Moral inability, as we have seen, is the impossibility of a given

volition, because there are no motives or causes to produce it. It is

simply the impossibility of an effect for the want of a cause: when we

speak of moral cause and effect, according to Edwards, we speak of

nothing different from physical cause and effect, except in the quality

of the terms--the relation of the terms is the same. The impossibility

of a given volition, therefore, when the appropriate motive is wanting,

is equal to the impossibility of freezing water in the sun of a summer's

noon-tide.[1]

When objects of volition are fairly presented, an inability to choose

them must lie in the state of the mind, sensitivity, desire, will, or

affections, for all these have the same meaning according to this

system. There is no volition of preference where there is no motive to

this effect; and there is no motive to this effect where the state of

the mind is not in correlation with the objects presented: on the

contrary, the volition which now takes place, is a volition of refusal.

Natural inability, as defined by this system, lies in the connexion

between the volition considered as an antecedent, and the effect

required. Thus I am naturally unable to walk, when, although I make the

volition, my limbs, through weakness or disease, do not obey. Any defect

in the powers or instrumentalities dependent for activity upon volition,

or any impediment which volition cannot surmount, constitutes natural

inability.[2] According to this system, I am not held responsible for

anything which, through natural inability, cannot be accomplished,

although the volition is made. But now let us suppose that there is no

defect in the powers or instrumentalities dependent for activity upon

volition, and no impediment which volition cannot surmount, so that

there need be only a volition in order to have the effect, and then the

natural ability is complete:--I will to walk, and I walk.

Now it is affirmed that a man is fairly responsible for the doing of

anything, and can be fairly urged to do it when all that is necessary

for the doing of it is a volition although there may be a moral

inability to the volition itself.

Nothing it seems to me can be more absurd than this distinction. If

liberty be essential to responsibility, liberty, as we have clearly

shown, can no more lie in the connexion between volition and its

effects, than in the connexion between volition and its motives. One is

just as necessary as the other. If it be granted to be absurd with the

first class of theologians to urge men to do right when they are

conceived to be totally unable to do right, it is equally so when they

are conceived to have only a natural ability to do right, because this

natural ability is of no avail without a corresponding moral ability. If

the volition take place, there is indeed nothing to prevent the action;

nay, "the very willing is the doing of it;" but then the volition as an

effect cannot take place without a cause; and to acknowledge a moral

inability, is nothing less than to acknowledge that there is no cause to

produce the required volition.

The condition of men as represented by the second class of theologians,

is not really different from their condition as represented by the first

class. The inability under both representations is a total inability. In

the utter impossibility of a right volition on these, is the utter

impossibility of any good deed.

When we have denied liberty, in denying a self-determining power, these

definitions in order to make out a _quasi_ liberty and ability, are

nothing but ingenious folly and plausible deception.

You tell the man, indeed, that he can if he will; and when he replies to

you, that on your own principles the required volition is impossible,

you refer him to the common notions of mankind. According to these, you

say a man is guilty when he forbears to do right, since nothing is

wanting to right-doing but a volition,--and guilty when he does wrong,

because he wills to do wrong. According to these common notions, too, a

man may fairly be persuaded to do right, when nothing is wanting but a

will to do right. But do we find this distinction of natural and moral

ability in the common notions of men? When nothing is required to the

performance of a deed but a volition, do men conceive of any inability

whatever? Do they not feel that the volition has a metaphysical

possibility as well as that the sequent of the volition has a physical

possibility? Have we not at least some reason to suspect that the

philosophy of responsibility, and the basis of rebuke and persuasion

lying in the common notions of men, are something widely different from

the scheme of a necessitated volition?

This last class of theologians, equally with the first, derive all the

force of their preaching from a philosophy, upon which they are

compelled to act, but which they stoutly deny. Let them carry out their

philosophy, and for preaching no place remains.

Preaching can produce good effects only by producing good volitions; and

good volitions can be produced only by good motives: but good motives

can exist under preaching only when the subjects of the preaching are

correlated with the state of mind. But by supposition this is not the

case, for the heart is totally depraved.

To urge the unregenerate man to put forth volitions in reference to his

regeneration, may consist with a self-determining power of will, but is

altogether irrelevant on this system. It is urging _him_ to do what _he_

cannot do; and indeed what all persuasion must fail to do _in him_ as a

mere passive subject. To assure him that the affair is quite easy,

because nothing is required of him but to will, is equivalent to

assuring him that the affair is quite easy, because it will be done when

he has done it. The man may reply, the affair would indeed be quite easy

if there existed in me a motive to produce the volition; but as there

does not, the volition is impossible. And as I cannot put forth the

volition without the motive, so neither can I make the motive which is

to produce the volition--for then an effect would make its cause. What I

cannot do for myself, I fear neither you, nor indeed an angel from

heaven will succeed in doing for me. You array the truths, and duties,

and prospects of religion before my mind, but they cannot take the

character of motives to influence my will, because they are not

agreeable to my heart.

You indeed mean well; but do you not perceive that on your own

principles all your zeal and eloquence must necessarily have an opposite

effect from what you intend? My affections not being in correlation with

these subjects, the more you urge them, the more intense becomes my

sense of the most disagreeable, or my positive refusal; and this, my

good friends, by a necessity which holds us all alike in an inevitable

and ever-during chain.

It is plainly impossible to escape from this conclusion, and yet

maintain the philosophy. All efforts of this kind, made by appealing to

the common sentiments of mankind, we have seen are self-contradictory.

It will not do to press forward the philosophy until involved in

difficulty and perplexity, and then to step aside and borrow arguments

from another system which is assumed to be overthrown. There is no

necessity more absolute and sovereign, than a logical necessity.[3]

XVIII. The cardinal principles of Edwards's system in the sections we

have been examining, from which the above consequences are deduced, are

the three following:

1. The will is always determined by the strongest motive.

2. The strongest motive is always "the most agreeable."

3. The will is necessarily determined.

I shall close this part of the present treatise with a brief examination

of the reasoning by which he endeavours to establish these points.

The reasoning by which the first point is aimed to be established, is

the general reasoning respecting cause and effect. Volition is an

effect, and must have a cause. Its cause is the motive lying in the

correlation of mind and object. When several physical causes conflict

with each other, we call that the strongest which prevails and produces

its appropriate effects, to the exclusion of the others. So also where

there are several moral causes or motives conflicting with each other,

we call that the strongest which prevails. Where a physical cause is not

opposed by any other force, it of course produces its effect; and in

this case we do not say the _strongest_ cause produces the effect,

because there is no comparison. So also there are cases in which there

is but one moral cause or motive present, when there being no

comparison, we cannot affirm that the volition is determined by the

_strongest_ motive: the doing of something may be entirely agreeable,

and the not doing of it may be utterly disagreeable: in this case the

motive is only for the doing of it. But wherever the case contains a

comparison of causes or of motives, it must be true that the effect

which actually takes place, is produced by the strongest cause or

motive. This indeed is nothing more than a truism, or a mere postulate,

as if we should say,--let a cause or motive producing effects be called

the strongest. It may be represented, also, as a _petitio principii_, or

reasoning in a circle,--since the proof that the will is determined by

the strongest motive is no other than the fact that it is determined. It

may be stated thus: The will is determined by the strongest motive. How

do you know this? Because it is determined. How does this prove it?

Because that which determines it must be the strongest.[4]

Edwards assumes, also, that motive is the cause of volition. This

assumption he afterwards endeavours indirectly to sustain, when he

argues against a self-determining will. If the will do not cause its own

volitions, then it must follow that motive is the cause. The argument

against a self-determining will we are about to take up.

2. _The strongest motive is always the most agreeable_. Edwards

maintains that the motive which always prevails to cause volition, has

this characteristic,--that it is the most agreeable or pleasant at the

time, and that volition itself is nothing but the sense of the most

agreeable. If there should be but one motive present to the mind, as in

that case there would be no comparison, we presume he would only say

that the will is determined by _the agreeable_.

But how are we to know whether the motive of every volition has this

characteristic of agreeableness, or of most agreeableness, as the case

may be? We can know it only by consulting our consciousness. If,

whenever we will, we find the sense of the most agreeable identified

with the volition, and if we are conscious of no power of willing, save

under this condition of willing what is most agreeable to us, then

certainly there remains no farther question on this point. The

determination of consciousness is final. Whether such be the

determination of consciousness, we are hereafter to consider.

Does Edwards appeal to consciousness?

He does,--but without formally announcing it. The following passage is

an appeal to consciousness, and contains Edwards's whole thought on this

subject: "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

what is not _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." (p.

25.) Motives differ widely, intrinsically considered. Some are in

accordance with reason and conscience; some are opposed to reason and

conscience. Some are wise; some are foolish. Some are good; some are

bad. But whatever may be their intrinsic properties, they all have this

characteristic of agreeableness when they cause volition; and it is by

this characteristic that their strength is measured. The appeal,

however, which is made to sustain this, is made in a way to beg the very

point in question. Will not every one admit, that "when men act

_voluntarily and do what they please_, they do what suits them best, and

what is most agreeable to them?" Yes. Is it not a palpable

contradiction, to say that men "do what pleases them," and yet do "what

is not agreeable to them," according to the ordinary use of these words?

Certainly.

But the point in question is, whether men, acting voluntarily, always do

what is pleasing to them: and this point Edwards assumes. He assumes it

here, and he assumes it throughout his treatise. We have seen that, in

his psychology, he identifies will and desire or the affections:--hence

volition is the prevailing desire or affection, and the object which

moves the _desire_ must of course appear _desirable_, or agreeable, or

pleasant; for they have the same meaning. If men always will what they

most desire, and desire what they will, then of course when they act

voluntarily, they do what they please; and when they do what they

please, they do what suits them best and is most agreeable to them.

Edwards runs the changes of these words with great plausibility, and we

must say deceives himself as well as others. The great point,--whether

will and desire are one,--whether the volition is as the most

agreeable,--he takes up at the beginning as an unquestionable fact, and

adheres to throughout as such; but he never once attempts an analysis of

consciousness in relation to it, adequate and satisfactory. His

psychology is an assumption.

3. The will is necessarily determined.

How does Edwards prove this? 1. On the general connexion of causes and

effects. Causes necessarily produce effects, unless resisted and

overcome by opposing forces; but where several causes are acting in

opposition, the strongest will necessarily prevail, and produce its

appropriate effects.

Now, Edwards affirms that the nature of the connexion between motives

and volitions is the same with that of any other causes and effects. The

difference is merely in the terms: and when he calls the necessity which

characterizes the connexion of motive and volition "a moral necessity,"

he refers not to the connexion itself, but only to the terms connected.

In this reasoning he plainly assumes that the connexion between cause

and effect in general, is a necessary connexion; that is, all causation

is necessary. A contingent, self-determining cause, in his system, is

characterized as an absurdity. Hence he lays himself open to all the

consequences of a universal and absolute necessity.

2. He also endeavours to prove the necessity of volition by a method of

approximation. (p. 33.) He here grants, for the sake of the argument,

that the will may oppose the strongest motive in a given case; but then

he contends that it is supposable that the strength of the motive may be

increased beyond the strength of the will to resist, and that at this

point, on the general law of causation, the determination of the will

must be considered necessary. "Whatever power," he remarks, "men may be

supposed to have to surmount difficulties, yet that power is not

infinite." If the power of the man is finite, that of the motive may be

supposed to be infinite: hence the resistance of the man must at last be

necessarily overcome. This reasoning seems plausible at first; but a

little examination, I think, will show it to be fallacious. Edwards does

not determine the strength of motives by inspecting their intrinsic

qualities, but only by observing their degrees of agreeableness. But

agreeableness, by his own representation, is relative,--relative to the

will or sensitivity. A motive of infinite strength would be a motive of

infinite agreeableness, and could be known to be such only by an

infinite sense of agreeableness in the man. The same of course must hold

true of any motive less than infinite: and universally, whatever be the

degree of strength of the motive, there must be in the man an affection

of corresponding intensity. Now, if there be a power of resistance in

the will to any motive, which is tending strongly to determine it, this

power of resistance, according to Edwards, must consist of a sense of

agreeableness opposing the other motive, which is likewise a sense of

agreeableness: and the question is simply, which shall predominate and

become a sense of the most agreeable. It is plain that if the first be

increased, the second may be supposed to be increased likewise; if the

first can become infinite, the second can become infinite likewise: and

hence the power of resistance may be supposed always to meet the motive

required to be resisted, and a point of necessary determination may

never be reached.

If Edwards should choose to throw us upon the strength of motives

intrinsically considered, then the answer is ready. There are motives of

infinite strength, thus considered, which men are continually resisting:

for example, the motive which urges them to obey and love God, and seek

the salvation of their souls.

III.

AN EXAMINATION OF THE ARGUMENTS AGAINST A SELF-DETERMINING AND

CONTINGENT WILL.

Edwards's first and great argument against a self-determining will, is

given in part II. sec. 1, of his work, and is as follows:

The will,--or the soul, or man, by the faculty of willing, effects every

thing within its power as a cause, by acts of choice. "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." Hence, if the will determines itself, it

does it by an act of choice; "and if it has itself under its command,

and determines itself in its own actions, it doubtless does it in the

same way that it determines other things which are under its command."

But if the will determines its choice by its choice, then of course we

have an infinite series of choices, or we have a first choice which is

not determined by a choice,--"which brings us directly to a

contradiction; for it supposes an act of the will preceding the first

act in the whole train, directing and determining the rest; or a free

act of the will before the first free act of the will: or else we must

come at last to an act of the will determining the consequent acts,

wherein the will is not self-determined, and so is not a free act, in

this notion of freedom." (p. 43.)

This reasoning, and all that follows in the attempt to meet various

evasions, as Edwards terms them, of the advocates of a self-determining

will, depend mainly upon the assumption, that if the will determines

itself, it must determine itself by an act of choice; that is, inasmuch

as those acts of the will, or of the soul, considered in its power of

willing, or in its personal activity, by which effects are produced out

of the activity or will itself, are produced by acts of choice, for

example, walking and talking, rising up and sitting down: therefore, if

the soul, in the power of willing, cause volitions, it must cause them

by volitions. The causative act by which the soul causes volitions, must

itself be a volition. This assumption Edwards does not even attempt to

sustain, but takes for granted that it is of unquestionable validity. If

the assumption be of unquestionable validity, then his position is

impregnable; for nothing can be more palpably absurd than the will

determining volitions by volitions, in an interminable series.

Before directly meeting the assumption, I remark, that if it be valid,

it is fatal to all causality. Will is simply cause; volition is effect.

I affirm that the will is the sole and adequate cause of volition.

Edwards replies: if will is the cause of volition, then, to cause it, it

must put forth a causative act; but the only act of will is volition

itself: hence if it cause its own volitions, it must cause them by

volitions.

Now take any other cause: there must be some effect which according to

the general views of men stands directly connected with it as its

effect. The effect is called the phenomenon, or that by which the cause

manifests itself. But how does the cause produce the phenomenon? By a

causative act:--but this causative act, according to Edwards's

reasoning, must itself be an effect or phenomenon. Then this effect

comes between the cause, and what was at first considered the immediate

effect but the effect in question must likewise be caused by a causative

act; and this causative act, again, being an effect, must have another

causative act before it; and so on, _ad infinitum_. We have here then an

infinite series of causative acts--an absurdity of the same kind, with

an infinite series of volitions.

It follows from this, that there can be no cause whatever. An infinite

series of causative acts, without any first, being, according to this

reasoning, the consequence of supposing a cause to cause its own acts,

it must therefore follow, that a cause does not cause its own acts, but

that they must be caused by some cause out of the cause. But the cause

out of the cause which causes the causative acts in question, must cause

these causative acts in the other cause by a causative act of its

own:--but the same difficulties occur in relation to the second cause as

in relation to the first; it cannot cause its own acts, and they must

therefore be caused out of itself by some other cause; and so on, _ad

infinitum_. We have here again the absurdity of an infinite series of

causative acts; and also, the absurdity of an infinite series of causes

without a first cause. Otherwise, we must come to a first cause which

causes its own acts, without an act of causation; but this is

impossible, according to the reasoning of Edwards. As, therefore, there

cannot be a cause causing its own acts, and inasmuch as the denial of

this leads to the absurdities above mentioned, we are driven to the

conclusion, that there is no cause whatever. Every cause must either

cause its own acts, or its acts must be caused out of itself. Neither of

these is possible; therefore, there is no cause.

Take the will itself as an illustration of this last consequence. The

will is cause; the volition, effect. But the will does not cause its own

volition; the volition is caused by the motive. But the motive, as a

cause, must put forth a causative act in the production of a volition.

If the motive determine the will, then there must be an act of the

motive to determine the will. To determine, to cause, is to do, is to

act. But what determines the act of the motive determining the act of

the will or volition If it determine its own act, or cause its own act,

then it must do this by a previous act, according to the principle of

this reasoning; and this again by another previous act; and so on, _ad

infinitum_.

Take any other cause, and the reasoning must be the same.

It may be said in reply to the above, that volition is an effect

altogether peculiar. It implies selection or determination in one

direction rather than in another, and therefore that in inquiring after

its cause, we inquire not merely after the energy which makes it

existent, but also after the cause of its particular determination in

one direction rather than in another. "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 a particular determination?

If activity of nature be the cause why a spirit (the soul of man, for

instance) acts and does not lie still; yet that alone is not the cause

why its action is thus and thus limited, directed and determined." (p.

58.)

Every phenomenon or effect is particular and limited. It must

necessarily be one thing and not another, be in one place and not in

another, have certain characteristics and not others; and the cause

which determines the phenomenon, may be supposed to determine likewise

all its properties. The cause of a particular motion, for example, must,

in producing the motion, give it likewise a particular direction.

A Review of Edwards's "Inquiry into the Freedom of the Will" · 第 8 / 15 段