cause and effect, which Cousin here pronounces the vice of Spinosa's
system, is indeed the vice of every system which contains the dogma of
the necessary determination of will. The first consequence is pantheism;
the second, atheism. I will endeavour to explain. When self
-determination is denied to will, and it is resolved into mere
desire, necessitated in all its acts from its pre-constituted
correlation with objects, then will really ceases to be a cause. It
becomes an instrument of antecedent power, but is no power in itself,
creative or productive. The reasoning employed in reference to the human
will, applies in all its force to the divine will, as has been already
abundantly shown. The divine will therefore ceases to be a cause, and
becomes a mere instrument of antecedent power. This antecedent power is
the infinite and necessary wisdom; but infinite and necessary wisdom is
eternal and unchangeable; what it is now, it always was; what tendencies
or energies it has now, it always had; and therefore, whatever volitions
it now necessarily produces, it always necessarily produced. If we
conceive a volition to have been, in one direction, the immediate and
necessary antecedent of creation; and, in another, the immediate and
necessary sequent of infinite, and eternal, and necessary wisdom; then
this volition must have always existed, and consequently, creation, as
the necessary effect of this volition, must have always existed. The
eternal and infinite wisdom thus becomes the substance, because this is
existence in itself, no antecedent being conceivable; and creation,
consisting of man and nature, imperfect and finite, participating only
of existence, and not being existence in themselves, are not substances,
but phenomena. But what is the relation of the phenomena to the
substance? Not that of effect to cause;--this relation slides entirely
out of view, the moment will ceases to be a cause. It is the relation
simply of phenomena to being, considered as the necessary and
inseparable manifestations of being; the relation of attributes to
substance, considered as the necessary and inseparable properties of
substance. We cannot conceive of substance without attributes or
phenomena, nor of attributes or phenomena without substance; they are,
therefore, co-eternal in this relation. Who then is God? Substance and
its attributes; being and its phenomena. In other words, the universe,
as made up of substance and attributes, is God. This is Spinosism; this
is pantheism; and it is the first and legitimate consequence of a
necessitated will.
The second consequence is atheism. In the denial of will as a cause _per
se_,--in resolving all its volitions into the necessary phenomena of the
eternal substance,--we destroy personality: we have nothing remaining
but the universe. Now we may call the universe God; but with equal
propriety we call God the universe. This destruction of
personality,--this merging of God into necessary substance and
attributes,--is all that we mean by Atheism. The conception is really
the same, whether we name it fate, pantheism, or atheism.
The following remark of Dugald Stewart, shows that he arrived at the
same result: "Whatever may have been the doctrines of some of the
ancient atheists about man's free agency, it will not be denied that, in
the history of modern philosophy, the schemes of atheism and of
necessity have been hitherto always connected together. Not that I would
by any means be understood to say, that every necessitarian must _ipso
facto_ be an atheist, or even that any presumption is afforded, by a
man's attachment to the former sect, of his having the slightest bias in
favour of the latter; but only that every modern atheist I have heard of
has been a necessitarian. I cannot help adding, that the most consistent
necessitarian who have yet appeared, have been those who followed out
their principles till they ended in _Spinosism_,--a doctrine which
differs from atheism more in words than in reality." (Vol. 6, p. 470.)
Cudworth, in his great work entitled "The true Intellectual System of
the Universe," shows clearly the connexion between fatalism and atheism.
This work seems to have grown out of another undertaking, which
contemplated specifically the question of liberty and necessity, and its
bearing upon morality and religion. The passage in the preface, in which
he informs us of his original plan, is a very full expression of his
opinion. "First, therefore, I acknowledge," says he, "that when I
engaged the press, I intended only a discourse concerning liberty and
necessity, or, to speak out more plainly, against the fatal necessity of
all actions and events; which, upon whatsoever grounds or principles
maintained, will, as we conceive, serve the design of atheism, and
undermine Christianity, and all religion, as taking away all guilt and
blame, punishments and rewards, and plainly rendering a day of judgement
ridiculous." This opinion of the tendency of the doctrine of a
necessitated will, is the germ of his work. The connexion established in
his mind between this doctrine and atheism, naturally led him to his
masterly and elaborate exposition and refutation of the latter.
The arguments of many atheists might be referred to, to illustrate the
connexion between necessity and atheism. I shall here refer, however, to
only one individual, remarkable both for his poetic genius and
metaphysical acumen. I mean the late Piercy Bysshe Shelley. He openly
and unblushingly professed atheism. In his Queen Mab we find this line:
"There is no God." In a note upon this line, he remarks: "This negation
must be understood solely to affect a creative Deity. The hypothesis of
a pervading spirit, co-eternal with the universe, remains unshaken."
This last hypothesis is Pantheism. Pantheism is really the negation of a
creative Deity,--the identity or at least necessary and eternal
co-existence of God and the universe. Shelley has expressed this clearly
in another passage:
"Spirit of nature! all-sufficing power,
Necessity! thou mother of the world!"
In a note upon this passage, Shelley has argued the doctrine of the
necessary determination of will by motive, with an acuteness and power
scarcely inferior to Collins or Edwards. He makes, indeed, a different
application of the doctrine, but a perfectly legitimate one. Collins and
Edwards, and the whole race of necessitarian theologians, evidently toil
under insurmountable difficulties, while attempting to base religion
upon this doctrine, and effect their escape only under a fog of
subtleties. But Shelley, in daring to be perfectly consistent, is
perfectly clear. He fearlessly proceeds from necessity to pantheism, and
thence to atheism and the destruction of all moral distinctions. "We are
taught," he remarks, "by the doctrine of necessity, that there is
neither good nor evil in the universe, otherwise than as the events to
which we apply these epithets have relation to our own peculiar mode of
being. Still less than with the hypothesis of a God, will the doctrine
of necessity accord with the belief of a future state of punishment."
I here close my deductions from this system. If these deductions be
legitimate, as I myself cannot doubt they are, then, to the largest
class of readers, the doctrine of necessity is overthrown: it is
overthrown by its consequences, and my argument has the force of a
_reductio ad absurdum_. If a self-determined will appear an absurdity,
still it cannot be as absurd as the contrary doctrine, if this doctrine
involve the consequences above given. At least, practical wisdom will
claim that doctrine which leaves to the world a God, and to man a moral
and responsible nature.
A question will here very naturally arise: How can we account for the
fact that so many wise and good men have contended for a necessitated
will, as if they were contending for the great basis of all morality and
religion? For example, take Edwards himself as a man of great thought
and of most fervent piety. In the whole of his treatise, he argues with
the air and manner of one who is opposing great errors as really
connected with a self-determined will. What can be stronger than the
following language: "I think that the notion of liberty, consisting in a
_contingent self-determination of the will_, as necessary to the
morality of men's dispositions and actions, is almost inconceivably
pernicious; and that the contrary truth is one of the most important
truths of moral philosophy that ever was discussed, and most necessary
to be known." The question is a fair one, and I will endeavour to answer
it.
1. The impossibility of a self-determining will as being in itself a
contradictory idea, and as leading to the consequence of affirming the
existence of effects without causes, takes strong hold of the mind in
these individuals. This I believe, and hope to prove in the course of
this treatise, to be a philosophical error;--but it is no new thing for
great and good men to fall into philosophical errors.
As, therefore, the liberty consisting in a self-determining will, or the
_liberty of indifference_, as it has been technically called, is
conceived to be exploded, they endeavour to supply a _liberty of
spontaneity_, or a liberty lying in the unimpeded connexion between
volition and sequents.
Hobbes has defined and illustrated this liberty in a clearer manner than
any of its advocates: "I conceive," says he, "liberty to be rightly
defined,--the absence of all impediments to action, that are not
contained in the nature and intrinsical quality of the agent. As for
example, the water is said to descend _freely_, or is said to have
liberty to descend by the channel of the river, because there is no
impediment that way; but not across, because the banks are impediments:
and though water cannot ascend, yet men never say, it wants the
_liberty_ to ascend, but the _faculty_ or _power_, because the
impediment is in the nature of the water, and intrinsical. So also we
say, he that is tied, wants the _liberty_ to go, because the impediment
is not in him, but in his hands; whereas, we say not so of him who is
sick or lame, because the impediment is in himself,"--that is, he wants
the faculty or power of going:--this constitutes natural _inability_.
Liberty is volition acting upon physical instrumentalities, or upon
mental faculties, according to a fixed and constituted law of
antecedents, and meeting with no impediment or overcoming antagonistic
power. Natural ability is the fixed and constituted antecedence itself.
Hence there may be natural ability without liberty; but liberty cannot
be affirmed without natural ability. Both are necessary to constitute
responsibility. Natural ability is volition known as a stated antecedent
of certain effects. Liberty is this antecedent existing without
impediment or frustration. Since this is the only possible liberty
remaining, and as they have no wish to be considered fatalists, they
enlarge much upon this; not only as the whole of liberty actually
existing, but as the full and satisfactory notion of liberty.
In basing responsibility and praise and blameworthiness upon this
liberty, an appeal is made to the common ideas, feelings, and practices
of men. Every man regards himself as free when he does as he
pleases,--when, if he pleases to walk, he walks,--when, if he pleases to
sit down, he sits down, &c. if a man, in a court of justice, were to
plead in excuse that he committed the crime because he pleased or willed
to do it, the judge would reply--"this is your guilt, that you pleased
or willed to commit it: nay, your being pleased or willing to commit it
was the very doing of it." Now all this is just. I readily admit that we
are free when we do as we please, and that we are guilty when, in doing
as we please, we commit a crime.
Well, then, it is asked, is not this liberty sufficient to constitute
responsibility? And thus the whole difficulty seems to be got over. The
reasoning would be very fair, as far as it goes, if employed against
fatalists, but amounts to nothing when employed against those who hold
to the self-determining power of the will. The latter receive these
common ideas, feelings, and practices of men, as facts indicative of
freedom, because they raise no question against human freedom. The real
question at issue is, how are we to account for these facts? The
advocates of self-determining power account for them by referring them
to a self-determined will. We say a man is free when he does as he
pleases or according to his volitions, and has the sense of freedom in
his volitions, because he determines his own volitions; and that a man
is guilty for crime, if committed by his volition, because he determined
this volition, and at the very moment of determining it, was conscious
of ability to determine an opposite volition. And we affirm, also, that
a man is free, not only when he does as he pleases, or, in other words,
makes a volition without any impediment between it and its object,--he
is free, if he make the volition without producing effects by it:
volition itself is the act of freedom. But how do those who deny a
self-determining power account for these facts? They say that the
volition is caused by a motive antecedent to it, but that nevertheless,
inasmuch as the man feels that he is free and is generally accounted so,
he must be free; for liberty means nothing more than "power and
opportunity to do and conduct as he will, or according to his choice,
without taking into the meaning of the word any thing of the _cause_ of
that choice, or at all considering how the person came to have such a
volition,"--that is, the man is free, and feels himself to be so, when
he does as he pleases, because this is all that is meant by freedom.
But suppose the objection be brought up, that the definition of liberty
here given is assumed, arbitrary, and unsatisfactory; and that the sense
or consciousness of freedom in the act of volition, and the common
sentiments and practices of men in reference to voluntary action, are
not adequately accounted for,--then the advocates of necessitated
volition return to the first argument, of the impossibility of any other
definition,--and affirm that, inasmuch as this sense of freedom does
exist, and the sentiments and practices of men generally correspond to
it, we must believe that we are free when volition is unimpeded in its
connexion with sequents, and that we are blame or praiseworthy,
according to the perceived character of our volitions,--although it
cannot but be true that the volitions themselves are necessary. On the
one hand, they are compelled by their philosophy to deny a
self-determining will. On the other hand, they are compelled, by their
moral sense and religious convictions, to uphold moral distinctions and
responsibility. In order to do this, however, a _quasi_ liberty must be
preserved: hence the attempt to reconcile liberty and necessity, by
referring the first exclusively to the connexion between volition and
its sequents, and the second exclusively to the connexion between the
volition and its antecedents or motives. Liberty is physical; necessity
is metaphysical. The first belongs to man; the second transcends the
sphere of his activity, and, is not his concern. In this very difficult
position, no better or more ingenious solution could be devised; but
that it is wholly illogical and ineffectual, and forms no escape from
absolute and universal necessity, has already been abundantly proved.
2. The philosophers and divines of whom we are speaking, conceive that
when volitions are supposed to exist out of the necessary determination
of motives, they exist fortuitously and without a cause. But to give up
the necessary and universal dependence of phenomena upon causes, would
be to place events beyond the divine control: nay, more,--it would
destroy the great _a posteriori_ argument for the existence of a God. Of
course it would be the destruction of all morality and religion.
3. The doctrine of the divine foreknowledge, in particular, is much
insisted upon as incompatible with contingent volitions. Divine
foreknowledge, it is alleged, makes all events certain and necessary.
Hence volitions are necessary; and, to carry out the reasoning, it must
be added likewise that the connexion between volitions and their
sequents is equally necessary. God foresees the sequent of the volition
as well as the volition. The theory, however, is careful to preserve the
_name_ of liberty, because it fears the designation which properly
belongs to it.
4. By necessary determination, the sovereignty of God and the harmony of
his government are preserved. His volitions are determined by his
infinite wisdom. The world, therefore, must be ruled in truth and
righteousness.
These philosophers and divines thus represent to themselves the theory
of a self-determining will as an absurdity in itself, and, if granted to
be true, as involving the most monstrous and disastrous consequences,
while the theory which they advocate is viewed only in its favourable
points, and without reaching forth to its legitimate consequences. If
these consequences are urged by another hand, they are sought to be
evaded by concentrating attention upon the fact of volition and the
sense of freedom attending it: for example, if fatalism be urged as a
consequence, of this theory, the ready reply is invariably--"No such
necessity is maintained as goes to destroy the liberty which consists in
doing as one pleases;" or if the destruction of responsibility be urged
as a consequence, the reply is--"A man is always held a just subject of
praise or blame when he acts voluntarily." The argumentation undoubtedly
is as sincere as it is earnest. The interests at stake are momentous.
They are supposed to perish, if this philosophy be untrue. No wonder,
then, that, reverencing and loving morality and religion, they should by
every possible argument aim to sustain the philosophy which is supposed
to lie at their basis, and look away from consequences so destructive,
persuading themselves that these consequences are but the rampant
sophistries of infidelity.
It is a wonderful fact in the history of philosophy, that the philosophy
of fate, pantheism, and atheism, should be taken as the philosophy of
religion. Good men have misapprehended the philosophy, and have
succeeded in bringing it into fellowship with truth and righteousness.
Bad men and erring philosophers have embraced it in a clear
understanding of its principles, and have both logically reasoned out
and fearlessly owned its consequences.
XIX. Assuming, for the moment, that the definition of liberty given by
the theologians above alluded to, is the only possible definition, it
must follow that the most commonly received modes of preaching the
truths and urging the duties of religion are inconsistent and
contradictory.
A class of theologians has been found in the church, who, perhaps
without intending absolutely to deny human freedom, have denied all
ability on the part of man to comply with the divine precepts. A generic
distinction between inability and a want of freedom is not tenable, and
certainly is of no moment, where, as in this case, the inability
contended for is radical and absolute.
These theologians clearly perceived, that if volition is necessarily
determined by motive, and if motive lies in the correlation of desire
and object, then, in a being totally depraved, or a being of radically
corrupt desires, there can be no ability to good deeds: the deed is as
the volition, and the volition is as the strongest desire or the sense
of the most agreeable.
Hence these theologians refer the conversion of man exclusively to
divine influence. The man cannot change his own heart, nor employ any
means to that end; for this would imply a volition for which, according
to the supposition, he has no ability.
Now, at the same time, that this class represent men as unable to love
and obey the truths of religion, they engage with great zeal in
expounding these truths to their minds, and in urging upon them the duty
of obedience. But what is the aim of this preaching? Perhaps one will
reply, I know the man cannot determine himself to obedience, but in
preaching to him, I am presenting motives which may influence him. But
in denying his ability to do good, you deny the possibility of moving
him by motives drawn from religious truth and obligation. His heart, by
supposition, is not in correlation with truth and duty; the more,
therefore, you preach truth and duty, the more intense is the sense of
the disagreeable which you awaken. As when you present objects to a
man's mind which are correlated to his feelings, the more clearly and
frequently you present them, the more you advance towards the sense of
the most agreeable or choice. So when you present objects which are not
correlated to his feelings, the more clearly and frequently you present
them, the more you must advance towards the sense of the most
disagreeable, or positive refusal.
If it be affirmed, in reply to this, that the presentation of truth
forms the occasion or condition on which the divine influence is exerted
for the regeneration of the heart, then I ask, why do you urge the man
to repent, and believe, and love God, and discharge religious duty
generally, and rebuke him for sin, when you know that he is utterly
unable to move, in the slightest degree, towards any of these affections
and actions, and utterly unable to leave off sinning, until the divine
influence be exerted, which brings his heart into correlation with
religion, and makes it possible for him to put forth the volitions of
piety and duty? It can be regarded in no other light than playing a
solemn farce, thus to rebuke and urge and persuade, as if the man ought
to make some exertion when you feel convinced that exertion is
impossible. It certainly can form no occasion for divine interposition,
unless it be in pity of human folly. If you say that such a course does
succeed in the conversion of men, then we are constrained to believe
that your philosophy is wrong, and that your practice succeeds, because
inconsistent with it, and really belonging to some other system which
you know not, or understand not and deny.
A total inability to do good makes man the passive subject of influences
to be employed for his regeneration, and he can no more be considered
active in effecting it than he is in the process of digesting food, or
in the curative action of medicines upon any diseased part of his
system. If you urge him to exert himself for his regeneration, you urge
him to put forth volitions which, according to this philosophy, are in
no sense possible until the regeneration has been effected, or at least
commenced.
I will go one step farther in this reasoning:--on supposition of total
inability, not only is the individual a passive subject of regenerating
influences, but he is also incapable of regeneration, or any disposition
or tendency towards regeneration, from any influences which lie merely
in motives, produced by arraying objects before the mind. Motive,
according to the definition, exhibited in the statement of Edwards's
system, lies in the nature and circumstances of the object standing in
correlation with the state of mind. Now the state of mind, in an
unregenerate state, is a state represented by this system itself, as
totally adverse to the objects of religion. Hence, there is no
conceivable array of religious truth, and no conceivable religious
exhortation and persuasion that could possibly come into such a relation
to this state of mind as to form the motive of a religious choice or
volition. It is perfectly plain, that before such a result could take
place, the state of mind itself would have to be changed. But as the
array of religious truth and the energy of religious exhortation must
fail to produce the required volitions, on account of the state of mind,
so neither can the state of mind be changed by this array of truth or by
this exhortation. There is a positive opposition of mind and object, and
the collision becomes more severe upon every attempt to bring them
together. It must follow, therefore, that preaching truth and duty to
the unregenerate, so far from leading to their conversion, can only
serve to call out more actively the necessary determination, not to
obey. The very enlightening of the intelligence, as it gives a clearer
perception of the disagreeable objects, only increases the
disinclination.
Nor can we pause in this consequence, at human instrumentality. It must
be equally true, that if divine interposition lies in the presentation
of truth and persuasions to duty, only that these are given with tenfold
light and power, it must fail of accomplishing regeneration, or of
producing any tendency towards regeneration. The heart being in no
correlation with these,--its sense of the disagreeable,--and therefore
the energy of its refusal will only be the more intense and decided.
If it should be remarked that hope and fear are feelings, which, even in
a state of unregeneracy, can be operated upon, the state of things is
equally difficult. No such hope can be operated upon as implies desire
after religious principles and enjoyments; for this cannot belong to the
corrupt nature; nor can any fear be aroused which implies a reverence of
the divine purity, and an abhorrence of sin. The fear could only relate
to danger and suffering; and the hope, to deliverance and security,
independently of moral qualities. The mere excitement of these passions
might awaken attention, constrain to an outward obedience, and form a
very prudent conduct, but could effect no purification of the heart.
There is another class of theologians, of whom Edwards is one, who
endeavour to escape the difficulties which attend a total inability, by
making the distinction of moral and natural inability:--man, they say,
is morally unable to do good, and naturally able to do good, and
therefore he can justly be made the subject of command, appeal, rebuke,
and exhortation. The futility of this distinction I cannot but think has
already been made apparent. It may be well, however, inasmuch as so
great stress is laid upon it, to call up a brief consideration of it in
this particular connexion.