Calvin's Theory Of Free-will And Predestination.
Calvin's second grave error consists, as I think, in his theory
of free-will and predestination. He denies free-will, and
believes that the destiny of every man, his future salvation or
damnation, is determined from all eternity by the irrevocable
decrees of God; and at the same time that he affirms this
two-fold doctrine, he exhausts himself in ineffectual attempts to
assert and uphold the moral obligation and responsibility of man
in this dual condition.
I have no wish at the present time to enter into a discussion
which, in all times and in every country, has divided, and will
continue to divide, all serious and earnest men, whether they are
theologians or philosophers. I repeat that this discussion will
continue to cause division, because it turns upon a problem which
men cannot help discussing, and which they are not able to
solve--that is, the reconciliation of human freedom with Divine
prescience and omnipotence. Forty years ago, in my course of
'Lectures on the History of Civilization in France,' I gave a
historical account of this difficult question, and of the
discussion concerning it between Pelagius and St. Augustine in
the fifth century. And now, in order to describe Calvin's
thoughts on this subject with accuracy, and to show their
influence on his life, I must recall some of the ideas which I
developed forty years ago, as well as those which I have more
recently expressed in my 'Meditations on the Christian Religion,'
with regard to the intimate union of Christianity and morality.
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In order to understand and appreciate that fact connected with
man which we call his freedom, his free-will, we must disengage
it from all foreign elements, and consider it apart from them.
Owing to the want of this precaution, it has been very often
misunderstood; men have not studied the fact of free-will, and
that fact only: they have looked at it and described it in a
confused manner, together with a number of other facts which are,
so to speak, bound up with it in the moral life of mankind, and
yet which differ from it very essentially. For example, free-will
has been said to consist in the power of choosing between
different motives of action; and the act of deliberation,
together with the act of judgment which follows it, have been
said to constitute the essential part of free-will. It is nothing
of the kind; these are the acts of the intellect, and not of the
will; different motives of action--interests, opinions,
inclinations, and others--pass before the intellect, which
deliberates, compares, assigns a value, weighs, and ultimately
passes judgment. This is a preparatory labour which precedes the
action of the will, but does not constitute that action. When the
act of deliberation has taken place, when a man has investigated
the motives presented to him and their worth, then comes in an
entirely new fact,--the action of the will.
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The man forms a resolution, that is to say, we come to a new
series of facts which have their origin in the man himself, of
which he looks upon himself as the author; which exist because it
is his will, and would not exist if it were not his will; which
would be other than they are if he chose to make them other than
they are. Keep apart from this act all recollection of the
deliberation of the intellect, of motives recognised and
appreciated, concentrate your thoughts on that single moment when
the man 'forms his resolution,' when he says 'I will,' and ask
yourself--ask the man himself to tell you in all sincerity
whether he could not have willed differently. Undoubtedly you
would answer, as he would answer, 'Yes.' And it is at this moment
and in this manner that the freedom of the human will is
revealed. It resides altogether in the resolution which a man
forms as the result of deliberation; it is this power of forming
a resolution which is the special action of the man, existing by
his will and his will only; it is a distinct act, separate from
all the facts which precede and surround it; it is the same under
the most dissimilar circumstances, always alike whatever may be
its motives or results.
This action of the will is recognised at the very moment of its
exercise; we have the same knowledge of our freedom as of our
existence; we feel and know that we are free. But at the same
time that we know ourselves to be free, and recognise in
ourselves the faculty of originating by our own will a certain
series of actions, at that very time we discover that our will is
placed under the control of a certain law which constrains but
does not coerce us; and which takes different names,--is called
the moral law, reason, justice, good sense,--according to the
occasions on which it is applied.
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Man is free, but even according to his own notion this is not an
arbitrary freedom; he may use it in an absurd, mad, unjust, or
guilty manner; but every time that he does use it, there is a
certain law which ought to govern him. The study of this law is
his duty: it is the task imposed upon him by his freedom.
We soon perceive that we can never altogether perform this task,
that we can never act in perfect accordance with reason or the
moral law; that whilst we are always free, that is, morally
capable of conforming to the law, we do not in fact accomplish
all that we ought to do, or all that we can do. Whenever we
question ourselves closely, and answer sincerely, we are
compelled to acknowledge, 'I could have done it if I would;' our
will has been weak and cowardly, and has not gone to the full
extent of our duty or our power. Hence arises a feeling which is
found in all men under different forms, the feeling of the need
of external help, of some support for the human will, of a
strength to be added to its strength which may sustain it in time
of need. Man seeks this support, this help in time of need on all
sides; he asks it from the encouragement of friends, from the
counsel of the wise, from the example and approbation of his
fellows, and from fear of punishment. There is no one who cannot
find in his own daily conduct innumerable proofs of this impulse
of the soul, this eagerness to find out of itself an aid to the
liberty which it feels to be at the same time real but
insufficient; and as the visible world and human society do not
always respond to this desire, as they also are tainted with the
same insufficiency, which is at length perceived, the soul seeks
the support which it needs in something apart from the visible
world, above these human relations; it addresses itself to God,
and calls to him for help.
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Prayer is the most elevated, but not the only form under which
this universal feeling of the weakness of the human will, and its
resort to an external and yet kindred strength, is manifested.
In addition to these facts which occur in the human soul and are
clearly manifested whenever we make use of our free-will, there
is another fact more obscure, but which I consider equally
capable of proof. Certain changes, certain moral phenomena take
place and are manifest in us, the origin of which we cannot refer
to any act of our own will, and of which we do not recognise
ourselves as the author. I will take an example of this class of
facts in the first place from the domain of intellect, where they
occur more frequently and can be more easily investigated. I
suppose there is no one who has not at some time or other made
painful efforts at night to recall some idea, some event, and
fallen asleep without succeeding in the attempt; waking on the
morrow, he has immediately and without effort accomplished his
aim. I draw one single deduction from this; that, independently
of the voluntary and premeditated activity of the mind, there is
a certain unconscious and involuntary action of the intellect
which we do not control, which we cannot follow in its
development, and which, nevertheless, is real and fruitful in
result,--a kind of unconscious growth which is not the act of our
will, but bears fruit spontaneously.
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Now that which takes place in the realm of intellect takes place
also in the moral world; certain changes take place in the man
which he cannot attribute to himself and which he cannot account
for by the action of his own will. On a certain day or at a
certain moment he finds himself in an altogether new moral
condition, quite unlike that to which he is accustomed and which
he knows. He cannot discover the sources of these changes; he has
no recollection of having acquiesced in or originated them. In
other words, the moral man, even in the exercise of his own
free-will, is not altogether complete in himself; he learns from
experience and feels that causes and powers, or to speak more
correctly, a cause, a power external to himself, acts on him and
changes him without reference to his own will: in his moral life
as well as in the whole of his destiny he finds the
incomprehensible and the unknown.
Thus in the unconscious and free development of the human soul,
moral and religious facts are evolved, called forth and united
naturally. Man recognises of himself the distinction between
moral good and evil, recognises moral law, moral liberty, moral
responsibility, moral excellence or unworthiness; and at the same
time he recognises that the moral law is not a human invention
imposed by human consent, neither is it one of those immutable
laws by which the material world is governed. That is, he
recognises a higher power from whom the moral law emanates, whom
it reveals, and in whose presence he either keeps or violates
this law. God a moral ruler, and man a free subject, are revealed
to us side by side in the facts which constitute the moral nature
of man.
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And just as a moral law without a sovereign legislator who
ordains it is an incomplete and inexplicable fact,--a river
without a source, so also man's moral responsibility without a
supreme judge who applies the law, is incomplete and
inexplicable, a river without an outlet, which flows on until it
loses itself we know not where. God is implied in the moral law
as its first author, and God is included in the moral
responsibility of man as his ultimate judge.
But if a man discovers and acknowledges the existence of God in
himself and in the world around him, he cannot study and
investigate, or explain, nor does he know God as he knows himself
and the external world which we call nature. Man and the external
world are mirrors in which God is reflected; but this reflection
or revelation is limited by the measure and limitations of our
own mind, and does not manifest the plenitude and immensity of
the divine nature. Those special and direct revelations which are
treasured up for us in the sacred volume only disclose an
infinite perspective of divine action, they do not give a full
and clear knowledge of that action. Even when we acknowledge and
worship God, we find that there is that in him which is not only
unknown, but unknowable by man; and that although he has
manifested himself, he is still impenetrable and inexplicable.
Why has God created man? Why has he created him free, that is,
capable of deciding his actions by his own will alone, in spite
of the many external motives which seek to influence him, and in
a world governed by fixed and inflexible laws? What is the nature
and what the extent of the moral responsibility which, according
to his own account, man as a free being incurs?
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What part was assigned to him, and what influence did God give
him over his own life and his own destiny when he created him
free? Is it possible that he assigned him no part at all, no
influence at all, that beforehand and irrevocably he decided the
life and fate of man whom he created free, as he did that of the
material world which is governed by inflexible laws? Do we not
borrow the terms of merely human language when we use the word
prescience as applied to God,--God an eternal being, everywhere
eternally present, to whom we cannot apply our notions of space
and time, and of that succession of events in the midst of which
our fleeting life passes? These are questions of supreme
importance which we naturally ask ourselves, and which bear
witness to the nobility of human nature, but which we are not
permitted to answer; for in order to answer them we should need
to know and comprehend God, his nature and his designs, as God
knows and comprehends himself and his own actions. There is no
answer to these questions; even in the midst of Christian light
man must resign himself to Christian ignorance; all his knowledge
of his own being and of the world around him will never give him
a knowledge of God, or of the design of God in the creation of
the world and of mankind.
And this brings me to Calvin's great mistake. He was much more
engrossed in speculations concerning God than in the observation
of mankind. God is, so to say, the fixed centre and
starting-point of all his thoughts. He meditates and imagines,
and if I dared I would say that he presents God to us, and
describes him as if he knew him thoroughly, and had exclusive
possession of him.
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He then summons man into the presence of God, and denies or
calmly rejects everything in him which does not accord with or
cannot be adjusted to the God whom he has conceived and depicted.
He denies the free-will of man and affirms his predestination,
because he imagines that man's free-will is opposed to the idea
which he has formed of the omnipotence and omniscience of God,
and that his predestination is necessary to it. Calvin had a very
imperfect knowledge and understanding of man because he professed
to know and understand too much about God.
I find proof in the works of Dr. Chalmers, the most eminent
Protestant theologian of our time, a faithful follower of Calvin,
and a man profoundly versed in science, that the state of
Calvin's mind must, in fact, have been that which I have
described; and that at first he was led to deny the free-will of
man and affirm his predestination, in order to prove his assumed
knowledge of the nature of God and of his design in creating the
universe. I find the following passage in Chalmers' 'Institutes
of Theology:'--
'It is clear, that were there no such necessity in the world of
matter--did it not in every instance take a precise direction
from the laws and the forces which the Deity hath established
over it--were there any of its phenomena, whereof no other
account could be given, than that they sprung from a random
contingency, in virtue of which another set of phenomena might
have as readily occurred as the actual ones;--then, at this
rate, the world of inanimate things would drift uncontrollably
away from the authority of its God; nor would it be any longer
his will that overruled the condition and the history of the
universe which he formed.
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Now, it is the very same with the world of mind. ... If this
class of events, if the movements of intelligent and animated
nature, can be referred to no moving forces directed by and
dependent upon him, of whom we have been taught to believe,
that he hath ordained the mechanism of the spiritual world, and
presides over all the evolutions of it--if amid the diversity
of the operations by which we are surrounded, those of the will
and of the mind form an exception to the doctrine that it is
God who worketh all in all--then, by far the most dignified and
interesting of all his creations is wrested from the dominion
of him who gave it birth; ... and in the most emphatic sense of
the term might it be said, that there is a universe without a
Lord--an empire without an Imperial Sovereign to overrule its
destinies.
'Both the power and the prescience of God are involved in this
question. It seems strange that the Creator of all should not
be the governor of all; or that the universe which proceeded
from his hands should have been so constituted in any of its
departments as to have an independent history of its own,
placed beyond the sovereignty and the control of him who gave
it birth. But so it would be on the hypothesis of a
self-determining power in any of the creatures. ... To avert
this conclusion, all must be determinate, and all, both in the
mental and material world, be under the absolute control of him
who made all, and who upholds all.' [Footnote 65]
[Footnote 65: Chalmers, _Institutes of Theology_, vol. ii.
pp. 351-355.]
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According, therefore, to Calvin and Chalmers, the moral world and
the material universe are on the same footing, and are governed
by laws of the same nature; they have deduced this opinion from
their own conception of God, and the knowledge which they believe
themselves to possess of his nature, his designs, and his
relation to his creatures. God, they say, is an absolute monarch;
and in no part of his realm, from no one of his subjects, will he
allow of any intervention, any action, or any will opposed to his
own law, and because of this inexorable and universal law they
deny the free-will of man.
Strange denial, which has been condemned beforehand by God
himself! God is infinitely more powerful and more
incomprehensible than Calvin and Chalmers have imagined him to
be. Among the infinitude of his creatures there is one being whom
he has created and placed high above all others on this earth,
and whom he has distinguished by his own mark placed upon him.
God has thought fit to create man, and to make him _in his own
image_, that is to say, a free being, capable of deliberate
acts of intelligence and will.
It is the Bible which tells us this--the book which contains the
record of Divine revelation; man's first act according to the
Bible, the first historical fact recorded of him in his relation
towards God, is an act of disobedience, that is, an act of
free-will. I repeat my questions: Why has God desired this, and
created man thus? What position and what share of action has God
assigned to man in the circle of his designs and works? We do not
know, and we shall never know. But, with all our ignorance, we do
wrong to disown the sublime gift which we have received from God,
and to deny our own free-will at the very time that we are using
it.
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Calvin was not a theologian and a moralist only, he did other
things besides the writing of books; he took part in human
affairs, and directed and controlled the social struggles and
convulsions of his age. At all times, his actions were prompted
and regulated by his opinions: he did not believe in man's
free-will, and he treated it with severity and a kind of
contempt; he had entire faith in the authority of God and the law
of God, and he worked with the utmost zeal to secure the triumph
of divine authority and law. In everything which had reference to
human opinions and actions, to the thought and conduct of private
individuals, to public or private life, Calvin laboured to
introduce and to insure the ascendency of the doctrines and
precepts, the discipline and morality, of which he found either
the germs or the formal expression in the sacred volume; that is,
in the Divine revelation to man. He had the strength arising from
the sincerity of his convictions and the disinterestedness of his
motives; he was exacting and rigorous towards himself, and
therefore he was exacting and rigorous to others also; he
believed and asserted that he had more right over other men's
opinions and actions than he ought to have claimed, and he did
not show sufficient respect to their rights. He was affectionate
and faithful to his friends, but he often lacked sympathy for men
in general, and justice to his enemies.
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Some of his faults were, no doubt, owing to his natural character
and disposition; but the convictions which he held so firmly and
had systematized with such care, had a still greater share in the
occasional severity and injustice of his conduct towards others.
Perhaps no man was ever more devoted to that which he believed to
be the truth than Calvin; no man has shown more fearless courage
in running every risk, making every sacrifice, in order to serve
the cause to which he had given his faith. This is his noblest
and most beautiful characteristic, one that is manifested at
every step during the whole course of his life, even in his very
errors and those results of them which are most to be regretted.
And here, with great regret, I must close this inquiry into
Calvin's fundamental principles as they are disclosed in his
'Institutes of the Christian Religion:' an exhaustive discussion
of their merits and defects would necessitate a much more
complete development than I am able at this time to give them. I
therefore return to my picture of the character and genius of
Calvin as they are shown in the labours and struggles in which he
so rapidly wore out his life.
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