OF THE TESTIMONY OF CONSCIOUSNESS.
WHETHER our volitions come to pass in the manner we call freely, or are
brought to pass by the operation of necessary causes, is a question of
fact, which should be referred to the tribunal of consciousness. If we
ever hope to settle this question, we must occasionally turn from the
arena of dialectics, and unite our efforts in the cultivation of the
much-neglected field of observation. We must turn from the dust and
smoke of mere logical contention, and consult the living oracle within;
we must behold the pure light that ever burns behind the darkened veil
of disputation.
This appeal is not declined by the necessitarian. He consents to the
appeal; and the dispute is, as to the true interpretation of the
decision of the tribunal in question. We contend that the testimony of
consciousness is clearly and unequivocally in favour of the doctrine of
liberty, while our opponents allege the same evidence in their own
favour. Now, what is the real import of this testimony?
It is to be regretted that President Edwards has said so little on this
subject. He has disposed of it in one brief note; as if the nature of
our mental operations were to be determined by abstract and universal
propositions, or truisms, and observation consulted only to confirm our
preconceived opinions. What little he has said on this subject, however,
is sufficient to show with what faint hope of success the necessitarian
can venture to submit his cause to the tribunal of consciousness.
The testimony of consciousness, I have no doubt, might have been made
much stronger in our favour, if the wrong question had not been
submitted to it. All the advocates of free-agency, so far as I remember,
have said that we are conscious of freedom; that we are conscious of a
power of contrary choice. Or, in other words, that when we put forth a
volition, we are conscious that we might forbear to do so. But this does
not seem to be the case. We are not conscious of what does not take
place in our minds; and hence, we are only conscious of the volition
which we put forth. We are not even conscious of our power to act; this
is necessarily inferred from the acts of which we are conscious. As we
do not then, according to the supposition, put forth the contrary
choice, we cannot be conscious of it, nor of the power to put it forth.
By referring this, therefore, to the tribunal of consciousness, it seems
to me that most advocates of free-agency have rendered a disservice to
the cause which they have so ably supported in other respects. For the
necessitarian sees, that the doctrine of liberty, or the power of choice
to the contrary, cannot be established by the direct testimony of
consciousness alone; and hence he strengthens himself in his own
convictions, by picking flaws in our evidence. He sees that we are not
borne out by the testimony of consciousness, in regard to the point
which we submit to it; and hence, he readily concludes that we are wrong
in the whole matter. It is well, it is exceedingly important, to observe
what are the strong points of our cause, upon which we can rest with
unshaken confidence, and to take our stand upon them; giving up all
untenable positions.
By consciousness, then, we discover the existence of an act. We see no
cause by which it is produced. If it were produced by the act or
operation of any thing else, it would be a passive impression, and not
an act of the mind itself. The mind would be wholly passive in relation
to it, and it would not be an act at all. Whether it is produced by a
preceding act of the mind, or by the action of any thing else, the mind
would be passive as to the effect produced. But we see, in the clear and
unquestionable light of consciousness, that instead of being passive,
the mind is active in its volitions.--Hence, it follows by an inference
as clear as noonday, and as irresistible as fate, that the action of the
mind is not a produced effect. It is not a passive impression; and hence
it does not, _it cannot_, result from the action of any thing else. To
say that it is produced by the action of something else upon the mind,
is to say that it is a passive impression, and to deny that it is an
act. We are simply conscious of an act then, and the irresistible
inference which results from this fact, stands out in direct and eternal
opposition to the doctrine of necessity.
When we reflect upon the operation of the will, or of the mind in the
act of willing, we simply find ourselves in possession of a volition. We
do not see how we come by this volition; how we come to exist in this
state of activity. On this point, I am happy to find that the
consciousness of President Edwards agreed with my own. "It is true,"
says he, "I find myself possessed of my volitions before I can see the
effectual power of any cause to produce them, for the power and efficacy
of the cause is seen but by the _effect_, and this, for aught I know,
may make some imagine that volition has no cause, or that it produces
itself."
Our consciousness is precisely the same; but just observe how he
interprets it. He finds himself possessed of a _volition_; but does he
look at this volition to see what it is? Does he ask himself whether it
is the same in nature and in kind with a produced effect? He does not.
It is most unquestionably a produced effect; this is beyond all doubt,
and it is taken for granted. He sees no effectual power by which this
volition is produced; _but he knows it is a produced effect_, and
therefore he knows it must have a producing cause. The oracle is not
consulted on this point at all. It would be an insult to reason to
consult the great oracle of nature on so plain a point as this. This has
been decided long ago, and the ear is deaf to any response that might
possibly contravene so clear a decision. Thus it is that the
necessitarian goes to the true oracle within, and delivers oracles
himself.
He reasons not from the observed, but from the assumed, nature of a
volition. It must be an effect, says he, and though I do not see "the
effectual power by which it is produced;" yet there must be such a
power. Yes, it is just as absurd to suppose that it can exist, without
being produced by the effectual power of something operating upon the
mind, as it is to suppose that a world can create itself!
But as we appeal to consciousness, let us pay some little attention to
its teaching. We find ourselves, then, possessed of a volition; we find
our minds in a state of acting. This is all we discover by the light of
consciousness. We see "not the effectual power of any cause" operating to
produce it. What shall we conclude then? Shall we conclude that there
_must_ be some cause to produce it? This were not to study nature, as
"the humble servants and interpreters thereof;" but to approach it in
the attitude of dictators.
If we draw such an inference at all, it must be from the fact, it seems,
that volition is a produced effect. But is it such an effect? What says
consciousness upon this point? We have already repeatedly seen, what
every man may see, that a volition is not the passive result of any
prior action; it is action itself. It is not a produced effect; it is a
producing cause. It is not _determined_ at all; it is simply a
_determination_. As it stands out in the light of consciousness, it is
as perfectly distinct from the idea of an effect, as any one thing can
possibly be from another; and if it has not so appeared to every
reflecting mind, it is because it has not been simply looked at, and
beheld as it is in itself, but has been viewed through the medium of a
certain fixed notion, a certain preconceived form of thought, a certain
grand illusion, by which the witchery of the senses has blinded the eye
of consciousness. Every change in the external world requires a
producing cause; who then can possibly conceive of a volition as
existing upon any other terms or conditions! It is this fallacy, this
begging of the question, this perpetual declaration that it is
self-evident, that has, through a natural illusion of the senses, spread
the scheme of necessity far and wide over the minds of men. It is this
grand illusion of the senses, or, if you please, of the mind, that has
brought "the dictates of reason," as they have been called, into
conflict with the testimony of consciousness.
The doctrine of liberty is as inevitably connected with the _observed_
nature of a volition, as that of necessity is connected with its assumed
nature. I would not say that we are conscious of liberty; for that would
not be correct; but I will say, that we are conscious of that which
necessarily leads to the conviction that we are free, that we have a
power of contrary choice. I would not say with Dr. Clarke, that liberty
consists in a power to act; but I will say, that it necessarily results
from it. I would not say, that we are conscious of the existence of no
producing cause of our volitions; for we cannot be conscious of that
which does not exist. But I will say, that as we are conscious of the
existence of an act, so we see and do know that this is not a passive
impression, or a produced effect. And as we are not compelled to act, so
we know that we may act or may not act, so we know that our actions are
not necessitated, but may be put forth or withheld. This is liberty,
this is "a power of contrary choice." This idea of liberty, I say,
follows from the fact of consciousness that we do act, by an inference
as clear as noonday; by an inference so natural, so direct, and so
inconceivably rapid, that it has often been supposed to be included in
the testimony of consciousness itself. No man could help the conclusion,
if he would only allow his reason to speak for itself.
Is this doctrine any the less certain, because it is a matter of
inference? It will be conceded that it is not. The most unquestionable
facts in the universe are made known by the same kind of evidence. It is
sometimes said, that we are conscious of our own existence; but this is
not to use language with philosophical precision. We are merely
conscious of the existence of thought, of feeling, of volition; and we
are so made, that we are compelled to believe that there is something
which thinks, and feels, and wills. It is thus, by what has been called
a fundamental law of belief, that we arrive at the knowledge of the
existence of our minds. In like manner, from the fact of consciousness
that we do act, or put forth volitions, we are forced, by a fundamental
law of belief, to yield to the conviction that we are free. This
inference as necessarily results from the observed phenomena of the
mind, as the existence of the mind itself results from the same
phenomena. And if the doctrine of the necessitarian were true, that
volition is a produced effect, we should never infer from it that we
have _a power of acting_ at all; we should simply infer that we are
_susceptible of passive impressions_.
I have said, that we are not conscious that there is no producing cause
of volition. No man can be conscious of that which does not exist.
Hence, it is highly absurd to require us to furnish the evidence of
consciousness that there is no such cause of volition. It cannot testify
to any such universal negative; and one might as well require a
mathematical demonstration of the point in dispute, as to demand such
evidence from us. And yet, President Edwards declares, that by
experience he knows nothing like the doctrine, that "any volition arises
in his mind contingently;" that is to say, he was not conscious that a
volition has _no producing_ cause of its existence. Did he expect that
we should prove the non-existence of a thing by the direct evidence of
consciousness? All that he could reasonably expect in such a case is,
that we should not be conscious of any such influence; and this
President Edwards himself admits. He admits, that we do not see the
"effectual power of any cause," or feel its influence, operating to
produce a volition: he merely infers this from the assumption that
volition is a produced effect.
He also says, I find "that the acts of my will are my own; i. e. that
they are acts of my will--the volitions of my own mind; or, in other
words, that what I will, I will; which, I suppose, is the sum of what
others experience in this affair." Surely, no one was ever so silly as
to deny that what a man wills, he wills; and if this is all that
consciousness teaches on the subject, its information can throw no light
upon this or upon any other controversy. This proposition, that a man
wills what he wills, is independent of all experience and all
consciousness. It is an identical proposition, which experience can
neither shake nor confirm. We may see, nay, we must see, that each and
every thing in the universe is what it is, without any reference to
consciousness or experience.
Indeed, it is as absurd to appeal to experience or consciousness for the
truth of such a universal and self-evident axiom, as it is to appeal to
universal and self-evident axioms, to ascertain and determine the
_nature_ of our mental phenomena,--of the states and processes of the
mind. Edwards has done both: he has deduced the truth of the
proposition, that a man wills what he wills, from the evidence of
consciousness or experience, as the sum of all its teaching; and he has
established the fact, that a volition is produced by the operation of an
effectual power, by an appeal to a universal axiom. He has submitted a
truism, which declines every test of its truth, to the tribunal of
consciousness; and he has determined the nature of a volition, as well
as the manner of its production, by the application of a similar truism,
which contains no conceivable information respecting the nature of any
thing in the universe.
Edwards says, "I find myself possessed of my volitions." He was
conscious of his own acts. This is a sufficient foundation for the
doctrine of liberty; for such a consciousness is utterly irreconcilable
with the supposition that those acts are produced by the operation of
efficient causes. To say that they are "my acts," and yet to say that
they are produced by the action of something else, is, as we have
repeatedly seen, to say that they are my acts, and at the same time to
say that they are not my _acts_, but _effects_ produced upon my mind.
This very admission, therefore, lays the foundation of the doctrine of
liberty. And hence, it has been supposed that Edwards himself was an
advocate of this doctrine; because he has spoken of the soul as exerting
its own volitions. From such an admission, it has been concluded by some
of his admirers, that he really regarded the mind as the "efficient
cause of its own acts," and "motives as merely the occasions on which it
acts." But such an admission only proves, that his consciousness cannot
be reconciled with his theory. His consciousness lays the foundation of
liberty; but he does not build thereon. On the contrary, he lays the
foundation of his system in universal abstractions, and not in observed
facts; and hence, as it is not derived from an observation of nature, so
it can never be brought into harmony with the dictates and operations of
nature. It is altogether a thing of definitions and words; and as such
it must pass away, when men shall cease to construct for themselves, and
come forward as "the humble servants and interpreters of nature," to
study the world of mind upon the true principles of the inductive
method.
Edwards did not observe the intellectual world just as it has been
constructed by the Almighty, and narrowly watch it in its workings; he
only reasoned about it and about it; and hence, he was necessarily
devoted to blindness. With all his gigantic power, he was necessarily
compelled to go around, eternally, upon the treadmill of a merely
dialectical philosophy, which of itself can yield no fruit, instead of
going forth to the harvest upon the rich and boundless field of
discovery. Why should the failure of other times, resulting from such a
course, inspire us with despair? We hope for better results, not from
better minds, but from better methods. Socrates dissuaded the men of his
time from the study of nature, alleging that "the wonderful art"
wherewith the heavens had been constructed, was concealed from their
eyes; and that it was displeasing to the gods, that men should so vainly
strive to pry into mysteries which are so far above their reach.
Faint-hearted sage! Though Bacon had beheld the genius and labour of two
thousand years after Socrates had been laid in the dust, wasted upon the
same great problem, yet did not the unconquerable ardour of his hope
droop for a moment. Rising aloft, even from the wild waste which men had
made of their powers in all times past, he poured down the floods of his
indignation upon those who are thus ready and willing to devote mankind
to darkness and despair. Inspired by his philosophy, and pursuing his
method, the more than immortal Newton did not fear, cautiously yet
boldly, humbly yet hopefully, to pry into "the wonderful art" wherewith
the Almighty has constructed the heavens; and the great problem which
Socrates had so timidly, yet so rashly, pronounced to lie beyond the
reach of man, did this humble student of nature most triumphantly solve;
showing, to the admiration of the world and the glory of God, that that
wonderful art is infinitely more wonderful than any thing which had ever
been dreamed of in the philosophy of antiquity. How great soever, then,
the failure of times past may have been, we should not despair. Nor
should we listen, for a moment, to those who are ever ready to declare,
that the great problem of the intellectual system of the universe is not
within the reach of the human faculties.
_Note_.--The edition of Edwards' works quoted in this volume, is that by
G. & C. & H. Carvill, New York, 1830.