Necessity, what.—Edwards maintains the doctrine of necessity. But what did he mean by moral necessity? The phrase is unfortunate, for reasons already suggested—it does convey the idea of irresistibility, of something which must and will be—in spite of all contrary will and endeavor. This, however, he is careful to disclaim. He means by moral and philosophical necessity simple CERTAINTY, "nothing different from certainty." "No opposition or contrary will and endeavor," he says, "is supposable in the case of moral necessity, which is a certainty of the inclination and will itself." Now we must allow him to put his own meaning upon the terms he uses; and to say that under given circumstances, there being given such and such motives, inclinations, and preferences, such and such volitions will certainly follow, is not to say that the will is not free in its action—is not to shut us up to absolute fate—is not, in fact, to say any thing more than is strictly and psychologically true. In defending himself from this very charge, he uses the following explicit language in a letter to a minister of the Church of Scotland: "On the contrary, I have largely declared that the connection between antecedent things and consequent ones, which takes place with regard to the acts of men's wills, which is called moral necessity, is called by the name of necessity IMPROPERLY; and that such a necessity as attends the acts of men's wills is more properly called certainty than necessity; it being no other than the certain connection between the subject and predicate of the proposition which affirms their existence." "Nothing that I maintain supposes that men are at all hindered by any fatal necessity, from doing, and even willing and choosing as they please, with full freedom; free with the highest degree of liberty that ever was thought of, or that could possibly enter into the heart of man to conceive." This is explicit, and ought to satisfy us as to what Edwards himself thought of his own work, and meant by it. Still a man does not always understand himself, is not always the best judge of his own arguments, is not always consistent with himself, does not always express his own real opinions, nor do himself justice, in every part of his reasonings. This is certainly the case with Edwards. We are at a loss to reconcile some passages in his treatise with the foregoing extract, e. g., the dictum necessitatis; also his declaration that the difference between natural and moral necessity "lies not so much IN THE NATURE of the connection as in the two terms connected." This is an unfortunate admission for those who would shield him from the charge of fatalism. If the necessity, by which a volition follows the given motive, is, after all, of the same nature with that by which a stone falls to the earth, or water freezes at a given temperature, it is all over with us as to any consistent, intelligible defence of the freedom of the will.
If, moreover, the doctrine of Edwards leaves man full power, as he says above, to will and to choose as he pleases, what becomes of the dictum, which makes it impossible for the mind to determine its own volitions?
Does not distinguish between the Affections and the Will.—It should be remembered that Edwards does not distinguish between the will and affections. This distinction had not, at that time, been clearly drawn by writers on the philosophy of the mind. The twofold division of mental powers, into understanding and will, was then prevalent; the affections, of course, were classed with the latter. Hence there is not that definiteness in the use of terms which modern psychology demands. Had Edwards distinguished between the affections and the will, it must have given a different cast to his entire work. Even Locke, whose philosophy Edwards follows in the main, had distinguished between will and desire, as we have already seen; but in this he is not followed by Edwards, who, while he does not regard them as "words of precisely the same signification," yet does not think them "so entirely distinct that they can ever be said to run counter."
Views of the later Necessitarians.—Of the views of the later advocates of necessity, Priestley, Belsham, Diderot, and others, of that school, we have already spoken in a previous chapter. They carry out the scheme, with the greatest boldness and consistency, to its legitimate consequences, fatalism, and the denial of free agency and accountability. God is the real and only responsible doer of whatever comes to pass, and man the passive instrument in his hand. Remorse, regret, repentance, are idle terms, and to praise or blame ourselves or others, for any thing that we or they have done, is merely absurd.
Advocates of the Opposite.—On the other hand, the doctrine of the freedom of the will has not wanted able advocates among the more recent philosophical writers. In general it may be remarked, that those who have treated of the powers of the human mind, as psychologists, have, for the most part, maintained the essential freedom of the will, while the advocates of the opposite view have been chiefly metaphysicians, rather than psychologists, and, in most cases, have viewed the matter from a theological rather than a philosophical point of view. Among the more recent and able advocates of the freedom of the will, are Cousin and Jouffroy, in France, Tappan and Bledsoe, in our own country. Previously, Mr. Stewart, in his appendix to his "Active and Moral Powers," had concisely, but very ably, handled the matter, and earlier still, Kant, in Germany, had conceded the liberty of the will as a matter of consciousness, while unable to reconcile it with the dictates of reason.
View of Hamilton.—Substantially the same view is taken by the late Sir William Hamilton, who, by general consent, stands at the head of modern philosophers, and who accepts the doctrine of liberty as a fact, an immediate dictum of consciousness, while, at the same time, he is unable to conceive of its possibility, since "to conceive a free act, is to conceive an act which, being a cause, is not, in itself, an effect; in other words, to conceive an absolute commencement;" and this he regards as impossible. At the same time, it is equally beyond our power, he thinks, to conceive the possibility of the opposite, the doctrine of necessity, since that supposes "an infinite series of determined causes," which cannot be conceived. But though inconceivable, freedom is not the less a fact given by consciousness and is to be placed in the same category with many other facts among the phenomena of mind, "which we must admit as actual, but of whose possibility we are wholly unable to form a notion."
Remarks upon this View.—The difficulty here presented,—if I may venture a remark upon the opinions of so profound a thinker, and the same is true of Kant,—turns evidently on the peculiar idea of freedom entertained by those writers, namely, that in order to be free, an act of the will must be wholly undetermined, not itself an effect, but an absolute commencement. Any influence, from any source, going to determine or incline a man to will as he does, renders the act no longer free. Such freedom is certainly inconceivable; and what is more, impracticable; it exists as little among the possibilities of the actual world, as among the possibilities of thought. We never act, except under the influence of motive and inclination; and if acts thus performed are not free then no acts that we perform are so.
View of Coleridge.—This eminent disciple of the earlier German philosophy, derives from Kant the view of freedom now explained, and carries it to the furthest extreme. All influence and inclination are inconsistent with freedom. The disposition to do a thing renders the will, and the act of the will, no longer free. A nature, of any kind, is inconsistent with freedom. This, of course, shuts out all freedom from the actual world. Nor is it possible to conceive how even the acts of Deity can be any more free than ours, on this supposition; nor how, if any such freedom as this were supposed to exist, an act thus performed, without any motive, or any disposition or inclination on the part of the agent, could be a rational or accountable act.
Views of Cousin, and Jouffroy.—Cousin and Jouffroy while by no means denying the influence of motive upon the mind, place the fact of liberty in the power which the mind has of being itself a cause, and of putting forth volitions from its own proper power. The law of inertia, contends Jouffroy, which requires a moving force proportioned to the movement of a material body, does not apply to the human mind, and "to apply this law to the relation which subsists between the resolutions of my will and the motives which act upon it, is to suppose that my being, that I myself, am not a cause; for a cause is something which produces an act by its own proper power." Cousin, in like manner, places liberty in the absolute and undetermined power of the will to act as cause; and "this cause, in order to produce its effect, has need of no other theatre, and no other instrument than itself. It produces it directly, with out any thing intermediate, and without condition; ... being always able to do what it does not do, and able not to do what it does. Here, then, in all its plenitude, is the characteristic of liberty."
View of Tappan.—One of the ablest defenders of the freedom of the will in our own country, Mr. Tappan, in his review of Edwards, takes essentially the position just explained. All cause lies ultimately in the will. It is this which makes the nisus or effort that produces any event or phenomenon. Of this nisus the mind or will is itself the cause, and, as such, it is self-moved. It makes its nisus of itself, and of itself it forbears to make it, and within the sphere of its activity, and in relation to its objects, it has the power of selecting, by a mere arbitrary act, any particular object. It is a cause, all whose acts, as well as any particular act, considered as phenomena demanding a cause, are accounted for in itself alone.