Part 6

Hence, when we witness a change _in the world of matter_, we are authorized to apply the maxim we have derived in the manner above explained. We have really no idea of an efficient cause, except that which we have derived from the phenomena of action. Hence, if we would not suffer ourselves to be imposed upon by words without meaning, when we see any change or effect in the material world, we should conclude that it proceeds from an action of spirit. When we see the same consequent, we should infer the existence of the same antecedent; and not suffer our minds to be confused and misled by the manifold ambiguities of language, as well as by the innumerable illusions of the fancy. Wherever we see a change in matter, we should infer an act by which it is produced; and thus, through all the changes and modifications of the material universe, we shall behold the sublime manifestations of an ever-present and all-pervading agency of spirit.

By a similar process, we are made acquainted with the existence of an intelligent and designing First Cause. We learn the connection between the adaptation of means to an end, and the operations of a designing mind, by reflecting on what passes within ourselves when we plan and execute a work of skill and contrivance. And, as we are so made as to rely with implicit confidence on the uniformity of nature's sequences; so, without further experience or induction, it is impossible for us to conceive of any contrivance whatever, without conceiving of it as proceeding from the hand of a contriver. Thus, we necessarily rise from the innumerable and wonderful contrivances in nature, to a belief in the existence of an intelligent and designing mind. In like manner may we establish the other attributes of God.

But to return to our maxim. We can only infer, from a change or modification in matter, the existence of an act by which it is produced. The former is the only idea we have of an effect; the latter is the only idea we have of an efficient cause. Hence, in reasoning from effect to cause, we can only reason from a change or modification in matter, or in that what is passive, to the act of some active power. This lays a sufficient foundation on which to rest the proof of the existence of God, as well as the existence of other minds.

But the case is very different when we turn from the contemplation of a _passive result_ to consider an _efficient cause_--when we turn from the _motion of body_ to consider the _activity of mind_. In such a case, the consequent ceases to be the same; and hence we have no right to infer that the antecedent is the same. We are conscious of an act; we perceive that it is followed by a change in the outward world; and henceforth, whenever we observe another change in the outward world, we are compelled to ascribe it, also, to a similar cause. This conviction results from the constitution of our minds--from a fundamental law of belief. But when we contemplate, not a change in the outward world, in that which is passive, but an act of the mind itself, the case is entirely different. We have some experience that certain changes in matter are the results of certain acts; and hence, whenever we observe similar phenomena, we are under a necessity of our nature to refer them to similar causes. We merely rely upon our veritable belief in the uniformity of nature's sequences, without a reliance upon which there can be no such thing as reasoning, when we ascend from the changes in the outward world to a belief in the agency of an efficient Cause. But we have no experience that an act of the mind is produced by a preceding act of the mind, or by the prior action of any thing else. President Edwards himself admits that our experience is silent on this subject. And hence, when we witness an act of the mind, or when we are conscious of a volition, our instinctive belief in the uniformity of nature's sequences does not require us to believe that it has an efficient cause; or, in other words, that it is produced by the prior action of something else, as the motion of body is produced by a prior act of mind. _A change in body_ necessarily implies the prior action of something else by which it is produced; _an act of mind_ only implies the existence of an agent that is capable of acting. Wherever an act exists, we must believe that there is a soul, or mind, or agent, that is capable of acting. We need not suppose that, like a change in body, it is brought to pass by a prior act. In other words, a change in that which is by nature passive, necessarily implies an act by which it is produced. But an act of the mind itself, which is not passive, does not likewise imply a preceding act by which it is produced. _It only implies the existence of an agent that is capable of acting, and the circumstances necessary to action as conditions, not as causes._

Herein, then, lies the error of the necessitarian. He discovers from experience the connection between an act and a corresponding motion; and his instinctive belief in the uniformity of nature's sequences authorizes him to extend this connection to all sequences where the two terms are the same. That is to say, wherever he discovers a change in body, he is authorized to infer the existence of a prior act by which it was produced. But he does not confine himself to this sequence alone. He does not rest satisfied with the universal principle, that every change in body, or in that which is passive, must proceed from the prior action of something else. He makes a most unwarrantable extension of this principle. He supposes not only that every change in body, but also that every act of mind, must proceed from the prior action of something else. Thus he confounds passion and action. He takes it for granted that a volition is an _effect_--an effect in such a sense that it cannot proceed from the mind, unless it be produced by the prior act thereof. He asserts that "the mind cannot be the cause of such an effect," of a volition, "except by the preceding action of the mind." Thus, in rising from a single experience to a universal maxim, by virtue of our belief in the uniformity of nature's laws, he does not confine himself to the observed sequences; he does not keep his attention steadily fixed on a change in body as the consequent, and on an act as the invariable antecedent. On the contrary, from the exceedingly abstruse and subtle nature of the subject, as well as from the ambiguity of language, he treats a volition as a consequent, which implies the same kind of antecedent as does a change in body. Thus, by this unwarrantable extension or application of his principle, he confounds the _motion of body_ with the _action of spirit_; than which there could hardly be a more unphilosophical confusion of ideas.

From the foregoing remarks, it will be perceived, as I have already said, that the question is not, _whether every effect must have a cause_. This is conceded. We do not give up "this great principle of common sense." We insist upon it as firmly as do our adversaries; and hence, we have as strong a foundation whereon to rest our belief in the being of a God. But the question is, _whether every cause is an effect?_ Or, in other words, whether an act of mind can exist without being produced by the prior action of something else; just as the motion of body is produced by the prior action of mind? We say that it can exist without any such producing cause.

If it were otherwise, if every cause were an effect in the sense in which a volition is assumed to be an effect by the necessitarian, what would be the consequence? It is evident, that each and every cause in the universe must itself have a cause--must itself result from the preceding action of something else; and thus we should be involved in the great absurdity of an infinite series of causes, as well as in the iron scheme of an all-pervading necessity. But, happily, there is nothing in our experience, nor in any law of our nature, nor in both together, which requires us to believe that a volition is an effect in any such sense of the word. Call it an effect, if you please; but then it must be conceded that it is not, like the motion of body, such a consequent as necessarily requires the prior action of something else for its production.

Every _effect_ must have a cause, it is true; but it is purely a gratuitous assumption--a mere _petitio principii_, to take it for granted that a volition is an effect in the sense in which the word should always be understood in this celebrated maxim. This maxim is undoubtedly true, as we have seen, when applied to the changes of that which cannot act: it is in reference to such effects, or consequents, that the conviction of its truth is first suggested; and we cannot doubt of the propriety of its application to all such effects, unless we can doubt of the uniformity of nature's sequences. But when we go over from the region of inert, passive matter, into that which is full of spiritual vigour and unceasing activity, and apply this maxim here in all its rigour, we do make a most unwarrantable extension of it. We pervert it from its true meaning and import; we identify volition with local motion; we involve ourselves in the greatest of all absurdities, as well as in the most ruinous of all doctrines.

As we have already said, then, we do not give up the great principle of common sense, that every effect must have a cause. We recognize this principle when we reason from effect to cause--when we ascend from the creation up to the Creator. We deny that volition is an effect; and what then? If volition be not an effect, are there no effects in the universe? Are we sunk in utter darkness? Have we no platform left whereon to stand, and to behold the glory of God, our Creator and Preserver? Surely we have. Every change throughout inanimate nature bespeaks the agency of Him, who "sits concealed behind his own creation," but is everywhere manifested by his omnipresent energy. The human body is an effect, teeming with evidences of the most wonderful skill of its Great Cause and Contriver. The soul itself is an effect,--the soul, with all its complicated and wonder-working powers, is an effect; and clearly proclaims the wisdom, and the goodness, and the holiness of its Maker. The heavens above us, with all its shining hosts and admirable mechanism, proclaims the glory of God; and the whole universe of created intelligences shout for joy, as they respond in their eternal anthems to the "music of the spheres." And is not this enough? Is the whole psaltery of heaven and earth marred, and all its sweet harmony turned into harsh discord, if we only dare to assert that an act is not an effect? No, no: this too proclaims the glory of God; for, however great may be the mystery, it only shows that the Almighty has called into existence innumerable creatures, bearing the impress of his own glorious image, and that, in consequence thereof, they are capable of acting without being compelled to act.

It is the position of Edwards, and not ours, that would disprove the existence of a God. We believe in action which is uncaused by any prior action; and hence, we can reason from effects up to Cause, and there find a resting-place. We do not look beyond that which is uncaused. We believe there is action somewhere, uncaused by preceding action; and if we did not believe this, we should be constrained to adopt the doctrine of Edwards, that action itself must be caused "by the action of something else," p. 203; which necessarily lands us in an infinite series of causes; the very ground occupied by Atheists in all ages of the world. It is well, therefore, to hold on to "this great principle of common sense, that every effect must have a cause," in order that we may rise from the world and its innumerable wonders to the contemplation of the infinite wisdom and goodness of God: it is also well that we should hold it with a distinction, and not apply it to action, in order that we may not be forced beyond the Great First Cause--the central light of the Universe, into the "outer darkness" of the old atheistic scheme of an infinite series of causes. If we give up this principle, we cannot prove the existence of a God, it is most true; but yet, if we apply this principle as Edwards applies it, we are irresistibly launched upon an infinite series of causes, and compelled to shoot entirely beyond the belief of a God. We quarrel not, therefore, with his great principle; but we utterly reject his application of it, as leading directly to Atheism.

SECTION VIII.

OF THE RELATION BETWEEN THE FEELINGS AND THE WILL.

IT is well known that Edwards confounds the sensitive part of our nature with the will, the susceptibility by which the mind feels with the power by which it acts. He expressly declares, that "the affections and the will are not two faculties of the soul;" and it is upon this confusion of things that much of his argument depends for its coherency.

But although he thus expressly confounds them; yet he frequently speaks of them, in the course of his argument, as if they were two different faculties of the soul. Thus, he frequently asserts that the will is determined by "the strongest appetite," by "the strongest disposition," by "the strongest inclination." Now, in these expressions, he evidently means to distinguish appetite, inclination, and disposition, from the will; and if he does not, then he asserts, that the will is determined by itself, a doctrine which he utterly repudiates.

The soundness of much of his argument depends, as I have said, upon the confusion or the identification of these two properties of the mind; the soundness of much of it also depends upon the fact that they are not identical, but distinct. From a great number of similar passages, we may select the following, as an illustration of the justness of this remark: "Moral necessity," says he, "may be as _absolute_, as natural necessity. That is, the effect may be as powerfully connected with its moral cause, as a natural necessary effect is with its natural cause. Whether the will in every case is necessarily determined by the strongest motive, or whether the will ever makes any resistance to such a motive, or can ever oppose the strongest present inclination, or not; if that matter should be controverted, yet I suppose none will deny, but that, in some cases, a previous bias, or inclination, or the motive presented, may be so POWERFUL, THAT THE ACT OF THE WILL MAY BE CERTAINLY AND INDISSOLUBLY CONNECTED THEREWITH. When motives or previous bias are very strong, all will allow that there is some _difficulty_ in going against them. And if they were yet stronger, the difficulty would be still greater. And, therefore, if more be still added to their strength, to a certain degree, it would make the difficulty so great, that it would be wholly _impossible_ to surmount it; for, this plain reason, because whatever power men may be supposed to have to surmount difficulties, yet that power is not infinite; and so goes not beyond certain limits. If a man can surmount ten degrees of difficulty of this kind with twenty degrees of strength, because the degrees of strength are beyond the degrees of difficulty; yet if the difficulty be increased to thirty, or an hundred, or a thousand degrees, and his strength not also increased, his strength will be wholly insufficient to surmount the difficulty. As, therefore, it must be allowed, that there may be such a thing as a _sure_ and _perfect_ connexion between moral causes and effects; so this only is what I call by the name of _moral necessity_."

Now he here speaks of inclination and previous bias, as elsewhere of appetite and disposition, as distinct from volition. In this he is right; even the necessitarian will not, at the present day, deny that our desires, affections, &c., are different from volition. "Between motive and volition," says President Day, "there must intervene an apprehension of the object, and _consequent feeling excited in the mind_." Thus, according to President Day, feeling is not volition; it intervenes between the external object and volition. But although Edwards is right in this; there is one thing in which he is wrong. He is wrong in supposing that our feelings possess a real strength, by which they act upon and control the will.

It is obvious that the coherency and force of the above passage depends on the idea, that there is a real power in the strongest inclination or desire of the mind, which renders it difficult to be surmounted or overcome. For if we suppose, that our inclinations or desires are merely the occasions on which we act, and that they themselves exert no influence or efficiency in the production of our volitions, it would be absurd to speak of the difficulty of overcoming them, as well as to speak of this difficulty as increasing with the increasing strength of the inclination, or desire. Take away this idea, show that there is no real strength in motives, or desires and inclinations, and the above extract will lose all its force; it will fall to pieces of itself.

Indeed, the idea or supposition in question, is one of the strongholds of the necessitarian. External objects are regarded as the efficient causes of desire; desire as the efficient cause of volition; and in this way, the whole question seems to be settled. The same result would follow, if we should suppose that desire is awakened not exclusively by external objects, but partly by that which is external, and partly by that which is internal. On this supposition, as well as on the former, the will would seem to be under the dominion of the strongest desire or inclination of the soul.

The assumption, that there is a real efficiency exerted by the desires and inclinations of the soul, has been, so far as I know, universally conceded to the necessitarian. He seems to have been left in the undisputed possession of this stronghold; and yet, upon mature reflection, I think we may find some reason to call it in question. If I am not greatly mistaken, we may see that the necessitarian has some reason to abate the loftiness of his tone, when he asserts, that "we _know_ that the feelings do exert an influence in the production of volition." This may appear very evident to his mind; nay, at first view, it may appear very evident to all minds; and yet, after all, it may be only an "idol of the tribe."

It is a commonly received opinion, among philosophers, that the passions, desires, &c., do really exert an influence to produce volition. This was evidently the idea of Burlamaqui. He draws a distinction between voluntary actions and free actions; and as an instance of a voluntary action which is not free, he cites the case of a man who, as he supposes, is constrained to act from fear. He supposes that such an action, though voluntary, is not free, because it is brought about by the irresistible influence of the passion of fear.

It is believed, also, by the disciples of Butler, that there is a real strength possessed by what are called the "active powers" of the mind. "This distinction," says Dr. Chalmers, "made by the sagacious Butler between the power of a principle and its authority, enables us in the midst of all the actual anomalies and disorders of our state, to form a precise estimate of the place which conscience naturally and rightly holds in man's constitution. The desire of acting virtuously, which is a desire consequent on our sense of right and wrong, may not be of _equal strength_ with the desire of some criminal indulgence, and so, practically, the evil may predominate over the good. And thus it is that the system of the inner man, from _the weakness_ of that which claims to be the ascendant principle of our nature, may be thrown into a state of turbulence and disorder."--Nat. The. p. 313.

Such was the idea of Butler himself. He frequently speaks of the supremacy of conscience, in terms such as the following: "That principle by which we survey, and either approve or disapprove, our heart, temper, and actions, is not only to be considered as what in its turn is to have some influence, which may be said of every passion, of the basest appetite; but likewise as being superior; as from its very nature manifestly claiming superiority over all others; insomuch that you cannot form a notion of this faculty conscience, without taking in judgement, direction, and superintendency. This is a constituent part of the idea, that is of the faculty itself; and to preside and govern, from the very economy and constitution of man, belongs to it. Had it _might_, as it has right; had it _power_, as it has manifest authority; it would absolutely govern the world."

This language, it should be observed, is not used in a metaphorical sense; it occurs in the statement of a philosophical theory of human nature. Similar language is frequently to be found in the writings of the most enlightened advocates of free-agency. Thus, says Jouffroy, even while he is contending against the doctrine of necessity: "There are two kinds of _moving powers_ acting upon us; first, the impulses of instinct, or passion; and, secondly, the conceptions of reason. . . . . That these two kinds of moving powers can and do, act efficiently upon our volitions, there can be no doubt," p. 102. If it were necessary, it might be shown, by hundreds of extracts from their writings, that the great advocates of free-agency have held, that the emotions, desires, and passions, do really act on the will, and tend to produce volitions.

But why dwell upon particular instances? If any advocate of free-agency had really believed, that the passions, desires, affections, &c., exert no influence over the will, is it not certain that he would have availed himself of this principle? If the principle that no desire, or affection, or passion, is possessed of any power or causal influence, had been adopted by the advocates of free-agency, its bearing in favour of their cause would have been too obvious and too important to have been overlooked. The necessitarian might have supposed, if he had pleased, that our desires and affections are produced by the action of external objects; and yet, on the supposition that these exerted no positive or causal influence, the doctrine of liberty might have been most successfully maintained. For, after all, the desires and affections thus produced in the mind, would not, on the supposition in question, be the causes of our volitions. They would merely be the occasions on which we act. There would be no necessary connexion between what are called motives and their corresponding actions. Our desires or emotions might be under the influence and dominion of external causes, or of causes that are partly external and partly internal; but yet our volitions would be perfectly free from all preceding influences whatever. Our volitions might depend on certain conditions, it is true, such as the possession of certain desires or affections; but they would not result from the influence or action of them. They would be absolutely free and uncontrolled. The reason why this principle has not been employed by the advocates of free-agency is, I humbly conceive, because it has not been entertained by them.