299. But let me give another much more reasonable passage from the same M.

Bayle, where he disputes with greater force the so-called lively sense of

freedom, which according to the Cartesians is a proof of freedom. His words

are indeed full of wit, and worthy of consideration, and occur in the

_Reply to the Questions of a Provincial_ (vol. III, ch. 140, p. 761

_seqq._). Here they are: 'By the clear and distinct sense we have of our

existence we do not discern whether we exist through ourselves or derive

our being from another. We discern that only by reflexion, that is, through

meditation upon our powerlessness in the matter of conserving ourselves as

much as we would, and of freeing ourselves from dependence upon the beings

that surround us, etc. It is indeed certain that the pagans (the same must

be said of the Socinians, since they deny the creation) never attained[308]

to the knowledge of that true dogma that we were created from nothing, and

that we are derived from nothingness at every moment of our continuance.

They therefore thought erroneously that all substances in the universe

exist of themselves and can never be reduced to nothing, and that thus they

depend upon no other thing save in respect of their modifications, which

are liable to be destroyed by the action of an external cause. Does not

this error spring from the fact that we are unconscious of the creative

action which conserves us, and that we are only conscious of our existence?

That we are conscious of it, I say, in such a way that we should for ever

remain ignorant of the cause of our being if other knowledge did not aid

us? Let us say also, that the clear and distinct sense we have of the acts

of our will cannot make us discern whether we give them ourselves to

ourselves or receive them from that same cause which gives us existence. We

must have recourse to reflexion or to meditation in order to effect this

discrimination. Now I assert that one can never by purely philosophical

meditations arrive at an established certainty that we are the efficient

cause of our volitions: for every person who makes due investigation will

recognize clearly, that if we were only passive subjects with regard to

will we should have the same sensations of experience as we have when we

think that we are free. Assume, for the sake of argument, that God so

ordered the laws of the union between soul and body that all the modalities

of the soul, without a single exception, are of necessity linked together

with the interposition of the modalities of the brain. You will then

understand that nothing will happen to us except that of which we are

conscious: there will be in our soul the same sequence of thoughts from the

perception of objects of the senses, which is its first step, up to the

most definite volitions, which are its final step. There will be in this

sequence the consciousness of ideas, that of affirmations, that of

irresolutions, that of velleities and that of volitions. For whether the

act of willing be impressed upon us by an external cause or we bring it

about ourselves, it will be equally true that we will, and that we feel

that we will. Moreover, as this external cause can blend as much pleasure

as it will with the volition which it impresses upon us, we shall be able

to feel at times that the acts of our will please us infinitely, and that

they lead us according to the bent of our strongest inclinations. We shall

feel no constraint; you know the maxim: _voluntas non potest cogi_. Do[309]

you not clearly understand that a weather-vane, always having communicated

to it simultaneously (in such a way, however, that priority of nature or,

if one will, a real momentary priority, should attach to the desire for

motion) movement towards a certain point on the horizon, and the wish to

turn in that direction, would be persuaded that it moved of itself to

fulfil the desires which it conceived? I assume that it would not know that

there were winds, or that an external cause changed everything

simultaneously, both its situation and its desires. That is the state we

are in by our nature: we know not whether an invisible cause makes us pass

sufficiently from one thought to another. It is therefore natural that men

are persuaded that they determine their own acts. But it remains to be

discovered whether they are mistaken in that, as in countless other things

they affirm by a kind of instinct and without having made use of

philosophic meditation. Since therefore there are two hypotheses as to what

takes place in man: the one that he is only a passive subject, the other

that he has active virtues, one cannot in reason prefer the second to the

first, so long as one can only adduce proofs of feeling. For we should feel

with an equal force that we wish this or that, whether all our volitions

were imprinted upon our soul by an exterior and invisible cause, or we

formed them ourselves.'

300. There are here excellent arguments, which are valid against the usual

systems; but they fail in respect of the System of Pre-established Harmony,

which takes us further than we were able to go formerly. M. Bayle asserts,

for instance, 'that by purely philosophical meditations one can never

attain to an established certainty that we are the efficient cause of our

volitions'. But this is a point which I do not concede to him: for the

establishment of this system demonstrates beyond a doubt that in the course

of nature each substance is the sole cause of all its actions, and that it

is free of all physical influence from every other substance, save the

customary co-operation of God. And this system shows that our spontaneity

is real, and not only apparent, as Herr Wittich believed it to be. M. Bayle

asserts also on the same reasons (ch. 170, p. 1132) that if there were a

_fatum Astrologicum_ this would not destroy freedom; and I would concede

that to him, if freedom consisted only in an apparent spontaneity.

301. The spontaneity of our actions can therefore no longer be questioned;

and Aristotle has defined it well, saying that an action is [310]

_spontaneous_ when its source is in him who acts. 'Spontaneum est, cujus

principium est in agente.' Thus it is that our actions and our wills depend

entirely upon us. It is true that we are not directly the masters of our

will, although we be its cause; for we do not choose volitions, as we

choose our actions by our volitions. Yet we have a certain power also over

our will, because we can contribute indirectly towards willing another time

that which we would fain will now, as I have here already shown: that,

however, is no _velleity_, properly speaking. There also we have a mastery,

individual and even perceptible, over our actions and our wills, resulting

from a combination of spontaneity with intelligence.

302. Up to this point I have expounded the two conditions of freedom

mentioned by Aristotle, that is, _spontaneity_ and _intelligence_, which

are found united in us in deliberation, whereas beasts lack the second

condition. But the Schoolmen demand yet a third, which they call

_indifference_. And indeed one must admit it, if indifference signifies as

much as 'contingency'; for I have already said here that freedom must

exclude an absolute and metaphysical or logical necessity. But, as I have

declared more than once, this indifference, this contingency, this

non-necessity, if I may venture so to speak, which is a characteristic

attribute of freedom, does not prevent one from having stronger

inclinations towards the course one chooses; nor does it by any means

require that one be absolutely and equally indifferent towards the two

opposing courses.

303. I therefore admit indifference only in the one sense, implying the

same as contingency, or non-necessity. But, as I have declared more than

once, I do not admit an indifference of equipoise, and I do not think that

one ever chooses when one is absolutely indifferent. Such a choice would

be, as it were, mere chance, without determining reason, whether apparent

or hidden. But such a chance, such an absolute and actual fortuity, is a

chimera which never occurs in nature. All wise men are agreed that chance

is only an apparent thing, like fortune: only ignorance of causes gives

rise to it. But if there were such a vague indifference, or rather if we

were to choose without having anything to prompt us to the choice, chance

would then be something actual, resembling what, according to Epicurus,

took place in that little deviation of the atoms, occurring without cause

or reason. Epicurus had introduced it in order to evade necessity, and[311]

Cicero with good reason ridiculed it.

304. This deviation had a final cause in the mind of Epicurus, his aim

being to free us from fate; but it can have no efficient cause in the

nature of things, it is one of the most impossible of chimeras. M. Bayle

himself refutes it admirably, as we shall see presently. And yet it is

surprising that he appears to admit elsewhere himself something of like

nature with this supposed deviation: here is what he says, when speaking of

Buridan's ass (_Dictionary_, art. 'Buridan', lit. 13): 'Those who advocate

free will properly so called admit in man a power of determining, either to

the right hand or the left, even when the motives are perfectly uniform on

the side of each of the two opposing objects. For they maintain that our

soul can say, without having any reason other than that of using its

freedom: "I prefer this to that, although I see nothing more worthy of my

choice in the one than the other".'

305. All those who admit a free will properly so called will not for that

reason concede to M. Bayle this determination springing from an

indeterminate cause. St. Augustine and the Thomists believe that all is

determined. And one sees that their opponents resort also to the

circumstances which contribute to our choice. Experience by no means

approves the chimera of an indifference of equipoise; and one can employ

here the argument that M. Bayle himself employed against the Cartesians'

manner of proving freedom by the lively sense of our independence. For

although I do not always see the reason for an inclination which makes me

choose between two apparently uniform courses, there will always be some

impression, however imperceptible, that determines us. The mere desire to

make use of one's freedom has no effect of specifying, or determining us to

the choice of one course or the other.

306. M. Bayle goes on: 'There are at the very least two ways whereby man

can extricate himself from the snares of equipoise. One, which I have

already mentioned, is for a man to flatter himself with the pleasing fancy

that he is master in his own house, and that he does not depend upon

objects.' This way is blocked: for all that one might wish to play master

in one's own house, that has no determining effect, nor does it favour one

course more than the other. M. Bayle goes on: 'He would make this Act: I

will prefer this to that, because it pleases me to behave thus.' But [312]

these words, 'because it pleases me', 'because such is my pleasure', imply

already a leaning towards 'the object that pleases'.

307. There is therefore no justification for continuing thus: 'And so that

which determined him would not be taken from the object; the motive would

be derived only from the ideas men have of their own perfections, or of

their natural faculties. The other way is that of the lot or chance: the

short straw would decide.' This way has an outlet, but it does not reach

the goal: it would alter the issue, for in such a case it is not man who

decides. Or again if one maintains that it is still the man who decides by

lot, man himself is no longer in equipoise, because the lot is not, and the

man has attached himself to it. There are always reasons in Nature which

cause that which happens by chance or through the lot. I am somewhat

surprised that a mind so shrewd as M. Bayle's could have allowed itself to

be so misled on this point. I have set out elsewhere the true rejoinder to

the Buridan sophism: it is that the case of perfect equipoise is

impossible, since the universe can never be halved, so as to make all

impressions equivalent on both sides.

308. Let us see what M. Bayle himself says elsewhere against the chimerical

or absolutely undefined indifference. Cicero had said (in his book _De

Fato_) that Carneades had found something more subtle than the deviation of

atoms, attributing the cause of a so-called absolutely undefined

indifference to the voluntary motions of souls, because these motions have

no need of an external cause, coming as they do from our nature. But M.

Bayle (_Dictionary_, art. 'Epicurus', p. 1143) aptly replies that all that

which springs from the nature of a thing is determined: thus determination

always remains, and Carneades' evasion is of no avail.

309. He shows elsewhere (_Reply to the Questions of a Provincial_, ch. 90,

l. 2, p. 229) 'that a freedom far removed from this so-called equipoise is

incomparably more beneficial. I mean', he says, 'a freedom such as may

always follow the judgements of the mind, and such as cannot resist objects

clearly recognized as good. I know of no people who do not agree that truth

clearly recognized necessitates' (determines rather, unless one speak of a

moral necessity) 'the assent of the soul; experience teaches us that. In

the schools they teach constantly that as the true is the object of [313]

the understanding, so the good is the object of the will. So likewise they

teach that as the understanding can never affirm anything save that which

is shown to it under the semblance of truth, the will can never love

anything which to it does not appear to be good. One never believes the

false as such, and one never loves evil as evil. There is in the

understanding a natural determination towards the true in general, and

towards each individual truth clearly recognized. There is in the will a

natural determination towards good in general; whence many philosophers

conclude that from the moment when individual goods are clearly recognized

by us we are of necessity compelled to love them. The understanding

suspends its actions only when its objects show themselves obscurely, so

that there is cause for doubt as to whether they are false or true. That

leads many persons to the conclusion that the will remains in equipoise

only when the soul is uncertain whether the object presented to it is a

good with regard to it; but that also, the moment the soul decides in the

affirmative, it of necessity clings to that object until other judgements

of the mind determine it otherwise. Those who expound freedom in this

fashion think to find therein plentiful enough material for merit or

demerit. For they assume that these judgements of the mind proceed from a

free attention of the soul in examining the objects, comparing them

together, and discriminating between them. I must not forget that there are

very learned men' (such as Bellarmine, lib. 3, _De Gratia et Libero

Arbitrio_, c. 8, et 9, and Cameron, in _Responsione ad Epistolam Viri

Docti, id est Episcopii_) 'who maintain with very cogent reasons that the

will always of necessity follows the last practical act of the

understanding.'

310. One must make some observations on this discourse. A very clear

recognition of the best _determines_ the will; but it does not necessitate

it, properly speaking. One must always distinguish between the necessary

and the certain or infallible, as I have already observed more than once,

and distinguish metaphysical necessity from moral necessity. I think also

that it is only God's will which always follows the judgements of the

understanding: all intelligent creatures are subject to some passions, or

to perceptions at least, that are not composed entirely of what I call

_adequate ideas_. And although in the blessed these passions always tend

towards the true good, by virtue of the laws of Nature and the system of

things pre-established in relation to them, yet this does not always [314]

happen in such a way that they have a perfect knowledge of that good. It is

the same with them as with us, who do not always understand the reason for

our instincts. The angels and the blessed are created beings, even as we

are, in whom there is always some confused perception mingled with distinct

knowledge. Suarez said something similar concerning them. He thinks

(_Treatise on Prayer_, book I, ch. 11) that God has so ordered things

beforehand that their prayers, when they are made with a full will, always

succeed: that is an example of a pre-established harmony. As for us, in

addition to the judgement of the understanding, of which we have an express

knowledge, there are mingled therewith confused perceptions of the senses,

and these beget passions and even imperceptible inclinations, of which we

are not always aware. These movements often thwart the judgement of the

practical understanding.

311. As for the parallel between the relation of the understanding to the

true and that of the will to the good, one must know that a clear and

distinct perception of a truth contains within it actually the affirmation

of this truth: thus the understanding is necessitated in that direction.

But whatever perception one may have of the good, the effort to act in

accordance with the judgement, which in my opinion forms the essence of the

will, is distinct from it. Thus, since there is need of time to raise this

effort to its climax, it may be suspended, and even changed, by a new

perception or inclination which passes athwart it, which diverts the mind

from it, and which even causes it sometimes to make a contrary judgement.

Hence it comes that our soul has so many means of resisting the truth which

it knows, and that the passage from mind to heart is so long. Especially is

this so when the understanding to a great extent proceeds only by faint

_thoughts_, which have only slight power to affect, as I have explained

elsewhere. Thus the connexion between judgement and will is not so

necessary as one might think.

312. M. Bayle goes on to say, with truth (p. 221): 'Indeed, it cannot be a

fault in man's soul that it has no freedom of indifference as regards good

in general. It would be rather a disorder, an inordinate imperfection, if

one could say truthfully: It is all one to me whether I am happy or

unhappy; I have no more determination to love the good than to hate it; I

can do both equally. Now if it is a praiseworthy and advantageous quality

to be determinate as regards good in general, it cannot be a fault if [315]

one is necessitated as regards each individual good recognized plainly as

for our good. It seems even as though it were a necessary conclusion, that

if the soul has no freedom of indifference as regards good in general, it

also has none in respect of particular goods which after due examination it

judges to be goods in relation to it. What should we think of a soul which,

having formed that judgement, had, and prided itself on having, the power

not to love these goods, and even to hate them, and which said: I recognize

clearly that these are goods for me, I have all the enlightenment necessary

on that point; nevertheless I will not love them, I will hate them; my

decision is made, I act upon it; it is not that any reason' (that is, any

other reason than that which is founded upon 'Such is my good pleasure')

'urges me thereto, but it pleases me so to behave: what should we think, I

say, of such a soul? Should we not find it more imperfect and more unhappy

than if it had not this freedom of indifference?

313. 'Not only does the doctrine that subjects the will to the final acts

of the understanding give a more favourable idea of the state of the soul,

but it shows also that it is easier to lead man to happiness along that

road than along the road of indifference. It will suffice to enlighten his

mind upon his true interests, and straightway his will will comply with the

judgements that reason shall have pronounced. But if he has a freedom

independent of reason and of the quality of objects clearly recognized, he

will be the most intractable of all animals, and it will never be possible

to rely upon making him choose the right course. All the counsels, all the

arguments in the world may prove unavailing; you will give him

explanations, you will convince his mind, and yet his will will play the

haughty madam and remain motionless as a rock. Vergil, _Aen_., lib. 6, v.

470:

_Non magis incepto vultum sermone movetur,_

_Quam si dura silex, aut stet Marpesia cautes_.

A caprice, an empty whim will make her stiffen against reasons of all

kinds; it will not please her to love her clearly recognized good, it will

please her to hate it. Do you consider such a faculty, sir, to be the

richest present God can have made to man, and the sole instrument of our

happiness? Is it not rather an obstacle to our felicity? Is there cause for

boasting in being able to say: "I have scorned all the judgements of [316]

my reason, and I have followed an altogether different path, simply from

considerations of my own good pleasure?" With what regrets would one not be

torn, in that case, if the determination made had an ill result? Such a

freedom would therefore be more harmful than profitable to men, because the

understanding would not present all the goodness of the objects clearly

enough to deprive the will of the power of rejection. It would be therefore

infinitely better for man to be always of necessity determined by the

judgement of the understanding, than to permit the will to suspend its

action. For by this means it would achieve its aim with greater ease and

certainty.'

314. Upon this discourse I make the further observation, that it is very

true that a freedom of indifference, undefined and without any determining

reason, would be as harmful, and even objectionable, as it is impracticable

and chimerical. The man who wished to behave thus, or at the least appear

to be acting without due cause, would most certainly be looked upon as

irrational. But it is very true also that the thing is impossible, when it

is taken strictly in accordance with the assumption. As soon as one tries

to give an example of it one misses one's aim and stumbles upon the case of

a man who, while he does not come to a decision without cause, does so

rather under the influence of inclination or passion than of judgement. As

soon as one says: 'I scorn the judgements of my reason simply from

considerations of my own good pleasure, it pleases me to behave thus', it

is as if one were to say: I prefer my inclination to my interest, my

pleasure to my profit.

315. Even so some capricious man, fancying that it is ignominious for him

to follow the advice of his friends or his servants, might prefer the

satisfaction of contradicting them to the profit he could derive from their

counsel. It may happen, however, that in a matter of small moment a wise

man acts irregularly and against his own interest in order to thwart

another who tries to restrain him or direct him, or that he may disconcert

those who watch his steps. It is even well at times to imitate Brutus by

concealing one's wit, and even to feign madness, as David did before the

King of the Philistines.

316. M. Bayle admirably supplements his remarks with the object of showing

that to act against the judgement of the understanding would be a great

imperfection. He observes (p. 225) that, even according to the [317]

Molinists, 'the understanding which does its DUTY well indicates that which

is THE BEST'. He introduces God (ch. 91, p. 227) saying to our first

parents in the Garden of Eden: 'I have given you my knowledge, the faculty

of judging things, and full power to dispose your wills. I shall give you

instructions and orders; but the free will that I have bestowed upon you is

of such a nature that you have equal power (according to circumstances) to

obey me and to disobey me. You will be tempted: if you make a good use of

your freedom you will be happy; and if you use it ill you will be unhappy.

It is for you to see if you wish to ask of me, as a new grace, either that

I permit you to abuse your freedom when you shall make resolve to do so, or

that I prevent you from doing so. Consider carefully, I give you four and

twenty hours. Do you not clearly understand' (adds M. Bayle) 'that their

reason, which had not yet been obscured by sin, would have made them

conclude that they must ask God, as the crowning point of the favours

wherewith he had honoured them, not to permit them to destroy themselves by

an ill use of their powers? And must one not admit that if Adam, through

wrongly making it a point of honour to order his own goings, had refused a

divine direction that would have safeguarded his happiness, he would have

been the prototype of all such as Phaeton and Icarus? He would have been

well-nigh as ungodly as the Ajax of Sophocles, who wished to conquer

without the aid of the gods, and who said that the most craven would put

their enemies to flight with such aid.'

317. M. Bayle also shows (ch. 80) that one congratulates oneself no less,

or even takes more credit to oneself, for having been aided from above,

than for owing one's happiness to one's own choice. And if one does well

through having preferred a tumultuous instinct, which arose suddenly, to

reasons maturely considered, one feels an extraordinary joy in this; for

one assumes that either God, or our Guardian Angel, or something or other

which one pictures to oneself under the vague name of _good luck_ has

impelled us thereto. Indeed, Sulla and Caesar boasted more of their good

luck than of their prudence. The pagans, and particularly the poets (Homer

especially), determined their heroes' acts by divine promptings. The hero

of the _Aeneid_ proceeds only under the direction of a God. It was very

great praise offered to the Emperors if one said that they were victorious

both through their troops and through their gods whom they lent to [318]

their generals: 'Te copias, te consilium et tuos praebente Divos,' said

Horace. The generals fought under the auspices of the Emperors, as if

trusting to the Emperor's good luck, for subordinate officers had no rights

regarding the auspices. One takes credit to oneself for being a favourite

of heaven, one rates oneself more highly for the possession of good fortune

than of talent. There are no people that think themselves more fortunate

than the mystics, who imagine that they keep still while God acts within

them.

318. 'On the other hand', M. Bayle adds (ch. 83), 'a Stoic philosopher, who

attaches to everything an inevitable necessity, is as susceptible as

another man to the pleasure of having chosen well. And every man of sense

will find that, far from taking pleasure in the thought of having

deliberated long and finally chosen the most honourable course, one feels

incredible satisfaction in persuading oneself that one is so firmly rooted

in the love of virtue that without the slightest resistance one would repel

a temptation. A man to whom is suggested the doing of a deed contrary to

his duty, his honour and his conscience, who answers forthwith that he is

incapable of such a crime, and who is certainly not capable of it, is far

more contented with himself than if he asked for time to consider it, and

were for some hours in a state of indecision as to which course to take.

One is on many occasions regretful over not being able to make up one's

mind between two courses, and one would be well pleased that the counsel of

a good friend, or some succour from above, should impel us to make a good

choice.' All that demonstrates for us the advantage a determinate judgement

has over that vague indifference which leaves us in uncertainty. But indeed

I have proved sufficiently that only ignorance or passion has power to keep

us in doubt, and have thus given the reason why God is never in doubt. The

nearer one comes to him, the more perfect is freedom, and the more it is

determined by the good and by reason. The character of Cato, of whom

Velleius said that it was impossible for him to perform a dishonourable

action, will always be preferred to that of a man who is capable of

wavering.

319. I have been well pleased to present and to support these arguments of

M. Bayle against vague indifference, as much for the elucidation of the

subject as to confront him with himself, and to demonstrate that he ought

therefore not to complain of the alleged necessity imposed upon God, [319]

of choosing the best way that is possible. For either God will act through

a vague indifference and at random, or again he will act on caprice or

through some other passion, or finally he must act through a prevailing

inclination of reason which prompts him to the best. But passions, which

come from the confused perception of an apparent good, cannot occur in God;

and vague indifference is something chimerical. It is therefore only the

strongest reason that can regulate God's choice. It is an imperfection in

our freedom that makes us capable of choosing evil instead of good, a

greater evil instead of the lesser evil, the lesser good instead of the

greater good. That arises from the appearances of good and evil, which

deceive us; whereas God is always prompted to the true and the greatest

good, that is, to the absolutely true good, which he cannot fail to know.

320. This false idea of freedom, conceived by those who, not content with

exempting it, I do not say from constraint, but from necessity itself,

would also exempt it from certainty and determination, that is, from reason

and perfection, nevertheless pleased some Schoolmen, people who often

become entangled in their own subtleties, and take the straw of terms for

the grain of things. They assume some chimerical notion, whence they think

to derive some use, and which they endeavour to maintain by quibblings.

Complete indifference is of this nature: to concede it to the will is to

grant it a privilege of the kind that some Cartesians and some mystics find

in the divine nature, of being able to do the impossible, to produce

absurdities, to cause two contradictory propositions to be true

simultaneously. To claim that a determination comes from a complete

indifference absolutely indeterminate is to claim that it comes naturally

from nothing. Let it be assumed that God does not give this determination:

it has accordingly no fountainhead in the soul, nor in the body, nor in

circumstances, since all is assumed to be indeterminate; and yet there it

is, appearing and existing without preparation, nothing making ready for

it, no angel, not even God himself, being able to see or to show how it

exists. That would be not only the emergence of something from nothing, but

its emergence thence _of itself_. This doctrine introduces something as

preposterous as the theory already mentioned, of the deviation of atoms,

whereby Epicurus asserted that one of these small bodies, going in a

straight line, would turn aside all at once from its path, without any[320]

reason, simply because the will so commands. Take note moreover that he

resorted to that only to justify this alleged freedom of complete

indifference, a chimerical notion which appears to be of very ancient

origin; and one may with good reason say: _Chimaera Chimaeram parit_.

321. This is the way Signor Marchetti has expressed it in his admirable

translation of Lucretius into Italian verse, which has not yet been

published (Book 2):

_Mà ch'i principii poi non corran punto_

_Della lor dritta via, chi veder puote?_

_Sì finalmente ogni lor moto sempre_

_Insieme s'aggruppa, e dall' antico_

_Sempre con ordin certo il nuovo nasce;_

_Ne tracciando i primi semi, fanno_

_Di moto un tal principio, il qual poi rompa_

_I decreti del fato, acciò non segua_

_L'una causa dell' altra in infinito;_

_Onde han questa, dich' io_, del fato sciolta

Libera voluntà, _per cui ciascuno_

_Va dove più l'agrada? I moti ancora_

_Si declinan sovente, e non in tempo_

_Certo, ne certa region, mà solo_

_Quando e dove commanda il nostro arbitrio;_

_Poiche senz' alcun dubbio à queste cose_

_Dà sol principio il voler proprio, e quindi_

_Van poi scorrendo per le membra i moti._

It is comical that a man like Epicurus, after having discarded the gods and

all incorporeal substances, could have supposed that the will, which he

himself takes as composed of atoms, could have had control over the atoms,

and diverted them from their path, without its being possible for one to

say how.

322. Carneades, not going so far back as to the atoms, claimed to find at

once in the soul of man the reason for the so-called vague indifference,

assuming as reason for the thing just that for which Epicurus sought a

reason. Carneades gained nothing thereby, except that he more easily

deceived careless people, in transferring the absurdity from one subject,

where it is somewhat too evident, to another subject where it is easier to

confuse matters, that is to say, from the body to the soul. For most

philosophers had not very distinct notions of the nature of the soul. [321]

Epicurus, who composed it of atoms, was at least right in seeking the

origin of its determination in that which he believed to be the origin of

the soul itself. That is why Cicero and M. Bayle were wrong to find so much

fault with him, and to be indulgent towards, and even praise, Carneades,

who is no less irrational. I do not understand how M. Bayle, who was so

clear-sighted, was thus satisfied by a disguised absurdity, even to the

extent of calling it the greatest effort the human mind can make on this

matter. It is as if the soul, which is the seat of reason, were more

capable than the body of acting without being determined by some reason or

cause, internal or external; or as if the great principle which states that

nothing comes to pass without cause only related to the body.

323. It is true that the Form or the Soul has this advantage over matter,

that it is the source of action, having within itself the principle of

motion or of change, in a word, [Greek: to autokinêton], as Plato calls it;

whereas matter is simply passive, and has need of being impelled to act,

_agitur, ut agat_. But if the soul is active of itself (as it indeed is),

for that very reason it is not of itself absolutely indifferent to the

action, like matter, and it must find in itself a ground of determination.

According to the System of Pre-established Harmony the soul finds in

itself, and in its ideal nature anterior to existence, the reasons for its

determinations, adjusted to all that shall surround it. That way it was

determined from all eternity in its state of mere possibility to act

freely, as it does, when it attains to existence.

324. M. Bayle himself remarks aptly that freedom of indifference (such as

must be admitted) does not exclude inclinations and does not demand

equipoise. He demonstrates amply enough (_Reply to the Questions of a

Provincial_, ch. 139, p. 748 _seqq_.) that the soul may be compared to a

balance, where reasons and inclinations take the place of weights.

According to him, one can explain what passes in our resolutions by the

hypothesis that the will of man is like a balance which is at rest when the

weights of its two pans are equal, and which always inclines either to one

side or the other according to which of the pans is the more heavily laden.

A new reason makes a heavier weight, a new idea shines more brightly than

the old; the fear of a heavy penalty prevails over some pleasure; when two

passions dispute the ground, it is always the stronger which gains the

mastery, unless the other be assisted by reason or by some other [322]

contributing passion. When one flings away merchandise in order to save

oneself, the action, which the Schoolmen call mixed, is voluntary and free;

and yet love of life indubitably prevails over love of possessions. Grief

arises from remembrance of lost possessions, and one has all the greater

difficulty in making one's resolve, the nearer the approach to even weight

in the opposing reasons, as also we see that the balance is determined more

promptly when there is a great difference between the weights.

325. Nevertheless, as very often there are divers courses to choose from,

one might, instead of the balance, compare the soul with a force which puts

forth effort on various sides simultaneously, but which acts only at the

spot where action is easiest or there is least resistance. For instance,

air if it is compressed too firmly in a glass vessel will break it in order

to escape. It puts forth effort at every part, but finally flings itself

upon the weakest. Thus do the inclinations of the soul extend over all the

goods that present themselves: they are antecedent acts of will; but the

consequent will, which is their result, is determined in the direction of

that which touches most closely.

326. This ascendancy of inclinations, however, does not prevent man from

being master in his own domain, provided that he knows how to make use of

his power. His dominion is that of reason: he has only to prepare himself

in good time to resist the passions, and he will be capable of checking the

vehemence of the most furious. Let us assume that Augustus, about to give

orders for putting to death Fabius Maximus, acts, as is his wont, upon the

advice a philosopher had given him, to recite the Greek alphabet before

doing anything in the first heat of his anger: this reflexion will be

capable of saving the life of Fabius and the glory of Augustus. But without

some fortunate reflexion, which one owes sometimes to a special divine

mercy, or without some skill acquired beforehand, like that of Augustus,

calculated to make us reflect fittingly as to time and place, passion will

prevail over reason. The driver is master over the horses if he controls

them as he should, and as he can; but there are occasions when he becomes

negligent, and then for a time he will have to let go the reins:

_Fertur equis auriga, nec audit currus habenas_.

327. One must admit that there is always within us enough power over [323]

our will, but we do not always bethink ourselves of employing it. That

shows, as I have observed more than once, that the power of the soul over

its inclinations is a control which can only be exercised in an _indirect_

manner, almost as Bellarmine would have had the Popes exercise rights over

the temporal power of kings. In truth, the external actions that do not

exceed our powers depend absolutely upon our will; but our volitions depend

upon our will only through certain artful twists which give us means of

suspending our resolutions, or of changing them. We are masters in our own

house, not as God is in the world, he having but to speak, but as a wise

prince is in his dominions or as a good father of a family is in his home.

M. Bayle sometimes takes the matter differently, as though we must have, in

order to boast of a free will, an absolute power over ourselves,

independent of reasons and of means. But even God has not such a power, and

must not have in this sense, in relation to his will: he cannot change his

nature, nor act otherwise than according to method; and how could man

transform himself all of a sudden? I have already said God's dominion, the

dominion of wisdom, is that of reason. It is only God, however, who always

wills what is most to be desired, and consequently he has no need of the

power to change his will. 328. If the soul is mistress in its own house

(says M. Bayle, p. 753) it has only to will, and straightway that vexation

and pain which is attendant upon victory over the passions will vanish

away. For this effect it would suffice, in his opinion, to give oneself

indifference to the objects of the passions (p. 758). Why, then, do men not

give themselves this indifference (he says), if they are masters in their

own house? But this objection is exactly as if I were to ask why a father

of a family does not give himself gold when he has need thereof? He can

acquire some, but through skill, and not, as in the age of the fairies, or

of King Midas, through a mere command of the will or by his touch. It would

not suffice to be master in one's own house; one must be master of all

things in order to give oneself all that one wishes; for one does not find

everything in one's own house. Working thus upon oneself, one must do as in

working upon something else; one must have knowledge of the constitution

and the qualities of one's object, and adapt one's operations thereto. It

is therefore not in a moment and by a mere act of the will that one

corrects oneself, and that one acquires a better will.

[324]

329. Nevertheless it is well to observe that the vexations and pains

attendant upon victory over the passions in some people turn into pleasure,

through the great satisfaction they find in the lively sense of the force

of their mind, and of the divine grace. Ascetics and true mystics can speak

of this from experience; and even a true philosopher can say something

thereof. One can attain to that happy state, and it is one of the principal

means the soul can use to strengthen its dominion.

330. If the Scotists and the Molinists appear to favour vague indifference

(appear, I say, for I doubt whether they do so in reality, once they have

learnt to know it), the Thomists and the disciples of Augustine are for

predetermination. For one must have either the one or the other. Thomas

Aquinas is a writer who is accustomed to reason on sound principles, and

the subtle Scotus, seeking to contradict him, often obscures matters

instead of throwing light upon them. The Thomists as a general rule follow

their master, and do not admit that the soul makes its resolve without the

existence of some predetermination which contributes thereto. But the

predetermination of the new Thomists is not perhaps exactly that which one

needs. Durand de Saint-Pourçain, who often enough formed a party of his

own, and who opposed the idea of the special co-operation of God, was

nevertheless in favour of a certain predetermination. He believed that God

saw in the state of the soul, and of its surroundings, the reason for his

determinations.

331. The ancient Stoics were in that almost of the same opinion as the

Thomists. They were at the same time in favour of determination and against

necessity, although they have been accused of attaching necessity to

everything. Cicero says in his book _De Fato_ that Democritus, Heraclitus,

Empedocles and Aristotle believed that fate implied necessity; that others

were opposed to that (he means perhaps Epicurus and the Academicians); and

that Chrysippus sought a middle course. I think that Cicero is mistaken as

regards Aristotle, who fully recognized contingency and freedom, and went

even too far, saying (inadvertently, as I think) that propositions on

contingent futurities had no determinate truth; on which point he was

justifiably abandoned by most of the Schoolmen. Even Cleanthes, the teacher

of Chrysippus, although he upheld the determinate truth of future events,

denied their necessity. Had the Schoolmen, so fully convinced of this [325]

determination of contingent futurities (as were for instance the Fathers of

Coimbra, authors of a famous Course of Philosophy), seen the connexion

between things in the form wherein the System of General Harmony proclaims

it, they would have judged that one cannot admit preliminary certainty, or

determination of futurition, without admitting a predetermination of the

thing in its causes and in its reasons.

332. Cicero has endeavoured to expound for us the middle course taken by

Chrysippus; but Justus Lipsius observed, in his _Stoic Philosophy_, that

the passage from Cicero was mutilated, and that Aulus Gellius has preserved

for us the whole argument of the Stoic philosopher (_Noct. Att._, lib. 6,

c. 2). Here it is in epitome. Fate is the inevitable and eternal connexion

of all events. Against this is urged in objection, that it follows that the

acts of the will would be necessary, and that criminals, being coerced into

evil, should not be punished. Chrysippus answers that evil springs from the

original constitution of souls, which forms part of the destined sequence;

that souls which are of a good natural disposition offer stronger

resistance to the impressions of external causes; but that those whose

natural defects had not been corrected by discipline allowed themselves to

be perverted. Next he distinguishes (according to Cicero) between principal

causes and accessary causes, and uses the comparison of a cylinder, whose

rotatory force and speed or ease in motion comes chiefly from its shape,

whereas it would be retarded by any roughness in formation. Nevertheless it

has need of impulsion, even as the soul needs to be acted upon by the

objects of the senses, and receives this impression according to its own

constitution.

333. Cicero considers that Chrysippus becomes so confused that, whether he

will or no, he confirms the necessity of fate. M. Bayle is almost of the

same opinion (_Dictionary_, art. 'Chrysippus', lit. H). He says that this

philosopher does not get out of the bog, since the cylinder is regular or

uneven according to what the craftsman has made it; and thus God,

providence, fate will be the causes of evil in such a way as to render it

necessary. Justus Lipsius answers that, according to the Stoics, evil came

from matter. That is (to my mind) as if he had said that the stone on which

the craftsman worked was sometimes too rough and too irregular to produce a

good cylinder. M. Bayle cites against Chrysippus the fragments of Onomaus

and Diogenianus that Eusebius has preserved for us in the _Praeparatio[326]

Evangelica_ (lib. 6, c. 7, 8); and above all he relies upon Plutarch's

refutation in his book against the Stoics, quoted art. 'Paulicians', lit.

G. But this refutation does not amount to very much. Plutarch maintains

that it would be better to deny power to God than to impute to him the

permission of evils; and he will not admit that evil may serve a greater

good. I have already shown, on the contrary, that God cannot but be

all-powerful, even though he can do no better than produce the best, which

includes the permission of evil. Moreover, I have pointed out repeatedly

that what is to the disadvantage of a part taken separately may serve the

perfection of the whole.

334. Chrysippus had already made an observation to this effect, not only in

his fourth book on Providence, as given by Aulus Gellius (lib. 6, c. 1)

where he asserts that evil serves to bring the good to notice (a reason

which is not sufficient here), but still better when he applies the

comparison of a stage play, in his second book on Nature (as Plutarch

quotes it himself). There he says that there are sometimes portions in a

comedy which are of no worth in themselves and which nevertheless lend

grace to the whole poem. He calls these portions epigrams or inscriptions.

We have not enough acquaintance with the nature of the ancient comedy for

full understanding of this passage from Chrysippus; but since Plutarch

assents to the fact, there is reason to believe that this comparison was

not a poor one. Plutarch replies in the first place that the world is not

like a play to provide entertainment. But that is a poor answer: the

comparison lies in this point alone, that one bad part may make the whole

better. He replies secondly that this bad passage is only a small part of

the comedy, whereas human life swarms with evils. This reply is of no value

either: for he ought to have taken into account that what we know is also a

very small part of the universe.

335. But let us return to the cylinder of Chrysippus. He is right in saying

that vice springs from the original constitution of some minds. He was met

with the objection that God formed them, and he could only reply by

pointing to the imperfection of matter, which did not permit God to do

better. This reply is of no value, for matter in itself is indifferent to

all forms, and God made it. Evil springs rather from the _Forms_ themselves

in their detached state, that is, from the ideas that God has not produced

by an act of his will, any more than he thus produced numbers and [327]

figures, and all possible essences which one must regard as eternal and

necessary; for they are in the ideal region of the possibles, that is, in

the divine understanding. God is therefore not the author of essences in so

far as they are only possibilities. But there is nothing actual to which he

has not decreed and given existence; and he has permitted evil because it

is involved in the best plan existing in the region of possibles, a plan

which supreme wisdom could not fail to choose. This notion satisfies at

once the wisdom, the power and the goodness of God, and yet leaves a way

open for the entrance of evil. God gives perfection to creatures in so far

as it is possible in the universe. One gives a turn to the cylinder, but

any roughness in its shape restricts the swiftness of its motion. This

comparison made by Chrysippus does not greatly differ from mine, which was

taken from a laden boat that is carried along by the river current, its

pace becoming slower as the load grows heavier. These comparisons tend

towards the same end; and that shows that if we were sufficiently informed

concerning the opinions of ancient philosophers, we should find therein

more reason than is supposed.

336. M. Bayle himself commends the passage from Chrysippus (art.

'Chrysippus', lit. T) that Aulus Gellius quotes in the same place, where

this philosopher maintains that evil has come _by concomitance._ That also

is made clear by my system. For I have demonstrated that the evil which God

permitted was not an object of his will, as an end or a means, but simply

as a condition, since it had to be involved in the best. Yet one must

confess that the cylinder of Chrysippus does not answer the objection of

necessity. He ought to have added, in the first place, that it is by the

free choice of God that some of the possibles exist; secondly, that

rational creatures act freely also, in accordance with their original

nature, which existed already in the eternal ideas; and lastly, that the

motive power of good inclines the will without compelling it.

337. The advantage of freedom which is in the creature without doubt exists

to an eminent degree in God. That must be understood in so far as it is

genuinely an advantage and in so far as it presupposes no imperfection. For

to be able to make a mistake and go astray is a disadvantage, and to have

control over the passions is in truth an advantage, but one that

presupposes an imperfection, namely passion itself, of which God is [328]

incapable. Scotus was justified in saying that if God were not free and

exempt from necessity, no creature would be so. But God is incapable of

being indeterminate in anything whatsoever: he cannot be ignorant, he

cannot doubt, he cannot suspend his judgement; his will is always decided,

and it can only be decided by the best. God can never have a primitive

particular will, that is, independent of laws or general acts of will; such

a thing would be unreasonable. He cannot determine upon Adam, Peter, Judas

or any individual without the existence of a reason for this determination;

and this reason leads of necessity to some general enunciation. The wise

mind always acts _according to principles_; always _according to rules_,

and never _according to exceptions_, save when the rules come into

collision through opposing tendencies, where the strongest carries the day:

or else, either they will stop one another or some third course will emerge

as a result. In all these cases one rule serves as an exception to the

other, and there are never any _original exceptions_ with one who always

acts in a regular way.

338. If there are people who believe that election and reprobation are

accomplished on God's part by a despotic absolute power, not only without

any apparent reason but actually without any reason, even a concealed one,

they maintain an opinion that destroys alike the nature of things and the

divine perfections. Such an _absolutely absolute decree_ (so to speak)

would be without doubt insupportable. But Luther and Calvin were far from

such a belief: the former hopes that the life to come will make us

comprehend the just reasons of God's choice; and the latter protests

explicitly that these reasons are just and holy, although they be unknown

to us. I have already in that connexion quoted Calvin's treatise on

predestination, and here are the actual words: 'God before the fall of Adam

had reflected upon what he had to do, and that for causes concealed from

us.... It is evident therefore that he had just causes for the reprobation

of some of mankind, but causes to us UNKNOWN.'

339. This truth, that all God does is reasonable and cannot be better done,

strikes at the outset every man of good sense, and extorts, so to speak,

his approbation. And yet the most subtle of philosophers have a fatal

propensity for offending sometimes without observing it, during the course

and in the heat of disputes, against the first principles of good sense,

when these are shrouded in terms that disguise them. We have here [329]

already seen how the excellent M. Bayle, with all his shrewdness, has

nevertheless combated this principle which I have just indicated, and which

is a sure consequence of the supreme perfection of God. He thought to

defend in that way the cause of God and to exempt him from an imaginary

necessity, by leaving him the freedom to choose from among various goods

the least. I have already spoken of M. Diroys and others who have also been

deluded by this strange opinion, one that is far too commonly accepted.

Those who uphold it do not observe that it implies a wish to preserve for,

or rather bestow upon, God a false freedom, which is the freedom to act

unreasonably. That is rendering his works subject to correction, and making

it impossible for us to say or even to hope that anything reasonable can be

said upon the permission of evil.

340. This error has much impaired M. Bayle's arguments, and has barred his

way of escape from many perplexities. That appears again in relation to the

laws of the realm of Nature: he believes them to be arbitrary and

indifferent, and he objects that God could better have attained his end in

the realm of grace if he had not clung to these laws, if he had more often

dispensed with their observance, or even if he had made others. He believed

this especially with regard to the law of the union between the soul and

the body. For he is persuaded, with the modern Cartesians, that the ideas

of the perceptible qualities that God gives (according to them) to the

soul, occasioned by movements of the body, have nothing representing these

movements or resembling them. Accordingly it was a purely arbitrary act on

God's part to give us the ideas of heat, cold, light and other qualities

which we experience, rather than to give us quite different ideas

occasioned in the same way. I have often wondered that people so talented

should have been capable of relishing notions so unphilosophic and so

contrary to the fundamental maxims of reason. For nothing gives clearer

indication of the imperfection of a philosophy than the necessity

experienced by the philosopher to confess that something comes to pass, in

accordance with his system, for which there is no reason. That applies to

the idea of Epicurus on the deviation of atoms. Whether it be God or Nature

that operates, the operation will always have its reasons. In the

operations of Nature, these reasons will depend either upon necessary

truths or upon the laws that God has found the most reasonable; and in the

operations of God, they will depend upon the choice of the supreme [330]

reason which causes them to act.

341. M. Regis, a famous Cartesian, had asserted in his 'Metaphysics' (part

2, book 2, c. 29) that the faculties God has given to men are the most

excellent that they were capable of in conformity with the general order of

nature. 'Considering only', he says, 'the power of God and the nature of

man by themselves, it is very easy to conceive that God could have made man

more perfect: but if one will consider man, not in himself and separately

from all other creatures, but as a member of the universe and a portion

which is subject to the general laws of motions, one will be bound to

acknowledge that man is as perfect as he could have been.' He adds 'that we

cannot conceive that God could have employed any other means more

appropriate than pain for the conservation of our bodies'. M. Regis is

right in a general way in saying that God cannot do better than he has done

in relation to all. And although there be apparently in some places in the

universe rational animals more perfect than man, one may say that God was

right to create every kind of species, some more perfect than others. It is

perhaps not impossible that there be somewhere a species of animals much

resembling man and more perfect than we are. It may be even that the human

race will attain in time to a greater perfection than that which we can now

envisage. Thus the laws of motions do not prevent man from being more

perfect: but the place God has assigned to man in space and in time limits

the perfections he was able to receive.

342. I also doubt, with M. Bayle, whether pain be necessary in order to

warn men of peril. But this writer goes too far (_Reply to the Questions of

a Provincial_, vol. II, ch. 77, p. 104): he seems to think that a feeling

of pleasure could have the same effect, and that, in order to prevent a

child from going too near the fire, God could give him ideas of pleasure in

proportion to the distance he kept from it. This expedient does not appear

very practicable with regard to all evils, unless a miracle were involved.

It is more natural that what if it were too near would cause an evil should

cause some foreboding of evil when it is a little less near. Yet I admit

that it is possible such a foreboding will be something less than pain, and

usually this is the case. Thus it indeed appears that pain is not necessary

for causing one to shun present peril; it is wont rather to serve as a

penalty for having actually plunged into evil, and a warning against [331]

further lapse. There are also many painful evils the avoidance whereof

rests not with us. As a dissolution of the continuity of our body is a

consequence of many accidents that may happen to us, it was natural that

this imperfection of the body should be represented by some sense of

imperfection in the soul. Nevertheless I would not guarantee that there

were no animals in the universe whose structure was cunning enough to cause

a sense of indifference as accompaniment to this dissolution of continuity,

as for instance when a gangrenous limb is cut off; or even a sense of

pleasure, as if one were only scratching oneself. For the imperfection that

attends the dissolution of the body might lead to the sense of a greater

perfection, which was suspended or checked by the continuity which is now

broken: and in this respect the body would be as it were a prison.

343. There is also nothing to preclude the existence in the universe of

animals resembling that one which Cyrano de Bergerac encountered in the

sun. The body of this animal being a sort of fluid composed of innumerable

small animals, that were capable of ranging themselves in accordance with

the desires of the great animal, by this means it transformed itself in a

moment, just as it pleased; and the dissolution of continuity caused it no

more hurt than the stroke of an oar can cause to the sea. But, after all,

these animals are not men, they are not in our globe or in our present

century; and God's plan ensured that there should not be lacking here on

earth a rational animal clothed in flesh and bones, whose structure

involves susceptibility to pain.

344. But M. Bayle further opposes this on another principle, one which I

have already mentioned. It seems that he thinks the ideas which the soul

conceives in relation to the feelings of the body are arbitrary. Thus God

might have caused the dissolution of continuity to give us pleasure. He

even maintains that the laws of motion are entirely arbitrary. 'I would

wish to know', he says (vol. III, ch. 166, p. 1080), 'whether God

established by an act of his freedom of indifference general laws on the

communication of movements, and the particular laws on the union of the

human soul with an organic body? In this case, he could have established

quite different laws, and adopted a system whose results involved neither

moral evil nor physical evil. But if the answer is given that God was

constrained by supreme wisdom to establish the laws that he has

established, there we have neither more nor less than the _Fatum_ of [332]

the Stoics. Wisdom will have marked out a way for God, the abandonment

whereof will have been as impossible to him as his own self-destruction.'

This objection has been sufficiently overthrown: it is only a moral

necessity; and it is always a happy necessity to be bound to act in

accordance with the rules of perfect wisdom.

345. Moreover, it appears to me that the reason for the belief held by many

that the laws of motion are arbitrary comes from the fact that few people

have properly examined them. It is known now that M. Descartes was much

mistaken in his statement of them. I have proved conclusively that

conservation of the same quantity of motion cannot occur, but I consider

that the same quantity of force is conserved, whether absolute or directive

and respective, whether total or partial. My principles, which carry this

subject as far as it can go, have not yet been published in full; but I

have communicated them to friends competent to judge of them, who have

approved them, and have converted some other persons of acknowledged

erudition and ability. I discovered at the same time that the laws of

motion actually existing in Nature, and confirmed by experiments, are not

in reality absolutely demonstrable, as a geometrical proposition would be;

but neither is it necessary that they be so. They do not spring entirely

from the principle of necessity, but rather from the principle of

perfection and order; they are an effect of the choice and the wisdom of

God. I can demonstrate these laws in divers ways, but must always assume

something that is not of an absolutely geometrical necessity. Thus these

admirable laws are wonderful evidence of an intelligent and free being, as

opposed to the system of absolute and brute necessity, advocated by Strato

or Spinoza.

346. I have found that one may account for these laws by assuming that the

effect is always equal in force to its cause, or, which amounts to the same

thing, that the same force is conserved always: but this axiom of higher

philosophy cannot be demonstrated geometrically. One may again apply other

principles of like nature, for instance the principle that action is always

equal to reaction, one which assumes in things a distaste for external

change, and cannot be derived either from extension or impenetrability; and

that other principle, that a simple movement has the same properties as

those which might belong to a compound movement such as would produce [333]

the same phenomena of locomotion. These assumptions are very plausible, and

are successful as an explanation of the laws of motion: nothing is so

appropriate, all the more since they are in accord with each other. But

there is to be found in them no absolute necessity, such as may compel us

to admit them, in the way one is compelled to admit the rules of logic, of

arithmetic and geometry.

347. It seems, when one considers the indifference of matter to motion and

to rest, that the largest body at rest could be carried along without any

resistance by the smallest body in motion, in which case there would be

action without reaction and an effect greater than its cause. There is also

no necessity to say of the motion of a ball which runs freely on an even,

horizontal plane, with a certain degree of speed, termed A, that this

motion must have the properties of that motion which it would have if it

were going with lesser speed in a boat, itself moving in the same direction

with the residue of the speed, to ensure that the ball, seen from the bank,

advance with the same degree A. For, although the same appearance of speed

and of direction results through this medium of the boat, it is not because

it is the same thing. Nevertheless it happens that the effects of the

collision of the balls in the boat, the motion in each one separately

combined with that of the boat giving the appearance of that which goes on

outside the boat, also give the appearance of the effects that these same

balls colliding would have outside the boat. All that is admirable, but one

does not see its absolute necessity. A movement on the two sides of the

right-angled triangle composes a movement on the hypotenuse; but it does

not follow that a ball moving on the hypotenuse must produce the effect of

two balls of its own size moving on the two sides: yet that is true.

Nothing is so appropriate as this result, and God has chosen the laws that

produce it: but one sees no geometrical necessity therein. Yet it is this

very lack of necessity which enhances the beauty of the laws that God has

chosen, wherein divers admirable axioms exist in conjunction, and it is

impossible for one to say which of them is the primary.

348. I have also shown that therein is observed that excellent law of

continuity, which I have perhaps been the first to state, and which is a

kind of touchstone whose test the rules of M. Descartes, of Father Fabry,

Father Pardies, Father de Malebranche and others cannot pass. In virtue of

this law, one must be able to regard rest as a movement vanishing [334]

after having continually diminished, and likewise equality as an inequality

that vanishes also, as would happen through the continual diminution of the

greater of two unequal bodies, while the smaller retains its size. As a

consequence of this consideration, the general rule for unequal bodies, or

bodies in motion, must apply also to equal bodies or to bodies one of which

is at rest, as to a particular case of the rule. This does result in the

true laws of motion, and does not result in certain laws invented by M.

Descartes and by some other men of talent, which already on that score

alone prove to be ill-concerted, so that one may predict that experiment

will not favour them.

349. These considerations make it plain that the laws of Nature regulating

movements are neither entirely necessary nor entirely arbitrary. The middle

course to be taken is that they are a choice of the most perfect wisdom.

And this great example of the laws of motion shows with the utmost clarity

how much difference there is between these three cases, to wit, firstly _an

absolute necessity_, metaphysical or geometrical, which may be called

blind, and which does not depend upon any but efficient causes; in the

second place, _a moral necessity_, which comes from the free choice of

wisdom in relation to final causes; and finally in the third place,

_something absolutely arbitrary_, depending upon an indifference of

equipoise, which is imagined, but which cannot exist, where there is no

sufficient reason either in the efficient or in the final cause.

Consequently one must conclude how mistaken it is to confuse either that

which is absolutely necessary with that which is determined by the reason

of the best, or the freedom that is determined by reason with a vague

indifference.

350. This also settles M. Bayle's difficulty, for he fears that, if God is

always determinate, Nature could dispense with him and bring about that

same effect which is attributed to him, through the necessity of the order

of things. That would be true if the laws of motion for instance, and all

the rest, had their source in a geometrical necessity of efficient causes;

but in the last analysis one is obliged to resort to something depending

upon final causes and upon what is fitting. This also utterly destroys the

most plausible reasoning of the Naturalists. Dr. Johann Joachim Becher, a

German physician, well known for his books on chemistry, had composed a

prayer which looked like getting him into trouble. It began: 'O sancta[335]

mater natura, aeterne rerum ordo'. And it ended by saying that this Nature

must forgive him his errors, since she herself was their cause. But the

nature of things, if taken as without intelligence and without choice, has

in it nothing sufficiently determinant. Herr Becher did not sufficiently

take into account that the Author of things (_natura naturans_) must be

good and wise, and that we can be evil without complicity on his part in

our acts of wickedness. When a wicked man exists, God must have found in

the region of possibles the idea of such a man forming part of that

sequence of things, the choice of which was demanded by the greatest

perfection of the universe, and in which errors and sins are not only

punished but even repaired to greater advantage, so that they contribute to

the greatest good.

351. M. Bayle, however, has extended the free choice of God a little too

far. Speaking of the Peripatetic Strato (_Reply to the Questions of a

Provincial_, vol. III, ch. 180, p. 1239), who asserted that everything had

been brought forth by the necessity of a nature devoid of intelligence, he

maintains that this philosopher, on being asked why a tree has not the

power to form bones and veins, might have asked in his turn: Why has matter

precisely three dimensions? why should not two have sufficed for it? why

has it not four? 'If one had answered that there can be neither more nor

less than three dimensions he would have demanded the cause of this

impossibility.' These words lead one to believe that M. Bayle suspected

that the number of the dimensions of matter depended upon God's choice,

even as it depended upon him to cause or not to cause trees to produce

animals. Indeed, how do we know whether there are not planetary globes or

earths situated in some more remote place in the universe where the fable

of the Barnacle-geese of Scotland (birds that were said to be born of

trees) proves true, and even whether there are not countries where one

could say:

_... populos umbrosa creavit_

_Fraxinus, et foeta viridis puer excidit alno?_

But with the dimensions of matter it is not thus: the ternary number is

determined for it not by the reason of the best, but by a geometrical

necessity, because the geometricians have been able to prove that there are

only three straight lines perpendicular to one another which can intersect

at one and the same point. Nothing more appropriate could have been [336]

chosen to show the difference there is between the moral necessity that

accounts for the choice of wisdom and the brute necessity of Strato and the

adherents of Spinoza, who deny to God understanding and will, than a

consideration of the difference existing between the reason for the laws of

motion and the reason for the ternary number of the dimensions: for the

first lies in the choice of the best and the second in a geometrical and

blind necessity.

352. Having spoken of the laws of bodies, that is, of the rules of motion,

let us come to the laws of the union between body and soul, where M. Bayle

believes that he finds again some vague indifference, something absolutely

arbitrary. Here is the way he speaks of it in his _Reply_ (vol. II, ch. 84,

p. 163): 'It is a puzzling question whether bodies have some natural

property of doing harm or good to man's soul. If one answers yes, one

plunges into an insane labyrinth: for, as man's soul is an immaterial

substance, one will be bound to say that the local movement of certain

bodies is an efficient cause of the thoughts in a mind, a statement

contrary to the most obvious notions that philosophy imparts to us. If one

answers no, one will be constrained to admit that the influence of our

organs upon our thoughts depends neither upon the internal qualities of

matter, nor upon the laws of motion, but upon an _arbitrary institution_ of

the creator. One must then admit that it depended altogether upon God's

freedom to combine particular thoughts of our soul with particular

modifications of our body, even when he had once established all the laws

for the action of bodies one upon another. Whence it results that there is

in the universe no portion of matter which by its proximity can harm us,

save when God wills it; and consequently, that the earth is as capable as

any other place of being the abode of the happy man.... In short it is

evident that there is no need, in order to prevent the wrong choices of

freedom, to transport man outside the earth. God could do on earth with

regard to all the acts of the will what he does in respect of the good

works of the predestined when he settles their outcome, whether by

efficacious or by sufficient grace: and that grace, without in any way

impairing freedom, is always followed by the assent of the soul. It would

be as easy for him on earth as in heaven to bring about the determination

of our souls to a good choice.'

353. I agree with M. Bayle that God could have so ordered bodies and [337]

souls on this globe of earth, whether by ways of nature or by extraordinary

graces, that it would have been a perpetual paradise and a foretaste of the

celestial state of the blessed. There is no reason why there should not be

worlds happier than ours; but God had good reasons for willing that ours

should be such as it is. Nevertheless, in order to prove that a better

state would have been possible here, M. Bayle had no need to resort to the

system of occasional causes: it abounds in miracles and in hypotheses for

which their very originators confess there is no justification; and these

are two defects such as will most of all estrange a system from true

philosophy. It is a cause for surprise, in the first place, that M. Bayle

did not bethink himself of the System of Pre-established Harmony which he

had examined before, and which for this matter was so opportune. But as in

this system all is connected and harmonious, all following from reasons and

nothing being left incomplete or exposed to the rash discretion of perfect

indifference, it seems that it was not pleasing to M. Bayle: for he was

here somewhat biassed in favour of such indifference, which,

notwithstanding, he contested so strongly on other occasions. He was much

given to passing from one extreme to the other, not with an ill intention

or against his own conviction, but because there was as yet nothing settled

in his mind on the question concerned. He contented himself with whatever

suited him for frustrating the opponent he had in mind, his aim being only

to perplex philosophers, and show the weakness of our reason; and never, in

my opinion, did either Arcesilaus or Carneades argue for and against with

more eloquence and more wit. But, after all, one must not doubt for the

sake of doubting: doubts must serve us as a gangway to the truth. That is

what I often said to the late Abbé Foucher, a few specimens of whose work

prove that he designed to do with regard to the Academicians what Lipsius

and Scioppius had done for the Stoics, and M. Gassendi for Epicurus, and

what M. Dacier has so well begun for Plato. It must not be possible for us

to offer true philosophers such a reproach as that implied in the

celebrated Casaubon's answer to those who, in showing him the hall of the

Sorbonne, told him that debate had been carried on there for some

centuries. What conclusions have been reached? he said to them.

354. M. Bayle goes on (p. 166): 'It is true that since the laws of motion

were instituted in such forms as we see now in the world, it is an

inevitable necessity that a hammer striking a nut should break it, and[338]

that a stone falling on a man's foot should cause some bruise or some

derangement of its parts. But that is all that can follow the action of

this stone upon the human body. If you want it in addition to cause a

feeling of pain, then one must assume the institution of a code other than

that one which regulates the action and reaction of bodies one upon

another; one must, I say, have recourse to the particular system of the

laws of union between the soul and certain bodies. Now as this system is

not of necessity connected with the other, the indifference of God does not

cease in relation to the one immediately upon his choice of the other. He

therefore combined these two systems with a complete freedom, like two

things which did not follow naturally the one from the other. Thus it is by

an arbitrary institution he has ordained that wounds in the body should

cause pain in the soul which is united to this body. It therefore only

rested with him to have chosen another system of union between soul and

body: he was therefore able to choose one in accordance wherewith wounds

only evoke the idea of the remedy and an intense but agreeable desire to

apply it. He was able to arrange that all bodies which were on the point of

breaking a man's head or piercing his heart should evoke a lively sense of

danger, and that this sense should cause the body to remove itself promptly

out of reach of the blow. All that would have come to pass without

miracles, since there would have been general laws on this subject. The

system which we know by experience teaches us that the determination of the

movement of certain bodies changes in pursuance of our desires. It was

therefore possible for a combination to be effected between our desires and

the movement of certain bodies, whereby the nutritive juices were so

modified that the good arrangement of our organs was never affected.'

355. It is evident that M. Bayle believes that everything accomplished

through general laws is accomplished without miracles. But I have shown

sufficiently that if the law is not founded on reasons and does not serve

to explain the event through the nature of things, it can only be put into

execution by a miracle. If, for example, God had ordained that bodies must

have a circular motion, he would have needed perpetual miracles, or the

ministry of angels, to put this order into execution: for that is contrary

to the nature of motion, whereby the body naturally abandons the circular

line to continue in the tangent straight line if nothing holds it [339]

back. Therefore it is not enough for God to ordain simply that a wound

should excite an agreeable sensation: natural means must be found for that

purpose. The real means whereby God causes the soul to be conscious of what

happens in the body have their origin in the nature of the soul, which

represents the bodies, and is so made beforehand that the representations

which are to spring up one from another within it, by a natural sequence of

thoughts, correspond to the changes in the body.

356. The representation has a natural relation to that which is to be

represented. If God should have the round shape of a body represented by

the idea of a square, that would be an unsuitable representation: for there

would be angles or projections in the representation, while all would be

even and smooth in the original. The representation often suppresses

something in the objects when it is imperfect; but it can add nothing: that

would render it, not more than perfect, but false. Moreover, the

suppression is never complete in our perceptions, and there is in the

representation, confused as it is, more than we see there. Thus there is

reason for supposing that the ideas of heat, cold, colours, etc., also only

represent the small movements carried out in the organs, when one is

conscious of these qualities, although the multiplicity and the diminutive

character of these movements prevents their clear representation. Almost in

the same way it happens that we do not distinguish the blue and the yellow

which play their part in the representation as well as in the composition

of the green, when the microscope shows that what appears to be green is

composed of yellow and blue parts.

357. It is true that the same thing may be represented in different ways;

but there must always be an exact relation between the representation and

the thing, and consequently between the different representations of one

and the same thing. The projections in perspective of the conic sections of

the circle show that one and the same circle may be represented by an

ellipse, a parabola and a hyperbola, and even by another circle, a straight

line and a point. Nothing appears so different nor so dissimilar as these

figures; and yet there is an exact relation between each point and every

other point. Thus one must allow that each soul represents the universe to

itself according to its point of view, and through a relation which is

peculiar to it; but a perfect harmony always subsists therein. God, if he

wished to effect representation of the dissolution of continuity of [340]

the body by an agreeable sensation in the soul, would not have neglected to

ensure that this very dissolution should serve some perfection in the body,

by giving it some new relief, as when one is freed of some burden or loosed

from some bond. But organic bodies of such kinds, although possible, do not

exist upon our globe, which doubtless lacks innumerable inventions that God

may have put to use elsewhere. Nevertheless it is enough that, due

allowance being made for the place our world holds in the universe, nothing

can be done for it better than what God does. He makes the best possible

use of the laws of nature which he has established and (as M. Regis also

acknowledged in the same passage) 'the laws that God has established in

nature are the most excellent it is possible to conceive'.

358. I will add to that the remark from the _Journal des Savants_ of the

16th March 1705, which M. Bayle has inserted in chapter 162 of the _Reply

to the Questions of a Provincial_ (vol. III, p. 1030). The matter in

question is the extract from a very ingenious modern book on the Origin of

Evil, to which I have already referred here. It is stated: 'that the

general solution in respect of physical evil which this book gives is that

the universe must be regarded as a work composed of various pieces which

form a whole; that, according to the laws established in nature, some parts

cannot be better unless others become worse, whence would result a system

less perfect as a whole. This principle', the writer goes on, 'is good; but

if nothing is added to it, it does not appear sufficient. Why has God

established laws that give rise to so many difficulties? philosophers who

are somewhat precise will say. Could he not have established others of a

kind not subject to any defects? And to cut the matter short, how comes it

that he has prescribed laws for himself? Why does he not act without

general laws, in accordance with all his power and all his goodness? The

writer has not carried the difficulty as far as that. By disentangling his

ideas one might indeed possibly find means of solving the difficulty, but

there is no development of the subject in his work.'