
more unphilosophical confusion of ideas.
From the foregoing remarks, it will be perceived, as I have already
said, that the question is not, _whether every effect must have a
cause_. This is conceded. We do not give up "this great principle of
common sense." We insist upon it as firmly as do our adversaries; and
hence, we have as strong a foundation whereon to rest our belief in the
being of a God. But the question is, _whether every cause is an effect?_
Or, in other words, whether an act of mind can exist without being
produced by the prior action of something else; just as the motion of
body is produced by the prior action of mind? We say that it can exist
without any such producing cause.
If it were otherwise, if every cause were an effect in the sense in
which a volition is assumed to be an effect by the necessitarian, what
would be the consequence? It is evident, that each and every cause in
the universe must itself have a cause--must itself result from the
preceding action of something else; and thus we should be involved in
the great absurdity of an infinite series of causes, as well as in the
iron scheme of an all-pervading necessity. But, happily, there is
nothing in our experience, nor in any law of our nature, nor in both
together, which requires us to believe that a volition is an effect in
any such sense of the word. Call it an effect, if you please; but then
it must be conceded that it is not, like the motion of body, such a
consequent as necessarily requires the prior action of something else
for its production.
Every _effect_ must have a cause, it is true; but it is purely a
gratuitous assumption--a mere _petitio principii_, to take it for
granted that a volition is an effect in the sense in which the word
should always be understood in this celebrated maxim. This maxim is
undoubtedly true, as we have seen, when applied to the changes of that
which cannot act: it is in reference to such effects, or consequents,
that the conviction of its truth is first suggested; and we cannot doubt
of the propriety of its application to all such effects, unless we can
doubt of the uniformity of nature's sequences. But when we go over from
the region of inert, passive matter, into that which is full of
spiritual vigour and unceasing activity, and apply this maxim here in
all its rigour, we do make a most unwarrantable extension of it. We
pervert it from its true meaning and import; we identify volition with
local motion; we involve ourselves in the greatest of all absurdities,
as well as in the most ruinous of all doctrines.
As we have already said, then, we do not give up the great principle of
common sense, that every effect must have a cause. We recognize this
principle when we reason from effect to cause--when we ascend from the
creation up to the Creator. We deny that volition is an effect; and what
then? If volition be not an effect, are there no effects in the
universe? Are we sunk in utter darkness? Have we no platform left
whereon to stand, and to behold the glory of God, our Creator and
Preserver? Surely we have. Every change throughout inanimate nature
bespeaks the agency of Him, who "sits concealed behind his own
creation," but is everywhere manifested by his omnipresent energy. The
human body is an effect, teeming with evidences of the most wonderful
skill of its Great Cause and Contriver. The soul itself is an
effect,--the soul, with all its complicated and wonder-working powers,
is an effect; and clearly proclaims the wisdom, and the goodness, and
the holiness of its Maker. The heavens above us, with all its shining
hosts and admirable mechanism, proclaims the glory of God; and the whole
universe of created intelligences shout for joy, as they respond in
their eternal anthems to the "music of the spheres." And is not this
enough? Is the whole psaltery of heaven and earth marred, and all its
sweet harmony turned into harsh discord, if we only dare to assert that
an act is not an effect? No, no: this too proclaims the glory of God;
for, however great may be the mystery, it only shows that the Almighty
has called into existence innumerable creatures, bearing the impress of
his own glorious image, and that, in consequence thereof, they are
capable of acting without being compelled to act.
It is the position of Edwards, and not ours, that would disprove the
existence of a God. We believe in action which is uncaused by any prior
action; and hence, we can reason from effects up to Cause, and there
find a resting-place. We do not look beyond that which is uncaused. We
believe there is action somewhere, uncaused by preceding action; and if
we did not believe this, we should be constrained to adopt the doctrine
of Edwards, that action itself must be caused "by the action of
something else," p. 203; which necessarily lands us in an infinite
series of causes; the very ground occupied by Atheists in all ages of
the world. It is well, therefore, to hold on to "this great principle of
common sense, that every effect must have a cause," in order that we may
rise from the world and its innumerable wonders to the contemplation of
the infinite wisdom and goodness of God: it is also well that we should
hold it with a distinction, and not apply it to action, in order that we
may not be forced beyond the Great First Cause--the central light of the
Universe, into the "outer darkness" of the old atheistic scheme of an
infinite series of causes. If we give up this principle, we cannot prove
the existence of a God, it is most true; but yet, if we apply this
principle as Edwards applies it, we are irresistibly launched upon an
infinite series of causes, and compelled to shoot entirely beyond the
belief of a God. We quarrel not, therefore, with his great principle;
but we utterly reject his application of it, as leading directly to
Atheism.
SECTION VIII.
OF THE RELATION BETWEEN THE FEELINGS AND THE WILL.
IT is well known that Edwards confounds the sensitive part of our nature
with the will, the susceptibility by which the mind feels with the power
by which it acts. He expressly declares, that "the affections and the
will are not two faculties of the soul;" and it is upon this confusion
of things that much of his argument depends for its coherency.
But although he thus expressly confounds them; yet he frequently speaks
of them, in the course of his argument, as if they were two different
faculties of the soul. Thus, he frequently asserts that the will is
determined by "the strongest appetite," by "the strongest disposition,"
by "the strongest inclination." Now, in these expressions, he evidently
means to distinguish appetite, inclination, and disposition, from the
will; and if he does not, then he asserts, that the will is determined
by itself, a doctrine which he utterly repudiates.
The soundness of much of his argument depends, as I have said, upon the
confusion or the identification of these two properties of the mind; the
soundness of much of it also depends upon the fact that they are not
identical, but distinct. From a great number of similar passages, we may
select the following, as an illustration of the justness of this remark:
"Moral necessity," says he, "may be as _absolute_, as natural necessity.
That is, the effect may be as powerfully connected with its moral cause,
as a natural necessary effect is with its natural cause. Whether the
will in every case is necessarily determined by the strongest motive, or
whether the will ever makes any resistance to such a motive, or can ever
oppose the strongest present inclination, or not; if that matter should
be controverted, yet I suppose none will deny, but that, in some cases,
a previous bias, or inclination, or the motive presented, may be so
POWERFUL, THAT THE ACT OF THE WILL MAY BE CERTAINLY AND INDISSOLUBLY
CONNECTED THEREWITH. When motives or previous bias are very strong, all
will allow that there is some _difficulty_ in going against them. And if
they were yet stronger, the difficulty would be still greater. And,
therefore, if more be still added to their strength, to a certain
degree, it would make the difficulty so great, that it would be wholly
_impossible_ to surmount it; for, this plain reason, because whatever
power men may be supposed to have to surmount difficulties, yet that
power is not infinite; and so goes not beyond certain limits. If a man
can surmount ten degrees of difficulty of this kind with twenty degrees
of strength, because the degrees of strength are beyond the degrees of
difficulty; yet if the difficulty be increased to thirty, or an hundred,
or a thousand degrees, and his strength not also increased, his strength
will be wholly insufficient to surmount the difficulty. As, therefore,
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 is
what I call by the name of _moral necessity_."
Now he here speaks of inclination and previous bias, as elsewhere of
appetite and disposition, as distinct from volition. In this he is
right; even the necessitarian will not, at the present day, deny that
our desires, affections, &c., are different from volition. "Between
motive and volition," says President Day, "there must intervene an
apprehension of the object, and _consequent feeling excited in the
mind_." Thus, according to President Day, feeling is not volition; it
intervenes between the external object and volition. But although
Edwards is right in this; there is one thing in which he is wrong. He is
wrong in supposing that our feelings possess a real strength, by which
they act upon and control the will.
It is obvious that the coherency and force of the above passage depends
on the idea, that there is a real power in the strongest inclination or
desire of the mind, which renders it difficult to be surmounted or
overcome. For if we suppose, that our inclinations or desires are merely
the occasions on which we act, and that they themselves exert no
influence or efficiency in the production of our volitions, it would be
absurd to speak of the difficulty of overcoming them, as well as to
speak of this difficulty as increasing with the increasing strength of
the inclination, or desire. Take away this idea, show that there is no
real strength in motives, or desires and inclinations, and the above
extract will lose all its force; it will fall to pieces of itself.
Indeed, the idea or supposition in question, is one of the strongholds
of the necessitarian. External objects are regarded as the efficient
causes of desire; desire as the efficient cause of volition; and in this
way, the whole question seems to be settled. The same result would
follow, if we should suppose that desire is awakened not exclusively by
external objects, but partly by that which is external, and partly by
that which is internal. On this supposition, as well as on the former,
the will would seem to be under the dominion of the strongest desire or
inclination of the soul.
The assumption, that there is a real efficiency exerted by the desires
and inclinations of the soul, has been, so far as I know, universally
conceded to the necessitarian. He seems to have been left in the
undisputed possession of this stronghold; and yet, upon mature
reflection, I think we may find some reason to call it in question. If I
am not greatly mistaken, we may see that the necessitarian has some
reason to abate the loftiness of his tone, when he asserts, that "we
_know_ that the feelings do exert an influence in the production of
volition." This may appear very evident to his mind; nay, at first view,
it may appear very evident to all minds; and yet, after all, it may be
only an "idol of the tribe."
It is a commonly received opinion, among philosophers, that the
passions, desires, &c., do really exert an influence to produce
volition. This was evidently the idea of Burlamaqui. He draws a
distinction between voluntary actions and free actions; and as an
instance of a voluntary action which is not free, he cites the case of a
man who, as he supposes, is constrained to act from fear. He supposes
that such an action, though voluntary, is not free, because it is
brought about by the irresistible influence of the passion of fear.
It is believed, also, by the disciples of Butler, that there is a real
strength possessed by what are called the "active powers" of the mind.
"This distinction," says Dr. Chalmers, "made by the sagacious Butler
between the power of a principle and its authority, enables us in the
midst of all the actual anomalies and disorders of our state, to form a
precise estimate of the place which conscience naturally and rightly
holds in man's constitution. The desire of acting virtuously, which is a
desire consequent on our sense of right and wrong, may not be of _equal
strength_ with the desire of some criminal indulgence, and so,
practically, the evil may predominate over the good. And thus it is that
the system of the inner man, from _the weakness_ of that which claims to
be the ascendant principle of our nature, may be thrown into a state of
turbulence and disorder."--Nat. The. p. 313.
Such was the idea of Butler himself. He frequently speaks of the
supremacy of conscience, in terms such as the following: "That principle
by which we survey, and either approve or disapprove, our heart, temper,
and actions, is not only to be considered as what in its turn is to have
some influence, which may be said of every passion, of the basest
appetite; but likewise as being superior; as from its very nature
manifestly claiming superiority over all others; insomuch that you
cannot form a notion of this faculty conscience, without taking in
judgement, direction, and superintendency. This is a constituent part of
the idea, that is of the faculty itself; and to preside and govern, from
the very economy and constitution of man, belongs to it. Had it _might_,
as it has right; had it _power_, as it has manifest authority; it would
absolutely govern the world."
This language, it should be observed, is not used in a metaphorical
sense; it occurs in the statement of a philosophical theory of human
nature. Similar language is frequently to be found in the writings of
the most enlightened advocates of free-agency. Thus, says Jouffroy, even
while he is contending against the doctrine of necessity: "There are two
kinds of _moving powers_ acting upon us; first, the impulses of
instinct, or passion; and, secondly, the conceptions of reason. . . . .
That these two kinds of moving powers can and do, act efficiently upon
our volitions, there can be no doubt," p. 102. If it were necessary, it
might be shown, by hundreds of extracts from their writings, that the
great advocates of free-agency have held, that the emotions, desires,
and passions, do really act on the will, and tend to produce volitions.
But why dwell upon particular instances? If any advocate of free-agency
had really believed, that the passions, desires, affections, &c., exert
no influence over the will, is it not certain that he would have availed
himself of this principle? If the principle that no desire, or
affection, or passion, is possessed of any power or causal influence,
had been adopted by the advocates of free-agency, its bearing in favour
of their cause would have been too obvious and too important to have
been overlooked. The necessitarian might have supposed, if he had
pleased, that our desires and affections are produced by the action of
external objects; and yet, on the supposition that these exerted no
positive or causal influence, the doctrine of liberty might have been
most successfully maintained. For, after all, the desires and affections
thus produced in the mind, would not, on the supposition in question, be
the causes of our volitions. They would merely be the occasions on which
we act. There would be no necessary connexion between what are called
motives and their corresponding actions. Our desires or emotions might
be under the influence and dominion of external causes, or of causes
that are partly external and partly internal; but yet our volitions
would be perfectly free from all preceding influences whatever. Our
volitions might depend on certain conditions, it is true, such as the
possession of certain desires or affections; but they would not result
from the influence or action of them. They would be absolutely free and
uncontrolled. The reason why this principle has not been employed by the
advocates of free-agency is, I humbly conceive, because it has not been
entertained by them.
In short, if the advocates of free-agency had shaken off the common
illusion that there is a real efficiency, or causal influence, exerted
by the desires of the soul, they would have made it known in the most
explicit and unequivocal terms. Instead of resorting to the expedients
they have adopted, in order to surmount the difficulties by which they
have been surrounded, they would, every where and on all occasions, have
reminded their adversaries that those difficulties arise merely from
ascribing a literal signification to language, which is only true in a
metaphorical sense; and we should have had pages, not to say volumes,
concerning this use of language, where we have not had a syllable.
If the illusion in question has been as general as I have supposed, it
is not difficult to account for its prevalence. The fact that a desire,
or affection is the indispensable condition, the invariable antecedent,
of an act of the will, is of itself sufficient to account for the
prevalence of such a notion. Nothing is more common than for men to
mistake an invariable antecedent for an efficient cause. This source of
error, it is well known, has given rise to some of the most obstinate
delusions that have ever infested and enslaved the human mind.
And besides, when such an error or illusion prevails, its hold upon the
mind is confirmed and rendered almost invincible by the circumstance,
that it is interwoven into the structure of all our language. In this
case in particular, we never cease to speak of "the active principles,"
of "the ruling passion," of "ungovernable desire," of "the dominion of
lust," of being "enslaved to a vicious propensity;"--in a thousand ways,
the idea that there is a real efficiency in the desires and affections
of the soul, is wrought into the structure of our language; and hence,
there is no wonder that it has gained such an ascendency over our
thoughts. It has met us at every turn; it has presented itself to us in
a thousand shapes; it has become so familiar, that we have not even
stopped to inquire into its true nature. Its dominion has become
complete and secure, just because its truth has never been doubted.
The illusion in question, if it be one, has derived an accession of
strength from another source. It is a fact, that whenever we feel
intensely, we do, as a general thing, act with a proportioned degree of
energy; and _vice versa_. Hence, we naturally derive the impression,
that the determinations of the will are produced by the strength of our
feelings. If the passion or desire is languid, (since we must use a
metaphor,) the action is in general feeble; and if it is intense, the
act is _usually_ powerful and energetic. Hence, we are prone to
conclude, that the mind is moved to act by the influence of passion or
desire; and that the energy of the action corresponds with the strength
of the motive, or moving principle.
Though the principle in question has been so commonly received, I think
we should be led to question it in consequence of the conclusions which
have been deduced from it. If our desires, affections, &c., operate to
influence the will, how can it be free in putting forth volitions? How
does Mr. Locke meet this difficulty? Does he tell us, that it arises
solely from our mistaking a metaphorical for a literal mode of
expression? Far from it.
He does not place liberty on the broad ground, that the desires by which
volitions are supposed to be determined, are in reality nothing more
than the conditions or occasions on which the mind acts; and that they
themselves can exert no positive influence or efficiency. The liberty of
the soul consists, according to him, not in the circumstance that its
desires do not _operate_, but in its power to arrest the operation of
its desires. He admits that they operate, that they tend to produce
volition; but the mind is nevertheless free, because it can suspend the
operation of desire, and prevent the tendency thereof from passing into
effect. "There being," says he, "in us a great many uneasinesses always
soliciting and ready to determine the will, it is natural, as I have
said, that the greatest or most pressing should determine the will to
the next action; and so it does for the most part, but not always. For
the mind having in most cases, as is evident in experience, a power to
suspend the execution and satisfaction of its desires, and so all, one
after another, examine them on all sides, and weigh them with others. In
this lies the liberty man has."
Thus we are supposed to be free, because we have a power to resist, in
some cases at least, the influence of desire. But this is not always the
case. Our desires may be so strong as entirely to overcome us--and what
then? Why we cease to be free agents; and it is only when the storm of
passion subsides, that we are restored to the rank of accountable
beings. "Sometimes a boisterous passion hurries away our thoughts," says
Locke, "as a hurricane does our bodies, without leaving us the liberty
of thinking on other things, which we would rather choose. But as soon
as the mind regains the power to stop or continue, begin or forbear, any
of these motives of the body without, or thoughts within, according as
it thinks fit to prefer either to the other, we then consider the man as
a free-agent again." This language is employed by Mr. Locke, while
attempting to define the idea of liberty or free-agency; and he
evidently supposed, as appears from the above passage, as well as from
some others, that we frequently cease to be free-agents, in consequence
of the irresistible power of our desires or passions.
Dr. Reid set out from the same position, and he arrived at the same
conclusion. He frequently speaks of the appetites and passions as so
many forces, whose action is "directly upon the will." "They draw a man
towards a certain object, without any further view, by a sort of
violence."--Essays, p. 18. "When a man is acted upon by motives of this
kind, he finds it easy to yield to the strongest. They are like two
forces pushing him in contrary directions. To yield to the strongest, he
need only be passive," p. 237. "In actions that proceed from appetite
and passion, we are passive in part and only in part active. They are
therefore in part imputed to the passion; and if it is supposed to be
irresistible, we do not impute them to the man at all. Even an American
savage judges in this way; when in a fit of drunkenness he kills his
friend; as soon as he comes to himself, he is very sorry for what he has
done, but pleads that drink, and not he, was the cause," p. 14, 15. Such
is the dreadful consequence, which Dr. Reid boldly deduces from the
principle, that the appetites and passions do really act upon the will.
Though he was an advocate of free-agency; yet, holding this principle,
he could speak of _actions that are partly passive;_ and that in so far
as they are passive, he maintained they should not be imputed to the man
whose actions they are, but to the passions by which they are produced,
This may appear to be strange doctrine for an advocate of free-agency
and accountability; but it seems to be the natural and inevitable
consequence of the commonly received notion with respect to the relation
which subsists between the passions and the will.
The principle that our appetites, desires, &c., do exert a real
influence in the production of volition, was common to Edwards, Locke,
and Reid: indeed, so far as I know, it has been universally received. In
the opinion of Edwards, this influence becomes "so powerful" at times as
to establish a moral necessity beyond all question; and in that of Locke
and Reid, it is sometimes so great as to destroy free-agency and
accountability. Is not this inference well drawn? It seems to me that it
is; and this constitutes one reason, why I deny the principle from which
it is deduced.
Is it true, then, that any power or efficacy belongs to the sensitive or
emotive part of our nature? Reflection must show us, I think, that it is
absurd to suppose that any desire, affection, or disposition of the
mind, can really and truly exert any positive or productive influence.
When we speak of the appetites, desires, affections, &c., as the "active
principles" of our nature, we must needs understand this as a purely
metaphorical mode of expression.
Edwards himself has shown the impropriety of regarding similar modes of
speech as a literal expression of the truth. "To talk of liberty," says
he, "or the contrary, as belonging to the _very will itself_, is not to
speak good sense; if we judge of sense, and nonsense, by the original
and proper signification of words. 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. To be free is the property of an
agent, who is possessed of powers and faculties, as much as to be
cunning, valiant, bountiful, or zealous. But _these qualities are the
properties of persons_, and not the _properties of properties_." This
remark, no doubt, is perfectly just, as well as highly important. And it
may be applied with equal force and propriety, to the practice of
speaking of the strength of motives, or inclinations, or desires; for
power is a "property of the person, or the soul; and not the property of
a property."
It appeared exceedingly absurd to the author of the "Inquiry," to speak
of "the free acts of the will," as being _determined by the will
itself;_ because the _will_ is not an agent, and "actions are to be
ascribed to agents, and not properly to the powers and properties of
agents." But he seemed to perceive no absurdity, in speaking of "the
free acts of the will," as being caused by the strongest motives, by the
dispositions and appetites of the soul. Now, are the strongest motives,
as they are called, are the strongest dispositions and desires of the
soul, agents, or are they merely the properties of agents? Let the
necessitarian answer this question, and then determine whether his logic
is consistent with itself.
Mr. Locke, also, has well said, that it is absurd to inquire whether
"the will be free or no; inasmuch as _liberty_, which is but a _power_,
belongs only to agents, and cannot be an attribute or modification of
will, which is also but a power." Though Mr. Locke applied this remark
to the usual form of speech, by which freedom is ascribed to the will,
he failed to do so in regard to the language by which power, which is a
property of the mind itself, is ascribed to our desires, or passions, or
affections, which are likewise properties of the mind. And hence have
arisen many of his difficulties in regard to the freedom of human
actions. Supposing that our desires exerted some positive influence or
efficiency in the production of volitions, his views on the subject of
free-agency become vague, inconsistent, fluctuating and unsatisfactory.
The hypothesis that the desires impel the will to act, is inconsistent
with observed facts. If this hypothesis were true, the phenomena of
volition would be very different from what they are. A man may desire
that it should rain, for example; he may have the most intense feeling
on this subject imaginable, and there may be no counteracting desire or
feeling whatever; now if desire ever impelled a man to volition, it
would induce him, in such a case, to will that it should rain. But no
man, in his senses, ever puts forth a volition to make it rain--and why?
Just because he is a rational creature, and knows that his volition
cannot produce any such effect. In the same manner, a man might wish to
fly, or to do a thousand other things which are beyond his power; and
yet not make the least effort to do so, not because he has no power to
put forth such efforts, but because he does not choose to make a fool of
himself: This shows that desire, feeling, &c., is merely one of the
conditions necessary to volition, and not its producing cause.
Again. It has been frequently observed, since the time of Butler, that
our passive impressions often become weaker and weaker, while our active
habits become stronger and stronger. Thus, the feeling of pity, by being
frequently excited, may become less and less vivid, while the active
habit of benevolence, by which it is supposed to be induced, becomes
more and more energetic. That is to say, while the power, as it is
called, or the causal influence, is gradually diminishing, the effect,
which is supposed to flow from it, is becoming more and more
conspicuous. And again, the feeling of pity is sometimes exceedingly
strong; that is to say, exceedingly vivid and painful, while there is no
act attending it. The passive impression or susceptibility is entirely
dissociated, in many cases, from the acts of the will. The feeling often
exists in all its _power_, and yet there is no act, and no disposition
to act, on the part of the individual who is the subject of it. The
cause operates, and yet the effect does not follow!
All that we can say is, that when we see the mind deeply agitated, and,
as it were, carried away by a storm of passion, we also observe that it
frequently acts with great vehemency. But we do not observe, and we do
not know, that this increased _power of action_, is the result of an
increased _power of feeling_. All that we know is, that as a matter of
fact, when our feelings are languid, we are apt to act but feebly; and
that when they are intense, we are accustomed to act with energy. Or, in
other words, that we do not _ordinarily_ act with so much energy in
order to gratify a slight feeling or emotion, as we do to gratify one of
greater intensity and painfulness. But it is wrong to conclude from
hence, that it is the increased intensity of feeling, which produces the
increased energy of the action. No matter how intense the feeling, it is
wrong to conclude, that it literally causes us to act, that it ever lays
the will under constraint, and thereby destroys, even for a moment, our
free-agency. Such an assumption is a mere hypothesis, unsupported by
observation, inconsistent with the dictates of reason, and
irreconcilable with observed facts.
I repeat it, such an assumption is inconsistent with observed facts; for
who that has any energy of will, has not, on many a trying occasion,
stood firm amid the fiercest storm of passion; and, though the elements
of discord raged within, remained _himself_ unmoved; giving not the
least sign or manifestation of what was passing in his bosom? Who has
not felt, on such an occasion, that although the passions may storm, yet
the will alone is power?
It is not uncommon to see this truth indirectly recognized by those who
_absolutely know_ that some power is exerted by our passions and
desires, and that the will is always determined by the strongest. Thus,
says President Day, "our acts of choice, are _not_ always controlled by
those emotions which _appear to be most vivid_. We often find a
determined and settled purpose, apparently calm, but unyielding, which
carries a man steadily forward, amid all the solicitations of appetite
and passion The inflexible determination of Howard, _gave law to his
emotions_, and guided his benevolent movements," p. 65. Here, although
President Day holds that the will is determined by the strongest desire,
passion, or emotion, he unconsciously admits that the will, "the
inflexible determination," is independent of them all.
Let it be supposed, that no one means so absurd a thing as to say, that
the affections themselves act upon the will, but that the mind in the
exercise of its affections acts upon it, and thereby exerts a power over
its determinations; let us suppose, that this is the manner in which a
real force is supposed to bear upon the will; and what will be the
consequence? Why, if the will is not distinguished from the affections,
we shall have the will acting upon itself; a doctrine to which the
necessitarian will not listen for a moment. And if they are
distinguished from the will, we shall have two powers of action, two
forces in the mind, each contending for the mastery. But what do we mean
by a will, if it is not the faculty by which the mind acts, by which it
exerts a _real force?_ And if this be the idea and definition of a will,
we cannot distinguish the will from the affections, and say that the
latter exerts a real force, without making two wills. This seems to be
the inevitable consequence of the commonly received notion, that the
mind, in the exercise of its affections, does really act upon the will
with an impelling force. Indeed, there seems to have been no little
perplexity and confusion of conception on this subject, arising from the
extreme subtlety of our mental processes, as well as from the
ambiguities of language.
The truth is, that in feeling the mind is passive; and it is absurd to
make a passive impression, the active cause of any thing. The
sensibility does not _act_, it merely _suffers_. The appetites and
passions, which have always been called the "active powers," the "moving
principles," and so forth, should be called the passive
susceptibilities. Unless this truth be clearly and fully recognized, and
the commonly received notion respecting the relation which the appetites
and passions sustain to the will, to the _active power_, be discarded,
it seems to me, that the great doctrine of the liberty of the will, must
continue to be involved in the sadest perplexity, the most distressing
darkness.
SECTION IX.
OF THE LIBERTY OF INDIFFERENCE.
IF, as I have endeavoured to show, the appetites and passions exert no
positive influence in the production of volition, if they do not sustain
the relation of cause to the acts of the will; then is the doctrine of
the liberty of indifference placed in a clear and strong light having
admitted that the sensitive part of our nature always tends to produce
volition, and in some cases irresistibly produces it, the advocates of
free agency have not been able to maintain the doctrine of a perfect
liberty in regard to all human actions. They have been compelled to
retire from the broad and open field of the controverted territory, and
to take their stand in a dark corner, in order to contend for that
perfect liberty, without which there cannot be a perfect and unclouded
accountability. Hence, it has been no uncommon thing, even for those who
have been the most disposed to sympathize with them, to feel a
dissatisfaction in reading what they have written on the subject of a
liberty of indifference. This they have placed in a perfect freedom to
choose between a few insignificant things, in regard to which we have no
feeling; while, in regard to the great objects which relate to our
eternal destiny, we have been supposed to enjoy no such freedom.
The true liberty of indifference does not consist, as I have endeavoured
to show, in a power to resist the influence of the appetites and
passions struggling to produce volition; because there is no such
influence in existence. This notion is encumbered with insuperable
difficulties; it supposes two powers struggling for the mastery--the
desires on the one hand, and the will on the other; and that when the
desires are so strong as to prevail, and bear us away in spite of
ourselves, we cease to be free agents. It supposes that at no time we
have a perfect liberty, unless we are perfectly destitute of feeling;
and that at some of the most trying, and critical, and awful moments of
our existence, we have no liberty at all; the whole man being passive to
the power and dominion of the passions. What a wound is thus given to
the cause of free-agency and accountability! What scope is thus allowed
for the sophistry of the passions! Every man who can persuade himself
that his appetites, his desires, or his passions, have been too strong
for him, may blind his mind to a sense of his guilt, and lull his
conscience into a fatal repose.
The necessitarian, like a skilful general, is not slow to attack this
weak point in the philosophy of free-agency. If our emotions operate to
produce volition, says he, then the strongest must prevail; to say
otherwise, is to say that it is not the strongest. This is the ground
uniformly occupied by President Day. And it is urged by President
Edwards, that if a great degree of such influence destroys free agency,
as it is supposed to do, then every smaller degree of it must impair
free agency; and hence, according to the principles and scheme of its
advocates, it cannot be perfect. Is not this inference well drawn?
Indeed, it seems to me, that while the notion that our desires possess a
real power and efficacy, which are exerted over the will, maintains its
hold upon the mind, the great doctrine of liberty can never be seen in
the brightness of its full-orbed glory; and that it must, at times,
suffer a total eclipse.
The liberty which we really possess, then, does not consist in an
indifference of the desires and affections, but in that of the will
itself. We are perfectly free, says the libertarian, in regard to all
those things about which our feelings are in a state of indifference;
such as touching one of two spots, or choosing one of two objects that
are perfectly alike. To this the necessitarian replies, what does it
signify that a man has a perfect liberty in regard to the choice of "one
of two peppercorns?" Are not such things perfectly insignificant, and
unworthy "the grave attention of the philosopher," while treating of the
great questions of moral good and evil?
There is some truth in this reply, and some injustice. It truly
signifies nothing, that we are at perfect liberty to choose between two
pepper-corns, if we are not so to choose between good and evil, life and
death. But in making this attack upon the position of his opponent, when
viewed as designed to serve the cause of free-agency, the necessitarian
overlooks its bearing upon his own scheme. He contends, that the mind
cannot act unless it is made to act by some extraneous influence: this
is a universal proposition, extending to all our mental acts; and hence,
if it can be shown that, in a single instance, the mind can and does put
forth a volition, without being made to do so, his doctrine is subverted
from its foundations. If this can be shown, by a reference to the case
of "two pepper-corns," it may be made to serve an important purpose in
philosophy, how much soever it may be despised by the philosopher.
If we keep the distinction between the will and the sensibility in mind,
it will throw much light on what has been written in regard to the
subject of indifference. If you offer a guinea and a penny to a man's
choice, asks President Day, which will he choose? Will the one exert as
great an influence over him as the other? President Day may assert, if
he pleases, that the guinea will exert the greater influence over his
feelings; but this does not destroy the equilibrium of the will. The
feelings and the will are different. By the one we feel, by the other we
act; by the one we _suffer_, by the other we _do_. Why, then, will the
man be certain to choose the guinea, all other things being equal? Not
because its influence acts upon the will, either directly or indirectly
through the passions, and compels him to choose it, but because he has a
purpose to accomplish; and, as a rational being, he sees that the guinea
will answer his purpose better than the penny. He is not made to act,
therefore, by a blind impulse; he acts freely in the light of reason.
The philosophy of the necessitarian overlooks the slight circumstance,
that the will of man is not a ball to be set a-going by external
impulse; but that man is a rational being, made in the image of his
Maker, and can act as a designing cause. Hence, when we affirm that the
will of man acts without being made to do so by the action of any thing
upon _the will itself_, he imagines that we dethrone the Almighty, and
"place chance upon the throne of the moral universe." Day on the Will,
p. 195. But I would remind him, once for all, that the act of a free
designing cause, no less than that of a necessitated act, proceeding
from an efficient cause, (if such a thing can be conceived,) is utterly
inconsistent with the idea of accident. Choice in its very nature is
opposed to chance.
The doctrine of the indifference of the will has been subjected to
another mode of attack. This doctrine implies that we have a power to
choose one thing or another; or, as it is sometimes called, a power of
choice to the contrary. For, if the will is not controlled by any
extraneous influence, it is evident that we may choose a thing, or let
it alone--that we may put forth a volition, or refuse to put it forth.
This power, which results from the idea of indifference as just
explained, is regarded as in the highest degree absurd; and a torrent of
impetuous questions is poured forth to sweep it away. "When Satan, as a
roaring lion," asks President Day, "goeth about, seeking whom he may
devour, is he equally inclined to promote the salvation of mankind?" &c.
&c. &c. Now, I freely admit, that when Satan is inclined to do evil, and
is actually doing it, he is not inclined to the contrary. I freely admit
that a thing is not different from itself; and the learned author is
welcome to all such triumphant positions.
In the same easy way, President Edwards, as he imagines, demolishes the
doctrine of indifference. He supposes that, according to this doctrine,
the will does not choose when it does choose; and, having supposed this,
he proceeds to demolish it, as if he were contending with a thousand
adversaries; and yet, I will venture to affirm, that no man in his
senses ever maintained such a position. The most contemptible advocate
of free-agency that ever lived, has maintained nothing so absurd as that
the mind ever chooses without choosing. This is the light in which the
doctrine of indifference is frequently represented by Edwards, but it is
a gross misrepresentation.
"The question is," says Edwards, "whether ever the soul of man puts
forth an act of will, while it yet remains in a state of liberty, viz:
as implying a state of indifference; or whether the soul ever exerts an
act of preference, while at the very time _the will_ is in a perfect
equilibrium, not inclining one way more than another," p. 72. If this be
the point in dispute, he may well add, that "the very putting of the
question is sufficient to show the absurdity of the affirmative answer;"
and he might have added, the utter futility of the negative reply. "How
ridiculous," he continues, "for any body to insist that the soul chooses
one thing before another, when, at the very same instant, it is
perfectly indifferent with respect to each! This is the same thing as to
say, we shall prefer one thing to another, at the very same time that it
has no preference. Choice and preference can no more be in a state of
indifference than motion can be in a state of rest," &c. p. 72. And he
repeats it over and over again, that this is to put "the soul in a state
of choice, and in a state of equilibrium at the same time;" "choosing
one way, while it remains in a state of perfect indifference, and has no
choice of one way more than the other;" p. 74. "To suppose the will to
act at all in a state of indifference, is to assert that the mind
chooses without choosing," p. 64; and so in various other places.
Now, if the doctrine of the indifference of the will, as commonly
understood, amounts to this, that the will does not choose when it
chooses, then Edwards was certainly right in opposing it; but how could
he have expected to correct such incorrigible blockheads as the authors
of such a doctrine must have been, by the force of logic?
Edwards has not always, though frequently, mis-stated the doctrine of
his adversaries. The liberty of indifference, says he, in one place,
consists in this, "that the will, in choosing, is subject to _no
prevailing_ influence," p. 64. Now this is a fair statement of the
doctrine in question. Why did not Edwards, then, combat this idea? Why
transform it into the monstrous absurdity, that "the will chooses
without choosing," or exerts an act of choice at the same time that it
exerts no act of choice; and then proceed to demolish it? Was it because
he did not wish to march up, fairly and squarely, in the face of the
enemy, and contend with them in their strongholds and fastnesses? By no
means. There never was a more honest reasoner than Edwards. But his
psychology is false; and hence, he has not only misrepresented the
doctrine of his opponents, but also his own. He confounds the sensitive
part of our nature with the will, expressly in his definitions, though
he frequently distinguishes them in his arguments. This is the reason
why he sometimes asserts, that the choice of the mind is always as the
sense of the most agreeable; and, at others, throws this fundamental
doctrine into the form, as we have seen in our third section, that the
choice of the mind is always as the choice of the mind; and holds that
to deny it is a plain contradiction. By reason of the same confusion of
things, the doctrine of his opponents, that "the will, in choosing, is
subject to no prevailing influence," seemed to him to mean that the
will, in choosing, does not choose. In both cases, he confounds the most
agreeable impression upon the sensibility with the choice of the mind;
and thus misrepresents both his own doctrine, and that of his opponents,
by reducing the one to an insignificant truism, and the other to a
glaring absurdity. President Day should have avoided the error of
Edwards, in thus misconceiving the doctrine of his opponents; for he
expressly distinguishes the sensibility from the will. But there is this
difference between Edwards and Day; the first expressly confounds these
two parts of our nature, and then proceeds to reason, in many cases, as
if they were distinct; while the last most explicitly distinguishes
them, and then frequently proceeds to reason as if they were one and the
same. It is in this way that he also gravely teaches that the mind
chooses when it chooses; and makes his adversaries assert that the mind
chooses without choosing, or that the will is inclined without being
inclined. Start from whatever point he will, the necessitarian never
feels so strong, as when he finds himself securely intrenched in the
truism, that a thing is always as itself; there manfully contending
against those who assert that a thing is different from itself.
The doctrine of the liberty of indifference, as usually held, is
this--that the will is not determined by any prevailing influence. This
is not a perfect liberty, it is true, wherever the will is partially
influenced by an extraneous cause; but it is not equivalent to the gross
absurdity of the position, that the will chooses without choosing. Nor
can we possibly reduce it to this form, unless we forget that the
authors of it did not confound that which is supposed to exert the
influence over the will, with the act of the will itself. They contended
for a partial indifference of the will only; and, consequently, they
could only contend for a partial, and not a perfect liberty. On the
contrary, I think we should contend for a perfect indifference, not in
regard to feeling, but in regard to the will. Standing on this high
ground, we need not retire from the broad and open field, in order to
set up the empire of a perfect liberty in a dark corner, extending to a
few insignificant things only: we may establish it over the whole range
of human activity, bringing out into a clear and full light, the great
fact of man's perfect accountability, for all his _actions_, under all
the circumstances of his life.
SECTION X.
OF ACTION AND PASSION.
THERE are no two things in nature which are more perfectly distinct than
action and passion; the one necessarily excludes the other. Thus, if an
effect is produced in any thing, by the action or influence of something
else, then is the thing in which the effect is produced wholly passive
in regard to it. The effect itself is called passion or passiveness. It
is not an act of that in which it is produced; it is an effect resulting
wholly from that which produces it. To say that a thing acts then, is to
say that it is not passive; or, in other words, that its act is not
produced by the action or influence of any thing else. To suppose that
an act is so produced, is to suppose that it is not an act; the object
in which it is said to be caused being wholly passive in regard to it.
If this statement be correct, it follows that an act of the mind cannot
be a produced effect; that the ideas of action and passion, of cause and
effect, are opposite and contrary the one to the other; and hence, it is
absurd to assert that the mind may be caused to act, or that a volition
can be produced by any thing acting upon the mind. This is a
self-evident truth. The younger Edwards calls for proof of it; but the
only evidence there is in the case, is that which arises from the nature
of the things themselves, as they must appear to every mind which will
bestow suitable reflection on the subject. But as he held the
affirmative, maintaining that the mind is caused to act, it would have
been well for him to have furnished proof himself, before he called for
it from the opposite party.
It may be said, that if it were self-evident that the mind cannot be
caused to act, it would appear so to all men, and there could be no
doubt on the subject; that a truth or proposition cannot be said to be
self-evident, unless it carries irresistible conviction to every mind to
which it is proposed. But this does not follow. Previous to the time of
Galileo, it was universally believed by mankind, that if a body were set
in motion, it would run down of itself; though it should meet with no
resistance whatever in its progress. But that great philosopher, by
reflecting on the nature of matter, very clearly saw, that if a body
were put in motion, and met with no resistance, it would continue to
move on in a right line forever. As matter is inert, so he saw that it
could not put itself in motion; and if put in motion by the action of
any thing upon it, he perceived with equal clearness that it could not
check itself in its career. He perceived that it is just as impossible
for passive, inert matter, to change its state from motion to rest, as
it is for it to change its state from rest to motion. Thus, by simply
reflecting upon the nature of matter, as that which cannot act, the mind
of Galileo recognized it as a self-evident and unquestionable truth,
that if a body be put in motion, and there is nothing to impede its
career, it will move on in a right line forever. This great law of
motion, first recognized by Galileo, and afterwards adopted by all other
philosophers, is called the law of inertia; because its truth
necessarily results from the fact, that matter is essentially inert, or
cannot act.
I am aware it has been contended by Mr. Whewell, in his Bridgewater
Treatise, that the law of motion in question is not a necessary or
self-evident truth; and the reason he assigns is, that if it were a
truth of this nature, it would have been recognized and believed by all
men before the time of Galileo. But this reason is not good. For if it
did not appear self-evident to those philosophers who lived before
Galileo, it was because they did not bestow sufficient reflection upon
the subject, and not because it was not a self-evident truth. All men
had seen bodies moving only in a resisting medium, amid counteracting
influences; and having always seen them run down in such a medium, they
very naturally concluded that a body put in motion would run down of
itself. Yielding to an illusion of the senses, instead of rising above
it by a sustained effort of reason and meditation, they supposed that
the motion of a body would spend itself in the course of time, and so
come to an end without any cause of its extinction. This is the reason
why they did not see, what must have appeared to be a self-evident
truth, if they had bestowed sufficient reflection upon the subject,
instead of being swayed by an illusion of the senses.
Mr. Whewell admits the law in question to be a truth; he only denies
that it is a necessary or self-evident truth. Now, if it be not a
necessary truth, I should like to know how he has ascertained it to be a
truth at all. Has any man ever seen a body put in motion, and continue
to move on in a right line forever? Has any man ever ascertained the
truth of this law by observation and experiment? It is evident, that if
it be true at all, it must be a necessary truth. Who that is capable of
rising above the associations of sense, so as to view things as they are
in themselves, can meditate upon this subject, without perceiving that
the law of _inertia_ is a self-evident truth, necessarily arising out of
the very nature of matter?
It does not follow, then, that a truth is not "self-evident", because it
does not appear so to all men; for some may be blinded to the truth by
an illusion of the senses. This is the case, with the necessitarian. He
has always seen the motion of body produced by the action of something
else; and hence, confounding the activity of mind with the motion of
body, he concludes that volition is produced by the prior action of
something else. All that he needs in order to see the impossibility of
such a thing, is severe and sustained meditation. But how can we expect
this from him? Is he not a great reasoner, rather than a great thinker?
Does he not display his skill in drawing logical conclusions from the
illusions of the senses, and assumptions founded thereon; rather than in
laying his foundations and his premises aright, in the immutable depths
of meditation and consciousness? We may appeal to his _reason_, and he
will fall to _reasoning_. We may ask for _meditation_, and he will give
us _logic_. Indeed, he wants that severe and scrutinizing observation
which pierces through all the illusions and associations of the senses,
rising to a contemplation of things as they are in themselves; which is
one of the best attributes of the great thinker.
To show that he does this, I shall begin with President Day. No other
necessitarian has made so formal and elaborate an attempt to prove, that
the mind may be caused to act. He undertakes to answer the objection
which has been urged against the scheme of moral necessity, that it
confounds action and passion. It is alleged, that a volition cannot be
produced or caused by the action or influence of any thing. To this
President Day replies, "these are terms of very convenient ambiguity,
with which it is easy to construct a plausible but fallacious argument.
The word passive is sometimes used to signify that which is _inactive_.
With this meaning, it must, of course, be the opposite of every thing
which is active. To say that that which is in _this_ sense passive, is
at the same time active, is to assert that that which is active is not
active. But this is not the only signification of the term passive in
common use. It is very frequently used to express the relation of an
effect to its cause," p. 159.
Now, here is the distinction, but is it not without a difference? If an
effect is produced, is it not passive in relation to its cause? This is
not denied. Is it active then in relation to any thing? President Day
says it is. But is this so? Is not an effect, which is wholly produced
in one thing by the action or influence of another, wholly passive? Is
not the thing which, according to the supposition, is wholly passive to
the influence acting upon it, wholly passive? In other words; is it made
to act? Does it not merely suffer? If it is endued with an active
nature, and really puts forth an act, is not this act clearly different
from the passive impression made upon it?
One would certainly suppose so, but for the logic of the necessitarian.
Let us examine this logic. "The term passive," says President Day, "is
sometimes employed to express the relation of an effect to its cause. In
this sense, it is so far from being inconsistent with activity, that
activity may be the very effect which is produced. A thing may be
_caused_ to be active. A cannon shot is said to be passive, with respect
to the charge of powder which impels it. But is there no activity given
to the ball? Is not the whirlwind active, when it tears up the forest?"
&c. &c., p. 160.
Now, all these illustrations are brought to show that the mind may be
caused to act;--that it may be passive in relation to the cause of its
volition, and active in relation to the effect of its volition. A more
striking instance could not be adduced to prove the correctness of the
assertion already made, that the necessitarian confounds the motion of
body with the action of mind. "A thing may be caused to act," says
President Day. But how does he show this? By showing that a thing may be
caused to move! "Is no _activity_ given to the ball? Is not the
whirlwind _active_, when it tears up the forest?" And so he goes on,
leaving the light of reason and of consciousness; now rushing into the
darkness of the whirlwind; now riding "on the mountain wave;" and now
plunging into the depths of "volcanic lava;"--all the time in quest of
light respecting the phenomena of mind! We could have wished him to stop
awhile, in the impetuous current of rhetoric, and inform us, whether he
really considers, "the motion of a ball" as the same thing with the
volition of the mind. If he does, then he may suppose that his
illustrations are to the purpose, how great soever may be his mistake;
but if he supposes there is a real difference between them, how can he
ever pretend to show that mind may be caused to act, by showing that
body may be caused to move?
I freely admit, that body may be caused to move. Body is perfectly
passive in motion; and hence, its motion may be caused. But the mind is
not passive in volition; and hence the difference in the two cases. It
is an error, as I have already said, pervading the views of the
necessitarian, that he confounds the action of mind with the motion of
body. Even Mr. Locke, who, in some places, has recognized the essential
difference between them, has frequently confounded them in his
reasonings and illustrations. Hence, it becomes necessary to bear this
distinction always in mind, in the examination of their writings. It
should be rendered perfectly clear to our minds by meditation; and never
permitted to grow dim through forgetfulness. This is indispensably
necessary to shut out the illusions of the senses, in order that we may
have a clear and unclouded view of the phenomena of nature.
Is the motion of body, then, one and the same thing with the action of
mind? They are frequently called by the same name. The motion of mind,
and the action of body, are very common modes of expression. Body is
said to act, when it only moves; and mind is said to move, when it
really acts. These metaphors and supposed analogies are intimately and
inseparably interwoven into the very frame-work of our language; and
hence the necessity of guarding against them in our conceptions. They
are almost as subtle as the great adversary of truth; and therefore we
should be constantly on the watch, lest we should be deceived or misled
by them.
Let us look, then, at these things just as they are in themselves. When
a body moves, it simply passes from one place to another; and when the
mind acts or chooses, it simply prefers one thing to another. Here,
there is no real identity or sameness of nature. The body _suffers_ a
change; the mind itself _acts_. The one is pure passim or passiveness;
the other is pure action--the very opposite of passivity. The one is a
_suffering_, and the other is a _doing_. There are no two things in the
whole range of nature, which are more perfectly and essentially
distinct; and he who confounds them in his reasonings, as philosophers
have so often done, can never arrive at a clear perception of the truth.
President Day, if he intended any thing to the purpose, undertook to
show that an act may be produced in mind, in that which is active, by
the action or influence of something else; and what has he shown? Why,
that body may be caused to move! Let a case be produced in which the
mind, the active soul of man, is made to act: let a case be produced in
which a volition is caused to exist in the soul of man, by the action or
influence of any thing whatever, and it will be something to the
purpose: but what does it signify to tell us, that a body, that that
which is wholly and essentially passive in its nature, may be made to
move, or _suffer_ a change of place? A more palpable sophism was never
perpetrated; and that such a mind should have recourse to such an
argument, only betrays the miserable weakness, and the forlorn
hopelessness, of the cause in which it is enlisted.
Indeed, the learned president seems, after all, to be at least half
conscious that the analogies of matter can throw no light on the
phenomena of mind; and that what he has so eloquently said, amounts to
just nothing at all. For he says, "It may be objected, that these are
all examples of _inanimate_ objects; and that they have no proper
application to mental activity," p. 161. Yes, truly, this is the very
objection which we should urge against all the fine illustrations of
President Day; and it is a full and complete answer to them. It is the
great principle of the inductive study of mind, that its phenomena can
be understood only in so far as we have observed them in the pure light
of consciousness, and no farther; they should never be viewed through
the darkening and confounding analogies of matter.
No one, that I know of, has ever denied that a body may be caused to
move; the only point on which we desire to be enlightened is, whether
the mind may be caused to act. To this point President Day next directly
comes. Leaving "inanimate objects," he says, "take the case of deep and
earnest thinking. Is there no activity in this? And is it without a
cause? When reading the orations of Demosthenes, or the demonstrations
of Newton, are our minds wholly inactive; or if they think intensely,
have our thoughts no dependence on the book before us?" p. 161. Truly,
there is activity in this, in our "deep and earnest thinking"; but what
is the cause of this activity? Does the book before us _cause_ us to
think? This is the point at which the argument of the author is driving,
and to which it should come, if it would be to the purpose, and yet he
does not seem to like to speak it out right manfully; and hence, instead
of saying that the book causes us to think, he chooses to say that our
thoughts have a _dependence_ on the book. It is true, that no man can
read a book, unless he has it to read; and, consequently, his thoughts
in reading the book are absolutely dependent on the possession of it.
But still, the possession of a book is the _condition_, and not the
_cause_, of his reading it. The cause of a thing, and the indispensable
_condition_ of it, are perfectly distinct from each other; and the
argument of Day, in confounding them, has presented us with another
sophism.
The ideas of a condition and of a cause, though so different in
themselves, are always blended together by necessitarians; and hence the
confusion into which they run. Edwards has united them, as we have seen,
under the term cause; and then employed this term to signify the one or
the other at his pleasure. The word "dependence," is the favourite of
President Day; and he uses it with fully as much vagueness and
vacillation of meaning, as Edwards does the term cause. He has
undertaken to show us, that the mind may be _caused_ to act; and he has
shown us, that a particular class of thoughts cannot come to existence,
except upon a particular condition! This is not to reason; but to slip
and to slide from one meaning of an ambiguous word to another.
When it is said that the mind cannot be caused to act, President Day
must have known in what sense the term cause is used in this
proposition. He must have known, that no one meant to assert, that there
are no _conditions_ or _antecedents_, on which the action of the mind
depends. There is not an advocate of free-agency in the universe, who
will contend, that the mind can choose a thing, unless there is a thing
to be chosen; or, to take his own illustration, can read a book, unless
there is a book to be read. The question is not, whether there are
_conditions_, without the existence of which the mind cannot act; this
no one denies; but whether there is, or can be, a real and efficient
cause of the mind's action. The point in dispute, relates not to mere
fact of dependence, but to the _nature_ of that dependence. The question
is, _can the mind be efficiently caused to act?_ This being the
question, what does it signify to tell us, that it cannot read a book,
unless it has a book to read? Or what does it signify to tell us, that a
body may be caused to move? These are mere irrelevancies; they fall
short of the point in dispute; and they only seem to reach it by means
of a very "convenient ambiguity" of words.
But still it may be said, that although a body is passive in motion, it
may act upon other bodies, and thereby communicate motion to them. This
is the ground taken by President Day. "The very same thing," says he,
"may be both cause and effect. The mountain wave, which is the effect of
the wind, may be the cause which buries the ship in the ocean," p. 160.
I am aware, that one body is frequently said to _act_ upon another; but
this word action, as President Day has well said, is a term "of very
convenient ambiguity, with which it is easy to construct a plausible but
fallacious argument," p. 159. The only cause in every case of motion, is
that _force_, whatever it may be, which acts upon the body moved, and
puts it in motion. All the rest is pure passion or passiveness. The
motion of the body is not action; it is the most pure passion of which
the mind can form a conception. If a body in action is said to act upon
another, this is but a metaphor; there is no real action in the case.
Indeed, if a body be put in motion, and meets with no resistance, it
will move on in a right line forever--and why? just because of its
_inertia_, of its inherent destitution of a power to act. As a
mathematician, President Day certainly knew all this; but he seems to
have forgotten it all, in his eagerness to support the cause of moral
necessity.
He saw that motion is frequently called action; he saw that one body is
sometimes said to act upon another; and this was sufficient for his
purpose. He did not reflect upon the natures of motion and of volition,
as they are in themselves; he views them through the medium of an
ambiguous phraseology. Nor did he reflect, that if motion is
communicated from one body to another, this is not because one body
really acts upon another, but because it is impossible for two bodies to
occupy the same place at one and the same time. He did not reflect, that
if motion is communicated from one body to another, this does not arise
from the activity, but from the impenetrability of matter. In short, he
did not reflect, that there is no state or phenomena of matter, whatever
may be its name, that at all resembles the state of mind which we call
action or volition; or else he would have seen, that all his
illustrations drawn from material objects can throw no light on the
point in controversy.
We find the same confusion of things in the works of the Edwardses. We
do not at all confound action and passion, President Edwards contends,
by supposing that acts of the soul are effects, wherein the soul is the
object of something acting upon and influencing it, p. 203. And again,
"It is no more a contradiction to suppose that action may be the effect
of some other cause beside the agent, or being that acts, than to
suppose that life may be the effect of some other cause beside the being
that lives," p. 203. The younger Edwards also asserts, that "to say that
an agent that is acted upon cannot act, is as groundless, as to say,
that a body acted upon cannot move," p. 131. We might adduce many
similar passages; but these are sufficient. What do they prove? If they
are any thing to the purpose, they are only so by confounding motion
with volition, passion with action.
No one would pretend to deny, that the mind may be, and is, caused to
exist, or that the agent may be caused to live. In regard to our being
and living we are perfectly passive; and hence we admit that we may be
caused to exist and to live. _Living_ and _being_ are not _acting_. We
are not passive in regard to volition; this is an act of the mind
itself. The above assertions only overlook the slight circumstance that
_being_ and _doing_ are two different things; that motion is not
volition, that passion is not action. This strange confusion of things
is very common in the writings of the Edwardses, as well as in those of
all other necessitarians.
Edwards held volition to be a produced effect. This identifies a passive
impression made upon the mind, with an act of the mind itself. In order
to escape this difficulty, Edwards was bound to show that action and
passion are not opposite in their natures. "Action, when properly set in
opposition to passion or passiveness," says he, "is no real existence;
it is not the same with _an action_, but is a mere relation." And again,
"Action and passion are not two contrary natures;" when placed in
opposition they are only contrary relations. The same ground is taken by
President Day. "Are not cause and effect," says he, "opposite in their
natures? They are opposite relations, but not always opposite things."
They contend, that an object may be passive in relation to one thing,
and active in relation to another; that a volition may be passive in
relation to its producing cause, and yet active in relation to its
produced effect.
Now, this is not true. An act is opposite in its nature to a passive
impression made upon the mind. This every man may clearly see by
suitable reflection, if he will not blind himself to the truth, as the
necessitarian always does, by false analogies drawn from the world of
matter, and the phenomena of motion. We have seen how President Day has
attempted to show, that an object may be passive in relation to one
thing, and yet active in relation to another; and that in all these
attempts he has confounded the motion of body with the action or choice
of mind. We have seen that all the illustrations adduced to throw light
on this subject are fallacious. Let this subject be studied in the light
of consciousness, not through the darkening and confounding medium of
false analogies, and we may safely anticipate a verdict in our favour.
For who that will closely and steadily reflect upon _an action_ of the
mind, does not perceive that it is different, in nature and in kind,
from a passive impression made upon the mind from without? I do not say
action, which President Edwards seems to think does not signify any
thing positive, such as _an action_, when it is set in opposition to
passion; but I say that _an action_ itself is opposite in its nature to
passion, to a produced effect.
President Edwards cannot escape the absurdity of his doctrine by
alleging, that when action and passion are set in opposition, they do
not signify opposite natures, but only opposite relations. For he has
confounded _an act_ of the mind with a _passive impression_ made
thereon; and these things are opposite in their natures, whether he is
pleased to say that action and passion are opposite _natures_ or not.
This position may be easily established. "I humbly conceive," says he,
"that the affections of the soul are not properly distinguished from the
will, as though they were two faculties in the soul." . . . . "The
affections are no other than the more vigorous and sensible exercises of
the inclination and will of the soul." These passages are referred to by
President Day to prove, that Edwards regarded our "emotions or
affections as acts of the will," p. 39. Having confounded the will and
the sensibility, it became exceedingly easy for Edwards to show that a
volition may be produced or caused: all that he had to do was to show,
that an emotion may be produced, which is the same thing with an act of
the will or a volition. It is upon this confusion of things, that his
whole system rests; for if the sensibility is different from the will,
as most persons, at the present day, will admit it is; then to excite an
emotion, or to make a passive impression upon the sensibility, is very
different from producing a volition.
Edwards has taken great pains with the superstructure of his system,
while he has left its foundations without support. He has not shown, nor
can any man show, that the sensibility and the will are one and the same
faculty of the
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