HE WILL
DIVINE AND HUMAN
BY
THOMAS SOLLY
BARRISTER-AT-LAW OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, AND LECTURER ON THE ENGLISH
LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE AT THE UNIVERSITY OF BERLIN,
LATE OF CAIUS COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.
The WTill is the last thing in the soul, and the ultimate resolution of all others.
CUDWORTH.
CAMBRIDGEe
DEIGHTON, BELL AND CO.
LONDON: BELL AND DALDY.
1856.








PREFACE.
N the following Essay I have endeavoured to give
a systematic solution of the principal problems
connected with the Will. For the manner in which
I have treated the subject, I must refer the reader
to the work itself. A cursory glance at its general
scope is all that can be attempted within the limits
of a preface.
In the conviction that Necessarianism is as unsound in Philosophy as it is fatal to Religion, I have
sought for some strong and unassailable position
for the doctrine of liberty. This, however, I have
not been able to find in the opinions of those Libertarians who make liberty to consist in a power of
choosing in opposition to the net result of the motives. Arbitrarianism, as this theory may be called,
considered merely as a convulsive effort to escape
from an irksome bondage, is laudable enough in its
intentions, but when carried out to its legitimate
results is even more objectionable than Necessarianism. For as all the motives are exhausted in
arriving at the net result, the act determining against
it, is absolutely unmotived, and neither reason nor
feeling contribute anything towards it. The assumption therefore of such an act is equivalent to converting the merely negative conception of the absolutely




iv                   Preface.
fortuitous into a positive element in human conduct.
But low indeed would be man's vocation, and no
less thankless the task of philosophy, if the only
alternative it could present for his choice were,
whether he should acknowledge himself the slave of
necessity or the sport of chance.
There is, however, another doctrine of liberty
which to the best of my knowledge was originally
propounded by Kant, and afterwards adopted by
Schelling in its essential features.  The doctrine in
question makes liberty to consist in a single act,
establishing once for all the character of the individual.  This view is in so far preferable to Arbitrarianism, a's it saves at least a reasonable liberty. But
it stands in such direct contradiction with numerous
moral phenomena, that its acceptance would involve
a degree of scepticism in the deliverances of our consciousness, absblutely fatal to all philosophy whatever.
If the crime and the repentance that succeeds it are
merely different objective manifestations in time of
the same transcendental act of freedom, our whole
moral life becomes one gross illusion, and our consciousness utterly mendacious and untrustworthy.
Hence the Kantian solution has appeared to me as
untenable as the others, for it is equivalent to felling
the whole tree in order to lop off an unseemly branch.
The above objections to the arbitrarianismn  of
Reid and the doctrine of Kant, are merely stated
here as a general explanation of the course of the
following argument. The proof that these positions




Preface.                   v
may be logically deduced from the respective theories
is given in the work itself.
Finding, then, no satisfaction in the solutions
either of Priestley, Reid, or Kant, I have endeavoured to strike out a rather different path from
any of them. To accomplish this, it has been necessary to enter into a somewhat long investigation
respecting the nature of an act of consciousness in
general,'a priori conceptions and judgments, the
conception of causality, and the grounds of our belief in it. This analysis is essentially Kantian in its
principles, and has been all the more necessary on that
very account.  For as it is only in the last stage of
my deduction of liberty that I have diverged from
the views of that philosopher, I could only explain my
reasons for doing so by examining the previous steps.
The desultory reader who opens the book in the middle, and finds a long disquisition on causality and ca
priori reasoning, may probably be inclined to regard
it as a digression from the avowed subject of the work.
Should he, however, retain this opinion after reading
the whole of it, I can assure him that he has not
understood my argument, to which the above-mentioned disquisition is absolutely essential.
The problems connected with the relation of the
will to the intellect, and the will of God, as also the
solutions of them offered in the following pages, are
not of such a character as to admit of being briefly
stated, and I must therefore refer the reader to the
work itself, respecting them.




vi                 Preface.
In the course of the Essay I have repeatedly
had occasion to employ mathematical -illustrations.
To prevent, however, the possibility of a misunderstanding respecting the light in which I regard them,
I will observe shortly, that they are only introduced
as a means of conveying the idea thus symbolised,
with a greater precision and sharpness of outline
than is attainable by other means. They are not
therefore employed as an organum for the discovery
of a truth, or as a method of arriving at a result
beyond the grasp of an immediate intuition, as is
the case with the ordinary mathematical analysis.
In the explanations that accompany them, the positions they are intended to exemplify are made
perfectly comprehensible to those who are not acquainted with that science.  But the symbolical
forms have this advantage, that they render any
misunderstanding of the argument they illustrate
almost impossible, and greatly facilitate the detection of fallacy. In short, the symbols are employed
as the simplest vehicle for the expression of the
mutual relations among the various elements of a
problem, and this office they accomplish by divesting these relations of all extraneous matter.
With regard to style, it has been my constant
endeavour to make my meaning as clear and intelligible as the subject permits-sometimes indeed at
the risk of being accused of a puerile diffuseness. I
have preferred, however, to err on this side rather
than on the other. For the intelligent reader can




Preface.                 vii
hurry on more rapidly if he likes; whereas if any
one step in a consecutive argument should not be
perfectly understood, the stringency of the conclusion is of course no longer felt, and only a general
and vague impression left on the student's mind.
It has been with the same object that I have
avoided the use of all peculiarly philosophical terms,
where I could find others of daily use which would
express my meaning with equal precision. Where
however this was not the case, I have not hesitated
to sacrifice popularity to accuracy, as I should otherwise have conveyed other ideas than those I intended.
For instance, I know of no generic term in the
English language signifying the act of the mind in
knowing an object in general without reference to
its nature, besides cognition, and consequently, at
the risk of offending the ears of those persons who
demand that abstract ideas shall be conveyed in comparatively concrete language, I have employed this
term wherever the sense required it. To take another
instance, if the reader open the book at the chapter
on the Relation of the Will to the Intellect, and
the expressions, first objective, first subjective, second
objective, &c., meet his eye, he may be inclined to
object to such terms as harsh and unintelligible. But
I have fully explained at the proper place, the sense
in which I have employed them, and to express my
meaning without them, it would have been necessary
to introduce so many long periphrases, that obscurity,
and not popularity, would have been the inevitable




viii                Preface.
result. And I would here remark, that while no
objection is raised to the use of technical language in
the treatment of scientific subjects generally, an exception is frequently made in the case of metaphysics.
But this is surely very unreasonable.  Words are
necessary to express ideas, and if the latter are of
such a character as not to occur in every-day life,
every-day language will not be sufficient to convey
them, and technical terms must be employed.
Perhaps, however, modern philosophy has itself
chiefly to blame for any undue jealousy with which
its language may be regarded. I think it would
require an extraordinary amount of faith to believe
of many a German writer that he had a perfectly
clear conception of his meaning himself, but could not
have made it clearer to others if he had wished. But
he who does not write as clearly as he can, is either
purposely obscure, or obscure through carelessness,
regarding it as a matter of little consequence whether thinkers less profound than himself comprehend his speculations.  Either alternative however
evinces a supercilious indifference towards the reader,
which it is difficult to reconcile with an earnest
desire for the promulgation-of truth; and the writer
who is guilty of it has no just cause of complaint, if
the amount of effort he makes to communicate his
meaning be regarded as a measure of the importance he attaches to it. Far be it from me however
to deny either the profundity or the earnestness of
these writers; I believe indeed that the works of




Preface.                 ix
modern German philosophers contain greater treasures of deep thought than the English generally
have any conception of. But both the profundity
and the earnestness are lamentably wasted if they
are mainly employed in keeping truth at the bottom
of the well when once they have found it there,
instead of drawing it up, and placing it in such a
light that men may gaze on it, and grow the awiser as
they gaze.
Before leaving this subject, I would suggest as
a question not quite unworthy consideration, whether it is not possible that extreme obscurity of style
may eventually lead to obscurity in a different sense,
-one neither contemplated nor desired by the author
himself. Contemporaries may for a time be imposed
upon by this sort of esotericism; but is there not
considerable risk that posterity may grow refractory,
that such works will be described in catalogues as
"curious and very scarce," and consigned to the
same venerable dust which envelops the countless
host of the Great Unread? Some symptoms of such
fate are already beginning to shew themselves, and
it is no uncommon observation, that philosophy is
going out of fashion in Germany. If this be really
the case in a country so justly preeminent for its
speculation, I believe the somewhat forbidding garb
which philosophy has assumed is alone in fault. Men
perhaps are beginning to be tired of naming themselves after a philosopher, when they are conscious of
having comprehended a bare tenth of the one-fifth of




x                   Preface.
his works which they have had the time and energy
to read, and they accordingly abandon the study to
those who pursue it as a profession.
The foregoing observations must not be understood to imply that philosophy can ever be made a
light dilettante study, adapted for leisure reading in
an easy chair. On the contrary, I am convinced that
a large proportion of mankind can never be made to
comprehend abstract speculations, and that they can
only profit by the results, when conveyed to them in
more concrete forms, through minds of various intermediate gradations between the extreme speculative and the extreme practical. But surely if the great
end of philosophy is to purify and ennoble men's
thoughts and lives by giving them truer views of
their own nature and thus of their relations to God
and to each other, it has but ill accomplished its
task, if it speaks in a language which earnest
thinkers pore over at the rate of half a page a day,
closing the book at last with a dim consciousness
of having thoroughly misunderstood it. The study
of philosophy is like the ascent of a lofty mountain. The summit is often enveloped in clouds;
but he who ascends it to obtain a more glorious
view of earth or to feel hinmself nearer Heaven,
will do wisely to choose a clear day when the sun
is shining warm and bright, and even distant objects stand out distinctly in the blue horizon.
BERLIN,
May 16, 1856.




CONTENTS.
PAGE
PREFACE.                                                  i
INTOn)lITCTION,  General Outline of the Subject c   1
BOOK I. THE HUMAN WmILL.
PART  I.
THIE HUMAN  rILL IN RELATION TO NATURE.
I[  The Point at issue between Libertarians and
Necessarians..9.                              1
Ii.  The Conception of Causality..              47
III.  The Grounds of our Belief in Causality:
SECT. I. Experience not the Ground of our Belief
in Causality...                    71
SECT. II. The Nature of  priori Knowledge..      77
SECT. III. Causality an d priori Conception.      105
TV. Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject:
SECT. I. Determination of the Spheres of Law and Liberty as the Elements of Human Action.    128
SECT. II. The Principle of the Self-determination of
the Subject....    155
V.  The Objective Element in Human Action..   167
VI.  Critical Consideration of the Three Conceptions
of Liberty as propounded in the doctrines
of Necessarianism, Arbitrarianism, and the
Self-determination of the Subject in a single
Transcendental Act...   174




xii                       Contents.
PART II.
PAGE
THE RELATION OF THE WILL TO THE INTELLECT         204
PART III.
THE RELATION OF THE WILL TO GOD
CHAP.
I.   General Statement of the Question                    2..  228
II.   Relation of the Will to the Omnipotent.            231
III.  Relation of the Will to the Omniscient.          240
BOOK  II.  T3iHE DIVINE  WILL.
I.   The Divine Government of the Universe.. 255
I.  The Divine Will the Ultimate Principle in the
Divine Character.....          276
APPENDIX A.
Richard Burthogge's anticipations of Kant's Criticism of the Pure
Reason.... 283
APPENDIX B.
Cudworth's Letters when a student at Cambridge... 286




INTRODUCTION.
General Outline of the Subject.
SINCE the earliest ages of the world the Forum
of the Human Consciousness has been the scene
of a mighty suit between the principles of Liberty
and Necessity. Many great philosophers have been
the advocates on either side, —many generations
have successively occupied the judgment-seat; but
advocates and judges have alike passed away, and
no final decree has as yet been entered on the record.
Some men-Englishmen perhaps more especiallyhave in these latter times become wearied by the
long protraction of the cause, have turned away
from it in disgust, and in the belief that it concerns
no practical interest, have hastened to disclaim their
judicial functions. They have argued that the pleadings are but a vain wrangling, for ever revolving
round the same point but never approaching it, and
that there is no hope of man's arriving at a clear
result on this side the grave. But the indomitable
perseverance with which the thinkers of all ages
have ever returned to the same problem, must be
regarded as a sufficient answer to such desponding
views, for it is an evidence of an instinctive faith
in the powers of the intellect far too strong and
too universal to be regarded as a mere illusion.
And, indeed, it may be seen from a mere glance
at the past history of human opinions, that the
S. W.                                1




2                 Introduction.
successive solution of the subordinate questions has
gradually determined the respective provinces of
these two principles with an ever-increasing accuracy,
and that the subject of controversy has thus been
reduced to a far narrower compass than it originally
occupied.
The circumstances of an early stage of civilisation call much more frequently for energetic action
than profound speculation, and thus excite in man
a far livelier consciousness of his liberty than he is
likely to retain in a more contemplative age. This
disposes him  to regard the claims of liberty with
peculiar partiality, and to assign to its sphere not
only all the changes of which he is conscious that
his own will is the immediate cause, but all others
also which he observes in the world around him.
Not, however, sufficiently acquainted with nature
to recognise a greater degree of harmony between
its parts than between the actions of different men,
he attributes to the former not only the liberty, but
also the caprices and idiosyncracies of the latter.
In this manner the presumed want of unity in the
processes of nature is explained on the ground of
the multiplicity of the agents producing them; and
every striking phenomenon is regarded as the individual and personal act of the higher intelligence
presiding over the element in which it occurs. That
the religious sentiment, therefore, should ever assume
the form of polytheism, is owing to man's fancied
recognition of the reflection of his own passions in
the various aspects which the elements present. To
effect their private ends Jupiter hurls his lightning,
and iEolus unchains the winds, and a wild liberty
reigns from one end of nature to the other. Lest,




General Outline of the Subject.      3
however, under such mad guidance the universe
should founder in its voyage through the infinite,
and sink into the abyss of primeval chaos, a blind
fatalism is thrown in as a ballast to keep the vessel
right.
This, then, is man's first attempt to find a clue
to the mysteries of nature. But in the course of
time the ever-accumulating evidence of his senses
and his understanding forces upon him the conviction of the omnipresence of Law; and those fancies
of the night, the higher spirits with their casual
interferences, are gradually dispelled by the increasing light of day. The universal harmony of nature
becomes apparent, and one simple unvarying law
of causality is recognised as the actual form of government throughout the external world.
The discovery of a truth is sometimes perverted
to the furtherance of an error; and so it was in
the present instance. Some men, conscious of the
capricious use they made of their own liberty, were
unable to imagine any other kind of use of it in
another being; for the conception of a free agent
who should employ his liberty in maintaining law
was above their comprehension. As soon, therefore,
as they became aware that their theory was but an
illusion —a mere reflection of their own caprices in
the operations of nature —they gave it up; but with
it they gave up the liberty also. Atheism argued:
There is no caprice in the energy producing the
changes in nature, therefore there is no liberty; but
everything is resolvable into an impersonal, inexorable Law. But the difficulty of conceiving a law
without a law-giver has fortunately given the predominance to Theism, which replied: There is no




4                    Introduction.
caprice, it is true; but there is a liberty beyond the
law,-a liberty which imposed the law, and is therefore superior to it.
The recognition of the dominion of law over
the whole external world was a great step, but it
was not the last that Philosophy has taken in the
same direction. The subjection to law of man's
physical nature was already included in that of the
external world, of which it forms a part. This fact
once acknowledged, suggested another and far deeper
question, namely, whether the internal world alsothat of man's spiritual nature-does not equally fall
under the same iron rule.  The two answers to this
question coincide for a short distance, and then break
off in exactly opposite directions. Both Libertarians
and Necessarians are agreed that there is such a
thing as human nature,-in other words, that men's
emotions and intellects are subject to certain laws,but beyond this point their opinions diverge.  For
while the Necessarian maintains the subjection to
law  of the whole of man's faculties, the Libertarian
asserts an exemption in favour of the faculty of the
will.  It appears from  this that Necessarianism and
Polytheism arrive at their respective results by precisely opposite operations; for while the Polytheist
recognises his own caprice reflected in external nature, the Necessarian recognises the uniformity of
external nature reflected in his own'.
1 About six months after I had written the above observations
I met with a very interesting article entitled Mesmeric Atheism,
in which similar views to those in the text are expressed in the
following clear and forcible language.
" The first impression we have of the government of the universe is, that it is all free-the fresh dictate of ever-varying
emotion. The second, arising on the detection of widening law,




General Outline of the Subject.            5
That the progress already made may fairly warrant our entertaining hopes for the future, is, I trust,
sufficiently evident from the foregoing sketch of the
past history of the case. Perhaps, indeed, this progress is all the less appreciated on account of that
very certainty which constitutes its chief merit. So
firm are our modern convictions on this point, that
we can hardly conceive the ancient Greek's misty
notion of the boundary line between Law and Liberty,
or realise to ourselves that the title of the former to
the realm of external nature has ever been seriously
disputed. Yet such was not only the fact, but precisely the primary fact of all Polytheism. Notwithstanding, however, all that has been done, the last
issue between Law and Liberty,-the claim of each
to be recognised as the ultimate principle in human
conduct,-has still to receive its final award.  Thus,
according to the Necessarians, every human volition
is the inevitable product of the character of the man
and the circumstances in which he is placed; and
the will is absolutely determined in all its acts by
psychological laws. They apply the same doctrine
to the Deity, and argue, that God being omniscient,
must always have known what was absolutely the
best, and being infinitely good, must always have
chosen it.  Thus the acts both of God and man are
made to fall under the same unyielding necessity,
is the scientific reaction from the former, and reverses its error by
declaring that all is necessary.  The third restricts the universality of both, and neutralises their contradiction, by providing a
realm for each, assigning the necessary to physical nature, the free
to the human soul; and assuring us that even where an immutable order has become fixed, it is by the resolve of a spontaneous
fidelity, not by the decree of a dead fatalism." Prospective Review,
May 1851, p. 257.




6                Introduction.
and the whole universe material and spiritual through
all time past and future, is represented as one vast
machine, every movement -of which is regulated by
absolute law.
These doctrines are invariably rejected by the
understanding in its natural and unsophisticated
state. The man who has not entered into any philosophical investigation of the subject never hesitates
to assert, that he can choose what actions he will,
and that this choice is determined, at least in great
measure, by something independent of fixed law, and
not merely by the circumstances in which he is placed
or the opinions in which he has been educated.
Where, however, the powers of philosophical reflection have been developed, and the attempt is made
to reconcile this assumed freedom with the known
facts of the consciousness, the Divine government
of the world, and the Divine character generally,
several startling and apparently insuperable difficulties arise, and shake the inquirer's confidence in the
convictions he had previously entertained.:When, for instance, we speak of the nature of a
thing, we mean the laws according to which it acts;
and whatever has a nature is therefore subject to law.
How then is a knowledge of human nature possible
as far as human conduct is concerned, or rather, how
is that nature itself possible, if human actions are not
subject to law? Man's conduct is governed by motives suggested by the circumstances with which he
is surrounded, and the strongest motive will determine his choice. What then becomes of his freedom?
Again, God foreknows the future. If then He
knows that I shall perform any particular action on
some future occasion, how is it left to my choice




General Outline of the Subject.      7
when the occasion arises, to perform it or not? Can
I act in contradiction to God's foreknowledge, and
make Him to have erred? But, unless the Divine
government of the world be a fable, God not only
foreknows the future, He plans it too; and the event
of all that happens rests in His hands. And yet
this seems hardly possible, if human wills are able to
do or leave undone, and are subject to no compulsion,
either direct or indirect, in the choice of their actions.
These difficulties, which here are but glanced at,
have coerced many an understanding to seek a refuge
in the doctrine of Necessarianism. But few of those
who have been urged to speculate on such subjects
by that restless striving after inward harmony between their feelings and conceptions, which constitlutes
the philosophical impulse, will find peace here. They
may be so convinced of the difficulties attending
every theory of free-will, as to adopt Necessarianism
as their theoretical creed, but they will hardly embrace it from any deep conviction that it answers all
the demands of their moral nature. It will be accepted as a choice of evils rather than as a positive good.
Its brightest side is the resignation and trust which
it may inspire in the course of events; but few will
feel perfectly satisfied with the place assigned by it to
human conduct.
For if men's actions are determined by laws, and
are thus subject to a strict necessity, in what way do
they differ from the phenomena of external nature,
or with what propriety indeed can they be called
actions at all? How can the idea of virtue or vice
be attached to an action which is entirely determined
by laws, with any greater propriety than to a tradewind or a hurricane? With what justice can either




8                  Introduction.
God or man condemn or punish an action which all
the circumstances of the actor, internal as well as external, made an absolutely necessary link in the great
chain of events? And to all these difficulties may be
added the ever-recurring instinctive conviction, that
there is something within us essentially different from
inanimate nature, and that we are governed by an
active principle above all law, and subject to no
necessity.
Besides these questions respecting the freedom of
the will, there is another, also involving some difficulty,
respecting the relation in which it stands to the intellect. If the will can choose an object, it must itself
possess the faculty of distinguishing various objects
from each other; in other words, it must possess an
understanding, and is therefore, not only a practical
but also an intellectual faculty.  Neither is understanding alone sufficient for its purposes, as it frequently has to make its choice between future events
which require an act of the imagination to realise
them. The hypothesis, that the will does not contain
either of these intellectual faculties -within itself, but
is absolutely blind, and merely derives the knowledge
necessary for choice, from the aid of the separate
faculties of the understanding and imagination, is
open to similar objections. For it is the essence of
an intellectual nature, to be able to convey its results
only to a similar intellectual nature. Thus-the understanding cannot convey its conceptions of objects and
their nature to another faculty, unless this latter is
also adapted by its nature to receive such conceptions, in other words, is itself intellectual.  If then
we admit that the will can choose between objects both present and future, we cannot escape the




Genercal Outline of the Subject.     9
conclusion, that it must in some sense or other be
itself both understanding and imagination.
But there is another question of yet deeper
import than any I have yet mentioned. I allude to
the question of priority between the Divine Will and
Moral Law.  Is the moral law such as it is because
the Deity has so willed it, or has the Deity conformed
His will to an antecedent moral law? Is there, in
short, any law for the Divine will exterior to it, or is
such will the only fountain-head of all law, as it
undoubtedly is of all fact?
Notwithstanding the very important place which
these questions must necessarily occupy in every
comprehensive system, either of religious or philosophical belief, the investigation of them has fallen,
more especially of late years, into considerable disrepute, and those who engage in it are often regarded
as metaphysical dreamers rather than as earnest inquirers after truth. The objections assume various
forms, but they all spring originally from the same
root, namely, that scepticism in the powers of the
human intellect which is the offspring of indolence
and egotism. A man may not be conscious of such
motives, but when he has found his own intellect unequal to the solution of a problem, his vanity will
certainly dispose him to give a favourable consideration to the opinion, that it lies beyond the province
of the human intellect generally; and this conclusion
is also calculated to gratify his love of ease by exempting him from further effort.
The first reproach which has been cast at this
controversy is its inability to establish any doctrine
on grounds sufficiently unimpeachable to command
universal assent.  Now there may be some force in




10                Introductioan.
the objection, as long as we regard the speculations
concerning human liberty as constituting the whole
question at issue, and not merely as the principal
point in a great cause involving many others. To
form, however, a fair judgment of the future progress of philosophy, we must look at the successes of
the past as well as its failures. If then we compare
the whole problem of law and liberty, as originally
presented to mankind, with the far narrower limits to
which the modern controversy has been reduced, I
believe we shall find that so much has been already
accomplished as to justify the opinion that the remaining difficulties are not wholly insuperable.
It must be confessed that the progress of knowledge has suggested new problems, and that where
some questions have been answered, others have
started up in their place.  But these difficulties
really existed just as much in ancient times as they
do now. And, indeed, the progress which is necessary in order to establish on some secure basis the
respective limits of the two principles throughout the
universe, may, perhaps, be hardly greater than that
which the natural philosopher has actually made,
since the times when the ancient Greek heard the
dreaded Pan's approach in the rustle of every tree, or
saw the darkened brow of Jove in every thundercloud.
Sometimes an objection is taken to all inquiry
into this subject, on the grounds of the character of
the reasoning employed. The arguments are considered as a species of sleight of intellect, offering the
sophist a brilliant opportunity for the display of his
metaphysical acumen, but involving no deep practical human interest. The true but unknown answer,




General Outline of the Subject.     11
which is supposed to satisfy all the apparent contradictions suggested by our reason, is conceived as
resembling an ingenious enigma, escaping the intellect by its complication and subtlety, rather than as
the problem of the universe, overpowering the imagination by the infinitude and sublimity of the conceptions necessary to its solution. But surely this is
not so; for whatever may be the nature of some of
the arguments employed, they can never derogate
from the dignity of the question in itself. Besides,
the complicated, the enigmatical, is the multifarious
before it has been knit together by that unity which
serves as its key. It is the phenomena without their
law. The higher we rise in our approach to first
principles, the simpler and the grander do we find
them.  Now, the great complex of all this universe,
in all time and all eternity, is made up of nothing
more than the will of the Creator, and the wills of
his creatures. What is all this solid frame of sun,
earth, and stars, as far as we can know anything of
it, but the projection of the will of God upon the
mind of man? What is all history but the action of
the will of man within the limits imposed by the will
of God? Will, in some form, either Divine or human,
is the first principle of all existing things. Surely
then, God has not constructed it upon such a pattern,
that all its various relationships should present us
with nothing higher than a lawyer's quibbles or a
sophist's conceits! It is the vastness of the problem
and its solution, rather than its cunning texture, that
occasions these bewildering difficulties; and the doubts
which man's half-knowledge has thrown about the
subject are but as cobwebs defiling the base of the
heavenward pointing column of God's eternal truth.




1 2               Introduction.
To us, however, who in this life at least, stand too
near the base to survey the whole at one view, these
meshes seem as strong as they are finely spun. We
must, then, at first, content ourselves with the endeavour to unravel them by the same instrument which
formed them, and find in our understanding the
subtle answer to the subtle doubt.  For not till these
doubts have been cancelled by their answers, and
have left our vision unobscured by any film of scepticism, can we hope to gain a glimpse of that simple
principle lying at the centre of our being, by virtue of
which man is said to be created in the image of God.
But if it be true that the problem of the will is
no petty riddle intended for men to exercise their
ingenuity upon by way of recreation, but rather one
demanding their highest faculties to grasp its true
solution in any satisfactory form, it is equally true
that this solution involves no trivial passing interest,
but rather the most central question of man's whole
life and vocation.  The speculative and practical
elements in human nature stand in such intimate
mutual relations, that whatever affects the one is felt
to vibrate through the whole length and breadth of
the other. That all speculative error has its corresponding practical sin, is a proposition almost susceptible of direct proof. Man's duties arise from his
relationship to God on the one hand, and to man on
the other; and. a false conception of the Deity or of
huinan nature, by altering one of the members of the
relationship, will give a false view of the relationship
itself, just as we alter the value of a ratio by a change
in one of its terms.
We need not search long for a striking instance
of the bearing of speculative philosophy on daily




General Outline of the Subject.   13
practice, and one referring to the Divine government
of the world, a very important branch of my subject.
Whether, for instance, we should pray to God for
temporal blessings is a tolerably practical question,
and yet it is one involving deep metaphysical consequences. When we pray to God to keep pestilence
from our doors, do we believe that He will work a
miracle for our especial benefit? If we do not, —if,
on the contrary, we believe that the laws of nature
will not swerve from their appointed course, and
that outward blessings will come or stay away,
according to such laws and without regard to our
prayers, -why  should we pray for them? Why
should we thank God as if for a peculiar act, when
there is no such peculiar act; when, in short, He
has done nothing but leave nature uninterrupted,
whether she work for our destruction or our preservation?
Perhaps it may be said, we prav for these outward blessings while our real object is to produce
a change in our own hearts. But upon what an
unworthy principle does such a supposition base the
practice of prayer! According to this view of it, we
pray to God for one thing while we are really hoping
to obtain another. We ask for some outward good
in the conviction that His granting or withholding it
is entirely uninfluenced by the prayer, but in the
expectation that this mere asking will produce some
beneficial effect upon our minds. I do not for an
instant mean to deny this beneficial effect; but if we
regard it as the whole good to be gained, and come
to God with such an equivocation as this in our hearts,
prayer becomes a mere cabala, a mockery of Heaven,
and nothing more.




14               Introduction.
Few will deny that the laws of nature are valid
for all men, that they are no respecters of persons,
and that, in these latter days at least, God does not
step forth from the mystery of His sanctuary to violate
them even in favour of His own people. The philanthropist who spends his days and nights in the
poisoned atmosphere of a fever hospital will probably
catch the infection and die. The worldly man who
breathes pure air, subsists on wholesome food, and
never watches by the bed of sickness, will probably
escape the contagion and live. And yet if we believe
that God does not interfere with a miraculous act
either for our weal or our woe, but leaves all things
to follow regularly the laws He has imposed upon
nature, why should we address ourselves to Him either
by way of prayer or thanksgiving, as if there were
any connexion between our words and His acts?
For my own part, I firmly believe in the duty
and efficacy of prayer, and that the seeming contradiction between the various elements of the problem,
-the human will, the laws of nature, and the Divine
government of the world,-admits a complete solution. But I do not believe that such solution lies at
the surface, nor do I find any satisfaction in popular
explanations, slurring over the real difficulties of the
question, and deprecating the rigour of the logician
on account of the piety and moral excellence of their
tendencies.
Now, to give an honest answer to such sceptical
problems, one that shall not shrink from going to the
root of the matter and looking the difficulties in the
face, is the practical province of the metaphysician.
The human mind, however, is so constituted that the
majority of mankind cannot comprehend philosophical




General Outline of the Subject.     15
inquiries. These need not on that account cease to
pray; but they must pray in faith alone, thanking
God if they are allowed to preserve that faith unscathed by a scepticism which they cannot refute.
But how much firmer would be their position if they
not only had faith, but were able to give a reason
for the faith that is in them; if instead of answering the sceptic with the mere subjective fact,' I believe,' they were able to shew why the sceptic should
believe also!
And this brings me to the consideration of the
last form assumed by scepticism in the intellect,-a
form which is the most dangerous because it is the
most specious, and is only found in connexion with
strong religious feeling.  Men of ardent faith will
sometimes regard it as a sin against their faith to
search after a reason for it. They will also treat all
the other difficulties in which man's will is involved
in a similar manner, and deem it rather meritorious
than otherwise to abandon themselves to a species of
pious ignorance. Faith, they say, is sufficient for us.
Why should we puzzle our brains with intricate philosophical questions, when our faith tells us it is all
right, if we could but comprehend it? This is the
extinguisher they would put upon all metaphysical
speculation connected with religious subjects, in short,
upon the highest use of our reason. Let us consider
for a moment if the nature of faith is such as to
justify this sweeping abnegation of our intellectual
powers.
Faith is the general result of the sentiments and
affections of the whole man, where the parts that
compose it have not been brought to distinct and
separate acts of consciousness.  To do this, is the




16                Int7rodwuction.
province of reason; and when at first she fails-a
case which human infirmity renders by no means
uncommon-faith may still feel justified in retaining
her own, though she cannot produce all her titledeeds. The whole province of faith belongs objectively to reason too; for if faith made us believe
what is unreasonable in itself; it would be an unreasonable, and therefore a false faith, and one we
should be better without.  Faith is but the advanced
guard, marching onward through the territory really
belonging to reason, though not actually occupied by
it; and the broader the basis of operations covered
by reason, the farther may faith itself advance without danger of stumbling upon the outposts of error.
Art will supply us with the most fitting illustration
of our subject, as it bears the same relation to criticism, that faith does to reason.  The man who is
born with the genius of a sculptor will begin by
modelling the clay under the feeling of the beautiful alone.  By degrees, his own experience, or the
instructions of older artists, will shew him why this
posture is more graceful, that expression more suitable to his subject, than any other.  In a word,
what was at first a blind instinct will have risen to
the surface of his consciousness, and having there
assumed a definite and distinct form, will become a
rule of art. But the more this blind feeling falls
uncler the dominion of his reason, the loftier will be
the starting-point for fresh flights in the field of
pure impulse, and the greater the confidence with
which the artist will venture upon them. Having
attained to a certain height by knowledge, he can
rise to a greater height by feeling than he ever could
have aspired to by the latter alone.




Genera'l Outline of the Subject.    17
Now the relation between faith and reason is precisely analogous to that between the primary instinct
of the artist and the rules of art which subsequent
reflection has based upon it. Faith is the first blind
feeling resulting from the mesthetic side of our moral
and religious nature.  Reason comes afterwards,
brings each esthetic impulse to its separate consciousness, transmutes the uncertain haze that had
hung around it into living light, and enables us to
carry on our faith into regions still more elevated
and sublime. We are all of us sculptors of our destiny.  At first, following our blind faith and our
westhetic imrpulses, we model our circumstances and
our characters as best we may. But at length reason speaks, and demands sight for our faith, and
order and method for our impulses, that at least a
part of our being may fall under her dominion.
Then it is that we begin to assume all the privileges
of our manhood in their most perfect form. Faith
itself is a glorious attribute, and throws a brighthalo far beyond the distinctly marked circle of the
noonday sun of reason. But he who endeavours to
read life's problems by the light of a faith unguided
by reason, has forgotten that the orb is antecedent to
the halo, and that the same God has made them
b.oth. He has mistaken a childish ignorance for a
childlike innocence, and by shutting his eyes to the
light of Heaven, has practically abjured his faith in
Him who gave that light for his guidance and his
consolation.
s.w. W.








BOOK I.
THE HUMAN WILL.
PART I.
THE HUMAN WILL IN RELATION TO NATURE.
CHAPTER I.
The Point at issue between the Libertarians and
Necessarians.
I HAVE endeavoured to shew in the Introduction
that the will involves manifold questions of deep
interest for the philosopher, and practical importance
for the rest of mankind. The problem, however,
which has attracted the greatest degree of attention,
as that in which all others ultimately merge, is the
possibility of human liberty.  Both Necessarians
and Libertarians assert their belief in it, but they
attach such extremely different meanings to the
words, that there is in reality but little if any common ground between them. If the Necessarian be
right, the whole of the will-in the sense in which
the word is used by those who believe in its freedom-is a mere product of the imagination. If, on
the other hand, the Libertarian be right, man possesses a faculty, the very existence-and not merely
the nature-of which is denied by the Necessarian.
The results of these opposed systems are no less
2-2




20       The Point at issue between the
divergent. The man who is accustomed to systematise his opinions and follow them out consistently
to their logical conclusions, cannot possibly change
sides in this question without an entire revolution in
his conception of the relations between God and
man. From whichever side therefore we view the
controversy, it cannot be regarded as a mere affair of
outposts, but rather as one in which the whole main
body of our religious and philosophical opinions is
engaged.
The simplest form of the problem is the following:
What is the relation of the Will to Nature? In
other words: Is the Will a part of Nature, or is it
not? The entire controversy depends ultimately
upon the manner in which this question is answered.
For the purpose of identification, the Will may
be defined as the faculty of which we are conscious
as the immediate cause of our action; this word
action being understood in the widest sense, and as
comprising thought as well as motion.
Nature may be defined as the complex of all
phenomena whether physical or mental which are
connected together either contemporaneously or successively in the bonds of law.
Now not only does law render nature finite by
surrounding it with an impassable barrier, but it also
pervades every part of it from the centre to the
circumference.  It does not execute the functions
alone of a coast-guard watching the frontiers of
nature's dominions, but rather of an internal police,
regulating and preserving the entire organisation of
the interior. Wherever there is phenomenon, there
is a something not only positive, but also absolutely




Libertarioans and Necessarians.    21
fixed in its nature by the negative which confines it,
and determines it to be no other than the thing
which it is.' If, for example, a log of wood be
floating on the sea, the log itself and every individual particle of it occupy at any one instant precisely that position which is assigned to them by the
laws of gravitation and the resolution of the forces
of wind and wave acting upon the surface, and
cannot possibly occupy any other. Thus the positive
which says, thus far, is not only circumscribed by,
but also ever in the immediate presence of, and in
indissoluble connexion with, the negative, which
adds, no farther. Now the will has at least so much
in common with nature, that it is finite as well as
positive. It is limited in the first place by the laws
of external nature, for otherwise it would exercise
that infinite sway over the elements which belongs
to Omnipotence alone. It is also limited by certain
laws of its own nature.  For if we were to assume
that it was an absolute monarch within the kingdom
of the mind, subject to no control from  psychological laws, it would have no nature, —inasmuch
as the nature of a thing is nothing more than the
complex of the laws which determine its modes of
being and acting. But the very fact that we can
in any way distinguish it in our consciousness from
our other faculties, shews that it has a nature, and
consequently that it is subject to such limitations.
Thus the positive of the will is also finite, and
bounded by a negative prescribing a certain sphere,
beyond which its action is prohibited. Up to this
point all parties are necessarily agreed; for every
inquirer into the nature of the will, must at least
presume that the will has a nature to be inquired




22        The Point at issue between the
into.  If however we go beyond this, and ask
whether no room be left for Liberty, whether law
not only limits the sphere of will but also determines every part of its conduct within that sphere,
we enter a disputed territory. For this finite nature
does not necessarily exclude the possibility of there
being a certain room  for free action within these
limits, where the negative does not reach, and where
therefore the will may be unshackled. The question
then before us is, whether the positive in the will
is only a part of the positive in nature, and thus
absolutely permeated by law, or whether it is of the
character above described, having its circumference
only prescribed by law, but enjoying free action
within it.
In the present chapter I shall not enter upon
the problem itself, but shall confine myself to an
attempt at bringing the conflicting opinions into the
form of a simple contradiction, and thus arriving at
the kernel of the controversy.
Both Libertarians and Necessarians are agreed
in considering the will as the immediate cause of our
actions, but differ as to the nature of its causality.
It will therefore be necessary to distinguish between
two senses in which the word cause is employed,
accordingly as it expresses the cause which is again
the effect of a prior cause, or a cause which is itself
uncaused, and unconditioned.
Causality is either phenomenal and conditioned
or transcendental and unconditioned, accordingly as
we seek in the cause either some partial phenomenon
forming one link in the causal chain, and therefore
itself dependent on prior causes, or the complex
of all the conditions necessary to the production of




Libertarians and Necessarians.        23
the effect'. This distinction may be made more intelligible by an example. The concussion of flint
and steel is succeeded by a spark, which falling
upon gunpowder instantly ignites it. In this case
the concussion is the cause, and the spark the effect,
which again considered as a cause is followed by an
explosion. The explosion may also become a cause
and propel a cannon-ball, which may knock down a
house; and in the same manner the series may be
continued ad infinitum.  Now in the above example,
the word cause is employed in, conformity with
popular language, and signifies nothing more than
the particular antecedent phenomenon, which again
is itself conditioned or determined by prior causes;
and the relation between the members of the phe-nomenal series is what I understand by conditioned
causality. But if we adopt the other signification
of the word cause, and regard it as the complex of
the conditions necessary to the production of the
effect, it is clear that the spark is not the cause of
the explosion. For in the first place, the spark is
itself the result of preceding phenomena, which form
just as strictly part of the conditions, though not
the immediate conditions to the production of the
effect; and in the second place, there must be some
law, and therefore some energy maintaining such
law and determining generally that a spark shall be
succeeded by an explosion.  In this manner the
search after an unconditioned cause carries us back
along an infinite phenomenal series longitudinally,
X In the former case any phenomenon may be a cause, whereas
in the latter there is always an element which is not phenomenal,
but which is required to complete the whole circle of causal conditions, and this element is the unconditioned cause.




24        The Poinit at issue between the
if I may be allowed the expression, and moreover
refers us at every step to some collateral energy
which maintains the law connecting every successive
pair of phenomena in the series. But in both directions our search has this in common, that it never
rests contented with anything for a cause, that is
itself conditioned or extrinsically determined.  For
as the cause which we now seek is to complete the
whole of the conditions, it follows necessarily, that
there can be no conditions prior and therefore exterior to it; in other words, by the very hypothesis,
the cause is unconditioned.  We must then continue
our search until we arrive at an initiating cause, or
one which is itself not caused. And on the other
hand, precisely the same reasons are valid in our
search for the collateral energy. For any power or
energy determining such relations of phenomena,
which is again itself determined, obliges us to look
still farther for some other deeper energy determining such determination. The whole complex of
conditions thus evidently excludes the conception of
another condition exterior to it, and must therefore
itself be unconditioned.
Now the unconditioned cause is necessarily free.
For were it not so, it would be subject to a condition, a supposition which is excluded by the hypothesis.
The conditioned cause, on the other hand, is
necessarily not free, for otherwise it would not be
limited by a condition, which is equally excluded by
the hypothesis. If however we take the whole of
nature, and seek for its cause, inasmuch as it comprises all conditioned causes within itself, the cause
in question must clearly be unconditioned and free.




Libertarians and Necessarians.               25
While  therefore  the  causality  in  nature is conditioned, the cause of nature itself is unconditioned'.
In the article in the Prospective Review for May 1851, entitled Mesmeric Atheism, to which I have already alluded, there
are some remarks on the subject of causation in which I should
have entirely concurred, had the reviewer expressly confined them
to unconditioned causality alone. The account, however, there
given of causality in general is manifestly only applicable to the
unconditioned, and thus leads to the inevitable conclusion, that
the reviewer recognises no other causality, and denies that the
conditioned or phenomenal cause has any claim to the name. But
as long as the practice of the vulgar and the general language of
philosophers are in favour of a more extended use of the word,
I hardly think the restriction either useful or justifiable.  The
passage in question is as follows: " The consciousness of personal
energy is the source and type of our idea of causation; and directs
us exactly to what we mzean by causation. That energy being
free,-that is, able ex se to determine into existence any one of
several given possibilities,-nothing  possesses a proper cauzscat
character which is destitute of this attribute. A cause is a power
which settles an alternative: and no one ever asks after a cause
without the preconception of such alternative. Beside the actual
phenomenon there stands in his mind a potential phenomenon,
which has been excluded in favour of the realised event: and he
wants to know what it is that has decided on the thing that is,
rather than the thing that'might have been. This ascription to all
causality of a preferential function is a manifest transcript from
our own VTill, and shews the ultimate identity of the ideas of
volition and power," p. 248.
To this I would reply, that we certainly do consider a spark to
be the cause of the explosion of gunpowder, without attaching to
it any idea of preference whatever. The potential phenomenon,
or that which might have been had not the cause determined
otherwise, is simply considered as possible, not from any option
being left to the spark, but from the possibility of its never having
existed at all, or never having come into contact with the powder.
Now, unless I have quite misunderstood the writer's meaning, he
would deny the name of cause to the exploding spark, because the
ultimate cause of the explosion is the will of God, who determined
the law according to which the phenomenon takes place. One
thing at least is certain,-we meet in such a phenomenon with no
liberty, (which, in the Reviewer's opinion, is essential to all causality,) until we refer it to the will of God, who chose the explosion out of all possibilities as the result which was to follow upon
the contact of the spark.
I have employed the word causality in the sense in which Kant
employed it in his system of the categories, and in which Brown




26          The Point at issue between the
Here then we find two sorts of causes, first the
cause uncaused, or absolute commencement of an
acting or being,-as for instance, that free and unconditioned causal act of the Almighty by which He
maintains the laws of nature,-secondly, the partial
cause, the cause caused, or absolutely and externally
determined cause,-as for instance, the spark that
explodes a magazine.
It must not however be supposed that I am
contending here for two distinct species of causality.
The same ultimate conception lies at the foundation
of both the conditioned and the unconditioned.  But
the former bears to the latter the relation of a part
to a whole. In every-day thought and language
we are not concerned with the consideration of the
entire cause, and therefore give that name to one of
the principal conditions which, from its dependence
on the other supplementary conditions for its efficacy,
is called the conditioned cause. Directly, however,
we seek for the entire cause, and would complete
the conditions, we must crown them with that unconditioned which is alone conceivable as free.
has employed the word causation in his Treatise on C(ause and
Effect, namely, to express conditioned causality, or the causality in
natural laws, without reference to that unconditioned upon which
it alone ultimately rests. My difference with the Reviewer is, for
the most part, one of names alone, as I should have'entirely agreed
with his remarks on causality, if he had expressly restricted them
to the unconditioned, and had followed the thought and language
of daily life, by not rejecting all phenomenal causes as unworthy of
the name.
The objections I have raised to the language of the above extract do not, however, apply to the following statement of the
liberty of the cause to be found in the same article, as the Reviewer
has introduced a few words of qualification to the ultimate or unconditioned cause: " We should not hesitate to maintain that the idea
of Cause, in the last logical resort, so far from being identical with
that of Necessity, totally excludes it; and instead of rendering liberty
of choice inconceivable, is itself inconceivable without it," p. 241.




Libertarians and Necessarians.      27
Now the Necessarians assert that the cause of
human actions is to be found in motives determined
by laws of human nature imposed on it by some
power external to man. Thus, according to them,
all human conduct is absolutely determined by laws
of conditioned causality alone, and the supplementary
unconditioned element is to be sought in the will of
the Creator. The Libertarians, on the other hand,
believing that human actions find some absolute
beginning.in the human soul, attribute them to some
unconditioned cause in the human soul itself as their
first principle, though of course acknowledging certain limitations to the sphere in which this unconditioned cause is able to exert itself.
The language of the Necessarians on this point,
is for the most part clear and explicit. All human
conduct, according to them, is entirely dependent on
the law of cause and effect. Anthony Collins, in his
tract entitled A  Philosophical Inquiry concerning
Human Liberty, has endeavoured to establish the
doctrine of Necessity, of which he gives the following
definition: —" Man is a necessary agent if all his
actions are so determined by the causes preceding
each action, that not one past action could possibly
not have come to pass, or have been otherwise than
it hath been; nor one future action can possibly not
come to pass, or be otherwise than it shall be."
"I maintain," says Priestley, "that there is some
fixed law of nature respecting the will, as well as the
other powers of the mind, and everything else in the
constitution of nature; and consequently, that it is
never determined without some real or apparent
cause foreign to itself; i. e. without some mnotive of
choice, or that motives influence us in some definite




28       -The Point at issue between the
and invariable manner; so that every volition, or
choice, is constantly regulated and determined by
what precedes it. And this constant determination
of mind, according to the motives presented to it,
is all that I mean by its necessary determination.
This being admitted to be the fact, there will be
a necessary connexion between all things past, present, and to come, in the way of proper cause and
effect, as much in the intellectual as in the natural
world; so that, how little soever the bulk of mankind may be apprehensive of it, or' staggered by it,
according to the established laws of nature, no event
could have been otherwise than it has been, is, or is
to be, and therefore, all things past, present, and to
come, are precisely what the Author of nature really
intended them to be, and has made provision for 2?"
These passages, but more especially that from
Priestley, are as clear and fair statements of Necessarian doctrine as are to be found in any of the
writings of that school. They contain two positions
of which the one is a psychological law, the other, its
cosmological consequence. They assert in the first
place, that the human will is absolutely determined
by fixed law in the manner of cause and effect, and
in the second place, they conclude from this, that all
things past, present, and to come, are absolutely
necessary.  As, however, my  present object is
merely to bring the psychological fact into as short
a formula as possible, without reference to its cosmological consequences, I would propose the following
proposition as the formula of Necessarianism, in the
1 The passage is correctly quoted in the text; but the sense
evidently requires the insertion of the words "how much soever"
between " or" and " staggered."
2 Thze Doctrine of Philosoplhical Necessity, Sect. i.




Libertarians and Nec'essarians.     29
belief that it would receive the unqualified assent of
the writers above quoted:
The whole humncan soul is subject to the law of
causality.
Our next object must be to arrive at some equally
concise form for the doctrine of Liberty.  Now the
theory of Priestley and Collins, which has merely
been condensed in the above formula, is absolutely
incompatible with any form of liberty whatever.
The universal dominion of law is an hypothesis with
which the Libertarian can enter into no compromise;
and whatever may be his positive doctrine of liberty,
his formula must contain the most unconditional contradiction of that of Necessarianism. Liberty, however, possesses certain attractions which even the
Necessarian is not disposed to surrender without
a struggle; and to this I must ascribe the fact, that
the most doughty assailants of the thing have endeavoured to give their theory a rather less forbidding appearance, by a very superficial attempt at
retaining the name. I say, superficial, for if we
examine what this Necessarian liberty really is, we
find that when taken in connexion with the rest
of the doctrine it is a vox et prceterea nihil, and
that there is not a clod upon a ploughed field
which does not enjoy an equal degree of it with
man.
Collins says in his preface to the work already
quoted-" Though I deny liberty in a certain meaning of that word, yet I contend for liberty as it
signifies a power in man to do as he wills or pleases,
which is the notion of liberty maintained by Aristotle,
Cicero, Mr Locke, and several other philosophers,
both ancient and modern." Again, Priestley says in




30         The Poinit at issue between the
the section already quoted, " I allow to man all the
liberty or power that is possible in itself, and to which
the ideas of mankind in general ever go, which is the
power of doing whatever they will or please, both with
respect to the operations of their minds, and the
motions of their bodies, uncontrolled by any foreign
principle or cause. Thus every man is at liberty to
turn his thoughts to whatever subject he pleases, to
consider the reasons for or against any scheme or
proposition, and to reflect upon them as long as he
shall think proper; as well as to walk wherever he
pleases, and to do whatever his hands and other
limbs are capable of doing'."
Locke has expressed himself in very different
language, and with far less precision than the abovementioned writers; but as far as it is possible to
deduce any regular scheme from his very loosely
written chapter on Power, he must be considered as
advocating the same doctrines.
He tells us, that "the will is determined by
iHobbes was another advocate of this Necessarian liberty. He
has given the following illustration of his theory, which Priestley
considers particularly happy. " Liberty and Necessity are consistent.
As in the water that hath not only liberty, but a necessity of descending in the channel, so likewise, in the actions which men
voluntarily do, which, because they proceed from their will, proceed from liberty; and yet, because every act of man's will, and
every desire, and inclination, proceedeth from some cause, and that
from another cause in a continual chain (whose first link is in
the hand of God, the first of all causes) proceed from necessity." Leviathan, p. 108. Jonathan Edwards, in his work on the
will, gives a similar definition of liberty. " The plain and obvious
meaning of the words freedom and liberty, in common speech, is
power, opportunity or advantage, that any one has to do as he
pleases."  "Let the person come by his volition or choice how he
will, yet if he is able, and there is nothing in the way to hinder his
pursuing and executing his will, the man is fully and perfectly free,
according to the primary and common notion of freedom." Edwards
On the Will, 4th ed. London, 1775, pp. 38, 40.




Libertarians and Necessarians.        31
something without it," t' iat this something is, " some
(and for the most part the most pressing) uneasiness
a man is at present under2," that " the question is not
proper, whether the will be free, but whether the man
be free;" and after avowing his belief in the liberty
of the latter, but not of the former, asks, "how can
we think any one freer, than to have the power to do
what he will3?" But his idea of liberty appears still
more clearly in the following extract, in which he
makes it to consist of no property of the mind, but
to refer only to the certainty with which the desired
result follows upon the volition. "First, then," he
says, " it is carefully to be remembered, that freedom
consists in the dependence of them existence or not
existence of any action, upon our volition of it, and
not in the dependence of any action, or its contrary,
on our preference. A man standing on a cliff is at
liberty to leap twenty yards downwards into the sea,
not because he has a power to do the contrary action,
which is to leap twenty yards upwards, for that he
cannot do; but he is therefore free, because he has
a power to leap or not to leap. But if a greater
force than his either holds him fast or tumbles him
down, he is no longer free in that case; because the
doing or forbearance of that particular action is no
longer in his power.  He that is a close prisoner in
a room twenty feet square, being at the north side of
his chamber, is at liberty to walk twenty feet southward, because he can walk or not walk it; but is not
at the same time at liberty to do the contrary, i. e. to
walk twenty feet northward. In this then consists
1 Locke On the SHuman Understanding, Book II. Ch. xxI.
~ 25.
2 Ibid. ~ 31.            3 Ibid. ~ 21.




32          The Point at issue between the
freedom, viz. in our being able to act or not to act,
according as we shall choose or will'."
This is evidently the definition of liberty which
might be  expected  from   a philosophical turnkey;
it refers solely to the absence of external restraint,
and corresponds entirely with the opinions of
Hobbes, Collins, Priestley and Edwards.  All these
philosophers concurred in maintaining the doctrine,
that man's liberty consists in his being able to do
what he wills, but that his willing it does not depend
on himself, but on the strength of motives, the state
of his mind, and the circumstances in which  he is
placed, all of which are again dependent on the laws
of nature, human or physical2.
1 Locke On the Human  Understanlding, Book II. Ch. xxI.
~ 27.
2 There is one point in which Locke seems to admit of some
other liberty. After having said that the will is determined by
" some (and for the most part the most pressing) uneasiness a man
is at present under," (~ 31) he explains the exception intended in
the parenthesis, in the following words:" There being in us a great many uneasinesses always soliciting,
and ready to determine the will, it is natural, as I have said, that
the greatest and most pressing should determine the will to the
next action; and so it does for the most part, but not always. For
the mind having, in most cases, as is evident in experience, a
power to suspend the execution and satisfaction of any of its desires, and so all, one after another, is at liberty to consider the
objects of them, examine them on all sides, and weigh them with
others. In this lies the liberty man has; and from the not using
of it right, comes all that variety of mistakes, errors, and faults,
which we run into in the conduct of our lives, and our endeavours
after happiness; whilst we precipitate the determination of our
wills, and engage too soon before due examination.  To prevent
this, we have a power to suspend the prosecution of this or that
desire, as every one daily may experience in himself. This seems
to me the source of all liberty; in this seems to consist that which
is (as I think, improperly,) called free-will." (~ 47).
In a later paragraph (~ 52), Locke calls this power of suspending the judgment " the hinge on which the liberty of intellectual
beings turns."  The shallowness of the fallacy has been easily exposed by the bolder and more consistent Priestley. He observes,




Libertarians and Necessartans.                33
Some persons who feel unable to disentangle
themselves from the toils of Necessarianism may
that "a determination to suspend a volition is, in fact, another
volition, and therefore, according to Mr Locke's own rule, must be
determined by the most pressing uneasiness, as well as any other.
If any man voluntarily suspends his determination, it is not without some motive or reason; as, for instance, because he is apprehensive of some ill consequence arising from a hasty and inconsiderate resolution. On the other hand, if he determines immediately, it is because he has no such apprehension. In fact, all the
liberty that Mr Locke contends for, is perfectly consistent with the
doctrine of philosophical necessity, though he does not seem to
have been aware of it."
Though this answer of Priestley's is substantially sufficient, yet
it is not quite logically complete: for by Locke's own theory "the
will is not always determined by the greatest uneasiness, as it may
suspend the execution of its desires." Consequently, granting with
Priestley, that this act of suspension is itself a volition, it still need
not, according to Locke, be prompted by the greatest uneasiness, as
he has made an especial exception in favour of such volitions. But
where does this lead us to? Manifestly to the conclusion, in the
first place, that there is a class of volitions (those of the suspension
of the judgment), which without proceeding from the greatest uneasiness or strongest motive, can upset other determinations which
do proceed from it; and secondly, that the volitions of this exceptional class are subject to no law, and are not, from their nature,
capable of being gauged, or having any particular proportion of
strength attributed to them, with reference to the strength of the
motives they overcome. For suppose it were possible. We know
by the hypothesis that the uneasiness prompting the suspension of
judgment is not so great as that prompting the action, for otherwise it would follow the general law of the greatest uneasiness, and
would not have required a particular exception to be made in its
favour. Let us assume then, for argument sake, that whenever
the uneasiness prompting the suspension of judgment becomes one
half as strong as the motive prompting the action, the former prevails, and the judgment is suspended. This hypothesis would at
once involve a contradiction. For the only criterion of the relative
strength of the two motives or uneasinesses, (i. e. of their strength
as moving powers) is the fact as to which prevails; and the only
way of stating the above assumed law, would be to say, that whenever the one motive was half as strong as the other, it would be
quite as strong; a proposition which is only true where the strength
of each = 0, or in other words, where there is no motive at all. These
suspension-of-judgment volitions would therefore be an element in
all our actions, reducible to no law, and would render the existence
of any law in the actions themselves an impossibility; just in the
same way as the presence of an unknown quantity in anl algebraical
S..                                             3




34         ThLe Point at issue- between tihe
perhaps accept with  gratitude  such  a  doctrine  as
the above, under the impression that it reserves at
least a shew of human liberty. It does not, however, require any very deep investigation to expose
the fallaciousness of this hope. In the first place,
man's liberty is confined within certain limits by the
laws of physical nature.  He cannot, for instance,
either walk through a mountain, or leap to the top
of the church-steeple.  But if he seek a sphere for
his liberty within the limits prescribed by these laws,
according to the above theory, he simply finds himself handed over from one form of necessity to
another'.  Absolute laws, under the form  of motives,
expression, reduced to its simplest form, renders the value of the
whole expression unknown. In order to support the theory of
these abnormal volitions, Locke ought to have been able to point to
some marked distinction between the act of suspending the judgment and every other mental act. This he has neither done, nor
attempted to do; and indeed he hardly appears aware of the fact
mentioned by Priestley in the above quotation, —that this suspe-nsion of judgment is itself a volition.
If then we reject this part of Locke's doctrine as inconsistent
with the rest, we shall find that his account of liberty, as explained
by the instance of a person confined in prison, is essentially the
same as that of Collins and Priestley.
It appears, from the following passage, that Leibnitz entertained
a similar opinion to that of Locke: "J'ai fait voir aussi, que notre
volont6 ne suit pas toujours precisement l'entendement practique,
plarcequ'elle peut avoir ou trouver des raisons pour suspendre sa
resolution jusqu'A une discussion ulterieure." Cinquieme ecrit de
M2. Leibnitz  1 M. S. Clarke. To this Clarke answered in the same
manner that Priestley has done to Locke: "It may here be observed, by the way," says Clarke, " that this learned author contradicts his own hypothesis, when he says that the will does not
always precisely follow the practical understanding, because it may
sometimes find reasons to suspend its resolution. For are not those
very reasons the last judgment of the practical understanding'"
Dr Clarke'sfifth reply.
1 Palmer, in his answer to Priestley, has the following passage:
"Though he (Priestley) allows to mankind the'power of doing
whatever they will or please,' he yet makes that will or pleasure
subject to some fixed law of nature, something foreign to itself,




Libertarians and Necessacrians.         35
still control all his actions, and he is no nearer any
originating power within himself, independent of
constraint, than he was before.  The limits therefore
of his so-called liberty must be of the most perfect
indifference to him, for they simply mark the point at
which he changes one inexorable master in the form
of external nature, for another equally severe in the
form of human nature. In short, it is in a high
degree absurd to say, that the man does what he
wills, if this act of willing be absolutely determined
by laws entirely beyond the control of the man
himself.
A person sitting quietly in his house cannot rise
from  his chair and walk through the mountain, because he is prevented by physical laws.  But, according to the above theory, just as little can he walk
over the mountain; for the fact that he has remained
sitting is a proof that the laws of human motives are
such as to have compelled him to remain in his room.
To say that he could have walked out if he had
willed it, is nothing more than to say, he could have
done so if the laws of human motives were such as
to have made him act in such a manner, in short,
were otherwise than they actually are; but then we
may say with equal reason, he could also walk through
the mountain, if the physical laws were differently
constituted.  That he could do it if he willed it, is,
therefore, no greater argument for a man's freedom,
than if I were to say a prisoner in a dungeon is free,
that is, the influence of motives, by which it is in every instance
determined in an invariable manner. So that after all this seeming
allowance of liberty to man, he really possesses no other power
than that of doing what he is unalterably determined, or in other
words, irresistibly impelled to do." Observations in defence, of the
Liberty qf Man, &c. by John Palmer. London, 1779, p. 4.
3 -2




36       The Point at issue between the
because he could walk out, if the laws of nature were
such that his prison-walls would yield to a touch. In
either case the man's conduct has absolute limits
imposed on it by laws which he has not made himself, and consequently in either case he is not free.
The only difference between the two cases consists in
the greater knowledge we possess of the laws of
physical nature than of those of human motives.
We are thus able to define the former with far more
precision than the latter, and to say, the man certainly
cannot walk through the mountain, but we only know
by the result whether he can walk over it. If however he sit quietly in his room, it is because the laws
of motives so decree; for on the Necessarian hypothesis, the laws of'external nature are not more
imperious or powerful in forbidding his action to
overstep the limits they impose, than the laws of
human nature in dictating the course it is to take
within them.
It has not been my object in the foregoing
remarks to attack Necessarianism on its own ground,
but merely to repel its encroachments on that of its
opponents. Like every other system, it must stand
or fall on its own merits, and not take credit to
itself for a position to which it has no sort of claim.
I object, therefore, to Locke, Collins, and Priestley,
that they have all adopted a language which appears
to imply a belief in some sort of liberty, whereas in
fact they deny all liberty whatever. If a man's
actions are confined to certain limits by the laws of
matter, and then within these limits absolutely determined by the so-called laws of his moral nature,
(in the making of which he has had no more concern
than in the determination of the laws of matter,) how




Libertairians and Necessarians.             37
can we say that the man, or his will, does anything at
all in the whole business? The man's body or mind
may be the subject-matter of the laws, in the same
manner as a cannon-ball is the subject-matter of the
laws of motion.  But, upon the hypothesis of Priestley, it would not be more absurd to speak of the
flight of the cannon-ball as its own action, than of
any human volition as the act of the man.
Directly we make the whole of human conduct
depend upon laws, man ceases to act in any other
sense than that in which the expression may be used
of a machine'. For let us consider in what sense a
machine is said to act.  A  watch considered purely
objectively, is nothing more than a quantity of matter
in a certain form, and has in itself no more meaning
than a pebble. All the parts of both pebble and
watch follow certain fixed laws of nature, and by their
gravity, elasticity, electricity2, and  other properties,
I Clarke, in his answer to Collins, puts this Necessarian
liberty in its right light in the following passage: "i observe that
the author endeavours to impose upon his readers a false definition
of liberty.'I contend,' says he,' for liberty, as it signifies a
power in man to do as he wills or pleases.' And this he elsewhere
styles a valuable liberty. Now, in this definition, besides the
forementioned ambiguity of the words, wills or pleases, it ought
carefully to be remarked that the word do has no signification.
For his meaning is not that the man acts or does anything. But
the liberty or power in man to do as he wills or pleases, is with
him exactly and only the same as the liberty or power irr a balance
would be to move as it wills or pleases, supposing the balance endued with such a sensation or intelligence as enabled it to perceive which way the weights turned it, and to approve the motion,
so as to fancy that it moved itself, when, indeed, it was only
moved by the weights."
2 The reader will observe, that I purposely mention properties which have no immediate connexion with the mechanical
action of the watch, as I wish to call attention to the fact, that
the effect of the weight of the watch, or of its electricity, is just as
much one of its effects as the rotation of the hands, although, it is
the latter alone to which the maker attaches peculiar importance.




38        The Point at issue between the
act upon the surrounding objects, which, in their
turn, re-act upon them. Each may be said, in a certain sense, to act; for each produces certain definite
effects. What then is the difference between them?
The watch produces, though quite unconsciously and
involuntarily, among others one effect which is the
especial object of the man who constructs it. The
idea of the watch, or its unity, is in short purely subjective, i.e. not in the watch itself, but in the mind
of the inventor. On the other hand, the pebble,
lying on the sea-shore, is no machine relatively to
man, as he has not placed it there for any particular
end. But as soon as we regard the pebble as created
and placed in a certain portion of space by the Deity
for a particular end, and in order to produce by its
gravity and other qualities precisely the effect which
it does produce, it also becomes one of God's machines; the idea or unity which makes it so, being
in the Divine Mind. A machine therefore is not an
objective idea, but merely an arrangement of substances, which blindly following the laws of nature
produce an effect desired by some thinking subject,
but not by the machine itself. And the idea of the
action of a machine, implies nothing more than that
certain of its effects are combined in the mind of
another being, under the conception of an aim
or end.
Now, as I have already observed, directly the
whole of man's volitions are determined by laws not
made by himself; but imposed upon him from without,
his actions cease to be his in any other sense than the
rotation of the hands is the action of the watch.
There may be a unity and an idea at the bottom of
them, but this is not objectively in the man, but only




Libertarians and Necessarians.     39
in the thinking subject who made his moral and
emotional nature, and determined the fixed laws: of
motives that absolutely control it; in other words, in
his Creator.
But Priestley would perhaps have objected, that
the laws of motives act upon the mind of man, and
that consequently his actions are at least not a blind
product of these laws, as he knows both what he wills,
and why he wills it. But this argument will not
avail him, for in reality the man cannot be said to
will the act himself. He may think or reason over
his motives for any length of time, but still, according
to Priestley's own theory, each of these thoughts, and
reasonings, and deliberations, is a volition determined
for him by fixed necessary laws, not made by the
man, but imposed on him. from without. It is impossible therefore ever to arrive at any ultimate
unity in the mind of the man himself, from which
the unity of his actions may proceed; but on the
contrary, we are always obliged to have recourse to
the unity imposed on them by that thinking subject
which made the man what he is, and determined the
laws which govern his motives. In other words, the
man is a mere machine, though he may claim the
Almighty as his inventor.
If the reader has followed the above reasoning,
he will at once perceive that Necessarianism, by subjecting the whole will to the dominion of causal law,
has absolutely denied all liberty whatever. It follows from this, that any formula for Libertarianism
must at least contain the unqualified contradiction of
Necessarianism; and we may therefore assume the following, contradictory of the Necessarian formula, as
at least a part of the formula required:



40        The Point at issue between the
Every human soul contains a principle of action
not dependent on the law of causality.
This definition is a mere negative determination
of the will, as it states nothing more than that it is
not dependent on the law of causality, but does not
add what the will is in itself. It might therefore
at first sight appear desirable to base our formula
on the considerations in the commencement of this
chapter, and define the will as an Unconditioned
Cause. This proposition is however in reality no
less negative than the former; and I think it will
not be difficult to shew  the insufficiency of any
positive definition, and indeed that none but a
negative one is admissible.
Every positive formula pretending to give an
analytical definition of a simple notion is necessarily
unsound. It may be analytical in form, but it cannot be so in matter; for as the notion is simple and
contains no parts, it cannot be divided, and will
therefore either be excluded from the predicate —in
which case the proposition is false —or else be contained in it in its entirety, and then there is no
analysis. In the latter case the proposition is essentially one of identity, though perhaps its nature may
be disguised by the language employed.  If, for
instance, we were to define the reason as the faculty
of drawing conclusions, every mind endowed with
reason will at once comprehend to what faculty we
refer.  But the conception of an act of reason is
already contained in the word conclusion, and consequently the definition is no analysis, as the whole
of the conception to be defined is already contained
in the predicate.
Now as all Libertarianism starts from the hypo



Libertarians and Necessarians.        41
thesis that the will is a simple faculty of the soul,
it follows from the above observations that any
positive definition of it is impossible. It is on the
same principle that such a definition of liberty as
that given by Reid is totally inadmissible.  " By the
liberty of a moral agent," says Reid, "I understand
a.power over the determinations of his own will."
Now the conception of a power involves that of its
possible exercise; but the exercise of a power is
itself an act of the will, and, if the will be free, a free
act, or an act with liberty. According then to the
principles of Libertarianism, the power over the determinations of the will is a conception already containing the very liberty which it is intended to define,
i. e. the whole subject is contained in the predicate,
and the definition has not brought us one step nearer
to an understanding of the subject defined. And
indeed, generally speaking, any definition of the will
through liberty, or of liberty through the will, is
necessarily unsound; for, from the Libertarian point
of view, the conceptions of the will and of liberty are
inseparable, and consequently they are merely conceptions of the same faculty in different relations.
In short, the will is the faculty itself,-the liberty
is the faculty considered with relation to the sphere
of its activity; and neither can a faculty be conceived independently of the conception of a sphere
of activity, nor a sphere of activity independently
of the conception of a faculty.
It will appear at once from the above considerations that there is a fatal objection to any positive
Libertarian formula as the basis of an argument
with the Necessarians. The latter deny the existence
of all will and all liberty in any sense in which




42         The Point at issue between the
the Libertarian wishes to assert them.  It is useless
therefore to adopt any proposition  as a startingpoint for the argument, which, by the use either of
these or of cognate terms, makes a direct appeal
to the very faculty denied. A similar objection does
not hold against the Necessarian formula, inasmuch
as the predicate, causality, is a conception whose
reality is acknowledged by both parties. That there
are things which have a nature and come under the
dominion of causal law, is a fact admitted by all;
and the only question is, whether the will be one
of them. By taking the issue therefore on the latter
question, the main controversy is reduced to a single
point; whereas to establish any positive Libertarian
formula it would first be necessary to prove the reality
of the predicate in general (the conception of liberty),
and then that it is contained in the conception of the
will.  Of course, whatever formula be adopted as a
starting-point, the controversy must ultimately resolve
itself into an appeal to the disputed faculty; for it
is only on the assumption that his opponent possesses such faculty that the Libertarian could ever
attempt to convince him of the fact. But an argument founded on the nature of causality has the
character of a friendly parley on a comparatively
neutral ground, rather than that of a direct onset,
and is therefore far less offensive to the Necessarian
opinions than an open challenge to the acknowledgment of liberty in any forml. In short, if the LiberIf the Libertarians and their opponents would only agree as
to the conception of the liberty which the former assert and the
latter deny, a very fair argument in its favour may be based on
the mere fact of the controversy, as it is impossible to argue about
the existence of a conception without having it. The argument
is well expressed by William Windle, in the following passage, but




Liberta'rians and Necessarians.             43
tarian cannot attack his adversary in front by a
direct appeal to his consciousness of liberty, he must
endeavour to find some more assailable point on
his flank, and one not previously occupied by the
his conception of liberty is very faulty, as I shall presently proceed
to shew.
" By human liberty," says Windle, "is meant a power to act
or not to act as the mind directs. And that man has such a power,
may be demonstrated from the following propositions:"First, that we have an idea of such a power. And
"Secondly, that the idea of that power is a simple idea.
"That we have an idea of such a power must be granted; or else
it will follow that it would be as impossible to reason or discourse
about it, as for a blind man to reason about colours, or of the
modes of perception, which other beings may have by a sixth
sense, of which he has no manner of conception or idea at all.
"That it is a simple idea is evident from hence, that when any
one endeavours to explain it, it is no otherwise than by mentioning
the concomitant circumstances of the idea, and not by definition;
for a definition being a recital of the several simple ideas that
coincide to make up the composition of a complete one, it is impossible to define what hath no composition at all, and consequently
to explain it by any other method than by appealing to what
every one experiences or feels within himself when he acts.'
" It follows therefore, if we have an idea of that power, and if
that idea is a simple one, that we must be possessed of the power
which constitutes liberty or freedom, because otherwise we never
could have had the idea of the power; it being as impossible for any
one to have the idea of -a power of which he was never actually
possessed, as for a blind man to have that of colours which he
never saw, or for one that is deaf to have that of sounds, which he
never heard." An Inquiry into the Immateriality of thinking substances, human liberty, and the original of motion. By William
Windle, A. B., London, 1738, p. 92.
The above argument appears to me to be perfectly sound, but
the definition oflibertywith which it commences is extremelyfaulty.
Windle makes liberty to consist in the power to carry out the
directions of the mind, and thus places it subsequent to such,
directions.  This however is nothing more than that sham
liberty for which the Necessarians contend, and would be perfectly consistent with an absolute system of laws of human nature, determining what the mind shall direct. In short, such
liberty refers to nothing more than the amount of power physical or mental which the man may possess to carry out his
intentions, and has no concern whatever with the origin of such
intentions, which is the only real question at issue.




44       The Point at issue between the
contested opinions.  Now the Necessarian formula
declares causality to extend to the whole human
soul. Let then the Libertarian choose this as the
point at issue, and without introducing such terms
as will or liberty —which, by the very conditions of
the controversy, can never be employed in the same
sense by both parties-assert simply that the huqman
soul contains an element independent of causality.
Now there are two distinct methods which may
be adopted in the investigation of the truth of these
formulas, as indeed of all other propositions. The
first is the direct method, in which we examine the
nature of the conception contained in the predicate,
and having clearly ascertained its limits, inquire
whether the subject comes within them. The second
is the indirect, in which we endeavour to bring to
a clear consciousness the contradiction which would
arise if we place the subject entirely without the
predicate,-in other words, if we deny the correctness of the proposition under examination.  If we
would employ the former method, we must analyse
our predicate, which consists of the subjection to the
law of cause and effect, and determine what are the
conditions of this subjection, and then observe if
these conditions are fulfilled by the whole human
soul, or if it contains any principle which is not in
accordance with them. If, on the other hand, we
would employ the second, we should have to shew
that upon the supposition of the whole soul not
being subject to causality, numerous difficulties and
contradictions would arise, e. g. that then it would
be impossible to arrive at any knowledge of human
nature, or form any conjecture as to what would be
the conduct of a man under certain circumstances,



Libertarians and Necessarians.     45
in short, that all human actions would be the mere
sport of chance. The advocates of both sides of the
question have generally preferred the second method,
especially the Libertarians, who have always placed
their chief strength upon the impossibility of reconciling Necessarianism with man's moral responsibility. When they have attempted the positive and
direct method to establish their doctrine, they have
generally started from a positive enunciation of Libertarianism, and by making a simple appeal to our consciousness have laid themselves open to the objections
stated above. As a proof of this assertion, I would
observe that while much has been written on the
nature of the law of cause and effect and the grounds
of our belief in it, these subjects have been for the
most part only cursorily touched upon in English
controversial works on the will.  And yet if the
simple question of the freedom of the will depend
upon the question, in how far it answers the conditions requisite for bringing any object under the
dominion of causality, it is evident that the determination of these conditions must precede every direct
solution of the problem. The preference which has
been too exclusively given to the indirect method is
easily accounted for, as, whichever side we may
embrace, it is much easier to point out the difficulties
arising from the theory of our opponents than to
defend our own.
I am, however, far from wishing to deny the
advantages which must often attend the indirect
method. Still, I think it ought not so entirely to
have taken the place of the direct method, as has
been the case in treatises on this subject. The whole
problem may be brieflyv stated thus: God having,




46           The Point at issue, &c.
by his free and unconditioned causal act, imposed
a conditioned causality on nature, does the will of
man answer the conditions, and therefore come under
the rule of such causality, or does it not? To answer
this question, it is perfectly clear that we must first
arrive at a distinct conception of conditioned causality
itself and the grounds of our belief in it. This will
accordingly constitute the next subject of our investigation.




CHAPTER II.
The Conception of Causality.
T  appeared at the conclusion of the preceding
chapter, that if issue be joined on the Necessarian
formula, an investigation into the nature of conditioned causality is absolutely indispensable to the
direct solution of the problem. This subject resolves
itself into two principal questions, namely, —What is
the nature of the conception of causality1? and,What are the grounds of our belief in it? The first of
them will occupy our attention in the present chapter.
Dr Brown, in his Inquiry into the Relation of
Cause and Effect, restricted his notion of causality to
the single fact, that the same phenomena as causes
are invariably followed under similar circumstances
by the same phenomena as effects, and argued from
this that our notion of power is nothing more than
the belief in such invariable sequence, and not anything in the objects themselves. "It is," he says,
"this mere relation of uniform antecedence, so important and so universally believed, which appears to
me to constitute all that can be philosophically meant
in the words power or causation, to whatever objects,
material or spiritual, the words maybe applied." (p. I I.)
sc':~  )'      t "We give the name of cause to
the object which we believe to be the invariable antecedent of a particular change; we give the name of' In the following pages, where the word "causality" is employed without qualification, conditioned causality is always to be
understood.




48         The Conception of Cctusality.
effect reciprocally to that invariable consequent; and
the relation itself, when considered abstractly, we
denominate power in the object that is the invariable
antecedent, —susceptibility in the object that exhibits,
in its change, the invariable consequent." (p. 12.)
*'::-   e':: " A cause, therefore, in the fullest
definition which it philosophically admits, may be
said to be that which immediately precedes any
change, and which, existing at any time in similar
circumstances, has been always, and will be always,
immediately followed by a similar change. Priority
in the sequence observed, and invariableness of antecedence in the past and future sequences supposed,
are the elements, and the only elements, combined in
the notion of a cause." (p. I3.)'    *  
" When a spark falls upon gunpowder, and kindles
in into explosion, every one ascribes to the spark the
power of kindling the inflammable mass. But when
such a power is ascribed, let any one ask himself,
what it is which he means to denote by that term,
and without contenting himself with a few phrases
that signify nothing, reflect before he give his answer;
and he will find that he means nothing more than
this very simple belief, —that in all similar circumstances the explosion of gunpowder will be the
immediate and uniform consequence of the application
of a spark." (p. 27.)
According to this, causality would only come into
play by fits and starts, whenever, and only whenever,
the favourable circumstances for any particular change
might occur.  It would thus assume a merely historical form, and refer to isolated events alone, scattered
through all past and future time, but not forming
a continuous whole. During the periods intervening




Thae Conception of Causality.    49
between two explosions of gunpowder, there would
be nothing in the objective world corresponding to
the law by virtue of which the explosions take place.
All that would remain would be a mere intellectual
act, remembering that such explosions had taken
place before, and believing that they would take
place in future, whenever the peculiar circumstances
should again arise.
The writer of an interesting article in Blackwood's
Magazine (The Metaphysician, No. II. July, I836,
p. I24) has opposed this doctrine of Brown's. Referring to the passage last quoted, he says, "Let us
then apply the test by which Dr Brown proposes that
the truth of his views shall be tried. Let us ask
ourselves what we mean, when we say that the spark
has power to kindle the gunpowder, that the powder
is susceptible of being kindled by the spark? Do we
mean only that whenever they come together this
will happen?  Do we merely predict this simple and
certain futurity?
" We do not fear to say, that when we speak of
a power in one substance to produce a change in
another, and of a susceptibility of such change in that
other, we express more than our belief that the change
has taken and will take place. There is more in our
mind than a conviction of the past, and a foresight
of the future. There is, besides this, the conception
included of a fixed constitution of their nature, which
determines the event; a constitution which, while it
lasts, makes the event a necessary consequence of the
situation in which the objects are placed. We should
say then that there are included in these terms'power' and'susceptibility of change,' two ideas
which are not expressed in Dr Brown's analysis-one
s. w.                                4




50        The Conception of Causality.
of necessity, and the other of a constitution of things
in which that necessity is established. That these
two ideas are not expressed in the terms of Dr Brown's
analysis, is seen by quoting again his words,  he will
find that he means nothing more than that in all
similar circumstances the explosion of gunpowder will
be the immediate and uniform  consequence of the
application of a spark."'
"When it is said by any one that a spark has
the power to kindle a train of gunpowder, what more
does he mean, than that in the spark and in the
powder there is some hidden adaptation to produce
that effect, which he cannot see; but which, if he
could discern, as possibly higher intelligences may
discern, the ultimate constitution of bodies, he might
see the two to be necessarily connected'?" (p. I29.)
Now I entirely agree with the above criticism to
the extent, that the objects of nature have a certain
fixed constitution, and that our conception of power
is something more than that of mere invariable succession. I cannot however find in any part of the
essay a clear definition of the sense in which the
writer uses the terms " constitution" and " adaptation," upon which indeed the whole question turns.
Might not Brown reply in some such language as the
following?
Suppose I grant this constitution of the objects of
nature, what after all does it mean? We can only
understand by it that if our senses were absolutely
perfect, the objects would produce certain effects
upon them, i. e. would produce certain phenomena,
which we should find invariably succeeded under certain circumstances by certain other phenomena; and




The Conception of Causality.       51
thus we should merely increase the length of the chain
by filling up links now imperceptible to sense, but
should still have arrived at nothing further than the
principle of invariable succession.  I will grant, for
instance, that gunpowder contains something in its
constitution which adapts it for explosion on contact
with a spark.  But if I attempt to conceive what
this something is, I can only represent it to myself
as some quality or qualities which are possible objects
of experience, that is to say, which might be perceived by a sense sufficiently fine for the purpose.
I may thus suppose a series of such hidden qualities
capable of producing sensible phenomena, and imagine
that when the spark is applied they follow each other
in succession according to some law, until the last
visible effect is produced. Still I have not got beyond
the mere succession of phenomena; and all that this
supposition of an inward constitution amounts to,
will be the filling up the interval between the perceptible phenomena with a series of intermediate
links, consisting of possible phenomena, which however we are not able with our present powers to make
direct objects of sense.
But the same writer supposes that if we could
discern the ultimate constitution of bodies, we might
see the necessary connexion between cause and effect.
Now this opinion appears to me to be based on an
incorrect conception of the nature of necessity as
applied to this subject.  We believe that all causes
produce their effects, whatever they may be, necessarily, but we can never see the necessary connexion
between any particular effect and its cause, as we
only discover the particular connexion at all by experience, and could easily have conceived its being
4-2




52           The Conception of Causality.
otherwise. We believe that a spark explodes gunpowder, and that a body falls to the ground necessarily; but we can never attain the least glimpse of
this necessity by intuition.  However far we carry
our investigation of nature, we never get beyond the
purely empirical, or approximate in the least degree
to an intuition of this necessity, in which we believe
only from  a general principle of thought.  Hence if
we conceive our senses perfected till they are able to
perceive all the most latent processes in the objects
of nature, we have no ground for believing that we
should perceive the necessity of them, any more than
we do at present.  It follows from  this, that to base
our conception of the constitution of any substance
upon our belief of the possibility that the necessary
connexion of its particular properties might be an
object of intuition to other beings, is to base it upon
our conception of the possibility of a new faculty,
differing in kind from, and offering no analogy to,
any of the mental faculties with which we are acquainted.  I am  far from  denying the possibility of
such a faculty in beings differently constituted from
ourselves, but it clearly cannot be made the foundation of an instinctive  and universal law  of humanr
thought'.
1 If I might be allowed to anticipate the results of a later page,
I might perhaps make this objection somewhat clearer. No form
of necessity can be discovered in the object alone, as we can never
learn from any object that another object may not present itself,
upsetting the supposed necessity. Hence necessity can only be
found in the subject, and indeed in a law of thought, declaring,
that only in so far as objects conform to it, can the subject admit
them as objects at all. That two phenomena therefore should appear necessarily connected, they must be capable of subsumption
under some subjective form of receptivity, whether sensuous or intellectual, as otherwise they cannot be subject to the same law.
Acids, for instance, turn vegetable blues red. But as man possesses




The Conception of Causality.             53
Now I believe that Brown fell into his fallacious
theory  of power from  neglecting the principle  of
the continuity of causality.  This continuity again is
deduced from two important considerations, which
he appears to have entirely overlooked,-first, that
causality extends to phenomena contemporaneous in
space, as well as successive in time; secondly, that
in our investigation of nature, we are not concerned
with the concrete phenomena themselves, but only
with the abstract conceptions under which we subsume them. I shall now proceed, first,' to establish
the theory of contemporaneous causality; secondly,
to seek a formula or formulas for causality generally,
(in the course of which investigation I shall have
occasion to demonstrate that the causal relation of
phenomena can only be recognised under abstract
conceptions); thirdly, to shew the bearing of the
principles evolved upon the doctrine of Brown; and
lastly, to determine the sphere of causality as far as
this is possible from its conception alone.
The phenomena of the universe stand in certain
determinate relations not merely to their antecedents
in time, but also to contemporaneous phenomena in
space. If two equal weights be suspended by a cord
over a pulley, and both be in a state of perfect rest,
no one would hesitate to say that each weight is the
no form of receptivity (in the present example no sense) common
alike to taste and sight, it is not the mere perfection of the senses
which can ever enable him to see a necessary connexion between
these phenomena, but on the contrary, an absolutely new faculty
would be indispensable for the intuition of such necessity.
The reader will perceive from this, that it is not my intention
to deny that & posteriori knowledge may subsequently become a
priori, but merely to assert that this is impossible where the whole
cognition does not fall within the same form of intuition, as is the
case with a large proportion of our empirical knowledge. But this
is a wide subject, which I can only glance at here.




54         The Conception of Causclity.
cause of the suspension of the other, though the
phenomena are perfectly contemporaneous. In the
same manner, wherever any bodies are in a state of
equilibrium, they may be said to be respectively the
causes of the particular position of each other.  Neither is this remark applicable to a mechanical equilibrium  alone.  If the electricity in any body is
neither increasing nor decreasing, the cause is to be
found in the circumstance that the surrounding objects contain precisely the same proportion of electricity, and are therefore in a state of electrical equilibrium with it.  Popular language is quite in conformity with.this view.  A weight resting upon a
spring is said to be the cause of its tension, and a
tree is said to be the cause of the shade beneath it,
though in both these cases the causes and their
effects are contemporaneous.
But perhaps it may be objected that in the abovementioned instances the objects were considered as
quiescent, whereas in reality all nature is in a state
of never-ceasing though often imperceptible change.
This is undoubtedly true; but because phenomena
may always be viewed under the relation of succession in time to their antecedents, it by no means
follows that there is not also a reciprocal causality
between contemporaneous phenomena.  The velocity
and direction of the earth's motion at any one moment is the antecedent partially determining its position in the next.  But this latter is also determined
by the earth's contemporaneous action and re-action
on other bodies. The attraction of gravitation is not
an influence acting by starts, as if there were first so
much gravitation as cause, and then such a degree
of curvature in the earth's orbit as effect, but on the




The Conception of Causality.       55
contrary, a steady unvarying force, by which the
earth and all the other planetary bodies are'kept in
their precise course.
It appears from the foregoing remarks on contemporaneous causality, that Nature does not present us with a number of distinct and isolated series
of phenomena, each to be considered merely in its
succession in time, but rather with an organic complex of phenomena in space, which must therefore be
considered in their collateral and contemporaneous
relations.  In short, causality has two dimensions;
one corresponding to space, and the other to time.
The collected phenomena of the universe considered
in space, are kept at every moment in their peculiar
relative states by their reciprocal action on each
other. The whole of these phenomena considered in
time are determining in each moment the nature of
the phenomena that are to succeed them in the next.
If these remarks are correct, the most general
conception of causality will contain nothing more
than the determination of one phenomenon as effect
by another as cause, without regard to the priority
of the latter in time.
%Kant, in his Criticismn of the Pure Reason, has
restricted his definition of the conception of causality
to successive phenomena in time.  He has however
advocated the doctrine of contemporaneous causality
under the name of "commerce," which he explains to
mean the reciprocal influence which bodies exercise
upon each other. Now in his investigation of this
category of commerce, he has employed the terms
" cause," "effect," and "causality."  The following is
a literal translation of the passage to which I refer:"That alone which is the cause of another thing, or




56'The Conception of Causality.
its determinations, determines the place in time of
that other thing. Every substance therefore (as it
can only be a consequence in respect of its determinations) must contain within itself the causality of
certain determinations in the other, and at the same
time the effects of the causality of the other, i.e.
they must stand in dynamical commerce (immediate
or mediate) if their contemporaneousness in any possible experience is to be cognised."
Now if this conception of the commerce of substances can only be explained by the conception of
causality, it is quite clear that this commerce is not
an ultimate conception or law of thinking, but only a
particular instance of the higher conception of causality.  It appears therefore highly illogical to restrict
causality to the succession of phenomena, when we
are afterwards obliged to employ the same conception in our definition of the relation between phenomena which are contemporaneous.
Kant himself appears to have entertained some
misgivings on this subject, for in his second edition
he substituted another explanation of the category of
commerce, in which the expressions, causality, cause,
and efect, are entirely avoided.  That this was a
mere change of language however, and not of matter, will appear from the substituted passage, of
which the following is a part:-" Now the relation
of substances, in which one contains determinations,
whose ground is contained in the other, is the relation of influence, and if, reciprocally, the latter contains the ground of determinations in the other, it is
the relation of commerce, or reciprocal action." Here
we have the expressions, "ground of determinations,"
and "reciprocal action," instead of " causality," and




The Conception of Causality.       57
"cause and effect;" but the meaning intended to be
conveyed is evidently the same in both cases. Kant
may possibly have had some deeper motive for this
apparently illogical analysis, but I cannot help suspecting it was the wish to preserve the symmetry
of the categories at all cost. And I must here remind the reader that I am far from denying the
difference between successive and contemporaneous
causality. I merely contend that they are different
developments of a higher law of causality in general,
according to which phenomena determine phenomena, both contemporaneous and successive.
Before we can arrive at any formula for the doctrine of causality, it is necessary to distinguish between two of the senses in which the word cause may
be employed. This is the more necessary, because
the only form of causality which either is or can be
applied to any practical purpose by the human mind,
is that in which causes and effects are arranged under
abstract conceptions, while in popular language we
are accustomed to express ourselves as if concrete
causes and effects were the sole object of our
thoughts. The billiard-player, for instance, will not
hesitate to assert that his cue is the cause of the
motion of the ball, nor the astronomer that the moon
is the cause of the tides. HIow far such language is
correct or the reverse, will appear more clearly from
the following investigation.. When we speak of a phenomenon as an effect,
we may either mean the actual object of sense exactly as it is in the outward world, and including all
its parts, whether they appear essential or non-essential, or we may understand by it those particular
parts of it, and their relation among themselves,




58         Thle Conception of Causality.
which constitute the peculiar subject of consideration
for the time. If we use the word in the former concrete sense, and make no distinction of parts, we
must consider the whole complex of phenomena
which determined all these parts of the effect, as its
cause; and as we have no ground for a distinction
between the parts of the cause, (and therefore none
for an abstraction,) it will be concrete also. If, on
the other hand, we use the word in the latter and
abstract sense, to signify phenomena falling into a
certain relation to each other, the cause will be
found in that other relation of phenomena, which
invariably precedes or accompanies it, and will therefore also be abstract.  But this distinction will become clearer by an example.
Supposing, for instance, we say that the falling of
the wind has produced a shower of rain. Now we
may either contemplate the shower of rain exactly as
it fell, every drop of a particular size, falling in a
particular direction and with a particular velocity,
and consider this precise shower as the effect in
question, or we may consider as such the shower of
rain under its general conception, of a quantity of
water falling to the earth in drops, without considering all those details which may be unessential to the
purpose in hand. Taking then the word effect in the
latter abstract sense, —that is, taking the conception
of a shower and not the actual concrete shower in the
precise form in which it appeared in nature,-we
should say the cause was to be found in the wind
and its cessation, employing these terms, however,
to represent a class of phenomena, which, according
to a law discovered by experience, are found to be
succeeded by a class of phenomena termed a shower.




The Conception of (mctsality.      59
This is evident from the consideration, that if the
phenomenon of the falling of the wind had been
slightly different from what it actually was in nature,
it would still have been considered as the same cause,
inasmuch as the shower, though also slightly different, would have come under the same abstract conception under which we view the effect. But if we mean
by the effect the actual concrete shower exactly as it
occurred, then we shall find that all the preceding
phenomena which influenced the shower in any way,
were the cause of the shower, as all of them  contributed towards making it precisely the shower that
it was.
Now if we seek for a formula of causality expressing the actual state of things as they are in nature,
it is clear that we must look for it in some expression
of the relationship between concrete causes and their
effects.  But if, on the other hand, we seek for a
formula which shall be available for the extension
of human knowledge and the determination of the
course of nature, abstract causes and their effects
can alone help us on our way. To prove this, I will
submit the two following arguments for the reader's
consideration.
In the first place, the concrete cause is inexhaustible.
Every atom in the universe is acting on every
other atom, and reciprocally acted on by the same.
Annihilate ten grains of the moon's substance and
you will not only diminish the influence of its attraction on the sea, and thus affect the tides, but you
will alter its attraction of all the bodies in the solar
system, and every atom in them. A fly crawling on
the dome of St Paul's alters the centre of gravity




60        Tlhe Conception of Causality.
of the earth with every step he takes. The electrical
telegraph renders the instantaneous action and reaction of distant particles of matter an actual object
of vision; and such telegraphs are in constant operation through the whole of nature, only we unfortunately do not understand the dials, and cannot
therefore read the messages they might otherwise
convey to us. And in the same manner there is not
an object in any part of the world which does not,
through the laws of gravity, electricity, and other
mysterious agents of nature, affect the  course,
number, weight, temperature, or direction of the
drops of a shower of rain. That the shower, therefore, has been precisely such a shower, and no other
than it has been, is the effect of a cause coextensive
with the universe.
We have all of us laughed at the philosophy of
the old man who told Master More, that Tenterden
steeple was the cause of Goodwin sands.  But
directly we consider the actual concrete Goodwin
sands as the effect, and ask for the actual concrete
thing that was the cause of them, most assuredly
was Tenterden steeple a part of it. After the steeple
had been built, every wind that blew against it met
with a new  object of resistance, and was slightly
altered in its course. It thus affected other currents
of wind, produced a different effect on the waves of
the sea, which rolling with greater or less violence, or
in a somewhat different direction, deposited certain
grains of sand otherwise than would have been the
case had there been no steeple at Tenterden. A sandbank might have arisen just the same, but it would
not have been the identical sand-bank which did
arise; and directly we allow any change in the




The Conception of Causality.       61
phenomenon to be unessential, we have then left the
phenomenon itself, and are discoursing only on an
abstract conception, as that alone can be equally applicable to both cases. Hence we see that the concrete
cause of every phenomenon is the complex of all the
phenomena of the universe that preceded it, and therefore that it is inexhaustible to human observation.
The second reason why the study of abstract
causes can alone lead us to a knowledge of nature,
arises from the dissimilarity of all phenomena considered in the concrete.
It is impossible to give an absolute proof that
two entirely similar phenomena have never taken
place since the creation, but it is easy to shew that
the probabilities against it are as infinity to one.
Millions of boys have walked by the sea-shore and
cast millions of stones into the sea, and each of them
has in its flight described a parabola; and yet as the
number of such possible parabolas is infinite while
the number of stones actually cast is finite, the
chance that no two of the curves so described are
of exactly the same.form, is also infinite. In the same
manner we may predicate of all the forests of
America with their billions of trees, that they never
produced two leaves exactly alike in all their parts,
and of all the waves of the Atlantic, that no two
bubbles floating on their surface have ever been
exactly similar.
It is true there is a possibility of two similar
phenomena, but it only appears at the limit; that is
to say, the chance in its favour is infinitely small, and
may therefore be neglected.
Considered then purely objectively, and merely
as phenomenon, the outward world presents a vast




62        The Conception of Causality.
organic whole, undergoing a succession of change, no
two parts of which, either in time or space, exactly
coincide with each other. From this purely objective
point of view it is absurd to use the language sometimes employed, and to say that the same (meaning,
precisely similar) phenomena as effects succeed the
same phenomena as causes, inasmuch as there never
are any same phenomena at all. Neither, on the
other hand, is the succession of cause and effect very
nearly the same at all times, in short, an approximation to perfect law.  The natural philosopher cannot always measure the exact results of natural laws,
but he never entertains a doubt that these laws
are carried out in the external world with absolute
and mathematical precision, and that not a single
grain of sand lies a hundredth of an inch from
the spot where such laws must inevitably have
placed it. As then the phenomena in the different
cases are dissimilar, while the laws they observe
are absolutely the same, it follows that it is not
the phenomena themselves, but the abstract conceptions of the relations between the phenomena,
which can alone constitute the subject-matter of
the laws.
Let us take as an instance the curve described by
a projectile. The actual line of flight of two stones
will never be precisely the same, so that the two
curves would coincide if placed together. But the
mathematician has discovered that whenever a body
is projected into the air, whatever be the angle of its
direction or the velocity of its motion, it will. describe
a curve possessing certain properties, and he accordingly states it as a law of nature, that projectiles
describe a parabola.




The Conzeptior  of Causality.      63
Now we may readily see by this instance that the
law  does not consist of mere sensible phenomena
alone, but of their relation to each other. The mind
knits up a certain number of phenomena into one
conception, and considering this as a cause, observes
that it is invariably succeeded by another set of phenomena, which also admit of being similarly brought
under one conception, and called an effect. Impulsion in a certain direction by some force, attraction
in another direction by gravitation, are the partial
abstract conceptions in the above instance united in
the conception of the cause; the flight through the
air in a curved line, every point of which is equally
distant from a certain imaginary fixed point and an
imaginary straight line, are the representations united
in the conception of the effect.
It follows from this, that phenomena cannot be
compared as mere objects of sense, and classed under
the category of cause and effect, by the observation
of the fact of their contemporaneousness or succession alone, but that they require an additional act
of the understanding, in short an act of abstraction,
by means of which we discover some relation of
their parts, and thus frame a law for such connexion.
Instead therefore of saying that the same or similar
phenomena as antecedents are invariably succeeded
by the same or similar phenomena as consequents,
it would be more correct to say, that phenomena
falling under a certain relation as causes are invariably accompanied or succeeded by phenomena
falling under a certain other relation as effects.
The above remarks are not at all intended to
invalidate the position that what we perceive objectively in each particular case is the mere succession




64        The Conception of Causality.
or contemporaneousness Qf the phenomena.  It is
only when we view these phenomena under the
relation of cause and effect, when, in short, we wish
to extend the application of our experience and determine the law, that we find we cannot deal with
the concrete phenomena, but are obliged to seek for
some conceptions in our understanding under which
respectively to subsume them.
This twofold signification of the words cause and
effect, will give accordingly a twofold definition of
causality, the one concrete and objective, the other
abstract and subjective. The former has reference
to the whole law of nature, and is valid of the
entire objective phenomenon, without any of its
parts being disregarded as unessential. It may be
stated as follows: —Every phenomenon is determined
by the comnplex of all other phenomena antecedent
to or contemporaneous with it.  The latter or subjective law of causality refers only to the laws discovered by the understanding, and concerns abstract
ideas under. which the phenomena may be arranged.
It may be stated thus: —Phenomena falling under
certain relations are determined by phenomena falling
under certain other relations respectively according to
a law.
Now of these two formulas, the former simply
supplies the principle which lies at the foundation
of the latter, but does not itself admit of any immediate application, as it refers to the complex of
all the properties of nature, which we are of course
never able to exhaust. It has no concern with the
several laws of nature, as law presumes abstraction
and classification, whereas it only considers the whole
course of nature in the concrete as one indivisible




The Conception of Causality.      65
unity. The second formula, on the other hand, is
the one which mankind is constantly applying in
the observation of nature; but it has one great disadvantage, inasmuch as it can never lead to absolute
certainty.  Whenever certain phenomena falling
under the abstract conception A, have been followed,
in all the cases that have come under our observation, by phenomena falling under the conception B,
we state it as a law of nature, that if A is, B is.
But we are liable at any moment to find an exceptional case upsetting the law, and making further
observations necessary.  In the first cases from
which we established the law, each of the phenomena may perhaps have had some property, making them also correspond to conception A', and this
last quality may have been wanting in the exceptional case. We then amend our law, and say,
if A' is, B is; but we are still never secure from
stumbling upon fresh exceptional cases, making additional amendments necessary.
Each formula then has its imperfection, as the
former, though perfectly correct in itself, is totally
unavailable; the latter, referring to partial laws of
nature, is always applicable, but enables us to arrive
at only an approximation to truth. To sum up in
few words, the first is the formula of the theoretical
principle, the second that of its practical application.
Now as I have already observed, the principal
fallacy in Brown's theory of power, consists in his
entirely ignoring, in the first place, all causality
between contemporaneous phenomena, and in the
second, the important fact that phenomena must be
arranged under abstract conceptions, before the
causal relation between them can be an object of
S. w.                                5




66        The Conception of Causality.
human inquiry. He thus placed every phenomenon
in a state of complete isolation. A spark is observed
to explode gunpowder.  He accordingly assumes
that a spark always has exploded, and always will
explode gunpowder, and asserts that this statement
of fact respecting certain isolated events, scattered
through the past and the future, is our whole conception of the power of the spark to produce such
an effect. But by means of abstraction, we discover
that phenomena differing widely in many respects,
but similar in others, may be comprised under the
same law, and that the above example of an explosion is isolated neither as regards the spark nor
the powder. A red-hot poker or a flame will explode the powder as well as the spark, thus shewing
that the quality of heat which is common to them
all is the cause of the phenomenon in question. A
spark, on the other hand, will not only produce the
decomposition of powder, but also of other substances with which it may come in immediate contact, though often in a far less perceptible degree.
Its power therefore of exploding gunpowder is not
an entirely new phenomenon, isolated in time, but
simply the continuation of the decomposing power
of the spark under circumstances which render the
effects of this power more immediately palpable to
sense. This extension of the sphere of a law may
often be carried still further by continuing the process of abstraction. As we rise from lower laws to
higher and more comprehensive ones, we often abstract from the conception of change, and thus arrive
at laws which not only determine the relations of
phenomena as successive to each other in time, but
also include those which are contemporaneous in




-The Conception of Causality.     67
space. The same law is thus made to comprise the
rule according to which one phenomenon determines
another contemporaneous with, or successive to it,
just as the circumstances may require. Innumerable
instances will probably at once suggest themselves
to the reader's mind. A body at rest, and acted
on by no force, will continue at rest. A body in
motion, and acted on by no force, will continue in
uniform motion. Now both these phenomena may
again be brought under the higher law of the vis
inertice, according to which, bodies whether in rest
or motion, when unacted on by any force, will continue in their respective states. Again, the motion
of the magnet determines the motion of the steel
that is attracted by it. The repose of the magnet
determines the repose of the steel; and both are
simply two instances of the same law, according to
which the position of the magnet considered generally determines that of the steel. To take a still
more simple instance, the same law of gravity, according to which a body falls with a certain momentum, also determines the degree of downward
pressure it exerts when in a state of rest. This
gravitation is therefore a continuous power, acting
just as strongly in the reciprocal and contemporaneous pressure between the body and the earth it
rests upon, as between the earth and the same body
when falling through the air.
It will appear from these considerations that our
notion of the powers of natural objects is not that
they may produce peculiar effects intermittently, and
only as peculiar circumstances arise, but that they
are something continuous, never inoperative, but always determining other phenomena, either to remain
5- 2




68        The Conception of Causality.
in their then state, or to undergo a certain change.
If I say there is a certain latent property in gunpowder which makes it susceptible of explosion, I say
nothing more than that there is some phenomenon
which gunpowder when not exploding would present
to a sense sufficiently fine, and which might be brought
under the same law as the phenomenon of its explosion. It is undoubtedly true that a spark has the
power to explode gunpowder only on certain occasions,
viz. when it is brought in contact with it. But we
think of this power as objective in nature under a
higher and more general law in connexion with the
phenomenon of its heat, and conceive the spark as
igniting or decomposing the objects in its immediate
vicinity, whether it consists of an imperceptibly small
portion of air, or the magazine of a man of war.
To speak therefore of the power of a spark to explode
powder as a particular and isolated power producing
an isolated event, is to impose an arbitrary and unphilosophical limitation upon our language, which
we do not adopt in our thought; for we cannot even
think of this quality in a spark, without its immediately suggesting the conception of its power to
produce sensible heat, which experience teaches us to
associate as the abstract cause with the phenomenon
in question.
If these views are correct, the constitution of
a body is the complex of its powers which have a continuous existence in time, and produce various results
according to the various relations in which they may
stand with the powers of other bodies. They are only
cognisable by the human mind in as far as they can
be brought under certain relations of thought, i. e.
under those abstract conceptions which are suggested




The Conception of Causality.       69
by comparing phenomena with one another. But
though conceived under abstract conceptions these
powers are by no means ideal, but have as real a
ground in nature as the bodies themselves. For it
must always be borne in mind, that it is precisely by
means of abstraction that various effects are attributed
to the same power, and thus its continuity and permanence rendered- conceivable.  Without this continuity power dwindles down into a mere notion, as in
the theory of Brown, possessing no objective ground,
merely starting into a galvanic life upon particular
occasions, and again relapsing into nonentity till the
same circumstances occur again.
The inexhaustibility of the relations of phenomena
among each other, and the infinite diversity of nature,
would therefore render all observation of it an absolute impossibility, if it were not for the mental process of abstraction, by means of which we recognise
the same principle in different forms. But abstraction
is the selection by the mind of those partial phenomena which admit of being subsumed under one
principle. Now it is clearly impossible that this
uniting principle should originate in the objects, for
another principle would always be necessary in the
subject, in order to recognise the unity of the principle in the objects. Tile principle therefore originates
in the subject; and as this is valid of all our observation of phenomena, it follows that the sphere of the
application and validity of causality is limited by subjective principles of thought, and cannot be predicated
of those things with which the subject has no concern,
i. e. of things which are not objects for it at all.
That the subject cannot predicate it of itself,
except in so far as it becomes an object, also follows




70        The Conception of Causality.
from the considerations, first, that unless it were an
object it could contain no distinctive parts to be
united in a law; and secondly, that another subject
would always be wanting to contain the unity or
principle of the law for the combination of such parts.
Hence it follows from the nature of causality, as
explained above, that, though it arises in the subject,
it can only be predicated of objects.
This then is the result of our analysis of the conception of causality; and we might rest satisfied here
if it were not that we have throughout assumed the
necessity and validity of this conception, and simply
endeavoured to explain what it is.  Our next object
must be to shew the manner in which we arrive at
this conception at all, and why we are obliged to
assume it in our observation of nature.




CHAPTER III.
On the Grounds of our Belief in Causality.
SECT. I.-The Belief in Causality not based on Experience.
N the last chapter I have endeavoured to shew
what causality is. In the present I propose to
investigate the grounds of our belief in it. The
problem resolves itself into two parts.  First, where
are we to look for the grounds of this belief?
Secondly, what are they?
Now whenever the first of these questions is
proposed to an unsophisticated understanding, we
may be tolerably sure of receiving the answer, that
the ground of our belief in causality is to be found
in experience. The answer seems plausible enough,
and may be very satisfactory to those who deny the
possibility of all a priori knowledge whatever. It
contains, nevertheless, a logical fallacy, which I shall
now endeavour to expose.
To attempt to deduce our belief in causality from
our experience of objects is to reason in a circle, for
experience itself rests upon causality. If we do not
assume causality, if in short we do not assume that
nature follows fixed laws, her phenomena become a
mere meaningless play of the senses, and nothing
that we observe to-day can be regarded as a ground
of belief as to what will happen to-morrow. If I
find that to-day the event B has repeatedly followed the event A, I shall certainly (as my mind is
now constituted) expect to find the same succession
to-morrow; but the extent of this expectation is the




72  The Belief in Causality not based on Experience.
measure of the probability assumed by my mind that
B is determined by A, according to some natural
law. Causality, therefore, as an historical fact, may
have been true yesterday, and the same causes may
have been followed by the same effects from sunrise
to sunset. But unless I assume the unchangeableness of the laws of nature, in short this very causality itself, the truth of the doctrine yesterday, considered as a mere generalisation of yesterday's facts, is
no reason for its truth to-day.  Hence it is evident,
that to make causality rest upon experience, when all
experience must itself rest upon causality, is a glaring
circle which metaphysical subtlety may attempt to
conceal, but can never hope to defend with success.
flume was the first philosopher who placed this
argument in a clear light.  In his Inquiry concerning
the IJuman Understanding, and in the section entitled
Scepticccl Doubts concerning the Operations of the Understanding, when speaking of the inference that
certain sensible qualities and secret powers will be
conjoined in the future, from the fact that we have
found them conjoined in the past, he proceeds as follows: "To say it (this inference) is experimental, is
begging the question.  For all inferences from experience suppose, as their foundation, that the future
will resemble the past, and that similar powers will be
conjoined with similar sensible qualities. If there be
any suspicion that the course of nature may change,
and that the past may be no rule for the future, all
experience becomes useless, and can give rise to no
inference or conclusion.  It is impossible therefore
that any arguments from experience can prove this
resemblance of the past to the future, since all these
arguments are founded on the supposition of that




The Belief in Cautsality not based on Experience. 73
resemblance. Let the course of things be allowed
hitherto ever so regular, that alone, without some new
argument or inference, proves not that for the future
it will continue so'."
As then experience presupposes causality, we
must evidently seek for some other principle, if we
would establish the latter on a sound foundation. In
the first place, causality contains the conception of
absolute universality.  We do not say " some phenomena are now and then determined by others," but
we predicate this of all phenomena, and at all times.
For if there were exceptional cases, as they would be
exceptional to empirically determined law in general,
and not to any law in particular, they would follow
no law at all, and would be absolutely indeterminable.
It would follow from this, that we could. never distinguish whether any particular case were an exception or not, so that the whole law would become unsound, from the impossibility of knowing what secret
flaws might lurk in it unseen. In short, it would
cease to be a law at all. Now where there is absolute universality, there must also be necessity; for
where there is no necessity, there may be exceptional
cases, the possibility of which is inconsistent with the
conception of universality. Necessity is therefore an
essential element in the conception of causality.
This principle affords an immediate clue to the
problem before us; but the manner in which it does
so, will become more intelligible by an illustration.
There are, for instance, manufacturing processes,
which, when conducted with the greatest skill and
accuracy, do not always produce precisely similar
results. But the manufacturer never for an instant' Hume's Inquiry concerning Human Undlerstanding, Sect. IV.




74  The Belief in Causality not based on Experience.
supposes that there is no cause for such variations,
but always attributes them either to a slight difference in the quantity or quality of the ingredients he
employs, to the mode of procedure, or to some other
minute circumstance which has escaped his attention.
Thus the absolute invariability of the laws of the external world is assumed as axiomatic in all cases,
even in those lying beyond the reach of the powers
of human observation.
Now there are two things to be considered here,
first, the unknown object which the imagination conceives as a cause, in order to explain the variation in
the phenomena, but of which by the hypothesis it has
no actual experience; secondly, the subject which
conceives it.  This object is quite unknown, and
cannot, therefore, supply us with the conviction that
it also comes under the law of causality. Hence the
subject alone remains, in which we can seek for this
idea; and we are, therefore, obliged to conclude that
the subject is conscious of a law of its own action,
that, whatever object may be proposed to it can only
be perceived under the condition of causality.
The same argument may be put in a slightly
different form. If we endeavour to derive this relation of cause and effect from objects alone, we can
never know that some new objects may not be presented to us at a future time in which it does not
hold good; and we are, therefore, compelled to renounce the idea of necessity as one of its essential
elements. But this is contrary to our hypothesis, and
we are therefore obliged to seek for it in the subject.
An illustration will perhaps make this still more
evident. If a series of objects are passing before me,
I can never know what will be the colour of the next




The Belief in Causality not based on Experience. 75
that presents itself. But if I apply a green glass to
my eye I can then anticipate that, whatever the
natural colour of the object may be, it will appear
with a green tinge. In this case the glass represents
the mind, and the green tinge the peculiar condition
of its activity, namely, the conception of causality
through which alone the objects are viewed.
The same principle lies at the bottom of all these
arguments, and I have merely repeated it in various
forms, for the sake of greater perspicuity, and because
accidental circumstances may make each of them respectively more forcible than the others to the minds
of different individuals.
It is in the thinking subject then that we must
search for the origin of our conception of causality;
but in doing so we must beware lest we regard this
subject simply as an object of experience, and thus
fall into the very error which it has been our chief
object to avoid. Experience is no less based upon
causality, when applied to the phenomena of the
mind, than when applied to those of matter; and,
consequently, it will equally be reasoning in a circle,
whether we derive such causality empirically from the
one species of objects or from the other. This was
the fallacy that Hume fell into, in his attempted
solution of the difficulties he had himself raised. He
was most unquestionably right in rejecting our empirical knowledge of outward objects, as the ground of
our belief in the causal connexion, and in seeking for
this ground in the subject. But, unfortunately, he
did not see that his arguments were equally valid
against all empirical foundation for this belief, and,
consequently, in total disregard of his own principles,
hb ascribed this latter to custom or habit. When




76  The Belief in Causality not based on Experience.
speaking of the principle which leads us to draw
inferences respecting the future from our observation
of the past, he says, "This principle is custom  or
habit. For, wherever the repetition of any particular
act or operation produces a propensity to renew the
same act or operation, without being impelled by any
reasoning or process of the understanding, we always
say that this propensity is the effect of custom.  By
employing that word, we pretend not to have given
the ultimate reason for such a propensity.  We only
point out a principle of human nature which is
universally acknowledged, and which is well known
by its effects'."
Hume states this doctrine so modestly, that he
almost seems to give up the question altogether. In
so far, however, as he considers it as a solution at all,
it is evidently open to the criticism of his former section, as we can only arrive at a knowledge of this
custom by our empirical observation of the past.
Brown has shewn the futility of HIume's solution in
the following passage.  He says, "Why should the
future resemble the past?  At every stage of observation this question may be equally put, and at every
stage it is equally unanswerable. If we can give any
reason for our belief of the similarity, we do not need
custom to convince us of it; and if we cannot give
any reason for it, it is surely vain to appeal to custom,
which is only a portion of that very past concerning
which there is no difficulty whatever, and not a portion of that unexisting future in the believed similarity of which is to be found the only difficulty that
perplexes us2."
Hume's Inqzuiry concerning Human Unzderstanding, Sect. V.
2 Brown, On the Relation of Cause and Efect, Part IV. ~ 3.




The Nature of a priori Knowledge.      77
It is not only in the subject then that we must
look for the ground of causality, but in some a
_priori principle in the subject, or one entirely independent of all empirical foundation. Unfortunately,
however, for the progress of metaphysical science in
England, the very possibility of d priori conceptions
has been disputed, and that by a writer who, whatever his merits may be in the department of logic
and metaphysics, undoubtedly takes very high rank
in that of political economy'. This circumstance, as
also the importance of the subject to the solution of
the main question under consideration, render it
necessary that I should examine the nature of c}
priori knowledge somewhat more fully; and I shall,
therefore, devote the following section to its investigation.
SECT. II. -Tke Nature of a priori Knowledge.
I propose to treat the question which this subject
involves in the following order. In the first place I
shall explain the meaning of the expression; in the
second, I shall endeavour to shew that we really
possess such knowledge, and to refute some of Mr
Mill's arguments against it; and in the third, I
shall investigate its peculiar characteristics.
It is of course quite indisputable, that in a certain sense any knowledge whatever may be termed
experience, inasmuch as the possession of it has
been one of the incidents of our lives-one of the
mental phenomena which we have experienced. The
language may be somewhat unusual, but not the
most zealous defender of a priori knowledge would' John Stuart Mill.




78     The Nature of X priori Knowledge.
consider that there was any impropriety in the statement,-that in the whole course of his mathematical
experience, meaning thereby his mathematical studies,
he had never met with such and such a proof of a
given problem. In short, until conceptions have
been in our consciousness and thus formed a part of
our experience, they are not our conceptions at all.
To speak therefore of conceptions d priori to
experience in the above sense of the word, is an
absurdity, as it is equivalent to making the conceptions d priori to themselves. A  little consideration
however of the operations of the understanding will
shew that this expression may be employed in a
somewhat different sense, and one which is not open
to the above objection.
For an intellectual act it is manifestly necessary
that the intelligence should answer certain conditions.
This is already assumed, in the employment of a
particular word, "intelligence," to signify a being
capable of an intellectual act, i.e. answering the conditions necessary for such act. Were not certain
conditions indispensable, any being whatever might
be an intelligence; and an inanimate object might
understand the differential calculus as well as a mathematician. Independently therefore of the intelligible nature of the object, the subject that understands it must possess a certain nature, either a
mere receptivity or a mode of activity by which the
intellectual act becomes possible. Thus much will be
granted by the opponents of the doctrine of'c priori
conceptions as well as its advocates. They possess,
however, another ground in common. Both parties
will allow, at least as a matter of fact, that the
intellect possesses the power of concentrating its




The Nature of'a priori Knzowledge.    79
attention upon one or another part or relation of
the object presented to it, and thus of distinguishing
between various parts of the whole intellectual act,in other words, that the intellect is endowed with a
faculty of abstraction.  It is impossible, for instance,
to picture to the imagination a colour without extension. But in the intellect we are able to distinguish
between these conceptions, and to speak and think of
various colours without regarding the conception of
extension.
These two positions then, are, as I believe,
allowed by all: First, that the intellect has a nature
by virtue of which it is intellect, and not something
else; secondly, that the intellect has a power of
abstraction, or a faculty of distinguishing between
various parts of an object, even though it cannot
separate them in the imagination. Now the d priori
philosophers do nothing more than bring these two
principles, which are separately recognised by their
opponents, into immediate relation to each other, by
extending the operation of abstraction to the conditions of the intellect itself.  They assert that the
understanding, by its power of abstraction, is not
only able to distinguish between different parts of the
object presented to it, but that it is also able to distinguish between that part of the act which is
dependent on the object, i. e. which is supplied by. the
senses and is called the matter, and that which
depends on the nature of the subject, which in short
is supplied by the conditions of the intellect, and is
called the form.
The real meaning of the expression d priori to
experience will have become obvious from the above
observations. In employing it, I do not intend to




80      The Nature of k priori Knowledge.
assert that a conception, as a complete act of thought,
has existed in the mind prior to the cognition of an
object, but rather that a certain law of the understanding has existed prior to such cognition, and has
predetermined its form; and further, that when such
cognition takes place, the mind is able to distinguish
that part of it which is absolutely determined by the
conditions of its own activity, (or perhaps more correctly, which is one of the conditions themselves,)
from that other part which is dependent solely on the
nature of the object. The former is then declared to
be ca priori to experience, because the understanding
has recognised it as a law limiting the possible sphere
of its own activity, whatever objects may be proposed
to it, and consequently as independent of such
objects. This, however, is not in any way irreconcileable with the fact, that our consciousness of the
law only arises when the objects of experience are
presented to the senses. Thus the mind and all its
hidden wealth of ac priori conceptions may be compared to a cabinet containing many drawers and
secret places stored with precious things, and presented to every human soul on its entrance into the
world.  The cabinet and all its contents are the
legitimate property of the soul from the first moment
of its existence; but only after patient search does it
find the hidden springs which reveal those secret
places, and make it conscious of its wealth.
I shall next endeavour to shew by means of an
example that the understanding really does possess
the power of distinguishing the subjective from the
objective elements in one of its own acts. The corner
of a house or the stein of a poplar seen against the
sky suggest the conception of a straight line.  On




The Nature of a priori Knowledge.     81
further examination I perceive many inequalities in
the outline of these objects, and accordingly pronounce them to be not exactly straight. I then
turn to other objects in art or nature which appear to
be bounded by lines still straighter than the house or
poplar; but minute examination always leads to the
same result; and at last I conclude that there is no
such thing as a perfectly straight line in the whole external universe. Now in this case I evidently possess
a conception, that of perfect straightness, which has
been suggested by external objects, but is nowhere
realised by them. There is, therefore, a certain something in the conception which cannot have been derived from  the objects, for none of them possess
it.  Where then aln I to seek it   The answer is
self-evident, for the subject alone remains. The objects, by their approximate conformity to certain
relations of thought, have stimulated the intellect to
the consideration of a certain relation of points, and
have thus rendered it capable of constructing a line
according to this relation by its own activity, and
comparing the objects with the conception thus
produced. In this case, the conception is the product of the imagination when describing a line
determined by the law, that each successive point
is absolutely determined by any two of the preceding.
To express the same thing somewhat differently:
if I draw a line in my imagination, I find, on determining each successive point, that there is only
one bearing precisely the same relation to any
two of the preceding points determined by the
same law. And it must be particularly observed,
that I find this to be the case in my imagination,
in short, in my intuition of space, without which
s. w.                                  6




82     The Nature of a priori Knowledge.
no such laws could have any significance for me
whatever.
Now in the above example, if I were to deny
that the straight line is constructed according to a
law furnished by the pure intuition of space, and
maintained that the conception was derived entirely
from the observation of visible lines, I could never
conclude that there is in nature no such thing as a
perfectly straight line; for I could never have obtained
from all the lines in the world, a conception of a
greater degree of perfection than that presented by
the actual phenomena themselves. Again, if my understanding presented me with no mental law by
which to construct a standard of perfect straightness,
there would be no reason for my choosing even the
straightest of observed lines, as a standard for those
less straight rather than the reverse.  Without a
common intellectual standard more perfect than either,
there would be as much reason for my condemning
the straighter line as the less perfect, on account of
its differing from that which is less straight, as for
condemning the latter as less perfect, on the ground
of its differing from the former. Directly, therefore,
I pass judgment on a sensible straight line, with reference to its apparent straightness, I have recognised
an ideal standard as a distinct element in the cognition, and by a process of abstraction, have separated
the mere image, as a product of the senses, from the
a p2riori conception, which is supplied by the pure
activity of the understanding, and determined by its
conditions.  This argument has been so extremely
well put by that fine old philosopher, Ralph Cudworth, that I cannot support my argument better,
than by quoting the following passage.




The Nature of a priori Knowledge.      83
"If there were material lines, triangles, pyramids,
perfectly and mechanically exact, yet that which made
them such, and thereby to differ from other irregular
lines, imperfect triangles and cubes, could be nothing
else but a conformity to an antecedent intellectual
idea in the mind, as the rule and exemplar of them;
for otherwise an irregular line and an imperfect triangle, pyramid, cube, are as perfectly that that they
are, as the other is; only they are not agreeable to
those anticipated and preconceived ideas of regular
lines and figures actively exerted in the mind or intellect, which the mind naturally formeth to itself,
and delighteth to exercise itself upon them, as the
proper object of art and science, which the other
irregular figures are not. Wherefore, whenever a
man looking upon material objects, judges of the
figures of them, and says this is a straight line, this
is a perfect triangle, that a perfect circle, but those
are neither perfect triangles nor circles, it is plain,
that here are two several ideas of these lines and
figures; the one outwardly impressed from those
individual material objects from  without upon the
sense of the beholder; the other actively exerted from
his inward mind or intellect.  Which latter busy anticipation of it is the rule, pattern, and exemplar,
whereby he judges of those sensible ideas or phantasms. For otherwise, if there were no inward anticipations or mental ideas, the spectator would not judge
at all, but only suffer; and every irregular and imperfect triangle being as perfectly that which it is, as
the most perfect triangle, the mind now having no
inward pattern of its own before it, to distinguish and
put a difference, would not say one of them was more
imperfect than another; but only comparing them
6-2




84      The Nature of a priori Knowledge.
with one another, would say, that this individual
figure was not perfectly like to that; upon which account the perfect triangle would be as imperfectly
the imperfect triangle, as the imperfect was the
perfect."
From conceptions ac priori, our next step must be
to judgments ca priori, the simplest of which, perhaps, are those offered by the axioms of geometry.
That two straight lines cannot enclose a space, is such
a judgment, and follows directly from the ac priori
conception, by which we construct a straight line in
the imagination. For by the rule for the construction of a straight line, all its points are absolutely
determinable by any two of them. If, therefore, two
straight lines pass first through the point A, and then
meet in the point B, the two points A and B determine all the other points for each line absolutely in
the same way, or in other words, the lines coincide,
and are really the same line.
Mr Mill has endeavoured to invalidate the entire
theory of'a priori knowledge, and explains the above
axiom as the simple result of experience. After
stating some of the arguments of his opponents, he
proceeds: "To these arguments, which I trust I
cannot be accused of understating, a satisfactory
answer will, I conceive, be found, if we advert to one
of the characteristic properties of geometrical formstheir capacity of being painted in the imagination
with a distinctness equal to reality: in other words,
the exact resemblance of our ideas of form to the
sensations which suggest them. This, in the first
place, enables us to make (at least with a little prac1 Cudworth, On Eternal and Inmmutable Morality, Book Iv.
chap. iii. ~ 9.




The N-ature of a priori Knowledge.     85
tice,) mental pictures of all possible combinations of
lines and angles, which resemble the realities quite as
well as any which we could make upon paper; and,
in the next place, makes those pictures just as fit
subjects of geometrical experimentation as the reali.
ties themselves; inasmuch as pictures, if sufficiently
accurate, exhibit of course all the properties which
would be manifested by the realities at one given
instant, and on simple inspection: and, in geometry,
we are concerned only with such properties, and not
with that which pictures could not exhibit, the mutual
action of bodies one upon another.  The foundations
of geometry would therefore be laid in direct experience, even if the experiments (which in this case consist merely in attentive contemplation) were practised
solely upon what we call our ideas, that is, upon the
diagrams in our minds, and not upon outward objects'."
If Mr Mill had employed the word pcainted in
the above passage, to signify that the geometrical
forms can be constructed in the imagination with a
distinctness equal to reality, he would have virtually
admitted, though under another name, that very a
priori nature of the conceptions which he is attempting to disprove. The rest of the passage, however,
as well as the'context generally, exclude this interpretation; and I believe that, in perfect consistency
with the rest of his theory, he has employed the
expression to signify, that the geometrical forms are
copied from the objects of sense. In this case I
would submit, first, that geometrical forms cannot be
so painted with a distinctness equal to reality, or in
other words, that our ideas of form do not bear an
exact resemblance to the sensations which suggest
Mill's System of Logic. 2nd Ed. Vol. I. p. 309.




86     The Nacture of a priori Knowledge.
them; and secondly, that if our ideas of form did not
admit of a far greater degree of accuracy and precision than the suggesting sensations, they would be of
no avail to the mathematician.  To establish these
points, it will be necessary to distinguish between two
very different ways in which the conception of a figure
may be produced in the imagination.
If I contemplate an irregular line, —such, for
instance, as the outline of a country in a map,-and
then shut my eyes, I may reproduce in my imagination a picture of a line bearing a great resemblance
to it. While regarding the line itself I may form
a judgment of the proportionate distance of several
of its irregularities which may be an approximation
to the truth.  If I afterwards attempt to form such
a judgment from the picture in my imagination, I
shall find a much greater difficulty, and the result
will in all probability be far less correct. This is not
owing to any defect in the judgment, but because I
find it impossible to reproduce the line in question
with perfect accuracy.  The imagination therefore,
as far as the mere sensible picture in the sensorium
is concerned, is far less trustworthy than the senses
themselves. If I make a similar experiment with a
straight line, the result is the same; for if I contemplate a sensible line which appears to me to be perfectly straight, and then, closing my eyes, endeavour
to form  a picture of it in my imagination, I am at
once aware of the difficulty of fixing its parts, and
that the line so pictured may have many small irregularities. I must, however, remind the reader that I
am speaking here only of the sensible image in my
sensorium —that faint picture of a line which I imagine myself to see-just in the same manner as I




The Nature of a priori Knowledge.      87
recall the image of a flower, a human face, or any
other external object,-and I believe that no one will
venture to claim for such a picture even as great a
degree of perfection as can be attained by drawing
a straight line upon a sheet of paper.
Now, in the case of the irregular line, I find that
my imagination has no other means of reproducing
it than that afforded by the recollection of the sensible impression, and I must therefore content myself
with the imperfect picture obtained in this manner.
With the straight line, however, I find a far more
powerful faculty at my disposal, and therefore instinctively reject the less accurate process. Instead of
having recourse to my memory, by means of which
I can only reproduce a mere visible picture of what
I have seen, I construct a line in my imagination,
according to a definite rule supplied by the understanding; and directly I am conscious that any point
diverges to the right or the left, i. e. assumes a position not absolutely determined by any two of the
preceding points, I reject it, and correct my image
accordingly.  That this rule is supplied by the
understanding and not by experience, is at once
evident from the fact, that I employ it as a standard
for experience itself, and reject all lines as not straight
which do not conform. to it.
Perhaps this distinction between the mere sensible
picture of a figure in the imagination, and its construction by the understanding according to a rule,
may be made still clearer by another example. The
mathematician can easily combine four circular arcs
in such a manner as to present a considerable resemblance to an ellipse.  A  person unacquainted
with mathematics would in all probability at once




88     The Nature of a priori Knowledge.
pronounce the figure to be an oval, and, in endeavouring to reproduce the picture of it in his imagination,
would not be able to make any distinction between
such a figure and a real ellipse. In reality, however,
the figures are absolutely and essentially different
from  each other, and no part of a figure so constructed  as above mentioned, could be made to
coincide with any part of a real ellipse. The mathematician, on the other hand, who is acquainted
with the difference between the figures, constructs
the ellipse in his imagination according to a law; and
the picture thus produced will be far more accurate
than in the former case. But even the mathematician will attain but an approximation to the ellipse,
as far as the mere picture in his imagination is
concerned, and the instant he considers it as an
object of mathematical reasoning, he is obliged to
have recourse to the theoretical rule for its construction.  Instead, therefore, of conceding to Mr Mill
that mathematical forms have the capacity of being
painted with a distinctness equal to reality, I should
say that they can be so constructed.  In short, if
Mr Mill employs the word poainted in the same sense
in which I have used the word constructed, he has
really admitted the d priori nature of these forms, as
all construction presumes some previous rule or plan
according to which the construction takes place. In
so far as he employs it to signify the mere copying of
an object in the sensorium from recollection, I maintain that such painting is absolutely incapable of being
made the subject of mathematical reasoning.
Should the reader feel any hesitation in admitting
this last position, I would ask him, How he would
commence the deduction of a single property of the




The Nature of a priori Knowledge.    89
parabola from the mere picture of one, apart from
any rule for its construction?  Perhaps it might be
answered, that if a tolerably accurate drawing of a
parabola were offered for examination, the mathematician, after a number of experiments, might find out
some one of its properties by actual measurement,
and from this might deduce the others. In replying
to this objection, I will waive the consideration that
such a sensible picture is necessarily imperfect, and
therefore the property in question and deductions
from it only approximately true, and come at once to
the principal point, namely, that deductions so arrived
at would be valid only of the actual figure measured,
and any others constructed according to the discovered
property; but without introducing this element of
construction, the mathematician could claim no universality for his deduction, and would therefore have
to determine the above-mentioned property by actual measurement in each individual figure.
At another place, when speaking of the advocates
of a priori knowledge, Mr Mill says, "They cannot,
however, but allow that the truth of the axiom, Two
straight lines cannot enclose a space, even if evident,
independently of experience, is also evident from
experience. Whether the axiom needs confirmation
or not, it receives confirmation in almost every instant
of our lives; since we cannot look at any two straight
lines which intersect one another, without seeing that
from that point they continue to diverge more and
more'. Experimental proof crowds in upon us in
such endless profusion, and without one instance in
which there can be even a suspicion of an exception
to the rule, that we should soon have a stronger
i Mill's Logic, Vol. ii. p. 306.




90       The Nacttre of a priori aizowledg'e.
ground for' believing the axiom, even as an experimental truth, than we have for almost any  of the
general truths which we confessedly learn from  the
evidence of our senses.   Independently of d priori
evidence, we  should  certainly  believe  it with  an
intensity of conviction far greater than we accord
to any  ordinary physical truth: and this too at a
time of life much earlier than that from  which we
date almost any part of our acquired  knowledge,
and much too early to admit of our retaining any
recollection of the history of our intellectual operations at that period.  Where then is the necessity
for assuming that our recognition of these truths
has a different origin from  the rest of our knowledge,
when its existence is perfectly accounted for by supposing its origin to be the same'?"
1 Professor Ulrici, in an Article on "rThe so-called Inductive
Logic," after quoting the above passage from Mill, continues, " We
must at the very outset dispute both these positions. The truth
of the axiom in question is by no means evident from experience;
for experience shews us only that two straight lines in all cases
that occur, do not enclose a space, but not, that they canznot enclose
one. This impossibility camn never be made evident from mere
experience, as that which does not occur in experience, or rather,
which has not yet occurred, is by no means impossible on that
account.  Neither is it by any means indifferent whether the
axiom need confirmation from experience or not, but rather, if it
did not need such confirmation, it would be indifferent whether it
received it or not. Even, if we see that two lines cutting each
other diverge more and more from the point of intersection, we by
no means see that they cannot enclose a space. At the most are
we able to conclude this from such seeing, or rather from our internal intuition; but the certainty and truth of this conclusion,
just because it is a mere conclusion, evidently rest, nzot on experience, but on the nature of our thought and the immanent necessity
of thought, which fact contradicts MIill's assertion."
Sogleich diese ersten beiden Sitze miissen wir bestreiten. Die
Wahrheit des in RIede stehenden Axioms ist keineswegs-" gemass
der Erfahrung" evident.  Denn die Erfahrung zeigt uns nur, dass
zwei gerade Linien in allen vorkoammenden Fallen keinen Raum
einschliessen, nicht aber, dass sie ihn nicht einschliessen kinnen.




The Nature of a priori Knowledge.             91
This extract appears to me to contain at least
three fatal errors. The assumption at the outset is
manifestly incorrect, as no a priori philosopher could
concede "that the truth of the axiom, two straight
lines cannot enclose a space, even if evident, independently of experience, is also evident from experience."
For, in the first place, the whole question refers to
lines absolutely, not approximately straight; and it is
beyond the powers of sense to determine which lines
do, and which do not, entirely conform to our conception of straightness. In the second place, for the
reasons already  given, the  conception  of absolute
straightness must be derived from the understanding,
or rather from  our pure conception of space, if, according to a very generally admitted fact, no objects
entirely correspond to it; and even supposing the
senses did present us with straight lines as well as
irregular ones, we should still require some intellectual
conception for arranging the former under a particular
category by themselves.  For argument's sake however, and in order to explain the third objection, I
will waive these points, and suppose not only that
Diese Unmoglichkeit kann nie aus der blossen Erfahrung erhellen,
da, was in der Erfahrung nicht vorkomamt oder vielmehr bisher-niclI
vorgekommen ist, darum noch keineswegs unmmglich ist. Ebenso ist:
es keineswegs " einerlei," ob das Axiom der Bestitigung durch die
Erfahrung bedarf oder nicht: vielmehr, wenn es dieser Bestgtigung
nicht bediirfte, so wire es einerlei, ob es sie durch die Erfahrung
erhjlt oder nicht. Wenn wir auch sehen, dass zwei sich schneidende:
Linien vom Durchschnittspunkt an immer mehr divergiren, so
sehen wir damit doch keineswegs, dass sic keinen Raum  einschliessen kinnen. Wir konnen diess h6chstens aus jenem' Sehen'
oder viellnehr aus der innern Anschauung folgersn; aber die
Gewissheit und Wahrheit dieser Folgerung wiirde, weil sie eben
eine blosse Folgerung ist, offenbar nicht auf der Erfahrung, sondern
auf der Natur unseres Denkens, auf jener immanentem Denknothwendigkeit bernhen, was der Behauptung, Mill's widerspricht.
Zeitsch1rift fi' r Phzilosophie, Vol. xxi. pp. 174-5.




92      The Nature of a priori Knowledge.
straight lines are presented us by external objects,
but that experience could decide certain lines intersecting each other to be absolutely straight.
In a particular given case, these lines may diverge
at a sensible angle, and the mere pictures formed in
our imagination from our observation of the sensible
lines, may lead us to the conclusion, that these individual lines intersecting at this perceptible angle can
never meet again.  This however is no proof from
experience, that two other straight lines cannot, but
only that these particular lines do not enclose a space.
For as long as we keep within the province of sense,
whether applied to an outward object or a picture in
the imagination, such object cannot by any possibility
be evidence of the truth of a universal proposition,
inasmuch as an intellectual conception is requisite, as
a principle for the extension of the predicate from
the particular to the universal. On the assumption
however that our senses are sufficiently perfect, a
single object. may be accepted as evidence of the
falsity of such universal; for if the proposition does
not hold good in any single instance, it cannot be
universally true.  Now in the case of the proposition
before us, although we could never establish it through
sense alone, by a single instance, or any number of
instances, it is possible to conceive an object which
should appear to disprove it, the error arising from
the imperfection of sense.
For let us suppose, that two visible lines of a
mile in length, which taken separately appear to be
absolutely straight, when brought together are found
to coincide at their extremities, and yet to enclose a
space the eighth of an inch in breadth.  Now in this
case, our senses would not be capable of detecting the




The Nature of a priori Knowledge.     93
imperfection in either line.  If we shut our eyes and
attempt to form a mere sensible picture of such lines,
we are not able to arrive at even so great a degree of
accuracy, as that presented by the lines themselves;
and thus lines declared to be straight by our unassisted
sense, would be found first slightly to diverge, and
then to approach each other; and yet we should not
for an instant surrender our axiom.  On what principle then should we maintain it? Clearly this: In
addition to the imperfect picture of the straight line
which we merely paint in our imagination, we are
conscious of a rule for its construction, which is not
limited by the imperfection of the senses, and which
declares that every point which is not determined by
any two other points in a straight line, must lie out
of it. In this manner we decide against the straightness of the lines, from the fact that they enclose a
space, and conclude the existence of inaccuracies
which our senses are unable to discover, because the
lines do not harnmonise with our previous conceptions.
So far therefore from deriving our axiom from the
observation of such lines, we should rest our judgment
respecting them on the predetermined truth of the
axiom.
Mr Mill's reasoning appears to me to violate a
very sound and simple principle enunciated by Aristotle rather more than two thousand years ago. In
the first book of the Later Analytics, ch. 3I, we find
a passage which may be freely translated as follows.
"Neither is it possible to know through sense. For
even if sense refers to the quality of a thing, and not
to some particular individual, yet the act of perceiving
by sense, can only be exercised with reference to some
particular thing determined in space and time. But




94        The Natuwre of a priori Knowledge.
it is impossible to perceive by sense the universal
and that which is inherent in all; for it is neither a
particular thing nor at a particular time, for if it were
so, it would not be universal. Since, therefore, demonstrations are of universals, and it is impossible to
perceive universals by sense, it is clear, that knowing
is not attained by sensation. But it is manifest that,
even if it were possible to perceive by sense that the
angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles, we
should still seek for a demonstration, and should not
know it, as some say. For perception is necessarily
only of individuals, but knowledge is by the cognition
of the universal'."
The soundness of this principle is self-evident;
but the empirical philosophers would ignore it altogether. They appear to forget that as the axiom
is absolutely universal, it can only be based on the
observation of a visible angle, by assuming that what
is true of such visible angle is equally true of an
angle too small to be an object of sense; and this
assumption again is only justifiable by the consciousness that all absolutely straight lines must be constructed on the same pattern according to a certain
rule not limited by the power of the senses, and
l Ova   aLt' a'o,-0o4ow   a-riv &7'raoTal. E -yap Kal CoT-iV 4I a;h-Gon',
rOV  rtoLov8E Kal l  TrovE -rivo%, aXA' alo-OadvreoOal 76e dva/KaLov ToJe  i'
Kait 7roU KaIl Pvv.  To' B KaOeAov Kalt crr 7raovev a8vva'rov aro'OdaverOat
ou'yap TOe6 OdU Vvu' OU yap a"v ai/ KcaOOXov' ro' zap acs  KaL 7ravr-aXov
KaOoXov Oc)a/aYv ELval. R'E7ri ouv al EP tARv dw0oec6i    KaOoXkov,'raTau'-a  oVK
ETQLv alc'OavecoOaL, cavepov o"n o3' Ec7rlo-TarraOaLt     alO'eor-creW  a'rTw.'Axxa BrjAov oTl' Kal e i v alcTOaveECOat Tro TpL7Wrp OV OTrl 3vc'v opeOat Yt-'a
EXEL'raq y-wvag, E'CV17turaEV ccv avrO'rdit V   KalC  O VX )u c6rep (actil 7lvEe,1rlto-'rtfeOa' aioa'Od'veOaLt aiv -yap avaylil Kl aO EKcaTOV, 4 3' 7trrTYi't
Tr, -ro KvaOOAov 7yv1WplV laTLv. Post. Anal. Lib. I. cap. 31.
Cudworth quoted this passage (Eternal and Immutable Morality, p. 230.) but as cap. 25, instead of 31.  The text, moreover,
of his edition must have been very faulty, as he omits a whole line
in the commencement of the chapter.




-The Nacture of a priori Knowledge.  95
so far from being in any way dependent on possible
experience, on the contrary, determining for such
experience what lines are straight, and what are not.
The question now arises: What is the peculiar
characteristic of a priori conceptions by which we
are able to distinguish them from conceptions'c posteriori   Or, in other words, what is the principle of
that act of abstraction by which we can separate the
form from the matter in our cognition of an object?
To answer this question it will be necessary to refer
shortly to the nature of empirical knowledge in general.
We possess no formula or process of thinking
by which we can so regulate our observation of
natural bodies as to exhaust their properties, and
be able to say that we are thoroughly acquainted
with all the phenomena they are capable of exhibiting. Many centuries had elapsed before mankind
were aware of the existence of such an agency as
galvanism.  Many centuries hence mankind may
perhaps discover some new agency equally extraordinary.  Such discoveries may be repeated at
intervals for millions of years, and we shall never
be able to place any fixed limit to them, and assert,
that now we have completed the entire circle of
possible experience.  The vast field of the undiscovered thus assumes the form of an infinite series;
but the activity of these undiscovered powers is not
limited by our ignorance; and, although we have
never made them the object of individual perceptions, yet are they not on this account a less important element in the production of natural phenomena. Hence arises the impossibility of predicating
absolute certainty of any empirical law; for we can
never know that some essential circumstance has




96     The Nature of a priori Knowledge.
not been overlooked from our ignorance of its existence.  The law may appear to have held good
for centuries, and yet the exceptional case, arising
from  the absence of the circumstance in question
may still occur on some future occasion, and shew
that it is really no law, inasmuch as it does not
possess universal validity. Thus the observation of
individual phenomena,-that is, of the particular in
space and time,-is the foundation of whatever approximation to certainty we may attain in our empirical knowledge, and the impossibility of exhausting
these particulars is the reason that this certainty can
never become absolute.
Now in the case of a geometrical axiom, we can
attain such absolute certainty, for although the field
of the undiscovered in mathematical truth is also
infinite, yet each mathematical conception is accompanied by the consciousness of its absolute independence of all individual sensible phenomena. No
new discovery, therefore, can ever upset, or even
modify it. When I reflect on the axiom, that two
straight lines cannot enclose a space, I am not only
sure of its truth here, and now, but I find the conception accompanied in my consciousness with the
conviction, that it is equally true in the most distant
fixed star, and will be equally true a million ages
hence: no new galvanism can touch it. It is, in
short, absolutely independent of all particulars in
space and time, and sets contingencies at defiance.
This remark is equally applicable to the whole
province of a priori reasoning. The- solution of a
problem may be separated from the first axioms upon
which it is based by a wide interval embracing so
many intermediate steps, that no human mind is




The Nature of a priori Knowledge.    97
able to unite them all in one immediate intuition,
and thus intuitise the truth of the result.  But
during the whole process of the reasoning, each step
has been accompanied by the consciousness of its
entire independence of the particulars in space and
time, and thus the condition of its ac priori character
is still preserved.
Dependence on particularity in time and space
is thus shewn to be the touchstone which divides our
empirical from our c' priori conceptions. In order
therefore to distinguish them, it is not necessary to
refer historically to the manner in which they first
entered our minds. Every time I consider the abovementioned axiom, it is equally accompanied by the
test which determines its ac priori character, viz.
independence of all particular phenomena in space
and time.
But perhaps it may be urged, that when we are
working any mathematical problem, we are not accustomed to examine each step in our reasoning, by
endeavouring to conceive it under widely different
circumstances of time and space, and thus testing
its independence of them. This is perfectly true;
but the act of abstraction by which we do test this
independence is performed by virtue of an analogous
law of thought, which I call the law of intellectual
differentiation. I shall have occasion to examine
this law and its other applications more fully at a
future page, and shall therefore only hint at its
nature now.
By repeated observations of the phenomena of
nature, we are enabled to arrive at an empirical law
respecting them; and although we may have omitted
in our observations some essential circumstance, we
s. w.                                7




98     The Nature of a priori Knowledge.
are at any rate justified in considering the law as an
approximation to truth, and adopting it accordingly.
Directly however we step beyond the particular
circumstances of our observation, and attempt to
apply the law to a different set of circumstances,
however little they may vary from the former, we
feel that we cannot proceed with the same degree
of certainty; in other words, we feel that the law
is dependent on, or a function of, the particulars in
space and time. Now in the case of a priori conceptions, if we first conceive an axiom as true in one
set of circumstances, and then vary the circumstances
by a mere infinitesimal change, we are conscious that
no change takes place in the axiom.  To express
this in mathematical language we should say, that
if we differentiate the axiom relatively to the particularities in space and time, the differential coefficient
always =0, and we are thus justified in assuming
that the axiom is no function of these particularities.
Now it is precisely because the change in the particulars need only be infinitesimal, that we are not
obliged to try our axiom under widely different
circumstances, but are able by the law of our consciousness, which I have termed intellectual differentiation, to recognise its independence of these
circumstances, and consequently its a priori character, at the limit.
I have spoken above of the particularity of space
and time, but in reality, the former is only a particular case of the latter.  For if I endeavour to
separate any portion of space and particularise it,
I can only do so by means of some of its relations to
phenomena. Now as these are ever changing, or at
least susceptible of change, for all we know to the




The Nature of a priori Knowledge.      99
contrary, I can only particularise them by a reference
to a particular time, which is thus found to be the ultimate foundation of all particularity whatever. This
will become more evident by an example. Supposing
I were to specify some particular portion of space by
its relative position to the planet Jupiter, I must also
specify a particular time, as Jupiter is itself always
in motion. To take a still stronger case, supposing
I would determine the point in question, by referring it to a fixed star. This reference still obtains
the whole of its value from some particular empirical
observations, which have of course been made at a
particular time, and have proved the star to be a
fixed one. The particular in space therefore, is in all
cases determined by the particular in time, or in other
words, by the particular phenomena, either physical
or mental, which become the objects of our consciousness.
Now whenever the necessary act of abstraction
has been completed, and that part of a cognition
which is independent of particulars in time and space,
has been separated from that which is so dependent,
we claim for the former the rank of, priori knowledge. That all judgments of this class are accompanied with absolute certainty, is a fact which admits
of a very simple explanation. For as they must have
an origin somewhere, and as this origin by the hypothesis is not to be found in objects, it must be sought
in the subject, and,-as the subject supplies only the
form but not the matter of judgments,-in the formal
laws, either of our pure intuitions of space and time,
or of our thought in general. These d priori judgments, therefore, are nothing more than the enunciation of the laws, either of our pure intuition, or of
r1_#




100    The Nature of a priori Knowledge.
our understanding. But neither our intuition nor our
understanding can contradict themselves, and we
cannot therefore either intuitise or think the contradictories of their laws.  HIence it follows, that the
contradictories of these laws are absolutely inconceivable, and the judgments enunciating the laws must
be attended with absolute certainty.
The consciousness of the necessity of a judgment,
or the impossibility of conceiving its falsity, has
been very generally adopted as the criterion of its a
priori character.  This position however is open to
one very great objection, inasmuch as the certainty is
not always immediate.  It is, for instance, the wonderful and almost mysterious nature of our pure
intuition of space, that by far the majority of its
properties, though capable of expression in a single
judgment, cannot be brought into a single intuition,
but have to be deduced by d priori reasoning from a
number of axioms, or such a" priori intuitions as are
the results of single intuitions. The contradictory
therefore of such a mediate proposition does not contradict any single intuition, and is thus quite conceivable to him who has not previously gone through all
the intermediate steps, and intuitised the necessity
both of each individually, and of their logical connexion in the understanding. Supposing, for instance,
a mathematician were to tell a person unacquainted
with geometry, that when two lines intersect each
other in any point within a circle, the rectangle
contained by the segments of the one, will never be
equal to the rectangle contained by the segments of
the other, except when the lines intersect each other
similarly, the person thus deceived, might easily be
made to understand the terms of the proposition, and




The Nature of a priori Knowledge.   101
yet have no difficulty in conceiving its truth. He
would, however, not only conceive what is not true,
but what to the mind of the mathematician is simply
inconceivable. We cannot therefore predicate at once
of the results of mathematics, that their contradictories are inconceivable, but only that they are truths
the contradictories of which may be made inconceivable to those who comprehend the necessary processes
for that purpose.
It will readily appear from this, that the certainty
we feel in the truth of an da priori proposition, is not
always equal in degree to that we feel in a merely
empirical truth, but it is different in character. If I
work out a long mathematical calculation, I may perhaps have arrived at a perfectly correct result, and
yet I may feel much more sure that the sun will rise
to-morrow, than that my sheets of symbols do not
contain a single error. In this manner we see, that
I may have deduced a correct and indisputable }
priori truth, I may fully understand the resulting
formula, and yet feel less confidence in it, than even
in an empirical discovery, provided it has received
the confirmation of numerous experiments. There is
however a very striking difference in the nature of
the certainty I attach to the two cases. For though
my confidence in my problem may not be very great,
I entertain no doubt whatever, that its relation to
truth is susceptible of absolute demonstration to a
human intelligence, and that its correctness or the
contrary may be rendered utterly inconceivable.
This holds good of no empirically ascertained fact
whatever.
If the views advocated in this section are correct, certainty cannot be made the distinguishing




102    The Nature of a priori Knowledge.
characteristic of c} priori truth, for two reasons.  In
the first place, all (c priori cognition is the result of
an act of abstraction by which we separate the form
of a cognition from its matter; and, as in the case
of any other mental operation, we can never have
any absolute guarantee that this act has been correctly performed where it has been attempted, or
that it is impossible in other cases where no attempt
has been made. In the second place, there are d
priori judgments which cannot be brought under
a single intuition, and consequently their contradictories are perfectly conceivable to those who have
not gone through the successive steps necessary to
establish them. It follows therefore, that the field
of (2 priori cognitions is not necessarily exhausted,
and may receive still further additions through the
successful application of the operation of abstraction.
As an instance of such progress, I may adduce the
fact that not many years have elapsed since the
laws of motion were universally considered to be
of empirical origin; Dr Whewell however has advocated the opinion that they are 8 priori, and I am
inclined to believe he is right.
The following is a general summary of the results
arrived at in the foregoing section. Our conceptions,
and the propositions we form by their combination,
are either derived from the repeated observation of
phenomena; or they are intuitions embraced as certain on their first appearance in the consciousness;
or else they are derived from combinations of the
latter by processes of reasoning, the correctness of
which is of an equally axiomatic character.  The
first class are said to be empirical, or d 0posteriori, on
account of their being subsequent to, and dependent




The Nature of C priori Knowledge.    103
on, experience, and embrace all our knowledge of
natural phenomena.  The second class are a priori
on account of their enunciating the formal laws of
our thought and intuition, and thus being prior to
and independent of, any particular experience, —as,
For instance, the axioms of geometry. The third
class are also d priori, as they are deduced by a
priori reasoning from a priori premises, and include,
among other things, the results of the processes of
pure mathematics.
The first class of truths admit of a degree of
probability so great, that it falls short of absolute
certainty by a quantity almost inappreciable.  That
the sun will rise to-morrow, or that if I throw a
stone into the air, it will fall to the ground, are propositions of this character.  So far as all moral conviction is concerned they are certain; but they are
not absolutely so, because not only are their contradictories conceivable, but we can conceive no.form
of reasoning by which they can be shewn to be absolutely inconceivable.
The second class admit of absolute certainty.
They stand or fall with the human intellect itself.
No greater degree of certainty is conceivable than
that attached to the proposition, that two straight
lines cannot enclose a space.  Its contradictory is
absolutely inconceivable.
The third class differ from the second class, inasmuch as their falsity contradicts no single intuition,
and is therefore perfectly conceivable even to persons who have a clear conception of the terms of the
proposition. But they are, nevertheless, susceptible
of absolute demonstration, as they can be deduced
from axioms by c priori reasoning.




104    The Nature of A priori Knowledge.
The distinction between d priori and 4 posteriori
knowledge was well known in the philosophy of the
Academy, though it received a somewhat different
and fanciful explanation. For Plato, finding it impossible to base our mathematical intuitions on
experience alone, attributed them to our recollection
of knowledge acquired in a former state of existence,
and thus, under the name of Anamnesis, really laid
the foundation of the modern theory of intuitions
and judgments a2 priori.
Before leaving this subject I would observe that
d( priori judgments are of incalculable value for the
extension and consolidation of human knowledge,
as they always carry with them the conviction of
their universal validity and absolute necessity. The
observation of a phenomenon, unaccompanied by an
act of abstraction distinguishing between the purely
subjective and objective elements, yields us knowledge
of that particular object alone. If we endeavour to
extend this knowledge by making the observation the
ground of an universal judgment, we do so at the
risk of finding our hypothesis contradicted by a
subsequent observation. Where, however, the observation is accompanied by an act of the understanding
claiming a certain part of the whole act as one of
the conditions of its own activity, we obtain a result
as permanent and universal as the activity of the
understanding itself. We are then able to say,
without a moment's hesitation or misgiving, that
whatever fresh object may be presented to us, this
dc priori judgment remains unassailable as a law of
human thought or intuition.




Causality an a priori Conception.    105
SECT. III. —Causality an'a priori Conception.
In the first section of this chapter I have shewn
that the ground of Causality is to be found neither in
our experience of external objects, nor in any empirical observation of mental phenomena, inasmuch as
all empirical knowledge is founded on causality, and
presupposes it. WVe must therefore seek it in some
d priori law of thought. It is however evidently not
an immediately intuitive axiom, for although we do
always think in conformity with this law, we can at
least conceive that the Almighty could ordain a phenomenon y to follow a phenomenon x in one case,
and yet in precisely similar circumstances ordain that
in another case x should be followed by a different
phenomenon z. The only alternative remaining is,
that the law of causality is one of those laws of
thought, the a priori character of which can only be
made evident by a process of reasoning. I shall
now endeavour to develop this process, by giving a
short analysis of an act of consciousness in general.
I say, in general, because our investigation is to be
strictly a priori, and must therefore abstract from all
particular phenomena, and only concern itself with
those conceptions which apply to all our acts of consciousness, and their reference to an object in general.
In every act of consciousness there is a reference
of diverse parts to some unity. I cannot be conscious
of myself, or of any external object, without referring
the various parts of my own thoughts in the one
case, or of the object in the other, to some one
uniting principle, by which the parts are all conjoined




106     Causality an a priori Conception.
as mny thought, or my perception. This will appear
at once, if we consider what would be the result of the
diversity without the unity, or vice versd. To take
the former case, the mere affection of the senses by
phenomena would alone never be able to penetrate
to our consciousness. Had we sensation, and nothing
else, we could be no more conscious of what was
going on either within or without us, than a wall is
sensible of the sun that warms it. Supposing, for
instance, the eye were directed towards a house, so
that rays fell upon the retina from every part of it.
This alone would not be sufficient to produce the
perception of the image of a house, for there would
be no principle uniting the parts into a whole,there would, in short, be no ego, who could say, "I
see the door, and windows, and ot]her parts constituting one building."  If twenty men were each to
look at a different part of the same house, so that
each saw only a small portion of it, between them
all, they might see the whole, and yet not all of
them together would obtain an image of the house;
simply because all the various parts would not be
referred to the same conscious unity.  Now  the
twenty retinas constitute a precisely analogous case
to one retina consisting of an infinite number of
parts, but without any unity to combine the partial
sensations.  The whole retina might receive impressions from all the various parts of the object;
but the reference to the unity, of consciousness is
necessary to combine the sensations in the different
parts of the retina, before an image of the whole can
be obtained; and this reference to a consciousness,
separate from sensation, is itself something more
than sensation.




Causality an a priori Conception.   107
Now supposing we superadd to the sensation this
first unity, or the unity of the intuition in space, so
that the house is not only presented to the sense as
complete in all its parts, but also as forming one
image. This unity of the phenomena in space certainly brings us one step nearer to an act of conscious perception; but another important element
would still be wanting before we could complete it,
namely, the unity of consciousness of successive representations in time. Wherever we are, or whatever we are doing, in no two successive instants of
time are our senses affected in an exactly similar
manner.  External phenomena are always passing
before us in an uninterrupted succession, like the objects presented in a moving panorama; and although
the changes may follow each other with greater or
less rapidity, yet the motion never wholly ceases.
Now the merely positive affection of the senses by
these phenomena, even though united in one intuition in space, would alone never be sufficient to
enable us to carry on the slightest intellectual act
respecting them.  For supposing each momentary
object produced its effect, gave place to its successor,
and then passed away from our minds as completely
as if it had never existed, we could not unite any
two of these momentary sensations in any form of
conception, as this requires a recollection of the past,
as well as a perception of the present. All the phenomena passing before us might be in rapid change
and motion, but it could not be perceived by us; as
the perception of motion, or indeed of any change
whatever, requires the conception of the phenomenon
having been in a different state or position in the
preceding instant. In order therefore to think, or




1.08    Causclity an a priori Conception.
to refer our sensations to some unity of consciousness,
we must possess a faculty of memory, which is only
possible by the unity of time, or a faculty of conjoining the different parts of time in one intuition.
But memory alone would not suffice to enable us
to refer objects to our consciousness. We could combine the conception of the past sensation with the
sensation actually present; but before we can refer
them to our unity of consciousness, we must be conscious of this unity as a permanent being, different
from the mere changing phenomena, and susceptible
of such reference. Without this, the combination of
the past and present becomes a mere fortuitous concurrence of phenomena, and could have no reference
to a conscious subject at all. Now this conception of
a permanent being, and one independent of the actually observed phenomena, includes the conception
of a possible reference of phenomena in general to
our unity of consciousness in future time also. But
this conception of phenomena in general, that neither
are nor have been, is only possible by the faculty of
imagination, which thus appears to be also necessary
to a complete act of consciousness.
The above is a short sketch of that mental act
by which the polarity between subject and object is
developed, under the form of consciousness when referred to the former, and perception when referred to
the latter. I must however remind the reader that
the various unities are not independent essences, but
merely the understanding when viewed under the
different phases of its activity.  In the foregoing
investigation, I started from the object, and analysed successively the conditions it imposed upon the
subject. I shall now, in some measure, reverse the




Causality an a priori Conception.              109
operation, and endeavour to discover what conditions
she subject imposes on the object.
In' every act of consciousness we are able to fix
ourselves as thinking in a particular time. To do
1 The argument against idealism  contained in the text, is
simply a popular exposition of Kant's argument in the second
edition of the Criticisvm of Pure Reason.  The passage, as completed in a note to the Preface, is as follows:
Proposition.
The mere, but empirically determined, consciousness of my own
existence proves the existence of objects in space without me.
Proof:
I am conscious of my existence as determined in time.  All
time-determination presumes some permanent in the perception.
But this permanent cannot be an intuition in me. For all grounds
of determination of my existence which can be met with in me
are representations, and require as such a permanent distinct from
themselves, with reference to which, in respect of the changes in the
same, determination can be made; consequently, a permanent with
reference to which my existence in the time in which they change
can be determined.  (The peculiarity of the German construction
of the last sentence, makes a strictly verbal translation impossible).
Thus is the perception of this permanent only possible through
a thing out of me, and not through the mere representation of
a thing out of me.  Consequently, the determination of my existence in time is only possible through the existence of real things
which I perceive out of me. Now the consciousness in time is
necessarily connected with the consciousness of the possibility of
this time-determination; therefore, it is also necessarily connected
with the existence of the things out of me, as the conditions of the
time-determination; i. e. the consciousness of my own existence is
at the same time an immediate consciousness of the existence of
other things out of me.
Jelbrsatz.
]Das blosse, aber empirisch bestimmte, Bewusstseyn meines
eigenen Daseyns beweist das Daseyn der Gegenstainde im Raum
ausser mir.
Beweis.
Ich bin mir meines Daseyns als in der Zeit bestimmt bewusst.
Alle Zeitbestimmung setzt etwas Beharrliches in der Wahrnehmnlg voraus.  Dieses Beharrliche aber kann nicht eine Ansehauung in mir seyn.  Denn alle Bestimmungsgriinde meines Daseyns.
die in mir angetroffen werden kimnnen, sind Vorstellungen, undC
bediirfen, als solche, selbst ein von ihnen unterschiedenes Beharr



110       Causality an a priori Conception.
this we must distinguish a past moment from the
present, or our then from our now. But as pure time
is perfectly homogeneous, this is only possible by
means of change; for were there absolutely no change,
the past moment would be indistinguishable from,
and absolutely merge in, the present.'Now change
requires at least three things, viz. two states, and a
permanent subject in which they take place, e. g. this
paper (the permanent) was white, (the first state,)
and is now black, (the second state). But it is no
change if I say, there was a sheet of white paper,
and now there is a sheet of black, as the two states of
white and black are not, in this case, referred to any
one thing.
Where then are we to seek the permanent?
There is most unquestionably a permanent in me, for
this is contained in my unity of time.  As explained
above, I could not unite my representations of different times and their contents, without containing in
myself some permanent independent of time, for it
would not be my present, which is constantly flowing
into any past, unless I were conscious of a permanent
liches, worauf in Beziehung der Wechsel derselben, mithin niein
Daseyn in der Zeit, darin sie wechseln, bestimmt werden kdnne.
Also ist die Wahrnehmung dieses Beharrlichen nur durch ein
Ding ausser mir und nicht durch die blosse Vorstellung eines
Dinges ausser mir mbglich. Folglich ist die Bestimmung meines
Daseyns in der Zeit nur durch die Existenz wirklicher Dinge, die
ich ausser mir wahrnehme, mdglich. Nun ist das Bewusstseyn in
der Zeit mit dem Bewusstseyn der Mbglichkeit dieser Zeitbestimmung nothwendig verbunden: also ist es auch mit der Existenz
der Dinge ausser mir, als Bedingungen der Zeitbestimmung, nothwendig verbunden; d. i. das Bewusstseyn meines eigenen Daseyns
ist zugleich ein unmittelbares Bewusstseyn des Daseyns anderer
Dinge ausser mir. Kant's Kritik der reinen Vernunft. Rosenkranz's Ed. Leipzig. 1838. Supplement xxi. p. 773, completed in
note Sup. ii. p. 685.




Causality an a priori Conception.    11.
unity combining them both, and constituting my
identity.
But is this permanent in me sufficient, or must I
also assume one out of me? Let us first try the
idealistic theory, and assume that there is nothing
out of me, but that the only permanent is something
in me. Now on this supposition, the two states assumed above to distinguish between the past and
present, are nothing more than two states of my
mind, and the permanent in which they take place,
is the mind itself. But when I recall my past state
to unite it in one consciousness with my present, it
becomes the present also; for just so far as I recall
the past, does it become the present. I could not, on
this hypothesis, recall the past state with the consciousness that it was a past state, by referring it to
a past time, because I could only distinguish this
past time by a past state of consciousness, no other
objects being given me as a reference for the determination of past time; and just so far as I recall this
past state of consciousness, does it become a present
one. And here it must be particularly observed,
that I do not say that I cannot recall a past state of
the mind as such, and distinguish it from the present, but merely that I could not do so, if there
were nothing else to mark the difference between
my then and my now, beyond these different states
of the subject. We see then that if there were
no permanent out of me, I could not distinguish
my past from my present. But I can do so, and
must therefore assume the existence of such a permanent.
The same argument may be put rather differently.
I can recall my past state of mind, as a past state,




112       Causality an a priori Conception.
and divested of that full force of present reality
which would make it my present state. What I
recall, therefore, is only a part of the past state, a
recollection of some of the feelings without the consciousness of their present existence.  Now, if the
only distinguishing mark of the past time were the
subjective state of my mind, this partial representation of the past time would not be correct, as it
would represent a different state to that intended to
be recalled. But if the past time can be determined
objectively by some other particulars out of me, and
independent of my state of mind, the mere partial
representation of my past state, in which the conviction of present reality is wanting, is still sufficient, as
the particular past time is definitely determined by a
reference to external objects.
Hence we see, that as long as we look for the
permanent in our thinking subject alone, the past
merges in the present, and becomes indistinguishable from  it.   Our then is lost in our now, and we
are unable to fix ourselves in time'.
We  are  thus reduced  to  the  only  remaining
alternative, of assuming a permanent out of, and' The idealism of Berkeley admits of another very simple
refutation. Berkeley denies of the objects of sense, a certain
conception, namely, externality. But to be able to deny a conception of anything we must first have the conception. Now
where does he obtain the conception of externality? It must either
be an ac priori conception, or else derived empirically. On the
former supposition, that is, if space be a subjective form  of
intuition, in denying externality, he simply denies this form of
intuition of those very objects which we can alone intuitise in
this form; which is absurd. If on the other hand the conception
of externality be empirical, idealism involves the yet greater
absurdity of denying a conception of the very objects from which
it has been empirically derived.
Berkeley is generally considered as the earliest English Idealist,
but incorrectly. See Appendix (B) on this subject.




Causality an k priori Conception.  113
independent of, ourselves, and hence arises the necessity of the assumption of an external world.
Having now discussed the nature of the permanent, the next subjects for consideration are the two
states, and their relation to this permanent and to
each other. Now although we are obliged to assume
this permanent, we can only recognise and particularise it by means of its state.  In more popular
language, though I find myself obliged to assume
the existence of an external world in order to distinguish between the events of yesterday and to-day,
yet I can only recognise, and distinguish between
the particular objects in the world by the phenomena
they present to me. This in some measure determines the relation of the phenomena to the thought
object.  The full nature of this relation, however,
is a mystery from which we can never hope, while
in this world at least, to raise the veil. With regard
to their relation to each other, there are two cases
for our consideration. Either the second state is
not determined by the first, or it is so determined.
Let us assume the first hypothesis, and examine the
results to which it will lead us. A  permanent is
given me which is only recognisable by some external phenomenon, or affection which it produces on
the senses; but this phenomenon does not determine
that which immediately succeeds it. Now upon this
hypothesis, that which I hold in my hand, and which
this minute seems to be a pen, and to have the qualities of such, may in the next produce the phenomenon of a walking-stick, in the third of a crossbow.
But there is no reason why it should present the
same phenomenon for as long a period as a single
minute, or indeed for any two succeeding instants of
s. W.                               8




114     Causality an a priori Conception.
time. For after the object in question has represented a pen for one instant, as there is no law to
determine its next form, the number of possible phenomena, any one of which it may represent in the
succeeding instant, is infinite; and consequently the
chances are as infinity to one that it does not represent a pen. It must also be observed that not
only would the second phenomenon be different, but
totally different from the first, as from their independence of each other all continuity is broken off.
This infinitely rapid and never-ceasing change would
render it impossible to identify the permanent out of
me, as this pen, or this walking-stick; for the absence
of all connexion between the phenomena would prevent the possibility of our recognising the same permanent under such different forms.  All objects
would thus vanish from the world, and nothing be
left us but a perfectly unintelligible play of phenomena, utterly destitute of order or arrangement, a
mere chaos of sensation, in which nothing could be
grasped or fixed, either by intellect or sense.
But directly we lose sight of the permanent, we
lose sight with it of the change, which has been
shewn to be necessary to enable us to fix ourselves
in time. It follows therefore that our last hypothesis
is incorrect, and that the second phenomenon or state
of the permanent, cannot be independent of the first,
but must be determined by it.
In the foregoing example I have developed the
a priori grounds of our conception of causality, but
only in reference to the objects of the external sense.
In order however to determine the whole sphere of
the conception, we must examine the principle of the
argument in its most general form. We shall then




Causality an a priori Conception.     115
find that it admits of a far more extended application
than the above, and that it is equally valid of the
objects of the internal sense, as also of all those
faculties, affections, and desires, which have any objective reference whatever.
Let a, a', a" &c. represent an object in general,
either of a perception of the external or internal
sense, or of any natural desire, in successive instants
of time.
Let x, x', x'" &c. represent the corresponding faculty or desire in the successive instants respectively,
Let y, y', y", represent the corresponding perceptions or feelings respectively.
Then y = ax, y' = a'x, and so on of the rest;
i. e. the perception or feeling is the product of the
faculty or desire and its respective object.
Now if y is to be susceptible of recognition by
the human mind in any form of consciousness, its
successive values y, y', y", &c. must evidently be continuous, as it is only by the continuity that its identity as the same feeling or perception is possible.
But if either a' or x' or both of them are absolutely
arbitrary and independent of a and x respectively,
a'x' or y' assumes a value perfectly independent of
ax or y; and thus by the breach in the continuity in
the values of y, the cognition of y generally in successive instants is rendered impossible.  Hence it
follows that a' and x' are determined respectively by
a and x.
Should the reader have any difficulty in understanding the problem in its symbolical form, perhaps
the following explanation may make it clearer.
Whatever may be the relations in which our
consciousness stands towards an object, whether as
8 -2




116     Causality an a priori Conception.
perception of object or practical instinctive desire of
it, they must have a certain duration, for without it
there can be no consciousness. The relation of the
second moment must therefore be capable of being
subsumed under the same conception with the relation of the first moment, in order to be in any way
identified with it; and consequently these successive
relations, be they perceptions or feelings, must themselves stand in some definite relation to each other.
Now if either of the factors in the second relation
(either subject or object) be arbitrary, and therefore
independent of the corresponding factor in the first,
the second relation itself will necessarily be arbitrary
also. But it has been shewn that this is not the
case, and consequently each factor in the second
relation is dependent on and determined by the corresponding factor in the first.
This is the most general statement of the argument. It leads to the conclusion that the same principle extends to every part of our thought and feeling
in which there is an objective element. I have already considered it in its application to an external
phenomenon, and shall therefore take the next example from an object of the internal sense.
Let us suppose I am thinking of some past scene
I have witnessed, —a funeral, for instance, which I
see in my imagination slowly winding along towards
a country churchyard. Now it is clear that the object
must have a certain duration in my mind in order to
be recognised in my consciousness. If, however, the
thought of the second instant were absolutely independent of the thought of the first, there would be
no unity between them, and therefore no possibility
of connecting them in any one image. Were my




Causality an k priori Conception.   117
imagination free from. all law, the funeral of one instant might be a wedding in the second, nor could I
be aware of the change. For a knowledge of the
change implies a consciousness of both the thoughts,
and consequently a continuation of the image of the
first moment into the second. It follows, therefore,
that the consciousness of the image through the succeeding instants requires that the second thought
should be conditioned by the first; in other words,
that the operations of our inward sense should be
subject to law. I will take one more example of this
principle from another side of our nature, that of our
animal desires.
I am conscious of the sensation of hunger. Now
the fact of this consciousness proves its continuance
through successive instants, exactly as in the former
examples. Precisely in the same manner must the
sensation in the second instant bear some definite relation to that in the first; for if the continuity were
broken, and the nature of the second feeling fortuitous, there would be no points in common between
the successive sensations, and therefore no conception under which I could subsume them  and call
them by the same name of hunger. Now this sensation is the product of a certain natural instinctive
impulse, on the one hand, towards a certain objectfood, on the other; and if we allow the second state
either of the impulse or the object to be arbitrary
and independent of the first, their product, or the resulting sensation, will be arbitrary also. But we have
seen that it is not, and we are consequently justified
in concluding that not only the objects of our perceptions and the faculties perceiving them, but that our
animal desires, are also subject to laws of nature, as




118     Causality an a priori Conception.
otherwise they could never become the objects of our
consciousness.
Perhaps it may be objected to the above argument, that I have assumed an absolute subjection to
law, where a partial one would have been sufficient
to establish the identity of the object of the perception or desire. Thus hunger, for instance, may arise
in a certain state of the body, and yet not be entirely
determined in its degree or in the direction of its desire by absolute laws. To this I would reply, that
upon the above hypothesis, the fortuitous element
must either pervade the whole desire, in which case
it would destroy all law whatever and leave the
above argument untouched, or else it must be separable from the element that is subject to law. In the
latter case hunger would be divisible into two elements, a, absolutely subject to law, and x, absolutely
fortuitous. Now on this supposition, x is open to
the reasoning above pursued, for the x of the second
moment would be quite independent of; and undetermined by, the x of the first. In this case x and x'
could not be brought into any one conception, or
made an object of the consciousness, and would therefore be for us the same as nonexisting. Hence it
follows that such an x cannot by any possibility form
a part of any such desire; and the same reasoning is
equally valid of every object of which we can take
any cognisance whatever.
The general result of the preceding investigation
may be stated as follows: The grounds of the conception of successive causality are to be found in the necessity of a unity in the perceptions or feelings of successive instants, in order that they may be subsumed
under one conception, and referred to the same object.




Causality an h priori Conception.    119
But to return to the consideration of the external
world, the question now arises, whether the law, by
which each phenomenon determines its successor in
time, is sufficient in itself to enable us to take cognisance of external objects. A line of argument precisely analogous to that just employed, and requiring
merely the substitution of space for time, will oblige
us to answer this question in the negative. For if the
phenomenon in one infinitesimal portion of space were
absolutely.independent of that in the adjoining portion, and the whole external world were thus broken
up into an infinite number of independent and incongruous infinitesimal atoms, we could never subsume
any number of them under one conception, or combine
them in a unity of thought, and should seek in vain
for an object among a mere chaos of mathematical
points of sensation.
Perhaps it may be urged that the unity of space
would alone be sufficient for such a combination.
But this unity in itself is a mere empty form of our
intuition, and only unites the parts of space until an
object in space be given it. Now if we would think of
an object in space in general, it can only be as having
some qualities, (though we may not determine what,)
in other words, as coming under some general conception common to its various parts; for if it had no
qualities it would dissolve at once into empty space.
But this general conception, under which the parts
are to be subsumed, is incompatible with the mutual
independence of infinite points of sensation above
alluded to, and involves, therefore, a reciprocal determination of such parts among themselves.
It follows at once from these considerations, that
the conception of contemporaneous causality is also




120     Causcality an a priori Conception.
necessary to our conception of an object in space,
and is therefore one of the necessary conditions with
which the external world must conform in order to
become an object of our consciousness.
Now contemporaneous causality is the reciprocal
determination in space of any two phenomena in a
particular instant of time. If, therefore, a and b be
two such phenomena, a must not only determine b,
but also the particular time which it occupies, and
similarly b must determine the particular time occupied by a, for otherwise there would be no contemporaneity.  It follows from this, that the mere general
form of the conception of an object in space, by presuming the reciprocal causality between its parts,
presumes moreover the determination of every object
in a particular time.
This principle, which is thus established a priori
on the ground of its necessity to the conception of
objects in space in general, leads to very important
and extensive results. Let a, b, c, d, and e represent
the partial contemporaneous phenomena of the whole
universe. Any one of them, b for instance, is, by
the condition of the conception of an object in space,
fixed in time, that is to say, there is something by
which its existence in that particular time is determined; and the first question is, by what? We
cannot get rid of this question by referring to b's
antecedent, or other events in the same series, as the
whole series may be pushed forwards or backwards in
time without affecting it. We must therefore look
for something determining that particular time, and
the only possible answer will refer us to some other
contemporaneous phenomenon c. Thus, b is now that
c is, and in the same manner c is now that b is, i. e.




Causality an a priori Conception.   121
b fixes the time of c's existence, just as c does that of
b. But if we want to fix the time of the collective
phenomenon b + c, we must refer it to d, and similarly
if of b + c + d we must refer it to e, and of b + c + d + e
to a. We might therefore have said, in the first instance, that any phenomenon a is fixed in time by
the collective phenomena of the rest of the universe,
and reciprocally, the phenomena of the rest of the
universe by the phenomenon a. But that phenomenon which determines another is its cause. We find
therefore that this reciprocal causality extends to all
the contemporaneous phenomena of the universe, and
that they mutually determine the particular times of
each other's existences.
I must here particularly guard the reader against
attempting to introduce abstract conceptions of the
cause and effect, or imagining that I am speaking of
such causality as can be reduced to the form of a
law. I am here speaking of the entire phenomenon
exactly as it takes place, without regarding any one
part of it as more essential than any other. The felling of a tree in New Zealand may not produce any
effect on the weather at the Baltic that man will
ever be able to perceive, make the object of an observation, or bring under a law. But yet the weather
will not present absolutely the same phenomena in
all its parts as if the tree had not been felled. Some
effect on the electric currents which permeate the
world with an incalculable velocity, or on. the direction in which gravitation acts, will have caused each
drop of rain to fall a billionth of an inch more north
or south than it would have done had no such tree
been felled.
But perhaps it may be objected that the theory




122     Causality an A priori Conception.
may be true as a physical fact, but that it cannot be
deduced c priori as one of the conditions imposed
by the laws of thought upon its objects. As I consider this problem to be one of the most abstract of
those which I have as yet had to treat, I shall make
another endeavour to place the subject in a clearer
light, by investigating the principle of reciprocal
determination in space, which is really contained in
that of time.
The general conception of an object in space has
been shewn to involve the conception of its determination: in a particular time. But if the particular
object a is determined in a particular time, it is quite
clear that a must itself be absolutely determined in
other respects, as otherwise we should have nothing
more than the determination of the existence of some
object or other in the particular time, and not that
of a in particular.  Hence it follows that a is also
determined in space, and that the conception of an
object in space involves not merely the conception
of its determination in a particular time, but also in
a particular space. Now if I endeavour to determine
the particular space occupied by an object b, I find
that this is only possible by contemplating its position relatively to some other object, c, and that there
must be some definite distance between their parts,
which though perhaps in a state of change, can only
be so in conformity with the law of continuity, and
is determinable at any particular moment. It is c
therefore which gives me a starting-point, (in mathematical language, an origin of co-ordinates) from
which to determine the particularity in space of b.
It must be c therefore which actually determines this
particularity in space for b, for there is nothing else




Causality an a priori Conception.   123
upon which this determination in a particular space
required for b can be based.
If, however, it should be urged that another
object d determines b, that e determines b + d, and
so on, we need only repeat these successive determinations till we have exhausted all the other contemporaneous phenomena of the universe (just as at a
former page, when speaking of the reciprocal determination in time), and arrive at last at the conclusion, that a + b + d + e + &c. are determined in
space by c, and that c is reciprocally determined by
a+b+d+e+ &c.
And to bring our deduction to its conclusion, not
only does an object a determine another object b in
space and time, but also with respect to its nature.
Indeed, the latter is virtually included in the former,
just as the determination in space follows from that
in time. For were it otherwise, a would only determine some object in general in the particular space
and time, but not the particular object b; as this
particularity, apart from its determinations in space
and time, can only be determined by its particular
nature.
That the above deduction of universal reciprocal
causality should not meet with immediate assent is
far from improbable, but I believe the difficulty of
its reception will arise entirely from the unconscious
substitution of abstract causality for concrete, with
which alone we are here concerned. I do not for an
instant assert that we can reduce this mutual dependence of contemporaneous phenomena under laws,
but simply that its existence is demonstrable.
In the above deduction of the conceptions of substance and causality, the strictly d priori character




124     Causality an h priori Conception.
of the argument has been preserved throughout. For
although empirical matter has been occasionally introduced by way of illustration, yet has this been
only in the same manner as the geometrician represents his problem by a sensible diagram, that is to
say, the particular object has only been employed as
the representation of an object in general. In each
step of the argument we regarded only the nature of
an act of consciousness in general, quite independent
of all particular objects; and as all phenomena must
conform to the laws of such consciousness, (for otherwise we could not be conscious of them) we were
able to assume with absolute certainty that no possible'phenomena in time or space could affect the
correctness of our conclusions.
The general result of the analysis may be stated
as follows: An act of consciousness is only possible
on the assumption that the objects of such act are
subject to the law of causality. No attempt has
been made to prove the truth of the law in itself, and
I much doubt if such a proof lie within the sphere
of the human intellect. Still less are we able to
determine dc priori the particular laws of nature, and
thus anticipate the results of experience. But our
consciousness has been constructed on such a pattern
as to enable us to assert that whatever is not subject
to causality can never become its object, or, in other
words, to predicate causality of all the objects of
possible experience; and as this conclusion is based
on the nature of an act of consciousness in general,
and is quite independent of all particular phenomena
in space and time, it is strictly d priori.
We found, in the first place, that we conceive an
act of consciousness as taking place in a certain time;




Causality an a priori Conception.   125
that the particularity of this time can only be determined by the objects in it; that to prevent the
absorption of the past in the present, (by the distinction between which, particular times are alone possible,) we must have objects external to our thinking
subject; and lastly, that the latter would be absolutely
incognisable by a human mind, if there were no law
binding their parts in space and time into one whole.
All this has been shewn to follow simply from the
nature of an act of consciousness in general, and to
be quite independent of any repeated observations of
particular objects either sensible or intellectual. The
deduction is accordingly strictly a' priori, i. e. independent of all particular experience.
Berkeley, in his Idealism, and HIume, in his theory
of causality, committed the same fatal error at the
very commencement of their investigations. They
first assumed conscious thought, and then searched
for the grounds of our belief in an external world,
and the law of causality. As they looked in the
wrong place, the search was unsuccessful, and they
consequently denied the existence of its object.
Berkeley, the more consistent of the two, accordingly
gave up the external world, while Hume endeavoured
to explain our instinctive belief in the relation of
cause and effect, on the ground, not of reason, but of
the mere habit of association.  Their error consisted
in not seeing that these two conceptions, Substance
and Causality, stand at the very portals of our conscions thought, as the conditions under which alone
we are allowed to enter.  It is not that we think
first, and then find reasons for our belief, but in the
very first act of thinking we have already accepted
these two conceptions as the inexorable conditions




126     Causality an'a priori Conception.
under which human thought is alone conceivable. If
I may be allowed to illustrate so severe a subject by
a simile, I would say that the external world is the
landmark by which we determine the position of our
consciousness as it floats on the ocean of time. The
law of causality, on the other hand, is the strong
bond of cohesion between all the parts of the external
world, which prevents it from becoming a mere shifting sandbank, for ever evading the mariner's calculations.
The conception of causality appears then to be in
so far subjective, as that our knowledge of it is
derived from the subject alone. This however does
not prevent us from predicating it of objects of possible experience, but only shews that when we do so,
it is not by virtue of our knowledge of the objects
themselves, but because the subject imposes causality
on them as the only condition under which they can
become objects for it at all. As then the conception of
causality originates in the subject, and is only transferred to other things in consequence of their becoming
its objects, it follows that we cannot predicate it
where this relation of subject and object never arises,
i. e. we cannot predicate it of things in themselves.
In the last chapter I analysed the conception of
causality itself without regard to its origin, and found
that it could only be applied to abstract ideas, and
therefore required the assistance of subjective principles of thought upon which such abstractions should
be based. This led me to the conclusion, that causality being only applicable through the subject could
only be predicated of objects, or such things as stand
in a certain relation to the subject. But one thing
was still wanting for the solidity of the reasoning,




Causality an a priori Conception.   127
namely, some firm ground for the conception of causality itself. Now to shew why nature has continued,
or will continue, her uniform course, is a problem
lying entirely beyond the reach of our logical faculties, as it would demand a perfect knowledge of the
Almighty's universal plan. We may form hypotheses,
and probable ones too, on moral grounds, but we can
do no more. To shew however that such regularity
in the course of nature is a necessary condition of
human thought, lies quite within the reach of our
faculties, as it requires nothing more than the contemplation of the faculties themselves. This then is
the ground we had to seek; and I have endeavouied
to supply it by proving that the conception of causality is so intimately bound up with the very heartstrings of all our conscious thought, that if we assume
thought at all, we assume causality with it.
It follows therefore that causality is not only
subjective in the form of its application through
abstract ideas, but subjective also in its origin, and
consequently that it is not predicable of things in
themselves, but only of objects of possible experience,
that is to say, of such things alone as the subject can
represent to itself as objects.




CHAPTER IV.
Liberty a Serf-determination of the Subject.
SECT, I. —Determination of the Spheres of Law and Liberty
as the Elements of Human Action.
IN a former chapter I endeavoured to prove, that
the whole question between Necessarians and
Libertarians turns upon the relation which the will
bears to nature, and I expressed the conflicting opinions on this subject in two propositions, of which the
one includes the whole human soul within the limits of
causality, while the other excludes from them a part
of it. In order to decide between these contradictory
formulas, it was necessary to determine the sphere of
causality, and I have accordingly attempted in the
last two chapters to deduce the conditions of its
validity, partly from the nature of the conception
itself, and partly from the grounds of our belief in it.
I shall now proceed to combine these results, by considering the following question: Does the whole soul
answer the conditions of causality?
Now it appears from the foregoing analysis, that
the condition which anything must answer in order
to come within the sphere of causality, is simply that
of its being an object for us. The above question,
therefore, resolves itself into the following: Is the
whole soul an object for us?
At first we might be inclined to answer, that the
soul must be such an object, in as far as we can know
anything about it or its existence. Upon reflection,




Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject. 129
however, we find that there is a certain something in
us of which we can never be conscious as an object,
as we can never present it to ourselves in any one
conception whatever. We are conscious of it, simply
as an active unity combining objects, but not itself
belonging to them, and the name we give it, is'the
I' or'the Ego,' in short, the principle of our individual personality.
If I examine all the representations in my mind,
whether belonging to the inward or the outward
sense, I find no one among them which I can separate from the rest, and place before me as my ego.
The outward objects surrounding me affect my senses
in various ways, but no single affection or any combination of them, is what I mean when I speak of
myself. This is equally true of the objects of my
imagination, whether they be abstract conceptions or
any other possible states of the mind. My thoughts
may be wandering over the scenes of the past, conjecturing the contingencies of the future, contemplating external nature, or concentrated on my own
being, but I seek in vain for any one conception,
which I can place as an object before my mind, and
say, Here is my I; this object is my individual personality.
But if my ego does not consist of any one of my
representations, just as little is it composed of any
aggregate of them. The affections of my outward
and my inward sense can never be summed up by
any process of mental addition into my personality,
but on the contrary, are themselves only bound together into one whole by that uniting principle, to
which they are all referred as to a common centre,
and from which they all derive their life and mutual
s.w. W9




130 Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject.
significance. I am never conscious therefore of this
principle as a single object, or as an aggregate of
objects, but simply as an incessant activity, always
eluding my attempts to envisage it, or give it form
in any the most figurative sense of the word, yet ever
necessary to those unities of space and time which
have been shewn to be the indispensable conditions
to any act of consciousness whatever.  The only
answer then to be given to the above question is,
that the whole soul is not an object for us, as it contains a principle which we can never objectivise, and
which therefore is not entirely subject to the law of
causality.
Let not the reader imagine, that in the above
remarks I have thrown the slightest veil of idealism
around the central principle, as if I had asserted that
there was an activity without an actor. All I have
said amounts to this, —that we know nothing of the
actor except through his activity, and that neither
the one nor the other can ever be made an object, or
in any way envisaged either to the outward or the
inward sense. For in every act of consciousness there
is an activity on the one side (the subject), and a
limitation to such activity on the other (the object);
and the consciousness of the act is generated simultaneously with that of the limitation.  But this
observation will receive some additional light from
the investigation into the relation of the will to
the intellect contained in a later chapter.
The foregoing analysis has not only led to the
irresistible conclusion, that the soul contains a central principle exempt from  the law of conditioned
causality, but it has enabled us to predicate this exemption of the very principle to which the universal




Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject. 131
language and consciousness of mankind assign the
attribute of liberty. For if we were to ask any unsophisticated person, who or what it is that had been the
agent in his voluntary action, the answer would be,
that he had willed it himself and not that his mind
or any other faculty had been the originating actor.
He might perhaps add, that his reason or his understanding had enabled him to see the policy of the
action, but the action itself will always be attributed
to the ultimate principle of his personality.  Thus,
the negative argument for liberty, which is based on
the impossibility of predicating conditioned causality
of the whole soul, and the positive argument arising
from the consciousness of an unconditioned activity,
merge in the same fact; the existence of a unity, of
which we are conscious as neither sensation, intuition,
nor conception, but only as the activity of the subject
of consciousness itself'.
There is however another conclusion to be derived from the same analysis, and one which is a no
less important element in the determination of human
conduct.  The ego has been found to be free, because
it is not objective.  But whatever is objective in us,
must according to the conditions of causality fall
under its laws.  This places all our thoughts and
impulses under strict law, in as far as we can give
them an objective form, in short, in as far as they
possess that species of opacity to our mental vision,
or resistance to our faculties generally, by which we
recognise any form of existence external to the pure
act of the ego.
I "The will is the last thing in the soul, and the ultimate
resolution of all others." Cudworth's Letters to his Stepfather,
Dr. Stoughton. See Appendix (B.)
9 —.




132 Liberty a Self-determ3ination of the Subject.
Now here we have two principles occupying between them the whole field of human thought and
impulse. On the one hand there is liberty, the seat
of which is confined to the subject, or the ego; on
the other we have law, reigning over the entire
objective side of our spiritual nature. The problem
therefore now before us is, to determine with the
greatest attainable accuracy, the position of the frontier that separates these two powers, and (if I may
be allowed the figure) the international law which
regulates their mutual relations.
In the first place, whatever may be the scope of
the liberty of the subject, it is not free to decide
between action or inaction, for the former is imposed
on it as the first condition of its very existence. I
may be conscious of some power in the choice of my
thoughts, and the actions that result from them, but
I am  conscious of no such power to annihilate or
suspend the operation of the mind entirely. This,
therefore, is clearly not the province of liberty.
Secondly, if I must act, and yet enjoy a certain
liberty, this can only consist in the determination of
the nature of the action.
Now, if we grant the subject considered as will
the power of immediate choice between two actions,
we must also grant it the power of comprehending
the difference between them, and thus make the
will an intellectual faculty; for, although we should
assign to the understanding the task of determining
between the merits of two objects, and say that the
intellectual part of the operation having been performed by the understanding, the will had no other
function than that of choosing between them, this
act of choice is still an impossibility without the




Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject. 133
intellectual power of distinguishing between the
objects of the choice proposed, —in short, without
the power of appreciating the results of the understanding, which is itself an intellectual function, and
therefore part of the understanding.
The above conclusion will not be in any way
affected, if, instead of adopting the usual philosophical
language, and speaking of the will and understanding
as if they were distinct entities, we regard themas what, in fact, they really are —modi operandi of
the same being-the conscious subject; for the question will then assume the form, Do I choose between
objects by virtue of an immediate act of my will?
To this I must give essentially the same answer as
before, and say, that as I cannot take any cognisance
of the difference between two objects except by virtue
of an act of the understanding, and as an act of
choice implies a distinguishing between two objects,
I cannot possibly choose by virtue of the will, unless
it be an intellectual faculty. It makes no difference,
therefore, whether I speak of the functions of my
will and understanding, or of the actions which I
perform by virtue of these faculties. In both cases
the position remains equally incontestable, that choice
implies a perception of difference, and that a perception of difference is an intellectual act, and refers to
objects.  Let us assume, then, for argument's sake,
that the will is an intellectual faculty, comprehending
the differences between objects, and choosing accordingly.  Now, on this supposition two cases arise for
our consideration. In the first place, let the will
recognise the difference between objects, and employ
its conception of such difference merely as a means
of identifying its choice in the consciousness, but




134  Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject.
without being in any way influenced by a feeling
of preference. This form of will, if conceivable, is
a purely arbitrary will, the Willkiir of the Germans,
and its freedom  is the freedom  of absolute indifference. By its fundamental conception, that of absolute independence of all motive, it can stand in no
relation whatever either to moral responsibility or
any other principle.  But, as Hegel has observed',
the conception of the freedom  of an arbitrary will
contains a contradiction; for just by the will's independence of all motive, does it become dependent
on pure chance, and thus lose all its freedom in the
very moment that it appears to have attained it in
the  highest perfection.   The freedom  of absolute
inldifference, therefore, is in the first place inconceivable, and  if conceivable, would  be absolutely
devoid of all moral value or significance. Schelling
has also said most truly of the same subject, that
"if liberty can only be saved with the utter fortuitousness of the actions, it cannot be saved at all2."
Secondly, let us suppose that instead of merely
recognising the difference between objects intellectually, the will also arranges them under the conception
of ends or objects, the attainment of which is desired
for the gratification of some sentiment, passion, or
other affection of human nature. Now, these ends,
in so far as they are objects of the particular passions
1 In der Willkiir ist das enthalten, dass der Inhalt nicht durch
die Natur meines Willens bestimmt ist der Meinige zu seyn, sondern durch Zufdlligkeit: ich bin also ebenso abhaingig von diesern
Inhalt, uund diess ist der Widerspruch der in der Willkiir liegt.
Hegel's Philosophie des ERechtes. In the collected works, Vol. VIII.
p. 52.
2 Wenn Freyheit nicht anders, als mit der ganzlichen Zufalligkeit der Handlungen, zu retten ist, so ist sie uberhaupt nicht zu
retten. Schelling's Philosophische Schriften, p. 464.




Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject. 135
or sentiments in question, must, by virtue of the
universal condition of the possibility of objects, stand
towards them under relations of strict causality, and
be absolutely determined.  The proof of this proposition has been given at a former page, and is not
therefore repeated here.  The second hypothesis resolves itself again into two cases; either the objects
whose nature, as ends, is absolutely determined, are
the sole element determining the choice of the will;
or else the will, though partially influenced by such
objects (for otherwise they would not be ends at
all), possesses an independent power of decision
beyond their control.  The former alternative is
strict Necessarianism, as it concedes to the will no
determinants except such as are again themselves
strictly determined by causal laws. The second alternative is that adopted by Reid and some other
Libertarians, but is merely a liberty of indifference.
For if we assume the sum  of the motives to the
action A to be greater than the sum of the motives
to the action B, and yet that the will, by virtue of
its liberty, chooses the latter, it is clear that the
act of the will, adding the supplementary energy in
favour of B, is absolutely arbitrary and unmotived.
A  liberty, therefore, consisting in a faculty of supplying the deficiency of a weaker motive, can have
no more moral significance or value than any other
form of a liberty of indifference, as it is absolutely
independent of all grounds, and must be purely
fortuitous.
It appears from the above considerations that
if we place the sole activity of the will in a faculty
of comprehending the differences of objects and
choosing between them, we either find ourselves in




136 Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject.
the grasp of a rigid Necessarianism or in the bottomless abyss of a liberty of indifference; but in neither
case do we meet with any form of liberty possessing
value for reasonable beings, or having the slightest
connexion with moral responsibility.
But if the province of liberty does not consist
in an immediate choice between objects founded on
an intellectual appreciation of their difference, where
are we to seek it?  One alternative alone remains.
We must seek it in a gnediate choice effected through
the self-determination of the subject.
Upon this hypothesis the subject, by virtue of its
liberty, has a certain power of determining its own
status or condition. It does not, however, exercise
this power by any act objectivising to itself two
possible states, and then choosing between them;
for such an hypothesis would simply involve a repetition of the former difficulties, by making the will
an intellectual faculty.  This will become still clearer
from the consideration that an act of choice contains
a negative element, and therefore an act of the imagination; for there must be at least two objects, neither of which exists, but of which the one is accepted,
the other rejected. In an act of subjective determination, on the other hand, there is but one positive
element,-the adoption of the accepted state. Neither
is this effected by placing the latter before the mind
as a goal to be arrived at, but simply by an impulse
from within, which by the first condition of its nature
can never be objectivised, and therefore like the ego
itself, of which it is the time-moment (i. e. of which
it mediates the determination in time), can never
become a conception. The other possible states are
not rejected in it, for they are not objectivised




Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject. 137
either, and therefore do not come into competition
with it.
Now the subject by its power of determining in
some measure its own state, is able to change one of
the principal elements in every action.  Objects
which excite one set of feelings and motives in the
subject in one state, excite a different one in the subject in another state,-and that, without the least violation of their allegiance to the law of causality. The
subject, therefore, while it is quite unable to choose
directly with perfect freedom between objects, determines such choice in some measure indirectly by the
determination of its own state, upon which the feelings and impulses which the objects excite and which
are subjected to the understanding for its contemplation and choice, very materially depend. The principle of the self-determination of the subject, and the
nature of the changes it produces, will be considered
at a future page.
The result at which we have arrived may be
stated as follows.  Every action, in as far as it is
a pure act of the will, and cannot be objectivised,
consists in a modification of the empirical character
of the actor through the determination of the subject, and is thus the exponent of the individual
personality for the moment in which it takes place;and up to this point it is free. In so far, however, as
it is an object of the senses either external or internal, it follows according to laws of human nature
from the character so determined as above, and like
the latter, therefore, is the product of law and
liberty combined.
But, perhaps, it may be objected to the above
theory, that it is inconsistent with the facts of our




138 Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject.
consciousness, inasmuch as we often present to our
minds two objects, and choose between them with as
strong a conviction of the freedom of our choice as
we ever possess. To this I would reply, that the
above remarks concerning the subjectivity of the will
are expressly limited to the province of pure liberty
alone. Directly I introduce another element, and
contemplate the combined results of liberty on the
one hand and the laws of human passions and
affections on the other, I have left the field of pure
liberty and have entered the province of the objective,
which belongs to causality. But this does not in any
way interfere with my consciousness of the liberty as
one of the essential parts of the action.
Suppose, for instance, I present to my mind two
actions, and, after deliberately weighing their respective advantages, decide in favour of one of them
with a feeling that my decision has been the result of
a free choice. Now here we have both liberty and
law. The liberty of which I am thus conscious is the
result of the subjective determination of my soul, by
which I have given it a certain posture, and made
certain objective grounds of action exercise a greater
or less degree of influence than they would have
done had I assumed for it a different posture. But,
directly I consider this subjective status as determined (in mathematical language, as a constant
instead of a variable), all the rest of the mental
operation by which motives are balanced against each
other belongs to the objective side of my mind, and
falls under the dominion of law. In reality however this subjective status is never a constant, but
always dependent on our self-determination, and thus
this substratum of liberty is felt to influence the




Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject. 139
results of our choice, even though such results are
objective, and consequently obedient to the laws of
human nature.
It will be seen at once from the above explanation, that I do not deny either our power of choosing
between objects, or the liberty of the choice. I
merely assert that the subjective determination of the
subject is logically prior to the object, and that the
province of liberty extends to the former alone.
The relation between the pure liberty in the selfdetermination of the subject, and the objective act in
which other elements are involved, presents a striking
analogy to the relation between pure intuitions d
priolri, and the mere empirical sensations by means
of which alone we are able to give them an objective
form. I cannot, for instance, objectivise the conception of a straight line without the aid of sense, but
I am not on that account the less conscious of the
purely a priori rule for its construction, which is supplied by the formal laws of thought. In the same
manner I can never present, even to my imagination,
any act of pure liberty, inasmuch as the matter of
every positive act of freedom  is an object of the
external or internal sense, and introduces, therefore,
an element of law limiting the liberty. But this circumstance by no means interferes with the consciousness of the subject of its own liberty in determining
the purely subjective element of the act. In short,
just as a priori laws of thought are the form, but
sensible experience is the matter of our cognition of
objects in space, so may we consider liberty as the
form, and impulses, desires, or motives, generally, as
the matter or objective element in the determinants of
human action. In neither case can the form be repre



140 Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject.
sented in the consciousness apart from the matter in
any concrete example; but in both cases is the form
separable from the matter by an act of abstraction.
Perhaps it may be objected to the above theory,
that by introducing the uncertain element of liberty
in co-operation with the laws of human nature, the
latter become absolutely nugatory, upon the same
principle which makes it impossible to determine the
value of an algebraical expression containing an unknown and ineliminable quantity. It must, however,
be remembered that in the case before us the pure
will, though a variable and independent of law, is
still known to the subject in each individual case, as
it is the action of the subject itself. In the laws of
nature on the other hand, were there any element not
subject to law, its very presence would be unknown,
and, therefore, it would be incognisable as well as
variable. Let us assume, for instance, an element in
nature not subject to law, but exercising on some particular occasion such an influence as to make silver
gradually assume the properties of gold. This would
render all observations of the metal impossible, as we
should not be able to recognise even the identity of
the object through these unknown changes. If however we attribute to the subject the power of so far
changing its own status, that one set of feelings
gradually lose their power and make way for another,
this would by no means destroy for us the strict
conformity of the feelings to law, as we should be
immediately conscious of the inward change which
had produced a corresponding change in the mental
phenomena.
There is another source of the consciousness of
liberty, independent of the individual acts of self



Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject. 141
determination by which the subject may change its
state on any isolated occasion. Every man has at a
particular moment of time a certain character. Le.t
us for an instant neglect the element of liberty, or
consider it a constant.  This character then, in conformity with the laws of human feelings, will dictate
a certain course of conduct. If the latter be evil, the
result will be to deprave the character; if good, to
raise and ennoble it. The present argument does not
require that we should determine the manner or
degree in which the character is affected by the
actions, but the fact that it is so in some measure
will be allowed by all. The characteri therefore, at a
future moment is found to depend on the preceding
actions. Now let us introduce freedom again in the
subject.  The self-determination of the subject has,
in conjunction with the former character, also contributed to determine the actions, and consequently
the second state of the character. What, therefore,
in the first action was pure subjective liberty, has by
its influence on the succeeding action become objectivised, and assumed in the second state the form of
character.
Here, then, we find that to the consciousness of
liberty at any individual moment, we must also add
that arising from the experience of past time, in as
far as previous acts of liberty have now become crystallised into character.  The constant absorption of
the former into the latter thus produces a feeling of
liberty in the latter itself, independently of the actual
self-determination of the subject on any particular
occasion.
I have, hitherto, spoken of the acts of the will,
the resulting actions, and their effects on the character




142 Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject.
as finite quantities succeeding each other in time. In
the actual process however they are simultaneous;
but if considered as successive, with reference to their
logical, dependence, they must be reduced to infinitesiimals. For the least conceivable thought passing
through my mind has a corresponding influence on
my character, and thus on one of the conditions
which are to determine the thought that succeeds it.
The whole of this subject may, perhaps, be made
somewhat clearer by an illustration taken from the
conception of motion in space.
When mathematicians have to deal with infinitesimal quantities, they have recourse to the following method. They first take finite quantities bearing
the same relations among themselves as the infinitesimals which they wish to investigate, and having discovered some formula expressing the law of their
relation quite independently of their magnitude, they
make these quantities vanish or = 0, and observe
the effect on the formula, which in its new state will
represent the law for the infinitesimals. I shall
adopt a similar process for investigating the relation
between the infinitesimal acts of the will, their effects
on the character, and the nature of the resulting
conduct.
An action may be symbolised generally by motion
in space, the difference in the direction of the latter
corresponding to a difference in the quality of the
former. Now at any particular moment my action
is subjected to certain limitations, from the position I
occupy in the outward world on the one hand, and,
in the inward world, that of my character, on the
other. This position may be represented by a point
A, and the whole of the laws limiting its motion by




Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject. 143
the plane P, in which A is situated. By virtue of
its freedom, my action is able to move from A in any
direction in this plane; by virtue of law, it is unable
to mlove out of it.
I will now suppose a small act of the will (W) to
take place, by which it moves to another point A,
situated in P, the direction AA,, or, in mathematical
language, the angle it forms with the axes of co-ordinates, constituting the moral quality of the act. Let
us call this angle 0. Now let a second plane P1 pass
through A, slightly inclined to the original plane P,
and determined in its position partly by that of P,
and partly by 0. To express this mathematically, we
should say, the coefficients of the equation to P1 are
functions involving 0, and C, (where C represents the
coefficients of the equation to P), which being interpreted, is equivalent to saying, that the second state
of the character is determined by the preceding state,
and the preceding act conjointly.  W now proceeds
by a second act of will in the second plane P1 from
A1 to a fresh point A2, and with a direction 0,. A
third plane P2 is then supposed to pass through A2,
similarly determined in position by 01 and C,, or the
coefficients of P1. From A2, W proceeds in P2 to A,
and determines a fourth plane P3; and the process
may be considered as continued to any indefinite
length. In this manner, Hz may advance to any distant point A,, and will always have been limited in
its action during the various parts of its progress by
an indefinite number of planes P, P1, P2, &c. successively. Let us now suppose the number of planes
between the first point A and the last A, to become
infinitely great, and the length of each individual act
in each plane to become infinitely small. The result




144  Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject.
will be a line, every part of which is partly determined by these tangential planes representing law,
and partly by the individual angles 0, 01, 02, &c. representing liberty, each plane, moreover, being partly
determined by the preceding act of liberty, inasmuch
as the coefficients of its equation are functions of 0,
0,, &c. Let us also consider the axes of co-ordinates,
as representing the ultimate principle of morality,
and the laws of the outward world, and the motion
of W will supply a complete illustration of the mutual
relations of law and liberty, considered as the elements of human conduct.
In the above illustration, I have spoken of the
act of the will as its motion from the original point
A to the second point A1. This however involved a
slight inaccuracy, inasmuch as AA1 represents not
merely the act of the will, but such act as limited by
the plane P, or the -laws of character and external
nature, and is therefore the symbolisation of that
objective act, which is the result of law and liberty
combined. No inconvenience arose from my starting
at once with the entire objective act, instead of considering the mere subjective determination apart from
the province of law; and I adopted this plan in the
first sketch of my illustration, in order to give it
greater simplicity. If, however, we would exhibit
the elements of the action separately, and the nature
of their mutual relationship, we must consider what
is the proper expression for the pure act of liberty.
Now it has appeared in the foregoing analysis, that
liberty consists in that act of self-determination by
which the subject assumes a new posture. This is
evidently equivalent in the illustration to a slight
alteration in the position of P, and is expressed by




Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject. 145
the change from P to P1. But although this change
is the pure act of the will, yet as the latter is restricted in its power of self-determination within
certain limits imposed by the last state of the character, C, or the coefficients of the equation to P, will
enter the functions of aw (the pure act of the will),
which supply Cl or the coefficients of P1.
The manner in which AA1 is determined, follows
at once from the consideration of the nature of the
planes P, and P1; for by the hypothesis the action
must lie somewhere in P, and its direction in this
plane must also be determined by the act of the will.
The latter, however, consists precisely in the production of a new plane, in which (by the conditions of a
plane of character generally) the act must also lie.
It follows from this, that the objective act, taking
place precisely at the moment of transition from P
to P1, lies in both planes at once, i. e. AA, is determined by the intersection of the new plane P1, with
the original plane of character P.
The new plane P1 is of precisely the same general
nature as P, and the only difference between them
arises from their different relations to a particular act
of w. Thus P, is the result of liberty when considered with reference to the past act of w, but represents strict law when considered with reference to the
act of w that succeeds it. In the same manner P
has represented law alone, because it has been considered with reference only to the acts that succeed
it. When however we inquire into its origin, we
must refer it to a previous act of liberty. In other
words, the self-determination of the subject is a free
act, but after it has once taken place, the overt action
must be in strict conformity with it.
s. W.                                 10




146 Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject.
There are two points in which the first and second
forms of the illustration differ from each other. The
first is the order in which 0 and C1 (the coefficients of
P1) have been made dependent on w. For in the
first instance, I wished to give the illustration the
greatest attainable simplicity, and therefore omitting
all consideration of the manner in which AA: is determined by the intersection of the planes P and P1,
hastened at once to the objective act AA1, and having
made 0 (or the direction of AA1) a function of w,
afterwards made C1 a function of 0. In the second
form I have restored the natural order and made C1,
or the coefficients of P1, functions of w, and 0 determinable by eliminating between the eqiuations to P
and P1. This difference in the order of the dependence
of 0 and (C on tw was unessential. The second point
of difference, however, arose from a positive inaccuracy
in the first form, as 0 the overt act was made a
function of w alone, instead of w and C.
In the first form therefore, we had
0=F (w), and  C1=f (0,C),
and in the second,
C= p(C, w), and 0 ==x(0 C).
As the quantity w enters the coefficients of each
plane P, P1, &c. and as it has a fresh and independent value in each equation, it might at first be supposed, that no such continuity between the position of
the succeeding planes P, PI, &c. would be preserved
as to allow their successive intersections, representing the line of conduct to produce a curve or
other line that should preserve any sort of harmony
between its parts. It must however be remembered,
that the coefficients of P1 are determined principally




Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject. 147
by the coefficients of P, and that each single value of
w is infinitesimally small, as compared with the whole
coefficient, which is the result of all the values of w
through a man's previous life. For the character at
any moment is the result of a long course of conduct,
and offers a considerable resistance to any single act
of self-determination. I may, for instance, slightly
raise or deprave my character by the direction of my
thoughts during the next five minutes; but still anr
entire revolution in it cannot be effected quite so
speedily, and nearly the same rules which regulate
my conduct now, will also be valid for its determination to-morrow.
The mathematical illustration must not for an
instant be understood as an attempt to base a theory
of human liberty on the conception of space. Such
an attempt would be absurd, as man's practical nature and the conception of space stand in no direct
relations to each other. But certain intuitions have
been employed by way of analogy to give a distinct
form to the matter of the argument which has been
derived from other sources. The real foundation of
the scheme proposed consists partly of the original
argument for freedom from the nature of conditioned
causality, and partly of the empirical matter introduced as it was required in the course of the analysis,
-as, for instance, the position that conduct influences
character, and every thought, whether good or evil,
affects the starting-point of the thought that succeeds it.
The great advantages, in point of precision and
perspicuity presented by the analytical form, are
a sufficient reason for its adoption wherever the
nature of the argument will permit.  It enables the
10-2




148 Liberty a Seyf-detenrmination of the Subject.
student to include in a single glance all the essential
elements of the problem before him, as also their mutual relations, and by securing the absence of all foreign matter to prevent any unnecessary complication.
In the present instance it appeared to be peculiarly
in place, as the sole object of the investigation has
been to shew the possibility of conceiving such mutual. relations of dependence between various functions
as should exactly correspond to the actual conditions
presented by the conceptions of causality and liberty.
I have felt, moreover, the less hesitation in employing it, as the merest elementary knowledge of the
first principles of analytical geometry is sufficient for
the comprehension of the foregoing illustration.
The argument, divested of its mathematical dress,
amounts to this. At any instant of time my action
is restricted to certain limits by the laws of nature,
(human nature included); but within them it has
free scope by virtue of its liberty.  This latter is
exercised in a certain act of self-determination of the
subject (upon which, as will appear afterwards, its
relation to the principle of moral law depends), and
the line of action corresponding to the intersection
of the two consecutive, subjective states, i. e. the
possible action which is common to the two immediately successive postures of character, is the result.
Let us take an example.  The murderer is in
the presence of his victim, but he still entertains
some feelings of compunction, and has not yet arrived
at that culminating point of depravity which is necessary to the act. The plane limiting his immediate
possible action, and determined partly by the external circumstances of his position, and partly by the
internal circumstances of his character, is a very bad




Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject. 149
one; but still the act of murder does not fall within
it, and he cannot by a single act of will carry out
his devilish conception. The various directions which
his act may take in this plane correspond to the
variety of thoughts still possible to one standing on
his- moral level. He may encourage the slight gleam
of good feeling on the one side, or raise up visions
of gain or gratified revenge, on the other. By an
act of self-determination he assumes a second plane
of character slightly inferior to the first. The objective act resulting from it must, in the moment of
transition, be one of the various possible acts conformable to the first posture of character (i. e. it must
lie in the first plane); but it is one of the worst of
such acts, having been so determined by the vicious
direction in which the second more degraded plane
of character has intersected it. In other words, the
precise thought which alone is common to the prior
character and the second assumed state, is the thought
which is actually chosen. This second state of character, being more depraved than the first, offers a still
worse choice for the second thought. A second selfdetermination  of the character producing a third
state still more vicious than the second, also determines the second thought, which is perhaps worse
than any that was even possible in the first state.
The self-determinations thus continue to succeed each
other, each being a function of the will and the previous character', and each pair determining, by their
intersection, the resulting objective act; and, in the' The self-determination of the subject is a pure act of the will
alone, but the self-determination of the character is such act in
its objective results, arising from the state of the subject and the
laws of human nature.




150 Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject.
case supposed, each act worse than the last. Finally,
the last state but one contains the murder, not perhaps as a point, but subtending a large angle of
possible action. The last state follows; the common
thought contains the murderous volition, and the
fatal act is completed.
An objection may possibly be raised to the foregoing theory, which would be serious if it could be
maintained, and therefore requires a short notice. It
may perhaps be urged that we are not conscious
of infinitesimal changes of character, as the result of
infinitesimal acts of self-determination, or that we
exercise such acts at all; and consequently that the
whole theory is not based on the only solid foundation, the facts of our consciousness. To this I would
reply, that the law of continuity is a fundamental law
of our conception of time, and that by this law, if we
find certain reciprocal relations to exist between two
quantities in the smallest changes of which we can
become conscious, we assume the absolute reciprocity
of these relations; that is, their objective contemporaneousness.  To apply this to space, for instance; if
I pass my hand through the space of a foot in the
period of a second, I am not conscious of its having
passed through a million spaces, the millionth of a
foot in length in a corresponding million portions of
time, each approximately the millionth of a second
-in duration; but I am not the less sure of the fact.
Now, as far as we are able to analyse our consciousness, we are conscious in the first place of a moral
freedom by which we can raise or depress our moral
tone, and thus affect the moral elevation of our conduct; and in the second place, that the moral elevation of our conduct also acts reciprocally upon our




Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject. 151
moral tone.  The consciousness of moral responsibility in any of its time relations,-such, for instance,
as remorse and repentance, includes the former; the
experience of every day assures us of the latter. The
reciprocity therefore in the relations of action and
character is a fact of the consciousness, as far as the
fineness of our consciousness of our moral changes
in time will permit us to carry the analysis; and we
are therefore justified in applying the law of continuity, and assuming the absoluteness of such reciprocity, or the objective contemporaneousness of
the relations; and this is all that has been assumed
in the above exposition.
Here then we have a complete symbolization
of the two elements of every action-law and liberty,
as also of the resulting action itself. The first plane
represents the law; the transition to the second
plane, effected by a self-determination of the subject,
represents the liberty, and the intersection of these
planes represents the action or the direction of the
motion in the plane of law, determined by the act
of liberty.
In the investigation of this doctrine under its
various relations, it is of the utmost importance to
observe the distinction between the pure act of the
will in the self-determination of the subject and the
objective action resulting from this act and the previous character.  The latter may frequently be foretold,-the former, never. For the character is the
product of all the previous acts of the will and the
circumstances in which it has been placed, and is by
far the most weighty element in the determination
of each particular action.  The will, on the other
hand, adds that single momentary act of liberty




152 Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject.
which completes the condition necessary for the absolute determination of such action and its performance.  Now the preponderance of character may
possibly enable us to foretell approximately what
a man's conduct will be under any given circumstances, and frequently with a high degree of probability; but the small completing act of liberty
prevents this probability from  ever amounting to
absolute certainty.
That the pure act of liberty is absolutely incalculable beforehand, is evident from two considerations,
which in reality, however, are only different forms of
the same principle. In the first place, this act, being
a self-determination of the subject, can never be objectivized; and secondly, any anticipation based on a
knowledge of character, presumes the validity of
experience for such act, and consequently that it is
determined by causal law, (upon which alone experience can be grounded,) and is not entirely independent of law, or a free act of the will. But a tolerably
correct conjecture respecting a man's future conduct,
may nevertheless be deduced from a knowledge of
his character, and the grounds of such conjectures
will appear from the following considerations.
If we consider a man's possible actions in any
given circumstances in the concrete, and regard every
infinitesimal difference in the quantity or degree of
any of their objective elements as constituting an
essential difference, their number is absolutely infinite.
But for simplicity's sake, let us introduce a slight degree of generalization, and thus reduce them to some
finite number, each unit of which represents a very
low species. We will assume then, that my knowledge of a man's character enables me to predict that




Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject. 153
his possible conduct or plane of character, comprizes
the actions designated by A, B, C, &c...X, Y, Z,
where A represents the generalization of ad, a2, a3 ad
so, B of b1, b2, &c. ad oo, and so on of the rest. But
as the generalization has only been carried on to a
very small extent, it is conceivable that A, B, and
C... X, may again be brought under some more general conception p), which is still sufficiently defined to
be considered as a particular line of conduct. The
actions possible then in the given circumstances, are
reduced to p, Y, and Z; but of these the genus q
includes by far the largest proportion of them, and I
accordingly predict, that he will probably choose the
action p, though I have not the smallest power of
calculating the final act of pure will on which the
particular action must ultimately depend.
Perhaps it may be objected to this theory, that it
reduces all our conjectures respecting men's future
actions to a calculation of probabilities. I grant that
it does so, but this is necessarily the case with all
anticipations of the future which rest on partial knowledge alone, to whatever subject they may refer. If
however the objection should be aimed at the nature
of the actions themselves rather than of our knowledge of them, which is merely subjective, and it
should be urged, that upon the proposed theory of an
incalculable element of liberty, man's conduct becomes
the sport of a blind and absolute chance, I cannot
concede that such objection has any solid foundation.
The doctrine of chances and the calculations based on
it, do not for an instant presume that the events they
relate to, such as the rotation of a teetotum, or the
fall of the dice, are not strictly determined by natural
laws. It is not the absence, therefore, of a determining




154 Liberty a Self-determinatiron of the Subject.
cause, but simply our inability to take any cognizance of it, upon which chance is founded, and it may
be roughly defined as an empirically determined
ignorance. Now in the case of human actions, the
chance arises partly from our inability to obtain a
perfect knowledge either of the character of the actor,
or the laws of humran nature on the one hand, or any
knowledge whatever of the complementary act of
pure freedom on the other; but notwithstanding our
ignorance of them, the character and the act are not
on that account the less real causes in themselves.
The pure act of the will has been shewn to be incalculable, and must therefore ever remain a question
of chance as explained above, namely, when considered with reference to our ignorance. But this by
no means makes it fortuitous in itself. For the absolutely fortuitous is that which is absolutely undetermined, without reference as to whether the ground
of a determination be found in itself, or in something
external to it. Now this pure act of the will is
independent of all objective determination, but.is not
on that account the less determined, as it determines
itself.
This will become still more evident, from the consideration that nothing would be gained by supposing
the subject to determine its state after the contemplation of some objective motive. Suppose, for
instance, the subject were to realise the conceptions
of good and evil, and to be induced by the beauty of
goodness to determine its own state in conformity
with it. The question would then arise, what makes
the subject open to the influences of this conception
of the good, if not a determination towards the good
already present in its own nature? Such an hypo



Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject. 155
thesis therefore only removes the difficulty one step
further, and leaves the position quite untouched, that
a self-determination of the subject towards good or
towards evil, must precede all moral influence from
objects whatever. To the man that has no eyes, the
sun shines in vain, and only for the man who is
already in some degree subjectively determined towards virtue, can a virtuous action have any significance, or indeed a conception of virtue be possible.
I do not of course for an instant deny, that we place
motives before our mental vision, and that the conception of heroism stimulates to heroic conduct. I
~only maintain, that the motives do not constitute the
lowest stratum in the formation of human character
and conduct, but on the contrary, that they themselves rest upon a primary and still lower stratum,
the self-determination of the subject.
SECT. II.-The principle qf the Self-determination of the
Subject.
The general conclusions at which we arrived in
the preceding chapter may be summed up in the
following propositions.  Human actions are the combined result of law and liberty. The law extends to
so much of the action as by its objective nature comes
under the conditions of causality.  Pure liberty only
enters infinitesimally in each particular action as the
momentary self-determination of the subject. The
whole influence of the latter, however, in the choice
of conduct is very considerable, inasmuch as the
purely subjective element of one instant becomes
objectivized into character in the next. For not only
does character assist in the determination of conduct,




156 Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject.
but conduct reciprocally contributes to the determination of character.
The above solution of the problem of liberty
would be very incomplete if I were to leave it here;
for it would establish nothing more than the mere
form of liberty in general, without touching upon the
nature of the sphere of its exercise. I accordingly
proceed to the consideration of this sphere, or, in
other words, the principle of the self-determination of
the subject.
As we possess a consciousness of liberty, and
liberty consists in the self-determination of the subject, we must be conscious of this self-determination,
and therefore of the changes in which it consists.
Now every such change involves some form of consciousness in which it takes place, and also some
standard or fixed point in such form, by its reference
to which the change may be determined. Neither the
one nor the other can be objective; for if the consciousness could find anything in the changes that
was independent of its own original personal unity,
they would cease to be self-determinations of the subject, and from their objective nature would fall under
the law of causality. This standard, therefore, must
be some principle in the subject itself, of the presence
of which we can only be conscious in the form of a
purely subjective feeling; and this feeling will also be
the form of consciousness in which the chances take
place. For as the principle is the sole measure of the
changes, and is at the same time only cognizable in
any way through the feeling, it follows that modifications of the feeling are the only media by which we
can be conscious of the changes, and that the form of
consciousness in which they take place can be nothing
else than the feeling itself.




Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject. 157
Again, this principle must be something permanent, for otherwise it would cease to be a principle,
and would offer no certain standard of comparison.
That it must be a form of the will itself, also follows
at once from the fact that it is a standard of the will
and can therefore be compared with it, which would
be impossible if it could not be embraced in the same
form of consciousness, -that of the will in general.
The latter conclusion is merely a particular instance
of an axiomatic proposition of universal application,
namely: That principle, by its relation to which the
particular state of a simple form of consciousness is
determined, must be itself a particular state of the
same form of consciousness either real or imaginary.
Position in space, for example, can be only determined by its relation to position in space; and a selfdetermination of the subject or pure act of the will
can only be determined by its relation to another
self-determination of the subject or act of the will.
The general result of the above remarks is this.
The self-determinations of the subject or individual
acts of the will are gauged by a fixed principle of
willing in the consciousness which may be called the
absolute will. This principle is something permanent, and cannot therefore be any specific act of
the will in time, but must be a principle of willing in
general, of which we only become conscious by the
changes of feeling generated by the changes of the
relation of the subject to the principle itself.
Now the absolute will has be en shewn to be a
permanent principle. The individual will on the
other hand is constantly changing its state by successive acts of self-determination in time.  But the
consciousness of the absolute or of any other will can




158 Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject.
only be attained through that of the individual will.
The consciousness of the absolute will must, therefore, be the consciousness of the individual will
divested of its element of change, divested in short
of all that is purely personal in the individual will,
and not of universal application and validity. But
the very centre of all liberty, and thus of all real
will, has been shewn to be precisely the ego, —the
personal individuality.  To attain, therefore, the full
consciousness of the absolute will, the individuality
of the individual will must not be considered as
destroyed, but simply as merged by a free act of its
own, identifying itself with the will absolute and
universal.
It is hardly possible to develop this subject without employing language calculated to mislead by its
objective tone.  It must however be remembered
that the province of the pure will is entirely subjective, and consequently that the will must not be
thought as proposing to itself any other state as an
object to be attained.  The consciousness of the
absolute will is not, therefore, a consciousness of
such will in itself as something separate from the
individual will, but, on the contrary, is the consciousness which the latter has of its own act when divesting itself of all that tends by its purely egotistical
character to prevent it from assuming an absolute
and universal form.  Hence it follows that when
the individual will -approaches the absolute will or
standard of willing in general, it does so, not as if
it were approaching a goal (which would be equivalent to making the will objective), but by its own
subjective determination, liberating itself from all
impulse of merely egotistical origin, and thus un



Liberty a Self determnination of the Subject. 159
consciously resigning itself to the will universal. I
employ the expression-impulse of mere egotistical
origin, rather than that of mere personal impulse,
because the will universal is not in itself opposed to
the individual wills, but only supplies the principle
by which they may be brought into harmony with
themselves and with each other.
Here then We have arrived at that regulative
principle which constitutes the standard for the admeasurement of all self-determinations of the subject,
and is therefore the centre of the sphere of liberty.
When considered as the absolute will, it supplies the
foundation of moral law, and the feeling arising from
the consciousness of the relation of the individual
will towards this principle, is the sentiment expressed
by the verb, I ought. This feeling is entirely subjective, for whatever foundation philosophers may
adopt for their ethical system, they can never explain the simple feeling of ought on any objective
grounds. Thus, whether we adopt the system of the
TUtilitarians, and assert the principle of morality to
be the greatest good of the greatest number, or
whether we assume the will of God to be such
principle, the question still remains, in what consists
the obligation on the individual to trouble himself
about either the one or the other? It is useless to
answer such question by appealing to our consciousness of the duty of doing all the good we can, or
of the duty of obeying the Creator of the Universe,
as such appeals are simply an acknowledgment of
this feeling of ought, (the existence of which is not
disputed,) but are no explanation whatever of its
origin.  In all such'cases, therefore, the original
question, what is the meaning of the word ought?




160 Liberty a Self-determnination of the Subject.
remains unanswered; or at least, every answer is one
in form only, but not in matter, as it is simply an
appeal through other modes of expression to the very
feeling to be defined. Whatever then may be our
objective system of morality, there is but one conclusion possible as to the ground of its obligation
upon us, namely, that it is a simple, innate and
purely subjective feeling, arising from  the relation
in our consciousness of our own individual will
to another, higher, absolute principle of willing in
general.
That this is its real nature, is no less evident
from experience. When, for instance, a first attempt
is made to awaken the moral sentiment in a young
child, and he is told that he is not to say that which
is not true, what is the suppressed thought which
completes the reasoning, and gives it weight to the
child's mind? Clearly, the thought that there is
some more comprehensive will than his own which
has determined that he is to go beyond the requirements of his merely personal feelings in the determination of his conduct, and that this will is for him
an absolute rule. This absolute will, or universal
principle of willing, though subjective in itself, gives
rise to two objective ideas, of which the one is the
relation of the individual to the absolute will in
its objective result as a system of ethics,-the other
the personification of the absolute will in the idea
of God. I shall add a few words on each of them.
It has been shewn in the last section that every
act of the will in the field of pure liberty is a selfdetermination of the subject. If we consider it with
reference to the objective action, we must define it
as a self-determination of the subject to such a state




Liberty a Seff-determination of the Subject. 161
as by the laws of human nature shall lead to such
a particular result. This is equally true of the absolute will.  A system  of ethics therefore is a system
of such rules of conduct as follow necessarily from
the laws of human nature when the subject has
determined itself in conformity with the absolute
will, or will universal.   At first sight it might seem
impossible to arrive at any definite and positive resuits from such an abstract principle. The case,
however, is by no means so hopeless as it appears;
for as the will absolute is a universal principle, it
can, in its objective development, lead to no rules
of conduct which cannot be made universal also.  It
must, therefore, be a principle of harmony among
individual wills, and prescribe such limits to the
action of each, as shall prevent its encroaching on
the action of the rest.  The test thus obtained for
the morality of an action is its capability of being
made a rule valid for all men without involving
any contradiction. This is in substance the same as
Kant's fundamental principle of ethics, the Categorical Imperative;-act so, as if the maxim of thy
action should become through thy will a universal
law of nature'
I have only touched upon the principle of morality in as far as it stands in immediate connexion
with  the nature of the self-determination  of the
subject. The vast field of moral philosophy, in which
all the various complicated applications of this principle are systematically investigated, does not come
within the limits of this work, and I shall therefore
Handle so, als ob die Maxime deiner Handlung durch deinen
Willen zum allgemeinen Naturgesetze werden sollte. Rosenkrauntz'
Edition of Kant's Metaphysik der Sitten, p. 47.
s. w.                                    11




162 Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject.
confine myself to two of the simplest examples by
way of illustration.
Thou shalt not steal, is a moral law which may
be stated thus: thou shalt not take that for thy own
property, which is the property of another. The
contradictory of this proposition would be: thou
mayest take that for thy own property, which is the
property of another. Now make this a rule universal,
and we have: every man may take that for his own
which is the property of another.  But this is a contradiction in terms; for it is the very conception of
property, that the owner stands in a peculiar relation
to its subject' matter; and what is every man's property is no man's property, as it is proper to no man.:
Hence the contradictory of the commandment contains a simple contradiction directly it is made a
rule universal; and the commandment itself is established as one of the principles for the harmony of
individual wills.
Thou shalt not tell a lie, as a rule of morality may
be expressed generally: thou shalt not by thy outward act mcake another to believe thy thought to be
other than it is. The contradictory made universal
is: every man nmay by his outward act, make another
to believe his thought to be other than it is. Now,
this maxim also contains a contradiction, and is selfdestructive. It conveys a permission to do that,
which is rendered impossible by the permission itself.
Absolute and universal indifference to truth, or the
entire mutual independence of the thought and symbol, makes the symbol cease to be a symbol,- and the
conveyance of thought by its means, an impossibility.
It appears from the foregoing deduction, that the
expulsion from the individual will of all elements that




Liberty a Self-deterinination of the Subject. 163
are incompatible with its universality, is the process
by which it approaches and partially appropriates the
will universal. When therefore the subject having
become conscious of a certain striving after a theoretical harmony, which I have called the absolute
will, endeavours to think a real object to this conception, it finds the first condition to be, that it must
be a will whose entire operation is in absolute harmony with itself, and therefore universal in its
character. Now such a Will is at once presented
to it in the unconditioned cause of the Universe, the
whole and every part of which have been proved to
be possible objects for the consciousness only on the
condition of their utter subjection to the law  of
causality. Hence the conception of the First Cause
as an actually existing will, is found to agree in form
with the theoretical principle of willing in the human
consciousness; and the merely subjectively conceived
will universal becomes, when objectivised, the Will of
the Universe, (that is to say, the Will of which the
Universe is the objective manifestation,) and is personified in the idea of God.
Honesty and truth are in the ethical world what
the straight line and circle are in space,-the simplest
conceptions in their respective forms of consciousness.
The deduction of the one, like the construction of the
other, is therefore peculiarly easy. But in the same
manner as the intuition of space is sufficient for the
construction of the most complicated figures, so is the
principle of the subjection of the individual to the
universal will, objectivised in the test of universality,
sufficient for the description of the whole sphere of
human duty. The various feelings, impulses, sentiments and aspirations, with which man is endowed, are
11- 2




164 Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject.
all so many points of contact between his individual
will and the absolute will of the Creator; all so many
clues for the interpretation of the Universe, and to
bring all these diverse elements into harmony with
each other by divesting his individual will of its
purely egotistical individuality, thus expanding it to
the comprehensive grasp of the Universal,- this is the
highest end and aim of his being; this is the Godlike office of Reason.
The above deduction of moral law may appear to
some too cold and logical, too utterly deficient in
anything that could appeal to the feelings, or gratify
the mesthetic side of human nature, to be accepted
as an explanation of the moral sentiment.  To this
I would reply, that it is not offered as such. A
system of ethics is a particular application of logic,
but the moral sentiment which makes ethics possible at all, is a purely subjective feeling. This sentiment is the consciousness of the free act of the
individual will, raising itself to the elevation of the
absolute will and identifying itself with it. Now,
cold and logical as may be the deduction of moral
duties, when the sentiment is to receive its objective
interpretation, the sentiment itself is the grandest
conceivable, because it is the most comprehensive,
and the most God-like,-because it is God's own
thought as far as man can grasp it.  And here, I
may remark, how truly man's instincts have led
him in the choice of words: for in all languages we
find the same expression used to signify the logical
faculty of drawing conclusions, and that perception
of moral fitness which is also similarly derived
through the principle of contradiction from the
identification of the individual will, with the Will




Liberty a Self-determinaction of the Subject. 165
Universal; and man is said to be not only a reasoning, but a reasonable being.
Not the self-annihilation however of the individual will is the true form of the sentiment, but
rather its expansion, till its objective manifestation
comprehends ideally the limits of the Universe
within its grasp, and each lives for all. Where a
morbid self-seeking, with an irony all the more
bitter because unconscious, has confounded these two
very different things, the result is monachism, asceticism, or, in its most exaggerated form,-fakirism;
all of them contradictions, for as far as self be really
annihilated, they are the annihilations of nothing.
Self-sacrifice is indeed a noble virtue; it is the negative side of virtue in general, as it is the pruning of the
individual will of all those purely egotistical elements
which interfere.with its identification with the will
universal. But every sacrifice must be a sacrifice to
something; and the will that contents itself with this
first step, and makes no attempt at developing a
positive energy in carrying out its own small part in
the will universal, has sacrificed to nothing, and deserves no other name than that of practical atheism.
The general result of the foregoing analysis may
be stated as follows: the principle of the self-determination of the subject is the sentiment of duty arising from an innate consciousness of the affinity of
the individual will to the Will Universal. It is that
dim reflection of the Divine Will within the innermost
depths of the human soul, by which it is enabled to
recognise the Divinity in all that surrounds it. It is no
direct positive revelation of a personal God, but it is
that which makes such revelation possible by enabling
it to comprehend the God-like. It is that which




166 Liberty a Self-determination of the Subject.
makes man the image of God. The sphere of human
liberty lies all around this principle, and consists in
that power of self-determination by which man with
a greater or a less intensity conforms his own nature
to the Divine, and merges all purely egotistical impulse ~in his inner consciousness of an Universal Will.
Through liberty alone does he determine the elevation from which he will view the objective world. It
is the ladder which joins Earth and Heaven.  If we
mount it manfully, regarding it in a spirit of faith
and hope as a means to scale the heights of true
nobility of soul, it will lead to all that is great and
God-like. But to those who regard it with indifference or distrust, as the toilsome though necessary
condition of existence, who, like cowardly criminals
mount it trembling as though it were nothing but a
treadmill for grinding through the drudgery of human life,-to such it will realise their fear and prove
a treadmill indeed; for though wearied by the burden
of its responsibility, they will never rise by it, but
rather leave it at the lowest step.




CHAPTER V.
The Objective Element in Human Action.
IN the preceding pages, the province of liberty has
been found in the subject, or unity of consciousness,-that of law in the diverse phenomena, physical
or mental which are combined by that unity, and
thus become its objects.  While speaking therefore
of human action with reference to liberty, we had
only this unity before us, silently progressing through
time like a fine thread, -so fine as to be itself invisible, and yet giving its colour to the whole web of our
moral being. Directly however we assume the selfdetermination of the subject as complete,-in short
as a constant,-and would consider its entire development in the objective world of law, we have passed
from the unity of the subject to the multifarious
which it unites, and which supplies the matter for its
practical as well as its intellectual activity. Prior
therefore to any immediate investigation of the phenomena presented by human conduct, we should be
justified in anticipating that it must branch off in
various contemporaneous series, springing respectively
from various points in our objective nature, but all
deriving whatever liberty they may possess from the
original dependence of these starting-points on the
self-determination of the subject.
That this anticipation is justified by our actual
experience, will readily appear from the simplest example. Suppose for instance, I sit down to my desk,




168  The Objective Element in Human Action.
and leaning my head upon my hand, commence
writing a letter to a friend. Here we have at once
three very distinct but contemporaneous exertions of
energy.  In the first place, there is the muscular
exertion of my left hand supporting my head,-in the
second, the motion of the fingers of the right hand in
writing,-and in the third, the train of thought forming the sentences that are to follow. I have mentioned these as the most self-evident, but in reality
there are many others; for the upright posture of the
body is the result of a faint volition, so habitual as to
escape observation. That it is one however is evident from the collapse that immediately takes place
in sleep. Other examples of contemporaneous volitions will readily suggest themselves; such for
instance, as a person conversing while playing on
a musical instrument, or walking while engaged in
thought.
But however numerous the series of contemporaneous volitions may be, they by no means stand in
precisely similar relations to the unity of consciousness,
inasmuch as there is always one which takes precedence of the rest, and is regarded as the representative
of our practical life for the time being. The particular action or series of actions in question, appears
to proceed from the very centre of our consciousness;
and the others only cluster round it at a distance
greater or less in proportion as they are connected
with this central series. In this respect there is a
striking analogy between the consciousness of activity
in our volitions, and that in the perceptions of our
senses, vision more especially. In whatever direction
I turn my eyes, and however many objects I may
see, there is always a certain single point at which I




The Objective Element in Human Action. 169
seem to be more particularly looking. If, for instance,
I direct my eyes towards a book on the table, I see
the whole of the object, but there is a particular point
of it which appears to be the very centre of my
glance. The intensity moreover of the rest of the
sensation, varies in proportion to its proximity to
this point.  Thus I see the rest of the book with
considerable vividness, as the object is a small one;
but the other parts of the table and the surrounding
furniture are presented to me with an intensity of consciousness, as far as the mere sensation is concerned,
ever decreasing as the distance of the objects from
the central point increases, till at last, toward the
circumference of my field of vision the sensation becomes extremely faint, and ultimately dwindles away
into utter vacancy.
Now the field of our volitions in relation to the
consciousness, is exactly analogous to the field of
vision. There is always a certain central point in
them which is more immediately affected by the selfdetermination of the subject, which appears to be the
nearest to it, and is pre-eminently the act of the time
being.  The nature of the other volitions becomes
more and more mechanical, and the consciousness
accompanying them weaker, in proportion to their
distance from the central volition, till at last those at
the extreme verge hardly appear to be volitions at
all.  At the same time, precisely in the same manner
as by turning the head, we can look directly at an
object which a moment before occupied the extremity
of the field of vision, and of which therefore we were
hardly conscious, so can we also direct the whole
force of our consciousness upon a series of volitions,
which previously were almost of an automatical
character, and thus render them for the moment a




170  The Objective Element in Hluman Action.
part of our central series. Thus the act of breathing
is, under ordinary circumstances, a volition extremely
distant from the centre of highest consciousness;
but if the attention be directed to it,-as for instance,
by the request of a physician that the patient should
draw a long breath to enable him to detect the presence of disease, —this otherwise almost mechanical
act becomes for the moment the principal act of
his will.
This change in the direction of our consciousness,
does not of course differ from any other volition, and
is simply the peculiar course which our action takes
when determined by law and liberty in the manner
already explained.
As an instance of the various degrees of proximity
to the central act, and the corresponding intensity of
consciousness, let us consider the nature of the physical volitions of a man walking along the road. In
the first place, let him be a mathematician reflecting
on some difficult problem. In this case the central
series is the train of thought, and the volitions connected with his locomotion, engage so little of his
attention, and are so nearly mechanical, that he is
hardly conscious of making them. Secondly, let him
be a physician walking at a rapid pace to see a patient
in a dangerous illness, and at the same time revolving
in his mind the treatment he will probably have to
adopt. Here the locomotion stands in immediate
connexion with the subject of the man's thoughts,
inasmuch as he is purposely walking as fast as he
can in the hopes of arriving in time to save life. The
consciousness of the volition will therefore be more
powerful, and the volitions themselves more energetic,
in consequence of their proximity to the central volition. Lastly, let the man be walking for a wager.




The Objective Element in Human Action. 171
In this case the locomotion itself becomes for the
time the central volition, and the consciousness of the
energy exerted in moving the limbs, attains a maximum of intensity.
The above observations will make the distinction
between a simple volition and an act of the will, immediately intelligible. All those actions, or series of
actions, which spring from impulses or instincts on
the utmost verge of the field of consciousness, are
still volitions, provided only that they are in any degree, however slight, dependent on the self-determination of the subject. But by an act of the will we
generally understand a central volition, and one therefore containing the point of highest consciousness.
Those slight motions of the limbs, which are often
made without any deliberate object and almost unconsciously, are all volitions, but they must engross
the attention before they can be raised to the dignity
of acts of the will. That the consciousness of liberty
should be far stronger in an act of the will than in a
mere volition, is self-evident. For it is clear, that
the self-determination of the subject must at any
given time have the greatest influence within the
sphere of those passions and affections, with which the
consciousness is at the time in question the most
intensely occupied. Consequently, the act of the will,
or the central volition, as it contains the point of
highest consciousness, must in its objective side have
reference to those feelings in which the influence of
the self-determination is the greatest, and where
therefore the liberty is the most strongly felt. In a
mere volition, on the other hand, the element of law
very greatly preponderates. And yet the distinction
between such a volition and a purely mechanical
movement is clear and decided, as will appear at




172  The Objective Element in Humnan Action.
once from the readiness with which we distinguish a
merely thoughtless volition moving the fingers backwards and forwards, from a convulsive and purely
involuntary twitching of the same members, arising
from some slight morbid affection in the nervous
system.
The objective form assumed by the various impulses and passions is that of ends, and occupies a
large field of the imagination. The vividness with
which they present themselves to us is extremely
different, and depends on their proximity to the central point of highest consciousness. Thus, one end
may embrace the central point itself, and constitute
the principal object of a life. Another may lie on
the utmost verge of our consciousness, and perhaps
refer to nothing more important than the attainment
of a little more bodily ease by the change in the
position of a limb. The representation of the end in
the imagination, whatever may be its vividness, is
called the motive, on account of its being the intellectual embodiment of the power that moves the will to
make the corresponding volition.
Now motives are in so far subject to the higher
power of liberty, as they are dependent for their
relative intensity upon the position that may be assumred by the subject in its self-determination; but
this position once assumed, all the other elements that
enter into their composition are objective, and consequently, their reciprocal relations as well as their
individual intensity are entirely determined by law.
That the subjection to causality is the only condition
under which anything can become an object for us,
has been sufficiently proved at a former page. I will
therefore only remind the reader, that this law has
been there shewn to be absolute and universal, and




The Objective Element in Human Action.  173
to be equally applicable to every object of thought
and feeling.
Before quitting this subject, I will anticipate an
objection-which may perhaps be raised to the foregoing doctrine of freedom. If such an action as a
mere thoughtless moving of the fingers backwards
and forwards be recognised as free, and if all freedom
ultimately resolve itself into a self-determination of
the subject relatively to its moral elevation, it is clear
that such movement must be regarded as in some
degree possessed of moral significance, and yet, how
is it possible to attribute any significance to such an
apparently indifferent act? To this I would reply,
that as we are conscious of the act as a volition, there
has been some motive for it, however indistinct, or
however remote from the centre of highest consciousness.  The action therefore has its grounds in a province, the whole of which is more or less determined
by the moral status of the subject. In any particular
case, it may appear too curious to attempt to define
the particular moral relations of a very trivial act;
but as it is the motived act of a moral being, such
relations must exist.  What appears therefore absolutely indifferent, is not so in reality, but the moral
element is so small as to render its isolation in a
distinct act of consciousness extremely difficult; if not
impossible.  We meet with a precisely analogous
phenomenon in other forms of consciousness, and draw
instinctively an analogous conclusion. If I move my
finger through the space of an inch, I am as certain
that it moves through a million  spaces, each a
millionth of an inch in length, as if I had a separate
consciousness of each of the million acts constituting
the whole movement.




CHAPTER VI.
Critical Consideration of the Three Conceptions of
Liberty, as propounded in the doctrines of
Necessarianism, Arbitrarianism, and the Selfdetermination of the Subject in a single Transcendental A ct.
IN the preceding chapters I have endeavoured to
develop such a scheme of liberty as should fulfil
the various conditions of the problem, and satisfy the
requirements of our moral nature without encroaching on the province of law. I shall now examine,
in their general types, certain other solutions which
have been offered of the same problem, and shall
state briefly the grounds on which I object to each
of them.
As all admit the influence of motives, and the
existence of a human nature, on the one hand, and,
at least in name, of a liberty, on the other, as the
determinants of human conduct, the various solutions must turn upon the reciprocal relations of these
elements. In the first place, liberty may be a determinant above, or exterior to, the motives. This is
the opinion of Reid and the Prospective IReviewer
already quoted, and may be called the Arbitrarian
view. Secondly, the liberty may be a determinant
in the motives, by constituting one of their factors;
and this hypothesis again assumes two distinct forms
accordingly as the liberty is regarded as a constant
or a variable.  The former is the doctrine of Kant
and Schelling; the latter is the view adopted in the




Critical Consideration of, &c.    175
present treatise. To these theories of liberty must
be added, by courtesy, the soi-disant liberty of the
Necessarians. I say, by courtesy, for whatever weight
may attach to their arguments in favour of an absolute necessity, under no conceivable pretext can it be
seriously conceded that they assert any liberty whatever. I shall now proceed to consider these views,
commencing with the Necessarian Liberty of Collins,
Priestley, Edwards, and others.
It has been shewn, at a former page, that human
action, after emerging from the field of pure liberty
in the self-determination of the subject, and entering
upon that of law, branches out in its objective development into numerous contemporaneous series.
These originate in various sources of human energy
and passions, and are subject to certain laws limiting
the spheres of their operation. The laws of human
nature, again, both physical and mental, present for
our investigation somewhat similar conditions to the
laws of external nature; inasmuch as each actual
result is for the most part dependent on a combination of influences; and therefore the individual powers
engaged, or the range of their exercise, cannot be
directly measured by the concrete effect. The fact,
for instance, that all the conditions of my conduct do
not allow of my throwing myself out of a window,
or performing any similar insane act, is no measure
of my physical powers. By means of the imagination, however, the various powers may be isolated,
and their limits and general character approximately
determined. It is then found, as might be expected,
that the sphere of imaginary action, limited by a
single conditioning element, is far greater than the
real action which is limited by all the conditioning




176          COitical Consideration of
elements in conjunction. In other words, the sphere
left open to human action by the laws of each individual form of human energy or passion, when taken
separately, is far less restricted than that which results when their reciprocal and limiting action on
each other is admitted, as in the case of actual experience.  Thus, as far as a man's pride alone is
concerned, there may be various courses left open
to him; and similarly with'regard to his benevolence,
his intellectual abilities, or his physical strength.
But if we consider all these together, as well as all
the other conditioning elements of his action, there
will be as many conditions as human conduct has
dimensions, and the result will be absolutely determined.  Hence it follows that the sum  of the
spheres of human powers taken separately, is considerably greater than the sphere of their sum.
The above observations are sufficient to expose
the utterly illusory nature of the liberty which the
Necessarians claim as a part of their system.  Starting from the position, that the complex of the laws
of human nature entirely determines a man's actions
(in which, saving the self-determination of the subject, I fully concur), they conclude that all his
conduct is absolutely necessary.  Up to this point
their argument is at least consistent.  But now they
observe that the physical laws alone do not absolutely restrict a man to a particular action, —that
he can, for instance, move his hand to the right
or the left as he pleases; and this power they call
his liberty.  Unfortunately however, by their own
theory, what he pleases is entirely settled for him
by the laws of human motives, and thus their liberty
turns out to be nothing more than a product of the




the Three Conceptions of Liberty.    177
imagination conceiving the laws of man's physical
motion abstractedly from all the other conditions
that determine his actions, and in short entirely
neglecting these conditions.  In reality therefore
Necessarian liberty is an abstraction having no objective existence; for however easily I may isolate
in my imagination the laws regulating my physical
activity, and find that they leave a certain sphere of
action open, there are always numerous other conditions imposed by other parts of my nature which
are no less imperious, and no less real than they;
and these other conditions, by intersecting the sphere
of possible action at a certain point, determine the
result without appeal.
It is hardly necessary to observe, that the Necessarians might with no less reason have created a
fresh form of liberty, equally valuable, for every
set of laws conditioning human actions, by isolating
such laws and neglecting all the others.
The following illustration may serve to give an
insight into the nature and value of the Necessarian
liberty. Three balls, black, white, and red, are offered
for choice. The black ball has a hole in it, and the
red ball has a notch in it; complete liberty of choice
is granted, as far as the colour is concerned, but there
are two other little conditions to be observed. First,
no ball may be chosen that has a hole in it; secondly,
no ball may be chosen that has a notch in it: but
as long as I determine to ignore all other considerations but colour, my liberty of choice will appear
unrestricted, as there is no law respecting it.
The next theory of liberty for our consideration
is that of Arbitrarianism, or the liberty which consists in unmotived, and therefore fortuitous action.
S. W.                                 12




178          Critical Conrsidleration of
I am well aware that its advocates would hardly
subscribe to this description of it; but I shall endeavour to shew that it is nevertheless essentially
correct. The form which the controversy respecting
it has generally assumed, is the following question:
Is the action absolutely determined by the strongest
motive? To avoid all ambiguity in its consideration,
it will be necessary, in the first place, to call attention to the two senses in which strength may be
predicated of a passion or desire. Thus, a passion is
said to be strong; first, if it engross a large portion
of the consciousness, and be accompanied by excitement and intensity of feeling; secondly, if it exercise a considerable motive power in determining to
action. The two forlms of strength are frequently
found together, but they are by no means identical,
or even necessarily combined. Each is strength, for
each is a degree of power to produce a certain effect;
but in the one case the effect is the intensity of
consciousness, in the other it is action; and it is
with passions, feelings, and sentiments, as with individuals,-not always that which makes the greatest
commotion is the most efficient in producing a practical result.  A  starving man, surrounded by his
hungry family, may be suffering such torment from
the pangs of hunger, that the physical sensation
may command a far larger share of his consciousness than his paternal affection; and yet the latter
sentiment may be the more powerful of the two, when
considered as a motive, and perhaps induce him
to divide his last loaf among his wife and children
without reserving a morsel for himself.  Hence the
power of a passion to engross the consciousness must
not be considered as an unerring measure of its




tle Three Conceptions of Liberty.    179
power to produce action, Or to take another example, let us suppose a man of high moral principle,
but of strong animal desire, to resist successfully a
powerful temptation to illicit indulgence. His whole
frame may quiver with the excess of his passion,his consciousness may almost seem to be engrossed
by it, and wherever he turns the forbidden thoughts
beset his path to lure him to his fall. But through
all the storm and tumult of his feelings there is
one fine thread of consciousness, so fine indeed as
to be hardly perceptible, but strong as a cable to enable him to hold his ground. Now in such a case
it would not surely be correct to say, that the sense
of duty was the weaker motive, because it did not
display as much violence in its mode of affecting
the consciousness as the passion which it resisted?
If a hundred pieces of artillery were discharged
against a mountain of granite, there would be no
lack of noise on the side of the artillery, but great
lack of effect.
Now the present question refers to passions or
feelings as motives only, —that is to say, with respect
to their motive power, and not to their power of
engrossing the consciousness and raising its intensity. Its solution therefore must depend upon the
manner in which we answer another question, namely,
whether there are any immediate determinants of
human actions besides motives?
The Necessarians, as also some Libertarians,
deny that there are; the former because they do
not recognise any liberty in the determination of
volition; the latter because they assert the logical
priority of the liberty to the motive, in the belief
that the man never acts contrary to the motives, but
12-2




180         Critical Consideration of
possesses a power of determining, within certain
limits, one of the factors of the motives themselves.
But whatever may be the grounds on which they
form their opinion, those who admit no ultimate determinants but motives can only answer the present
question affirmatively, and assert that the strongest
motive determines the action. It must however
be observed that this proposition is simply one of
identity, and enunciates no philosophical principle,
for the resulting action is the only absolute test of
the relative strength of the motives which we possess. Hence the proposition, both from the Necessarian point of view, as well as that adopted in this
treatise, is devoid of all importance.
But although I reject the proposition in the
present form as a valueless truism, it springs from
an idea which must be regarded as a very important
truth,-namely, that the strongest or prevailing motive is determined by laws of human nature. In
this proposition I, of course, regard the subject as
a constant.
Some Libertarians adopt a contrary opinion, and
assert a power of the will to determine the action
not through, but extraneously to, the motives, and
in opposition to their net result. This is the view
entertained by Reid, as will appear from the following passages: —" How insignificant soever," observes
Reid, "in moral estimation, the actions may be
which are done without any motive, they are of
moment in the question concerning moral liberty.
For if there ever was any action of this kind, motives are not the sole causes of human actions.
And, if we have the power of acting without a
motive, that power, joined to a weaker motive, may




the Three Conceptions of Liberty.    181
counterbalance a stronger'."   Again, "Contrary
motives may very properly be compared to advocates pleading the opposite sides of a cause at the
bar. It would be very weak reasoning to say, that
such an advocate is the most powerful pleader, because sentence was given on his side. The sentence
is in the power of the judge, not of the advocate.
It is equally weak reasoning, in proof of necessity,
to say, such a motive prevailed, therefore it is the
strongest; since the defenders of liberty maintain
that the determination was made by the man, and
not by the motive2."
I have quoted the last passage principally for the
purpose of introducing the following note on it by
Sir William Hamilton;: —" But was the man determined by no motive to that determination? Was
his specific volition to this or to that without a cause?
On the supposition that the sum of influences (motives, dispositions, tendencies) to volition A, is equal
to 12, and the sum of influences to countervolition
B, equal to 8, —can we conceive that the determination of volition A  should not be necessary?  We
can only conceive the volition B to be determined,
by supposing that the man creates (calls from nonexistence into existence) a certain supplement of
influences. But this creation as actual, or, in itself,
is inconceivable; and even to conceive the possibility
of this inconceivable act, we must suppose some
cause by which the man is determined to exert it.
We thus, in thought, never escape determination
and necessity. It will be observed, that I do not
1 Reid, on the Active Powers, Essay IV. Chap. Iv. In Sir
W. Hamilton's Ed. p. 610.
2 Ibid. p. 611.




182         Critical Considceration of
consider this inability to the notion, any disproof
of the fact of Free Will'."
This argument appears to me unimpeachable;
and even if such a liberty as that supposed by Reid
were conceivable, it would be utterly valueless. Let
us suppose for instance a man's motives to commit a
sin to be equal in strength to I2, and the strength of
his moral feeling acting as countermotive to be equal
to 8, but that by his will he supplies a force equal to 5,
and resists the temptation. In such a case, there is
no moral value to be attached to the supplementary 5
of will, for he has had no motive in adding them. If
we say that he has added them from his love of virtue, or for any other reason, we have based them on a
motive, and we ought to have estimated the strength
of the countermotive at 13 in the first instance.
The unsoundness of Reid's comparison of the will
and motives to a judge and counsel is self-evident.
When a judge pronounces sentence in favour of the
side of a weaker advocate, it is because there are
motives in his own mind for doing so; whereas to
make the simile complete, we must suppose the judge
to determine without any motives besides those already
figuratively represented by the counsel. Directly we
regard the will as sitting in judgment on the various
motives, and deciding in favour of the weaker side
because it is a better one, we are attributing to the
will a motived activity outside, or beyond the sum
total of the motives, which are supposed to have
been exhausted in our comparative estimate of their
weight and value.
That mankind instinctively presume a motive for
every action, is evident at once from an argument
1 Ibid.




the Three Conceptions of Liberty.     183
which daily experience has made familiar.  What
possible motive could I have had for such an action?
is the question with which the assertion of innocence
is frequently corroborated.  The argument derives
the whole of its weight from the suppressed major
premise, that every action has its motive. Its validity, however, as far as the principle is concerned, is
always admitted, though not necessarily its particular application; and this fact is at once conclusive as to the first unprejudiced testimony of the
consciousness.
But Reid asserts at another place, that many
trifling actions are performed without any motive
whatever. He has several passages to this effect, but
it is sufficient for the present purpose to cite the following:-"'I do many trifling actions," says Reid,
" every day, in which, upon the most careful reflection,
I am conscious of no motive; and to say that I may
be influenced by a motive of which I am not conscious, is, in the first place, an arbitrary supposition
without any evidence, and then, it is to say, that I
may be convinced by an argument which never
entered into my thought'."
It would appear from the last sentence, that Reid
acknowledges nothing as a motive which does not
assume the form of an argument appealing to a man's
reason; and if he were justified in thus restricting
the sense of the word (motive), I should have no
hesitation in agreeing with him. But surely there
are innumerable little sensations operating as incitements to action, and therefore entitled to the name of
motive, which lie on the extreme verge of our consciousness, and with which arguments and conviction' Reid, oh the Active Powers, Essay IV. Chap. Iv. p. 609.




184          Critical Consideration of
have nothing whatever to do. While engaged in
writing, for instance, I frequently rise from the table
and take two or three turns up and down the room,
without any deliberate motive, but still not without a motive-or feeling moving me to the act.
The relief arising from the change of position, the
refreshment produced by the slight muscular exertion,
and other similar causes, have all operated as motives,
and certainly require no unmotived and arbitrary act
of the will for their explanation.
The author of the article on Mesmeric Atheism,
already alluded to, entertains a similar opinion on
this subject to that of Reid, as will appear from the
following passage:-"The question is,'Whether when
two competing principles of action solicit us, and a
volition ensues, the Will, being passive, must yield
itself to the stronger irrespective of its worth; or,
being active, can determine on the worthier irrespective of its strength?' As the impulses and the will
are not accessible to perception, —can be neither seen,
heard, nor smelt,-but only experienced in feeling, it
is difficult to imagine how, but by subjective reflection, their mutual relations can be ascertained.  To
discredit this evidence, is no less fatal to the case of
the Necessarian, than to that of his opponent. If he
would prove that the strongest motive prevails, surely
he means, the motive that is most strongly felt; and
in what way, if not by feeling, is this to be recognised?
Declare the feeling delusive, and what measure is
there of the relative strength of a number of impulses? You can only appeal to the resulting action,
and regard it as a practical indication that the impulse with which it accords was strongest: and so
you fall into the vulgar fallacy, of assigning the




the Three Conceptions of Liberty.     185
motive's force as cause of the action, and then pleading the action in proof of the force'."
This passage appears to me to contain two fallacies. The Necessarian or Libertarian who asserts
the certain victory of the strongest motive, does not
understand by it "the motive that is most strongly
felt," but the motive that most strongly acts.  As I
have already pointed out, we may understand by the
strength of a passion or a principle, either the measure
of its power of engrossing the consciousness and increasing its intensity, or the measure-of its power of
determining to action; but the strength of a motive,
which is a passion or principle considered as moving
power, can never be anything else than its power of
moving, or be measured by anything else than the
result. This does not throw any discredit on the
evidence of our feeling; for the motive which is most
strongly felt, is allowed to be the most strong, not
indeed as a motive, but in the particular respect of
making itself felt. Strength is only a relative term,
as that which is strong to effect one thing is weak to
effect another; and in the present instance it appears
to me, that the writer has confounded two sorts of
strength referring to different objects.
But then, says the Reviewer, if you appeal to the
resulting action and regard it as a practical indication
that the impulse with which it accords was strongest,
you fall into the vulgar fallacy of assigning the
motive's force as cause of the action, and then pleading the action in proof of the force. To this I would
reply, that such a procedure may make the proposition in question one of identity, in short a truism,
but not a'fallacy. It would surely be no fallacy to
1 Prospective Review, May, 1851, p. 243.




186         Critical Consideration of
say, that the greater weight will bring down the
scale, and that the bringing down the scale is a proof
that it is the greater weight; and yet this proposition
is precisely analogous to the case objected to by the
Reviewer. In short, the Reviewer appears to confound a proposition of identity with an argument in
a circle; but the latter only arises where one of the
premises of an argument is proved by means of the
conclusion. If I say that all A is B and all B is A,
I have a proposition of identity, but no circle. But
if I would establish that a certain C is A because it is
B, and then prove the premise that C is B, by means
of the conclusion that it is A; I have a circle. Thus
there is no fallacy in arguing, that a certain motive
must be the strongest, because it has determined the
action, and in adding that it has determined the
action because it is the strongest. But if I proceed to
base my knowledge of the fact of its having determined the action on the ground that it is the strongest,
I reason in a circle.
In the above observations I must not be understood to deny that there may be certain laws determining the particular motive which is to prove the
strongest in respect of other relations. I merely
assert that the result is the only absolute criterion by
which we can recognise it. Just in the same way as
the weight of a body is supposed to be proportional
to its density multiplied by its volume; but the only
absolute criterion of its weight is the effect it produces on the balance.
It is not very improbable that an objection may
be taken to the scheme of liberty advocated in the
preceding sections, on the ground of the very argument I have employed against the liberty of indiffer



the Three Conceptions of Libeirty.  187
ence, or action absolutely unmotived. I have endeavoured to shew, that a liberty which consists in
an unmotived supplementary act, giving a weaker
motive the preponderance over a stronger one, if conceivable, would be absolutely worthless, and would
have no relation to moral responsibility for the very
reason of its being unmotived; and yet I have maintained that the very essence of liberty consists in an
unmotived self-determination of the subject.  Now
on what grounds, will it be asked, can I claim a
moral value for the unmotived subjective self-determination, which I deny to an unmotived objective
volition?
To answer this question, it will be necessary to
recur for an instant to the nature of a motive.
Every motive contains two factors, a principle or
passion making a certain end desirable, and the
anticipation of such end in the imagination, as the
result of a certain act. The anticipation may be
accompanied with very various degrees of intensity
of consciousness, in some cases it may rise to a clear
and distinct intellectual conception, in others it may
be little more than a dim instinctive feeling; but be
this as it may, it serves for the moment as the
ground for the determination of the volition. In
every action therefore based on a motive, there are
two distinct elements,-the volition as the means,
and the anticipation of the end lying before it at a
distance greater or less according to the circumstances. This anticipation, or the looking forward
through the intervening time, is the reason that an
action considered in relation to its motive is said to
be not performed blindly. Now if we would get rid
of the motive, as Reid and some others have done,




188          Critical Consideration of
by denying its existence entirely', the action becomes
not only blind, but also an absolutely fortuitous
occurrence, without either end for the man or reason
in the Universe, —a mere inexplicable nonentity,
having no relation to moral responsibility or any
other principle that could make the liberty of performing it desirable. But let us suppose the motive
to be got rid of, not by the supposition of the absolute non-existence of a reason for the act, but by the
identification of the act and its own reason, thus
making the distance between them to vanish, and with
it the anticipation, and the relation of means to an
end, which are essential elements in a motive. In
this case the act ceases to be motived, inasmuch as
there is no anticipation of an end which has served as
a rule for its determination. The end, which in the
case of the motived action was contemplated in the
consciousness, proceeds here pari passu with the act,
and is not only simultaneous but absolutely identical
with it.
iNow this is the nature of the self-determination
of the subject. It is a purely positive act, placing
the will of the individual in obedience to the will
universal with a certain degree of intensity; not
however from any foreseen reason, but simply for the
sake of the act itself.  The relation of means and
end which is essential to the conception of a motive,
is here entirely abrogated by their merging in each
other. In the case of any motived action, the man
performs it because it is the means to some end, and
there is an interval between them. But the unmotived' This of course refers to the supplementary act of will or
manifestation of energy, giving the victory to the weaker motive;
and this act is, by the hypothesis, unmotived.




the Three Conceptions of Liberty.   189
self-determination is its own act and end in one, and
the man takes up his own moral stand, because that
is precisely the moral stand which he does take up,
and the act itself is its own explanation. Other acts
are lifeless things in themselves, and derive all their
value and significance from the motives of their performance. But the self-determination of the subject
is no dead fact, first deriving life and meaning from
without, but on the contrary, is, in itself and throughout its whole essence, its own motive; for in whatever degree a man is morally good, he is so for the
sake of the goodness itself, and not with any ulterior
object. If therefore we were to ask the question, why
are you thus self-determined? which would be equivalent to saying, why are you in this degree good?
the only possible answer would be, because I am thus
self-determined, i. e. my act of self-determination is
not fortuitous or groundless, but it has no motive, because its ground lies within, and not out of itself. In
a complete objective act of duty, one therefore involving law as well as liberty, the outward act is motived
by its goodness, which corresponds to the moral
elevation of him who performs it. But the whole act
within the sphere of pure liberty is limited to the
determination of the will to be good in such and such
a degree; and here this degree, which at the same
time constitutes the action, is the sole motive.
This may perhaps become clearer if we consider
that the ultimate inner kernel of a man's moral being
must be independent of motives.  For supposing we
were to say that the conceptions of the Deity or
the Universe, or any other form of religious or moral influence, induced him to take up his stand on
the particular moral elevation which he may have




190         Critical Consideration of
obtained, we are still obliged to confess that such
influences are not dependent for their power on objective elements exclusively, but that they presume
a certain subjective capacity for their reception.
Allow therefore to motives as large a field as you
will, you must still concede ultimately a certain degree of moral susceptibility, which is entirely unmotived. Now all that is asserted in the present
scheme is this: that this ultimate, unmotived, moral
elevation in the subject is within certain limits determined by the subject itself, and is thus the true
field of pure liberty.
To say that we cannot form a conception of this
act of self-determination is no argument against
it, but on the contrary a necessary result of its
nature.  In order to be conceived, it would have to
contain some objective element, whereas by the very
hypothesis it is purely subjective. But although we
cannot conceive it, or place it before us in any form
of objective representation, we can be perfectly conscious of its existence, as we are ourselves acting in
it, and feel its reality every moment of our lives.
The scheme of liberty advocated in the foregoing
pages has so much in common with the doctrine of
Kant on the same subject, that it may perhaps at
the first glance be considered as identical with it in
principle. This opinion however would be very incorrect, as the foregoing scheme is directly opposed
to the Kantian doctrine in one of its most important positions. The following extracts from the
Criticism  of Pure Reason, will shew the numerous
points in which I have followed the great German
Philosopher, as well as the one point on which I
have ventured to differ from him.




the Three Conceptions of Liberty.              191
Possibility of Causality througIh Liberty, in Conjunction with
the General Law  of the Necessity of Natzere.
"In an object of the senses I name that Intelligible, which itself is not phenomenon. If therefore
The passage in the original is as follows:
Miglichkeit der Causalitdt durcch Freyheit, in vereinigung mit
dem ailgemeinen  Gesetze der Naturnothwendigkeit.
Ich nenne dasjenige an einemn  Gegenstande der Sinne, was
selbst nicht Erscheinung ist, intelligibel. Wenn demnach dasjenige,
was in der Sinnenwelt als Erscheinung angesehen werden muss, an
sich selbst auch ein Vermbgen hat, welches kein Gegenstand der
sinnlichen Ainschauung ist, wodurch es aber doch die Ursache von
Erscheinungen seyn kann, so kann man die —Causalitit dieses
Wesens auf zwei Seiten betrachten, als intelligibel nach ihrer Handlung, als eines Dinges an sich selbst, und als sensibel, nach den
Wirkungen derselben als einer Erscheinung in der Sinnrenwelt.
Wir wiirden uns demnach von dem Vermogen eines solchen Subjects einen empirischen, ingleichen auch einen intellectuellen Begriff
seiner CausalitAt machen, welche bei einer und derselben Wirkung
zusammen statt finden. Eine solche doppelte Seite, das Vermn6gen
eines Gegenstandes der Sinne sich zu denken, widerspricht keinem
von den Begriffen, die wir uns von Erscheinungen und von einer
m6glichen Erfahlrung zu machen haben.  Denn da diesen, weil sie
an sich keine Dinge sind, ein transcendentaler Gegenstand zum
Grunde liegen muss, der sie als blosse Vorstellungen bestimmt, so
hindert nichts, class wir diesem  transcendentalen Gegenstande,
ausser der EigenschafL, dadurch er erscheint, auch eine Oausalitdt
beilegen sollten, die nicht Erscheinung ist, obgleich ihre WVirkung
dennoch in der Erscheinung angetroffen wird. Es muss aber e&ne
jede wirkende Ursache einen Charakter haben, d. i. ein Gesetz
ihrer CausalitBtt, ohne welches sie gar nicht IUrsache seyn wiirde.
Unnd da wiirden wir an einem Subjecte der Sinnenwelt erstlich
einen empiriscehen Charakter haben, wodurch seine iandlungen,
als Erscheinungen, durch und durch mit anderen Erscheinungen
nach bestiiadigen Naturgestzen im Zusammenhange stuinden, und
von ihnen, als ihren Bedingungen, abgeleitet werden kdnnten, und
also, mit diesen in Verbindung, Glieder einer einzigen Reihe der
Naturordnung ausmachten.  Zweitens wiirde man ihm noch einen
intelligibeln Chcaracter einraiimen mUissen, dadurch es zwar die
Ursache jener Handllungen als Erscheinungen ist, der aber selbst
unter keinen Bedingungen der Sinnlichkeit steht und selbst nicht
Erscheinung ist. Man kbnnte auch den ersteren den Charakter
eines solchen Dinges in der Erscheinung, den zweiten den Charakter des Dinges an sich selbst nennen.
Dieses handelnde Subject wiirde nun, nach seinem intelligibeln
Charakter, unter keinen Zeitbestimmungen stehen, denn die Zeit
ist nur die Bedingung der Erscheinungen, nicht aber der Dinge an




192             Critical Consideration of
that which in the sensible world must be regarded as
phenomenon, have in itself also a faculty which is no
object of sensible intuition, but by means of which it
sich selbst. In ibm wiirde keine Hanzcdlung entstehen, oder vergehen,
mithin wiirde es auch nicht dem Gesetze aller Zeitbestimmung,
alles Verainderlichen, unterworfen seyn, dass Alles, was geschielt,
in den Erscheinungen (des vorigen Zustandes) seine Ursache
antreffe. Mit einem Worte, die Causalitat desselben, so ferne sie
intellectuel ist, stainde gar nicht in der Reihe empirischer Bedingungen, welche die Begebenheit in der Sinnenwelt nothwendig
machen.  Dieser intelligible Charakter k6nnte zwar niemals unmittelbar gekannt werden, weil wir nichts wahrnehmen k6nnern,
als so ferne es erscheint, aber er wiirde doch dem empirischen
Charakter gemiiss gedacht werden miissen, so wie wir iiberhaupt
einen transscendentalen Gegenstand den Erscheinungen in Gedanken zum Grunde legen miUssen, ob wir zwar von ibm, was er an
sich selbst sey, nichts wissen.
Nach seinem empirischen Charakter wiirde also dieses Subject,
als Erscheinung, alien Gesetzen der Bestimmung, nach der Causalverbindung, unterworfen seyn, und es ware so ferne nichts, als ein
Theil der Sinnenwelt, dessen Wirkungen, so wie jede andere
Erscheinung, aus der Natur unausbleiblich abflossen.  So wie
aiissere Erscheinungen in dasselbe einfl6ssen, wie sein empirischer
Charakter, d.i. das Gesetz seiner Causalitmit, durch Erfahrung
erkannt wire, miissten sich alle seine Handlungen nach Naturgesetzen erklairen lassen, und alle Requisite zu einer vollkommenen
und  nothwendigen  Bestimmung  derselben  miissten  in  einer
moglichen Erfahrung angetroffen werden.
Nach dem intelligibelen Charakter desselben aber (ob wir zwar
davon nichts als bios den allgemeinen Begriff desselben haben
konnen) wuirde dasselbe Subject dennoch von allem Einflusse der
Sinnlichkeit und Bestimmung durch Ersecheinungen frei gesprochen
werden miissen, und, da in ihm so ferne es Noumnenon ist, nichts
geschieht, keine Verainderung, welche dynamische Zeitbestimmung
erheischt, mithin keine  Verkniipfung mit Erscheinungen als
Ursachen angetroffen wird, so wiirde dieses thatige Wesen, so ferne
in seinen landlungen von aller Naturnothwendigkeit, als die lediglich in der Sinnenwelt angetroffen wird, unabhingig und frei seyn.
Man wiirde von ihm ganz richtig sagen, dass es seine Wirkungen in
der Sinnenwelt von selbst anfange, ohne dass die HIandlung in ihm
selbst anfdngt, und dieses wiirde giiltig seyn, ohne dass die
Wirkungen in der Sinnenwelt darum von selbst anfangen diirfen,
weil sie in derselben jederzeit durch empirische Bedingungen in
der vorigen Zeit, aber doch nur vermittelst des empirischen
Charakters (der bloss die Erscheinung des intelligibelen ist), vorher
bestimmt, und nur als eine Fortsetzung der IReihe der Naturursachen miglich sind. So wiirde denn Freiheit und Natur, jedes in




the Thlree Conceptions of Liberty.       193
may be the cause of phenomena, we may consider the
causality of this being in two respects, as intelligible
as to its action, as that of a thing in itselfi and as
sensible as to the effects thereof, as a phenomenon
in the sensible world.  We sshould then make, with
respect to the faculty of such an object, both  an
empirical and at the same time an intellectual conception of its causality, which take place together in
one and the same effect.  Such a double way of
thinking to oneself the faculty of an object of the
senses, contradicts none of the conceptions that we
have to make to ourselves of phenomena and of a
possible experience.  For, as these, since they are no
things in themselves, must have for their foundation
a transcendental object which determines them  as
mere representations, nothing prevents our also attributing to this transcendental object, independently of
the property whereby it appears, a causality which is
not phenomenon, although its eect is found in the
phenomenon. But every effective cause must have a
character, that is, a law of its causality, without which
it would not be a cause at all.  And then we should
have in a subject of the sensible world: first, an emnpirical character, whereby its actions as phenomena
would stand throughout in a relation of dependence
with other phenomena according to constant laws of
nature, and could be deduced from them as their conditions, and therefore in connexion with them would
form members of a single series of the order of nature.
seiner vollstandigen Bedeutung, bei eben denselben Handlungen,
nach.dern man sie mit ihrer intelligibelen oder sensibelen Ursache
vergleicht, zugleich und ohne allen Widerstreit angetroffen werden.
Kant's Kritik der reirnenT Vernzmft, herauesgegeben von Karl
Rosenkranz. Leipzig, 1838, p. 422. In the text I have adopted
Harwood's translation with a few alterations.
s. w.                                      13




194         Critical Consideration of
Secondly, we should be obliged to accord to it an
intelligible character, by means of which it is certainly
the cause of such actions as phenomena, but which
is neither itself phenomenon, nor subject to conditions of sensibility. We might also term the first the
character of such a thing in the phenomenon, the
second, the character of the thing in itself.
"Now this acting subject would, according to its
intelligible character, stand under no conditions of
time, as time is only the condition of phenomena, but
not of things in themselves. No action would arise
or vanish in it, and consequently it would not be subjected to the law of all determination in time, —of
all that is changeable,-that everything which happens, meets with its cause in the phenomena (of the
preceding state). In a word, the causality of the
same, in as far as it is intellectual, does not stand
at all in the series of empirical conditions, which
render the event in the sensible world necessary.
This intelligible character could, in fact, never be
known immediately, because we can perceive nothing, except in as far as it appears, but it must
nevertheless be thought conformably to the empirical
character, in the same -way as we must in general
lay in idea a transcendental object at the foundation
of phenomena, although we know nothing of what
such object may be in itself
"According to its empirical character therefore,
this subject as phenomenon would be subjected to all
the laws of determination in the causal connexion,
and in so far would be nothing but a part of the
sensible world, the effects of which, like every other
phenomenon, inevitably flowed from nature. As external phenomena influence this subject,-inasmuch




the Three Conceptions of Liberty.     195
as its empirical character,-that is,-the law of its
causality was cognised by experience-all its actions
must be explicable according to natural laws, and all
the requisites for a perfect and necessary determination of them must be found in a possible experience.
"But this subject according to its intelligible
character (although we can have nothing but the
general conception of it) must still be declared free
from all influence of sensibility and determination
through phenomena; and as nothing happens, nor any
change takes place, in it, in so far as it is noumnenon,
(for that requires dynamical determination of time,)
consequently, as no connexion is found in it with phenomena as causes, this active being would in so far be
free and independent of all natural necessity in its
actions, as this is met with only in the sensible world.
We should say very properly of it (the subject), that
it begins its effects in the sensible world of itself;
withoutthe action beginning in itself; and this would
be valid, without the effects in the sensible world
needing on this account to begin of themselves, since
they are always previously determined therein, by
means of empirical conditions in the previous time,
(but still only by means of the empirical character,
which is simply the phenomenon of the intelligible,)
and are only possible as a continuation of the series
of natural causes.  Thus then Liberty and Nature,
each in its complete signification, are found in the
self-same actions, co-existently and without any contradiction, accordingly as we consider them in relation
to their intelligible or sensible cause."
The reader will perceive from this passage, that
though I have not employed exactly the same language as Kant, I have followed him pretty closely in
132




196            Critical Consideration of
three very important points.  I have endeavoured to
prove, first, that the whole objective side of thought
and action, all in short that Kant calls phenomenon,
empirical character, empirical conditions, &c. is subject to the law of causality, and does not therefore
constitute the field of liberty; secondly, that the seat
of pure liberty is to be found in the subject; thirdly,
that the self-determination of the subject is a mediate
cause in the choice of actions by its influence on the
character. But there is another principle contained
in the Kantian solution of the problem, which appears
to me to run directly counter to our moral consciousness, and to which therefore I cannot subscribe.  It
is to be found in the following passages, the first two
of which occur in the extract already quoted. " No
action would arise or vanish in it, and consequently
it would not be subjected to the law of all deterinination in time, &c."  And again, speaking of the intelligible character, "And as nothing happens, nor any
change takes place in it, in so far as it is zoumenon, (for
that requires dynamical determination of time,)" &c.
Again', "Pure reason, as a mere intelligible faculty,
Die reine Vernunft, als ein bios intelligibeles Vern6ogen, ist
der Zeitform, und mithin auch den B.edingungen der Zeitfolge,
nicht unterworfen.  Die Causalitdt der Vernunft im intelligibelen
Charakter entsteht nicht, oder hebt nicht etwas zu einer gewissen Zeit
an, um eine Wirkung hervorzubringen. Denn sonst wiirde sie
selbst demr Naturgesetz der Erscheinungen, so ferne es Causalreihen der Zeit nach bestimint, unterworfen seyn, und die
Causalitrt ware alsdann Natur und nicht Freiheit. Kant's l~ritik
der reinern Vernunft, p. 432.
Die Bedingung, die in der Vernunft liegt, ist nicht sinnlich, und
fTngt also selbst nicht an.  t     %'
Aber von der Vernunft kann man nicht sagen, dass vor
demjenigen Zustande, darin sie die Willkiihr bestimmt, ein
anderer vorhergehe, darin dieser Zustand selbst bestimmlt wird.
Denn da Vernunft selbst keine Erscheinung und gar keinen
Bedingungen der Sinnlichkeit unterworfen ist, so findet in ihr,




the Three Conceptions of Liberty.           197
is not subjected to the form of time, and consequently
not to the conditions of the succession of time.  The
causality of reason does not originate in the intelligible character, or does not, as it were, begin at a
certain  time, in  order to  produce an effect.  For
otherwise it would be itself subjected to the law of
nature of phenomena, in so far as this determines the
series of causes according to time, and causality would
then be nature, and not liberty.                         - *
"The condition which lies in the reason is not
sensible, and therefore does not begin.    *  
"But we cannot say of reason, that before that
state wherein it determines the will, another precedes
wherein this state itself is determined.:For as reason
itself is no phenomenon, and is not subjected to any
conditions of sensibility, no succession of time thus
takes place therein, even in respect of its causality;
and  the dynamical law  of nature therefore, which
determines the succession according to rules, cannot
be applied to it.
"Reason is consequently the permanent condition of all arbitrary actions under which man appears. Each of these is previously determined in the
selbst in Betreff ihrer Causalit[it keine Zeitfolge statt, und auf sie
kann also das dynamische Gesetz der Natur, was die Zeitfolge
nach Regeln bestimlmt, nicht angewandt werclden.
Die Vernunft ist also die beharrliche Bedingung aller willkiihrlichen IHandlungen unter denen der Mensch erscheint. Jede
derselben ist im  empirischen Charakter des Menschen vorher
bestimmt, ehe noch als sie geschieht. In Ansehung des intelligibelen Charakters, wovon jener nur das sinuliche Schema ist, gilt
kein Vorher oder Nacchher, und jede Handllung, unangesehen des
Zeitverhiiltnisses, darin sie mit anderen Erscheinungen steht, ist
die unmittelbare Wirkung des intelligibelen Charakters der reinen
Vernunft, welche mithin frei handelt, ohne in der Kette der
Naturursachen durch aiissere oder innere, aber der Zeit nach
vorhergehende Griinde, dynamisch bestimmt zu seyn. Kant's
Kritik cler reinen Verunfyt, p. 433.




198         Critical Consideration of
empirical character of man, even before it happens. In
respect of the intelligible character of which the other
is only the sensible schema, neither is any before nor
after valid, and every action, irrespective of the relation of time wherein it stands with other phenomena,
is the immediate effect of the intelligible character
of pure reason, which therefore acts freely, without
being dynamically determined in the chain of natural
causes, by means of external or internal, but according to time, preceding grounds."
Now if Kant had merely intended to deny the
dependence of the intelligible character (corresponding to the self-determination of the subject in the
present scheme) on any causal series of phenomena,
I should have had nothing to object. Indeed, in the
deduction of the preceding scheme, I have particularly insisted on the self-determination of the subject
being entirely independent of all objective and empirical conditions.  But when he says that no change
can take place in the intelligible character, he reduces the whole of human conduct within the province of liberty to a single action, and makes the
raultifarious in the conduct of each individual to
depend exclusively on the multifarious in its objective conditions as they successively arise in time.
Now I must object to this position on two grounds.
In the first place, the law of causality applies only
to series in time, in so far as they are objects of our
internal or external sense, but not in so far as they
are purely subjective, and merely known to the consciousness as its own acts. This has been proved
in the section On the Grounds of our Conception of
Causality.  In the second place, although liberty
would be saved on the Kantian hypothesis, it would




the Three Conceptions of Liberty.         199
be hardly worth the saving on such terms, as many
phases of the moral sentiment would be based on
an illusion.  What, for instance, would become of
remorse, repentance, or good resolutions?  Unless
these ideas are absolutely false and nugatory, man
possesses not only a faculty by which he can produce
a change of conduct, but this change takes place in
precisely that element of his activity which is the
seat of his liberty and the ground  of his moral
responsibility,-in short, in the intelligible character.
There is also another idea, namely, that of consistency of conduct, which, on the Kantian hypothesis, becomes equally illusory. For where a single
free act determines the whole subjective side of
human action, and a diversity of empirical conditions
in time simply elicits a diversity of manifestations
in accordance with absolute law, how is inconsistency
possible? Every man's life, from his cradle to his
grave, must be rigidly and absolutely consistent;
and the impossibility of its opposite would deprive
the conception of consistency of all its significance
and value.
Schelling has enunciated a theory of liberty
which appears to me to coincide in great measure
with that of Kant, and therefore to be open to the
same objections; but in the point in question he
has expressed it with greater definiteness, especially
in the concluding sentence of the following extract':
Das intelligible Wesen kann daher, so gewiss es schlechthiln
frey und absolut handelt, so gewiss nur seiner eignen innern Natur
gemass handeln, oder die Handlung kann aus seinem Innern nur
nach dem Gesetz der Identitait und mit absoluter Nothwendigkeit
folgen, welche allein auch die absolute Freiheit ist: denn frey ist,
was nur den Gesetzen seines eignen Wesens gemniss handelt, und
von nichts anderem weder in noch ausser ihm bestimmt ist.




200             Critical Consideration  of
"As surely, therefore, as the intelligible essence acts
freely and absolutely, so surely can it act only in
conformity with  its own internal nature, or can the
action follow  only from  its inward nature according
to  the law  of identity and with  absolute necessity,
Es ist mit dieser Vorstellung der Sache wenigstens Eines
gewonnen, dass die Ungereimtheit des Zuftilligen der einzelnen
Handlung entfernt ist.   Dies imuss feststelen, auch in jeder
hoheren Ansioht, dass die einzelne Handlung a-is innerer Nothwendigkeit des freyen Wesens, und demnach selbst mnit Nothwendigkeit erfolgt, die mnr -nicht, wie noch immer geschieht, mit der
empirischen auf Zwang beruhenden, (die aber selber nur verhiillte
Zufalligkeit ist), verweehselt werden muss. Aber was ist denn
jene innere Nothwendigkeit des Wesens selber?  Hier liegt der
Punlkt, bei welchema Nothwendigkeit und  Freyheit vereinigt
werden miissen, wenn sie iiberhaupt vereinbar sind.  vTire jenes
Wesen ein todltes Seyn und in Ansehung des Menschen ein ibm
bloss gegebenes  so w9ire, da die Handlung aus ibm  nur mit
Nothwendigkeit folgen kann, die Zurechnungsf ahigkeit und alle
Freyheit aufgehoben.  Aber eben jene innere Nothwendigkeit ist
selber die Freyheit; das \Wesen des:Menschen ist wesentlich seine
eigne That; Nothwendigkeit und Freyheit stehen in einander, als
Ein Wesen, das nur von verschiedenen Seiten betrachtet als das
eine oder das andere erscheint; an sidc  Freyheit, formell Nothwendigkeit ist.  Das Ich, sagt Ficlhte, ist seine eigne That; Bewasstseyn ist Selbstsetzen —aber das Ich ist nichts von diesem verschiedenes, sondern eben das Selbstsetzen selber.  Dieses Bewusstseyn
aber, inwiefern es bloss als Selbst-Erfassen, oder Erkennen des Ich
gedacht wird, ist nicht einlal das erste, und setzt wie alles blosse
Erkennen das eigentliche Seyn schon voraus.  Dieses vor dem
Erkennen vermnuthee Seyn ist aber kein Seyn, wenn es gleich
kein Erkennen ist; es ist reales Selbstsetzen, es ist ein Ur- und
Grundwollen, das sich selbst zu Etwas maclht und der Grund und
die Basis aller Wesenheit ist.
Aber in viel bestimmnnterem, als diesern allgemeinen, Sinne,
gelten jene Wahrheiten in der unmittelbaren Beziehung auf den
Ilenschenl.  Der Mensch ist in der urspriinglichen Schbpfung, wie
gezeigt, ein unentschiedenes Wesen-(welches mythisch als ein
diesem  Leben  vorausgegangener Zustand der Unschuld und
anf Anglichen Seligkeit dargestellt werden mag);-nur er selbst
kann sich entscheiden.  Aber diese Entscheidung kann nicht in
die Zeit fallen; sie fallt ausseri aller Zeit und daher mit der ersten
Sch6pfung, (wenn gleich als eine von ihr verschiedene That),
zusammen.-Schellilngs Philosophische Uztesrsuclhungen ilber das
Jr'esen der menschlichen Freyheit, PhIilosophische Schriftenr p. 466.




the Three Conceptions of Liberty.      201
which, moreover, alone is absolute freedom: for that
is free which acts only in accordance with the laws
of its own essence, and is determined by nothing
else either in or out of this essence.
"One thing, at least, is gained by this representation of the matter, namely, that the absurdity of the
fortuitous of the individual action is got rid of. So
much is certain, also, in every higher view of the
question; that the single action follows from the
internal necessity of the free essence, and therefore
itself follows with necessity, which must not, as is
so often the case, be confounded with the empirical
necessity that rests on coercion (but which is only
the fortuitous disguised).  But what is, then, this
inward necessity of the essence itself?  Here lies
the point in which liberty and necessity must be
united, if they can be united at all. If that essence
were a dead being, and with respect to man something merely given to him, as the action can only
proceed from it with necessity, responsibility and
all freedom would be at an end. But precisely that
inward necessity is itself freedom; the essence of
man is essentially his own act. Necessity and freedom are in one another as one essence, which only
appears to be the one or the other accordingly as it
may be viewed from  different sides; which is freedom in itself, necessity in form. The ego, says Fichte,
is its own act; consciousness is self-putting,-but
the ego is not anything different from this latter,
but precisely this self-putting itself. But this consciousness, in as far as it is thought as a self-grasping
or cognising of the ego, is not even the first moment,
and like all mere cognition already presumes the true
being. But this being, which is presumed prior to




202          Critical Consideration of
cognition, is no being, even though it be no cognition;
it is real self-putting —it is original and fundamental
willing that makes itself something, and is the ground
and basis of all essentiality.
" But in a sense far more definite than the general one intended above, are these truths valid in their
immediate reference to man. Man, in the original
creation, is, as has been shewn, an undecided essence
(which may be represented mythically as a state of
innocence and original bliss prior to this life); he
alone can himself decide (determine) himself. But
this decision cannot fall in time; it falls out of all
time, and therefore together with the first creation,
although as an act distinct from it."
Now the views advocated in the foregoing pages
bear a considerable analogy to those expressed in the
first part of the above extract, but not to those expressed in its conclusion. As far as I understand
the -last paragraph, Schelling places man's freedom
in a single act out of all time, by which, at his
creation and once for all, man determines his intelligible essence or purely subjective character. This
theory seems to me a bolder statement of that of
Kant in its inevitable consequences.  Liberty undoubtedly is saved in the single act out of time,
manifesting itself in innumerable free actions in
time, just as the same common hidden root sends
up its sap and life through all the branches of a tree.
But what is a liberty worth which reduces a man's
conduct in all its moral relations to a single act,
and allows of no internal change or motion between
the various moments of his moral being?  A  man
commits a murder, is afterwards overwhelmed with
remorse, and endeavours by a total change of life to




the Tthree Ccnceptiots of Liberty.    203
atone in some measure for his crime. But this change
is a mere illusion, as it is nothing more than the exhibition of the same will under different circumstances.
The crime and its repentance are both free, but they
are equally determined consequences of the same free
act, and are thus bound together in the fetters of
a rigid consistency, an inexorable necessity. This
liberty of Kant and Schelling is unquestionably
to be preferred to Necessarianism; but it is utterly
powerless to satisfy the conditions of the various
phases of our moral consciousness.
To sum up the general result of the foregoing
chapter, I object to the Necessarian liberty, because
it is no liberty whatever. It consists in the isolation
of certain conditions of action by the imagination,
and then ignoring the others as completely as if they
did not exist.  I object to the Arbitrarian theory,
because, as it makes liberty to consist in a faculty
of giving the weaker motives the ascendancy over
the stronger, it makes it consist in what, by the
very hypothesis, must be an unmotived act; and
such a liberty, if conceivable, would be a mere negation, and have no moral significance or value.  And
lastly, I object to the liberty of the single act of
self-determination advocated by Kant and Schelling,
because, by its being out of all time, and consisting
in a single immutable act, it would make such a vast.
proportion of the phenomena of our moral consciousness mere illusions, that we might almost as well
give up our moral sentiment altogether.




PART [I.
THE RELATION OF THE WILL TO THE INTELLECT.
[T has appeared in the preceding Part, that the
activity of the Will in the province of pure liberty
is confined to the self-determination of the subject,
and has no immediate concern with objects. This
however, so far from being unfavourable to the existence of a relation between the will and the intellect,
as might perhaps at first be supposed, offers the very
grounds of such a relation in the form of a principle
of verification of all objective cognition; for it is
only where the freedom ends, that the objective can
begin. The nature of this relation will constitute
the subject of the present chapter.
In the brief analysis of an act of consciousness
in general contained in a former section, it was
observed, that we are able to fix ourselves in time.
I am conscious, for instance, that " I" exist in " this
present moment." The second member of the synthesis, -the present moment, i. e. my "now" as
distinguished from  my "then," was shewn to be
determined empirically in the consciousness by the
phenomena presented to it, and the latter again to
be a particular moment in the succession taking
place in some permanent subject out of me. Now to
determine the nature of the other member of the
synthesis, it must be observed that such a fixing in




The Relation of the Will to the Intellect.  205
time would have but little significance or value for
us, —that is, it would constitute but a very weak
bond between our individuality and the external
world, —if such first member were the mere formal
ego, the unity by which I combine the partial phenomena into a whole, as representations in my consciousness in a single instant of time. Were it
nothing more than this, the act of consciousness in
each instant would be absolutely isolated, and no
connected life would be possible. Every such act
would thus be precisely similar to the first instantaneous thought of a man awaking from a swoon, in
which he had entirely lost all knowledge of his
former life. Whereas, so far from this being the
case, when I say, I fix myself in this time, I attribute to this " I" not merely the form of my individuality, but a representation more or less clear of my
actual individuality, that is, of the life I have led,
and the character I have formed in it.
It is hardly necessary to dwell upon such an
axiomatic psychological fact, but should the reader
be inclined to dispute it, he need only consult his
own experience to be convinced that he is never
absolutely divested of the consciousness of a former
history, which though connected by association with
the objects around him, is not immediately impressed
on him by them.  He may perhaps for a short time
be so absorbed in such objects as to render such a
consciousness extremely indistinct, but some dim feeling of who he is, what he has done, and what he
intends to do, is never wholly wanting. This feeling
is what I understand by the empirical ego, or the
matter of the individuality as opposed to the mere
form.




206   The Relation of the Will to the Intellect.
The empirical ego therefore is the personal identity as it presents itself to the inner sense. It is an
internal picture of myself painted in the imagination with materials supplied for the most part by the
memory, and undergoing a constant change according to the accidental circumstances of place and
association. These materials, only a part of which
enter into the picture at any one instant, are of a
very heterogeneous character. They consist, for instance, of the recollections and scenes of my former
life, the representations of the objects in space surrounding the place which I occupy, (e. g. the appearance represented by the street in which I live,) with all
of which I have only become acquainted by sensible
experience. They consist further, of my inner lifethe joys and sorrows that may have illumined or cast
a shade over the past, the plans I have formed, the
hopes I have cherished, the passions I have combated.  But my present thought also contributes
matter to the empirical ego. Thus the conduct I
have marked out for the hour or the day, my anticipations of future events, whether hopes or fears, all
constitute a part of that great composite of empirical
matter which makes up my personal history, and distinguishes my actual individual life from that of
every other man.
The empirical ego is thus a kind of dim biography, written on the surface of every man's consciousness; a biography, which, if it could be adequately
expressed in words, would be a full and exact answer
to the question, Who are you?
Now the act of the consciousness by which I fix
myself in time is a synthesis, of which the empirical
ego, and the complex of the sensible phenomena




The Relation of the Will to the Intellect.  207
presented to my senses in the particular instant, form
the two members. This synthesis is an act which
never ceases during consciousness.  For there are
no conditions of consciousness under which my senses
are entirely unaffected by external objects, or the
picture of my empirical ego absolutely effaced. At
every moment therefore both elements of this synthesis are present in my consciousness, and there conjoined in that act which constitutes the determination
of myself in time.
Now in every synthesis we must be able to distinguish between the two members in order to conjoin
them. The question therefore arises, by what rule or
touchstone do I try the innumerable representations
in my consciousness, and distinguish those which belong to my empirical ego from those which belong to
my outward sense?  Or the same question may be
put thus: What is the principle of the division of the
representations in my consciousness, by which I distinguish those of the succession of which I am
myself the only permanent subject, from those the
succession of which is in a permanent object out
of me?
Now the empirical ego is a product of the imagination. It is the result of an activity by which I
reproduce images from past experience as they were
actually presented to me, or reconstruct their elements in new combinations, either as a mere play of
the fancy, or as practical ends for the direction of
future conduct. The imagination again is that faculty
in which I am conscious of my will as one of the
determinants.  It is hardly necessary to add, that I
am not speaking of the pure will, or the will within
the province of pure liberty, as that can never be




208   The Relation of the Will to the Intellect.
represented objectively either to the outward or the
inward sense, and is confined to the self-determination of the subject. I simply assert that the activity of
the imagination is one of the results of the concrete
will, or the will after it has left the field of pure
liberty, and partially limited itself by its union with
that objective element through which alone it can
give itself objective expression. The second member
of the synthesis, the sensible phenomena, on the
other hand, is entirely without the sphere of the will.
The consciousness of the activity of the will therefore is the touchstone required.
Let us make this more evident by an example.
I look at the table before me and the other objects
around me, and am  conscious that no immediate
effort of my will can alter the manner in which they
affect my senses. A sheet of white paper, for instance,
will not change its colour to brown in consequence of
any simple volition of mine. But besides these phenomena, I am also conscious of a train of thought or
series of phenomena cognisable alone by my inward
sense, which I can present to myself in a thousand
varying forms as my fancy may direct. Among the
latter must also be reckoned the recollections of past
external phenomena, inasmuch as I can reproduce
them in different combinations to those in which they
actually occurred. Now in all these phenomena of the
inward sense, which form the empirical ego, I am
conscious of the activity of my own will as the regulative and constructive principle, and it is therefore
through the consciousness of this activity that I distinguish between them and external phenomena.
Perhaps it may be objected here, that we are immediately conscious of the objective nature of the




The Relation of thle Will to the Intellect.  209
objects of our external sense, and that in order to
recognise an external object as such, I am not obliged
to try experiments with my representation of it, and
endeavour, by any immediate act of will, to make it
appear otherwise than it actually does. To this I
would reply, that it is true that I am not obliged to
exercise any act of will involving an amount of
energy which is otherwise cognisable; but this arises
from the fact, that the independence of the external
phenomenon of the energy of the will appears at
once at the limit. The very first and most infinitesimal attempt of the will to encroach on a province
that does not belong to it, is so entirely without result,
and the power and authority of the faculty is so unhesitatingly disallowed, that the conviction of the
fruitlessness of a further attempt is immediately and
instantaneously felt.  No such amount of energy
therefore is exerted as could be perceptible to the
consciousness in any other form than in the instinctive conclusion of the presence of an object entirely
independent of the will.
The above considerations have prepared the way
for the solution of the problem proposed in the beginning of this chapter, namely, the nature of the
relation of the will to the intellect. When we first
discovered that the seat of pure liberty was only to
be found in the pure subject, it was observed that
this liberty did not consist in any power of the will
to exercise a choice between action and inactivity, as
the former was imposed on it by a fundamental law
of its being. We are now able to add, that one of
the laws of this compelled activity is the necessity
imposed on it of maintaining a process, which from
its analogy to a certain mathematical operation, may
S. w.                                 14




210   The Relation of the Will to the Intellect.
be most aptly denominated intellectual differentiation.  All the representations in the consciousness
are tested in the very instant of their appearance
with respect to the extent of their dependence on the
will, that is, they are differentiated with regard to it.
Those yielding a differential coefficient = 0, those in
short which manifest no change corresponding to an
infinitesimal change in the will, are recognisedat
once as no functions of it, and therefore as of an
objective character. Those on the other hand where
dR
dW- = a, (where R = representations, and W = will)
are accepted as functions of the will, and their subjective origin is accordingly acknowledged.
That I have ascribed no imaginary office to the
will in the above remarks will perhaps appear still
more evident from the following considerations. If
we ask ourselves what we mean when we predicate
of some of our representations the actual existence
of corresponding objects, and deny such a reference
to objects, of other representations, we shall find
that we mean neither more nor less than that the
former have grounds entirely independent of our
activity, of the activity in short of our wills, but that
the grounds of the latter are not thus independent.
Again, as the order and ihanner in which such
objects are presented to the senses cannot, from the
very fact of their being objects. at all, depend entirely
on c priori subjective laws of thought, such objectivity must be cognised empirically. Hence it follows
that in the. cognition of an object there is an act
determining by actual experience the independence
of such object of the will, and it is this act which
constitutes the differentiation. For it is only by a




7The Relation of the Will to the Intellect.  211
positive comparison of the change in a representation
with a change in the will, that we can empirically
determine their mutual relations on the one hand,
or the non-existence of such relations on the other.
The infinitesimal character however of the will's operation in the process will always prevent its being an
object of immediate consciousness, and may perhaps
induce some persons to deny its existence. If however they will only grant that our cognition of
objects is an empirical cognition of their independence pro tanto of the will, they will have acknowledged the above theory in all essentials, and will
object only to the form under which I have symbolised it.
It appears from the foregoing analysis, that one
of the most important offices of the will is the process of dividing our representations accordingly as
they are functions or not of itself, into their subjective and objective elements, and thus of producing
those two members whose immediate synthesis constitutes our determination in time, and our bond
of union with the world in which we live.  For the
will, as the innermost kernel, the original essence of
the pure subject, passes on through time, differentiating relatively to itself all the representations in the
consciousness, and separating those which are found
to be its functions from those which are none. These
two classes open as it were for the instant, but are
instantly reunited in the synthesis by which we determine ourselves in time, and by which they are incorporated with the rest of the matter of the empirical
ego. For the perception of one instant becomes
the memory of the next, and the sway of the sensible phenomenon, though still great, ceases to be
14- 2




212   The Relation of the Will to the Intellect.
absolute and irresistible in the same moment that its
representation in the consciousness has passed in any
degree into the province of the imagination.
Perhaps it may, at first sight, seem inconsistent
that I should assert the will to be a principle of
verification of intellectual operations, after having
refused to acknowledge it as an intellectual faculty.
The apparent contradiction however is easily explained. The intellectual differentiation of the will
is not in itself a positive act of cognition, but simply
supplies the object of a cognition in which it is
determined whether certain phenomena have or have
not an objective ground. The will therefore stands
in a negative relation to the intellect.  It is not
itself intellect, but its activity supplies the touchstone by which the positive intellectual faculties are
enabled to test the objective validity of their operations.
It is rather curious that the side of our representations, which as functions of the present will
have been recognised as subjective, contains a sham
objective, consisting of representations reproduced in
the imagination as independent of the will of the
moment to which they refer.  If, for instance, I
picture to myself a house that I have seen, I am
conscious that the picture is merely subjective considered in relation to my present will, as I can make
changes in its representation at pleasure.  But in so
far as I do fancy it of any particular form or colour,
I represent it as having an objective existence independent of the will of myself or any other person
beholding it.  Again, when I recall such a picture
to my mind's eye, I imagine the individual beholding
it to have an empirical ego; for this has been shewn




Thze Relation of thle Will to the- Intellect.  213
to be absolutely necessary to the very form of any
continued act of consciousness, even when directed
for the most part to sensible phenomena.  Hence it
follows that the subjective side of the representations
in my present consciousness is again resolvable into
two terms, and must be considered as consisting
partly of an imaginary and sham objective, and
partly of a subjective, both of which are respectively
determined as such by a process of intellectual differentiation, in which an imaginary value of the will
is the independent variable.
In order to avoid the frequent repetition of long
and periphrastic expressions, I shall designate the
two sides of my present representations by the terms,
the first objective and the first subjective, respectively; and the two sides of the representations into
which it appears that the first subjective is resolvable, by the terms, second objective and second subjective. I shall also call the present will the first will,
and the imaginary will, by which the second subjective and objective are distinguished, the second will.
Now the first subjective has been shewn to be
resolvable into a second subjective and second objective. If, for instance, I reproduce in my imagination some scene of my past life, I recall not only
the sensible circumstances, but also some of the
thoughts and feelings connected with it; and the
latter constitute the second subjective.  Now the
subjective and objective of the second degree are of
a precisely analogous character to the first, except
that they are determined by an act of intellectual
differentiation in which a merely imaginary act of
the will is the independent variable.  It might
therefore be anticipated, that in the same manner




214   The Relation of the Will to the Intellect.
as the first subjective is resolvable into a second
objective and second subjective, so also must the
latter be resolvable into a third objective and subjective, and the third subjective into a fourth, and
so on ad inJinitum.  According to the mere form
this is correct; but in actual practice we do not
carry the process beyond a very few steps, as the
imagination finds the effort of maintaining all the
intermediate orders of the subjective too fatiguing,
and therefore by allowing them to drop, makes representations of a higher class assume the place of
a lower. That our thoughts however may sometimes carry us to a tolerably high order will appear
from the following example. A young man who
has been on the point of emigrating to the back
woods of America, but has afterwards given up the
project, writes to his friend as follows:
"I have now returned home, and am sitting in
my dear old study once more. As the weather was
very fine this morning, I took a walk in the woods
and lay down under my favourite oak, where I passed
a couple of hours in a delightful state of reverie.
I felt deeply grateful at having escaped so hopeless
a fate.  I thought that if I had carried out my
former plan, I should have already been half across
the Atlantic, perhaps indeed lying ill in my berth,
brooding over the dulness of a life passed in the
back woods, where no pleasant thoughts would. cheer
the long and weary hours, except those of the loved
ones I had left at home, sitting perhaps round their
Christmas fire, and talking of the many happy days
they had passed with their truant brother."
Now I think the reader will grant that there
is nothing in the style of the above passage so




The Relation of the Will to the Intellect.  215
extremely forced, that it could not have occurred in
a letter from a young man to one of his friends
under the circumstances above mentioned; and yet
it contains subjectives and objectives of all orders,
from the first to the sixth inclusive.  It must however be confessed, that the more natural course both
for the thought and its expression, would have been
to break off at the fourth objective, (the dull life
in the back woods), and to refer the succeeding
representations either to the first or second subjective, instead of the fourth.
In the foregoing investigation I have considered
the differentiation of our representations relatively to
the will simply as the test by which we distinguish
our sensible perceptions from the product of' our
imagination.  The same law  however has a far
wider application, as it constitutes the point of contact between the will and the intellect generally, and
is the ultimate principle of the verification not merely
of external perceptions, but of all objective cognition
whatever.
For let us ask the question, What constitutes the
essential difference between a true and a false judgment? They have both existed in the mind, and
consequently there must be some grounds for their
existence; but the question is, What is the difference
between these grounds?  Now the first answer that
probably -will suggest itself is this: The grounds of
the true judgment are objective, those of the false,
subjective; and the answer is correct as far as it
goes. But then the question arises, What do we
mean by saying that there is an object corresponding to the true judgment, and not to the false?
Clearly this: That in the former case the grounds




216   The Relation of the Will to the Intellect.
of the judgment are entirely independent of our own
will, whereas in the latter they are at the best but
partially.so.  Judgments, for instance, are made
respecting the mathematical relations of quantity,
the laws of nature, and the laws of morality; and
in so far as these judgments agree with such laws
and relations, they are said to be true. But these
laws and relations must be more than a mere passing
fancy, the creation of the imagination; they must be
something objective, something in themselves that
will not become otherwise in compliance with a volition of ours; in short, something independent. of our
wills, or there would be nothing for the judgment
to agree with. In order, therefore, to test the truth
of.a judgment, the object must be to determine
whether all its grounds are independent of the will;
and it is this determination which constitutes the
method above described, under the name of intellectual differentiation, or the comparison of a variation in the object with a variation in the will. The
difference between the two applications of the principle in its reference to the existence of sensible
objects on the one hand, or to the truth of objective
relations on the other, may perhaps become clearer
by an example.
Suppose, for instance, I call up in my mind a
purely imaginary representation of a man killing his
brother in order to inherit his property.  I can determine at once that the representation has no objective grounds, as it is a mere function of my will,
and I can alter it at pleasure. In this case, I merely
decide against the objective reality of the images
presented.  But now suppose the question not to
refer to the reality of the phenomena, but to the




The Relation of the V1iii to the Intellect.  217
truth of certain moral principles suggested by them.
Let the question be propounded, for instance,Whether
a man who murders his brother to inherit his property can be a good man? To answer it, I try if
I can possibly represent to myself such circumstances
as should make such conduct compatible with moral
excellence.  I find, however, that my will is powerless in the matter, i.e. that there are elements in the
representation absolutely independent of my will,
and I conclude accordingly, that such elements
(which in this case are the moral laws, or practical
development of the will universal) are objective, and
not the imaginative product of my subjective feelings.
The same formula is applicable to all conceivable
exercise of the intellect in the discovery of truth.
The distinction between a priori and d posteriori
cognitions may now be placed in a still clearer light
than was attainable in the section devoted to that
subject. It has been shewn, that in addition to the
first and present will, by the differentiation relatively
to which we distinguish between the first objective
and first subjective, the latter also contains an imaginary or second will, by its independence of which
a second objective is determined.  Now d posteriori
cognitions of objects are absolutely independent of
the first will, but are conceived as falling under the
dominion of the second. A priori cognitions, on the
other hand, are those which resist the controul of
any will whatever, either actual or imaginary. They
are therefore recognised as grounded on the universal relations of the will in general to the faculties,
and thus as referring to the general form of such
faculties, and as predicable of their objects universally, and independently of all particular cases.




218   The Relation of the Will to the Intellect.
Perhaps it may be urged here, that moral laws
cannot be annihilated in thought, and therefore that
as they resist the controul of the will in its general
form, they have no less claim to be recognised as
a priori than the mathematical relations of space.
To this I would reply, that the relations of space
can be abstracted from all empirical cognition of
phenomena, and that the proposition, for instance,
concerning two straight lines not enclosing a space,
is perfectly conceivable independently of all existing
objects whatever.  The moral laws, on the other
hand, cannot be conceived except as referring to
moral beings, that is to say, to objects whose existence can only be the object of empirical cognition.
To. whatever extent, however, we abstract from empirical matter, to the same extent may moral laws
also become d priori. Disregarding therefore such
relations as that of citizen and state, or child and
parent, we may enunciate as an a priori moral law
(but with the above qualification), the universality
of the moral principle, namely, that my action must
be such that no contradiction arises in supposing
that all persons in similar circumstances should do
the same.
Whatever may be the nature of the ultimate
formula for the verification of our cognitions in
general, one thing may be predicated respecting it
with certainty, namely, that the formula itself is
absolute, and consequently that error can only arise
through its defective application. For if the ultimate appeal of the intellect in its abstract form be
itself false, truth becomes an impossibility, and the
very word, having no reference to anything within
the reach of human faculties, loses for us at least




The Relation of the Will to the Intellect.  219
all signification. Neither is the original seat of error
to be sought for in any lower principle, that is, in
any principle further removed from the most abstract
form of the intellect. For if the application of the
formula were as secure against error as the principle itself, it would present an infallible clue to
truth, and render error impossible. Assuming therefore, in conformity with the foregoing argument, that
intellectual differentiation is the ultimate formula of
verification, the question arises: What is the abstract
form of error, or what is the general form of that
defect in our differentiation through which error
arises?
As truth consists in drawing the boundary line
correctly between such representations as are, and
such as are not functions of the will, it might at
first be imagined that two forms of error would
arise, accordingly as we draw the line too much to
the one side or the other, that is, accordingly as
we include a part of the field of the objective within
that of the subjective, or a part of the field of the
subjective within that of the objective. In reality,
however, it will be found that the former case ultimately resolves itself into the latter. For if I represent to myself a part of the objective as subjective, or
a product of my will, this very representation (in
which the error consists) is itself a subjective product
of my imagination, which I assume as objective.
We have therefore but one case to consider, and the
general question assumes the form: What are the
circumstances under which I regard the subjective,
or the product of my imagination, as the objective,
or as independent of my will? The problem refers
to the abstract form of error in general, and strictly




220   The Relation of t7e Will to the Intellect.
speaking, the solution ought to be equally general
and abstract.  For the sake of greater perspicuity,
however, I shall treat of it in the first instance with
reference to the grossest form of error, in which
sensible objects are the matter of the judgments.
The transition to the other cases will then be easy,
as the principle is the same.
It has been shewn' that the first subjective is
divisible into a second subjective and a second objective, which are determined by their dependence or
independence respectively of an imaginary or second
will. If, for instance, I form to myself the representation of a town I have never seen, I am aware that
it is the product of my imagination, and as such dependent on my present will. In the representation,
however, I imagine it as such that it would produce
a definite impression on my senses if I were actually
to behold it, and consequently as objective, or independent of my will under such imaginary circumstances, i. e. independent of my imaginary will.
It appears, then, that the whole energy of the
first will, in the first subjective, is divided in its
operation. In the first place it produces the second
objective by the determination of an imaginary external world; and in the second place it produces a
second subjective, or imaginary state of the empirical
ego as product of a second will, by its independence
of which the second objective is determined. Now
two classes of cases occur, accordingly as the energy
of the first will is concentrated upon the production
of the second subjective, which is the activity of the
second will, or upon the second objective, which is
the negation or limit of such activity. Where the
1 Page 212.




The Relation of the Will to the Intellect.  221
latter is the case, the first will is widely different
from the second, and there is no danger that the objective or negation of the one should be mistaken for
that of the other. For the change in the second
objective is large in proportion to the change in the
will, and consequently the consciousness of the subjectivity of this second objective proportionably
great, and the danger of error proportionably small.
Where, however, the former is the case, the second
will, by engrossing the energy of the first will, approaches to identity with it, and thus produces a
seemling identity between the first and second objectives, (which are determined respectively by their independence of the first and second wills,) by making
the second objective answer approximately the conditions of the first.
These observations refer to mental phenomena of
daily experience. When, in thinking of time past or
future, we concentrate our whole thought, in so far
as it is in a state of development or change, upon the
internal sensations of such imaginary moment (i. e.
upon the second subjective), and regard the imagined
external sensations (i. e. the second objective) merely
as fixing the time and place, then it is that this sham
objective possesses for us the greatest degree of
reality. Let us take an example. The more intensely
a man dwells upon the feelings associated with any
past scene, the greater will be the reality with which
the external images connected with it are presented
to his mental vision.
The state of mind called reverie is one in which
the action of the will is extremely feeble, and all its
energy is directed upon the second subjective, thus
giving the second objective a very high degree of




222   The Relation of the Will to the Intellect.
reality. This abandonment of the mind to the second
subjective is the philosophical explanation of the fact,
that a sentimental tone of thought frequently produces reverie; and the vividness of the images connected with it arises from the identity of the first
and second wills, and from the resulting error by
which the second objective is confounded with the
first. The disease called nostalgia is a striking instance of this state.  So entirely is the mind engrossed with the feelings connected with home, that
the will has no longer the energy necessary to test
the objectivity of the associated images.  Thus the
green fields and the old village-church seem to meet
the eye in every direction.
The above is an analysis of that lowest form of
error in which imaginary sensible phenomena are
mistaken for their realities. It offers, however, a
type of error in general; and the same reasoning is
equally valid with respect to those differentiations,
the object of which is to distinguish the objective in
our subjective representations.  For whatever may
be the nature of the subject matter of the error, it is
nothing more than the giving objectivity to that
which is subjective, or in other words, declaring that
to be independent of the will which is not so. This
can only arise from a want of self-assertion on the
part of the will sufficiently energetic to hold its own.
Through the unequal distribution of its energy over
the field of the subjective, some parts are so weakly
tested by the differentiating process as to appear no
functions of the will, and consequently as objective.
This it is which constitutes the connexion between
intellectual error'and our moral nature. For in any
question of ethics, the real and only source of error is




The Relation of the Will to the Intellect.   223
the feebleness of the effort of the will, by which the
subjective  creations of the imagination  are  falsely
declared to be independent of the will's energy, and
therefore to have objective grounds'.
In order to comprehend the true sphere of the
differentiation of the will, it will be necessary to bear
in mind that the opposition between subject and
object is of a different character, and is differently
apprehended, accordingly as the former is understood
to signify the pure or the empirical ego.
If we endeavour to give the relations between the will and
our representations a sensible form, by interpreting the equations
as though they referred to a system of co-ordinates, we may suppose that the principle of the will corresponds to the axis of x as
the independent variable, and the principle of the purely objective
to the axis of y. In this case the first objective, or external world,
(represented by the equation y = a) will be a straight line parallel
to the axis of x, at every point of which it answers its distinguishing condition -  (i. e.d= O.
The power of the will in the subjective varies every instant as
our action proceeds. In a mind enjoying full moral and intellectual health, it is very great; in a mind of a weak and morbid
tone, it is very small. The conscience-stricken murderer, for
instance, finds it impossible to escape from  the image of his
crime. It will intrude upon his thoughts at the most unwelcome
moments, and haunts him night and day. Now the differential coefficient Y(or -) is the measurTe of this power, and as it contains
a variable, the equation y =f(x), corresponding to the second objective, must be at least of the second degree, and the second objective
itself must be represented by a curve. At the point dx  0o) the
curve takes for the instant a direction parallel to the axis of x, or
to the line y = a, representing the objective world.  Thus the
second objective, by answering  the conditions of the first, is
mistaken for it, and error arises as explained in the text.
I should not have considered it worth while offering the reader
this symbolical illustration of the activity of the imagination, if.I had not been led to the above theory of error by searching for
the psychological signification of the points dy d =    O dy    in the
curve above mentioned as the symbol of our second objective.




224   The Relation of the Will to the Intellect.
For the pure ego contains no empirical matter in
itself, and is merely the principle of the unity of the
multifarious in acts of consciousness. All products
of the imagination therefore, however little they may
correspond to the absolutely objective world, are objective when considered in relation to the pure ego,
and only fall under the category of subjective when
the empirical ego is made the basis of the opposition
between subject and object.
Now to prevent confusion between two different
things, it must be observed that although the process
of intellectual differentiation is the test by which we
are enabled to distinguish between the subjective and
the objective in our representations, it is not a method
of distinguishing between the pure subjective and the
objective in general, but on the contrary, presumes
a faculty of such distinction as its own basis. For
without a definite consciousness in the subject of its
own activity in an act of the will, differentiation
relatively to it becomes impossible, as there would be
no independent variable. The problem, therefore,
which alone is solved by the process in question is
the following: Given certain representations and a
consciousness of the activity of the subject, by means
of the latter to divide the former into the two classes
of the objective on the one hand, and the subjective
on the other, or those in which the subject is one of
the determinants. In short, the scope and extent of
the process is the determination of the boundary
between the empirical ego and the absolutely objective, and not between the pure ego and the objective
in general.
It appears from the foregoing observations that
the cognition of the objective in general by the pure




The Relation of the Will to the Intellect.   225
ego is immediate, while that of the absolute objective, as opposed to the empirical ego, is a mediate
result'.  This distinction however must not be considered as referring to time, but merely to the fact
that the cognition of the absolute objective requires
the mediation of the differentiating process, and is
not completed by the positive faculty of the cognition
unaided by the will.
Although I have spoken of the subjective in
relation to the empirical ego as objective in relation
to the pure subject or unity of consciousness, yet as
the opposition between the pure subject and an object
in general is contained in the mere abstract form of
an act of consciousness, it appears to me unphilosophical in a high degree to speak of the pure subject
In Sir William Hamilton's Supplementary Dissertation on the
Philosophy of Common Sense, there is the following passage:-" In
the act of sensible perception, I am conscious of two things; of
myself as the perceiving subject, and of an external reality, in
relation with my sense, as the object perceived.  Of the existence
of both these things I am convincedl-because I am conscious of
knowing each of them, not mediately, in something else, as represented, but immediately in itself, as existing.  Of their mutual
independence I am no less convinced; because each is apprehended
equally, and at once, in the same indivisible energy-the one not
preceding or determining, the other not following or determined;
and because each is apprehended out of, and in direct contrast to,
the other." Sir WV. Hamilton's Ed. of Reid, p. 747.
The doctrine in the text would have been identical with that
contained in this passage, had the latter referred to the relation of
the pure subject to its thought in general, instead of referring to
the perceptions of the senses. My objection to regarding the consciousness of the external object in a perception as immediate,
arises from the consideration, that the consciousness of its externalitv contains its independence of the subject. Such independence
can only be determined empirically, and hence it follows, that
before an object can be distinguished from a representation in the
imagination, the positive deliverance of the sense must receive the
seal of externality from a negative process, establishing its independence of the subject; and this process, as shewed above, is
that of the differentiation of such representation relatively to the
will.
S. W.                                          15




226   The Relation of the Will to the Intellect.
as ever becoming its own object. It is true, in an
act of consciousness we become conscious of the
existence of a thinking subject, but there is no reason
for concluding that every existence of which we become aware in an act of consciousness is necessarily
an object. On the contrary, the subject is conscious of
its own existence in its own activity on the one
hand, and of the existence of the object in the limitation to such activity on the other.  Existence therefore is not to be considered as the opposite pole or
logical complement of the subject, but rather of the
subject and object in their synthesis in an act of consciousness.  Hence subject and object on the one
hand, stand in similar relations to existence on the
other, as the polar antithesis of an act of consciousness.  When therefore I become conscious of my
own existence, I see no reason to conclude that I
have placed myself before myself as an object, but
on the contrary, I believe that the consciousness
of the existence of the subject arises in its own
activity, and is not only simultaneous with, but absolutely involved in, the consciousness of the existence
of the object; and in short, that the consciousness
of the existence of the object implies in its very
essence the consciousness of an existence which is
conscious of such object. To assert therefore that
a pure subject can ever be its own object appears to
me in contradiction to the form of an act of consciousness in general, and to introduce confusion into
philosophy at its very source.
The general result of the preceding analysis of the
relation of the will to the intellect may be summed
up as follows: knowledge, or the cognition of objects,
arises where the will meets with a resistance which it




The Relation of the Will to the Intellect.  227
cannot overcome, and the fact of this resistance is
determined by differentiation. Where the resistance
is only to the particular will in time, the knowledge
is empirical; where it is absolute and to all imaginary
wills, the knowledge is a priori. If we consider all
objects as the operation of the Divine will, knowledge
may be symbolised as the result of a collision of such
Divine will with the human will; or better perhaps
as the projection of the former upon the plane of the
latter.  This however must be understood of the
concrete human will, and not of the will in the field
of pure liberty, where it is the self-determination of
the subject. Were the latter the case, and the position of the plane of our will entirely in our own
power, we could give our knowledge an infinity of
forms at pleasure; for if no element in our relations
to the objective were subject to law, our faculties
would be determined by our own wills. There are,
however, certain laws restricting the operation of our
will in determining its plane, and these laws are our
faculties taken in the most general sense, that is, as
all the various forms in which objects are cognisable
by the subject of consciousness.
15-2




PART III.
THE HUMAN WILL IN RELATION TO GOD.
CHAPTER I.
General Statewzent of the Question.
N  the preceding Parts of this treatise, I have
endeavoured to determine the character of the
relation of the Will to Nature and the Human
Intellect. In the present I propose to myself a
loftier theme-the relation of the Will to God.
Hitherto the members of the relationships considered,
have been the thinking subject on the one hand, and
certain immediate objects of consciousness on the
other; and though the problem has not been an easy
one, it has at least had the advantage of being
concerned with our direct experience alone.  Now
however the case is altered. Of one member of the
comparison we have no immediate experience, for no
man has seen God at any time. It is true, I have
attempted to shew in a former section that the moral
sentiment is the innate consciousness of the relation
of the individual to a higher will, which when objectivised through faith or reason is found to be the
will of God; but this consciousness is a merely subjective feeling, and cannot realise its object without
the aid of other faculties. The objective interpretation therefore of the moral and religious sentiments is not in any way at variance with the general
proposition, that the relation of the human will to




General Statement of the Question.  229
God can never become an object of a direct and
positive experience.  No man, for instance, has a
direct consciousness of his own creation.
It follows from the above considerations, that the
conception of the relation in question must either be
c priori throughout, as far as its Divine member is
concerned, or else must start from the empirical fact
of our faith in a God possessing certain attributes,
without regard to the origin of such faith. In the
present instance, the proofs of the existence of the
Deity do not come within the scope of the work, and
I shall accordingly adopt the second alternative, and
assume the existence on faith. I feel moreover the
less hesitation in preferring this course, as the universal faith itself appears to me the strongest argument in its own favour.
With regard to the division of the problem, I
would observe that we are not at present concerned
with the nature of the Deity, except in His relations
to the human will. In assuming however the existence of a Deity at all, we necessarily include the
assumption of certain attributes, as otherwise we
should have nothing but a mere empty conception of
some being in general which would offer no foundation for any argument respecting its relations. Now
if we start from the absolute positive in the Divine
Will in its relation to the particular positive in the
human, the question arises, how can the latter, however limited, exist simultaneously with the infinity of
the former, without encroaching on its sphere of possible activity; and the Divine attribute to be assumed
in its consideration is that of Omnipotence. When
this point however is once disposed of, and the
maintenance of the human will, as a self-imposed




230     General Statement of the Question.
limitation on that of the Almighty, has been accepted as true, the question arises, how such limitation, which, as an object of the knowledge of the
Eternal and Immutable God, must be a fact of
eternity, can have its grounds in a human action
commencing in time. In the latter question, the attribute to be assumed is evidently that of prescience.
I shall now proceed to the consideration of these
problems, premising however that anything like a
positive solution of them appears to me to lie beyond the scope of our faculties. All I shall attempt
therefore is to shew by analogy and otherwise, that
however little we can comprehend the relations of
the will to its Creator, there is nothing absolutely
contradictory between its freedom on the one hand,
and the power and knowledge of God on the other.




CHAPTER II.
Relation of the Will to the Omnipotent.
THE difficulty of conceiving the relation of the
human will as free, to the will of God as absolute, arises in the following alternative. Either the
human will conforms absolutely and entirely with
the Divine, in which case its freedom can only be
reserved by the supposition that it forms an actual
part of the Divine will, and that the whole life of a
man is but an emanation from God,-only one mode
of God's action; or else the human will is not in
absolute conformity with the Divine, but has an
individual existence of its own; and in this case it
appears as a limitation to the power of the Omnipotent.
The first of these hypotheses appears to me untenable for several reasons.  Besides making God
the immediate author of evil, it runs entirely counter
to those subjective feelings, to find an object for
which is the sole purport of faith's assuming a God
at all. For by this absorption of man in the Godhead, the relation of the human to the Divine will is
annihilated in their identity. But it is the consciousness of this relation which, in the dim region of subjective feeling, constitutes the moral sentiment, and
which, when objectivised by the sum total of the
faculties in their joint operation under the namne of
faith, evolves the conception of God, and superadds
to the feeling of duty, that of religious reverence.




232    ]Relcation of the Will to the Omnipotent.
The difficulty of the second hypothesis is also
great, but it is a difficulty of another character.  It
does not arise from its irreconcilability with the
conception of the God of our faith, but from  our
inability to form any adequate conception of an act
of creation.
Now emanation, or a purely positive pouring
forth of the Divine activity, is a comparatively simple
idea; at any rate it does not appear to involve any
logical contradiction. But in the conception of creation, we have that of a created object, which, as such,
must have a species of independence of its creator,
and thus offer a resistance to  the very  will from
which it has proceeded. For if it offer no such resistance, if, on the contrary, it sway here and there
with the thought of its creator, it ceases to be anything in itself; and becomes a mere manifestation of
the creating power without any independent result;
in short an emanation from the same'. But then, on
1 Aber Abhangigkeit hebt Selbststiindigkeit, hebt sogar Freyheit nicht auf. Sie bestimmt nicht das Wesen, und sagt nur, dass
das Abhaingige, was es auch immer seyn moge, nur als Folge von
dein seyn kdnne, von dem es abhiingig ist; sie sagt nicht, was
es sey, und was es nicht sey. * * * Ware das Abhdngige oder
Folgende nicht selbststgndig, so ware diess vielmehr widersprechend.
Es waire eine Abhingigkeit ohne Abhingiges, eine Folge ohne
Folgendes (Consequentia absque Consequente), und daher auch
keine wirkliche Folge, d.h. der ganze Begriff hobe sich selber auf.
But dependence does not destroy self-subsistence, does not even
destroy freedom. It does not determine the essence, and says only,
that the dependent, whatever it may be, can only be a consequence
of that from which it is dependent. It does not say, what it is,
and what it is not. * *  If the dependent or consequent
were not self-subsistent, this indeed would involve a contradiction.
There would be a dependence without a dependent, a consequence
without a consequent (Consequentia absque Consequente), and,
therefore, no real consequence, i.e. the whole conception would be
self-destructive.
Schelling's Philosophische Untersuchungen iiber das WTesen der
7menschlichen Freyheit. Philosoplhische Schriften, p. 413.




Relation of the Will to the Omnni2otent.  233
the other hand, this very power of resistance in which
the creation as created object consists, is itself the
product of the creating will. Hence an act of creation, as opposed to mere emanation, involves the conception of a double will in the creator, namely,-the
positive, or the greater will which produces, and the
lesser, which may be called the negative will from its
being limited by the object thus produced.
This double will involves for us the principal
difficulty in the conception of an act of creation. In
the conception of mere making, we have the acting
will and the resisting matter. But in that of creation, the action producing and the action resisted, or
the positive and negative wills, proceed from tile
same being, and in the same act. And yet this relation of the double will is not quite inconceivable; at
least we find an extremely analogous relation between the first and second wills in the so-called creations of the imagination. If, for instance, I represent
to myself a mountain of gold, I am aware that the
image, when considered positively, is a product of
which my will is a principal factor; but by conceiving
it at all, I give it ideally an independent existence,
such an existence, in short, as resists that imaginary
will, by their relation to which the second subjective
and objective are distinguished from each other.
It appears therefore that the products of the
imagination are termed its creations with peculiar
propriety. But although they require both first and
second wills in their conception, and may thus afford
some insight into the nature of a Divine act of
creation as far as the mere form is concerned, yet
is there one difficulty referring to the matter of the
conception in which the analogy does not hold. For




234   Relation of the Will to the Omnipotent.
the creations of the imagination are merely ideal,
that is to say, their power of resistance is limited
to the second will of that being exclusively whose
first will produced them; and the second will, upon
their resistance to which their imaginary objectivity
depends, is ideal also. Whereas the creations of
the Divine imagination, whether they be worlds or
human wills, are real existences, with a power of
resistance to all wills in general, and require that
the second  or limited will should  be  no  less
actual than they. While therefore the operations
of our own minds may shew us the direction in
which we have to look for the conception of creation, they cannot give us the conception itself.
Now our conception of God can never go beyond
what may perhaps be aptly called a spiritual anthropomorphism, or in other words, we can never introduce into our conception of' God and His operations,
any elements which we have not found, in kind at
least, in our own minds. To attempt therefore any
further analysis of the relations of Creator and created than that with which the operations of our own
imaginations present us, is simply a loss of time, as
it is an attempt to go beyond the province of our
faculties. Creation must accordingly be assumed as
a fact.
But the hypothesis of the human will being a
free centre of action in spite of its original dependence on the Divine will for its very existence, only
involves the same difficulties as any other act of
creation. For whether the created object be on the
one hand subject to a rigid law of necessity, or on
the other be absolutely free, its resistance to this
second will in the Creator is still the indispensable




Relation of the Will to the Omnipotent.  235
condition to its being anything at all in itself, in
short, to its being a creation and not a mere emanation.  Hence it follows, that if the possibility of
creation be once admitted, the objection to the
second hypothesis vanishes, on the ground that the
impossibility of our forming an adequate conception
of it, arises from the inadequacy of human faculties
to conceive an act of creation in general, in the full
sense at least in which this expression is employed
of the works of the Almighty.
Taking however the analogy offered by human
creations as the only guide we possess for our conception of the Divine, I would represent the relation
of the human to the Divine will as that of the poem
to the poet. Human wills are the thoughts of the
Divine Imagination. But whereas the thought of
a man is a dead thing for another, until he has made
it his own, these thoughts of God are in themselves
centres of life and power, with a might of resistance
establishing their independent individuality, and a
freedom making them like the Image of their Father,
and capable, in some sort at least, of fresh creation.
Whether the same can be said of all that proceeds from the Divine energy, whether in short the
external world is a selfsubsistent living power, or a
mere emanation, is a deep question,-one that man
will never answer. For my own part I am inclined
to believe that the higher form of procession from
God, (that of creation as opposed to emanation,) is
restricted to the free alone,-that living wills are the
only new centres of power,-and that in the glory
and beauty of the material world, we gaze, though
through a veil, upon the Majesty of the Eternal.
Not that the granite of the mountains and the verdure




236    Relation of the Wtill to the Omnipotent.
of the fields beneath our feet, or the blue depths
and bright orbs of heaven above our heads, are the
living God, but that they are the maintained manifestations of His energy, operating on the souls of all
living beings. The free can surely feel subdued into
reverence and awe in the presence of the free alone.
Cut off the  outward  world, bound hand  and  foot
as it lies before us in its causal fetters, from  that
first source of its existence, the free and unconditioned Cause, and what is there left in the dead
machine that the spirit of a man with infinite aspirations  and  an  eternity  for their accomplishment,
should feel abashed before it?
In Schelling's Essay on Humzan Liberty, already
quoted, there is the following poetical passage. As
the reader will readily perceive, it contains single
sentences with which I entirely agree, but this is not
the case with its general purport.'"A  much higher
1 Einen viel hiheren Standpunkt gewihrt die Betrachtung des
g6ttlichen Wesens selbst, dessen Idee eine Folge, die nicht Zeugung
d. h. Setzen eines Selbstandigen ist, vollig widersprechen wiirde.
Gott is nicht ein Gott der Todten, sondern der Lebendigen.  Es
ist nicht einzusehen wie das allervollkommenste Wesen auch an
der mdglich vollkoinmlensten Maschine seine Lust fande. Wie
man auch die Art der Folge der Wesen aus Gott sich denken moge,
nie kann sie eine mechanische seyn, kein blosses Bewirken oder
Hlinstellen, wobei das Bewirkte nichts fur sich selbst ist; eben so
wenig Emanation, wobei das Ausfiiessende dasselbe bliebe mit dem,
wovon es ausgeflossen, also nichts eignes, selbststindiges.  Die
Folge der Dinge aus Gott ist eine Selbstoffenbarung Gottes. Gott
aber kann nur sich offenbar werden in dem was ihm ihnlich ist, in
freyen aus sich selbst handelnden Wesen; fUr deren Seyn es keinen
Grund giebt als Gott, die aber sind, so wie Gott ist.  Er spricht
uncd sie sind da. Wdxren alle Weltwesen auch nur Gedanken des
gdttlichen Gemiithes, so miissten sie schon eben darum lebendig
seyn.  So werden die Gedanken wohl von der Seele erzeugt; aber
der erzeugte Gedanke ist eine unabhdngige Macht, fiir sich fortwirkend, ja, in der menschlichen Seele, so anwachsend, dass er seine
eigne Mutter bezwingt und sich unterwirft. Allein die gottliche
Imagination, welche die Ursache der Spezification der Weltwesen




Relation of the Will to the Omnipotent.    237
point of view is yielded by the contemplation of the
Divine Essence itself, the idea of which is utterly
contradictory to a succession which is not a generation, i.e. a putting of a self-subsistent.  God is not a
God of the dead, but of the living.  It is inconceivable that the most perfect Being_ should take any
pleasure in thle     ost-efet machine. Whatever
may be the manner of the succession of beings from
God, which we imagine to ourselves, it can never be
a mechanical one, a mere effecting or putting, in
which  that which is effected is nothing  in  itself.
Just as little can it be emanation, in which that
which emanates remains the same with that from
which it has emanated, and which therefore is
nothing of its own and self-subsistent.  The succession of things from God is a self-revelation of God.
But God can only reveal himself in that which is~
pike Him, in free beings acting from themselves, for
the existence of which there is no ground but God,
but which are, as God is.  He speaks, and they are
there. If all world-beings were only thoughts of
the Divine mind, they must even on that account
be living.  In the same manner indeed thoughts are
begotten by the soul; but the begotten thought is
ist, ist nicht wie die menschliche, das sie ihren Schipfungen bloss
idealisehe Wirklichkeit ertheilt. Die Repr/sentationen der Gottheit kinnen nur selbststandige Wesen seyn; denn was ist das
Beschrinkende unserer Vorstellungen als'eben dass wir unselbsta'ndiges sehen? Gott schaut die Dinge an sich an. An sich ist nur
das Ewige, auf sich selbst Beruhende, Wille, Freyheit.  iDer
Begriff einer derivirten Absolutheit oder Gittlichkeit ist so wenig
widersprechend, dass er vielmehr der Mittelbegriff der ganzen
Philosophie ist. Eine solche Gottlichkeit kommt der Natur zu.
So wenig widerspricht sich Immanenz in Gott and Freyheit, das
gerade nur das Freye und so weit es frey ist, in Gott ist, das
IUnfreye und so weit es unfrey ist, nothwendig ausser Gott.
Schelling iiber dacts WTesen cler menschlichen Freyheit, p. 413.




238   Relation of the Will to the Omnipotent.
an independent power, continuing to work for itself,
aye, growing in the human soul to such a magnitude,
that it vanquishes and subjugates its own mother.
But the Divine imagination which is the cause of the
specification of world-beings is not like the human,
that it gives its creations merely ideal reality. The
representations of the Godhead can be only self-subsistent beings. For what else is the limiting in our
representations than that we see that which is not
self-subsistent? God sees the things in themselves.
Only the Eternal, that which rests on itself, Will,
Freedom, is thing in itself. The conception of a
derived Absoluteness or Divinity is so far from containing a contradiction, that it is rather the central
conception of the whole of philosophy.  Such a
divinity belongs to nature.  Immanence in God and
freedom are so little contradictory, that it is precisely
the free alone and in so far as it is free, that is in
God, and the not free, and so far as it is not free,
that is necessarily out of God."
It is impossible to deny the eloquence of this passage in the original, harsh as it must appear in a
literal translation.  With parts of it I agree entirely,
but not with the general conclusion, which stated
shortly seems to be, that the whole creation has a
free and self-subsistent existence. This is based upon
two positions, namely, that the succession of things
out of God is a self-revelation of God, and that God
can only reveal Himself in what is like Himself, that
is, in free beings acting from themselves,
Now although I have already asserted my belief
that the external world is a direct manifestation of
the Divine energy, vet must I pause before I can
apply the term revelation in any but a highly poetical




Relation of the Will to the Omnipotent.   239
sense, where we can only arrive at a knowledge of the
revealed object through the revelation, with tottering
and uncertain steps, leaning half on reason, half on
faith, and receiving no support from direct intuition.
Besides, if there be such a thing as absolute law anywhere, surely it is in the external world. But where
there is absolute law, freedom can exist in that thing
for which the law is valid, only in so far as the law
is self-imposed. Now if external nature is a self-subsistent being and imposes its own laws, it becomes not
only free but a God. If, on the other hand, it does
not impose its own laws, it ceases to be God, but it
also ceases to be free, and is nothing more than a
dead machine; a view of the question repudiated by
Schelling, and one on which I have already commented. The only alternative, as it appears to me,
which saves any form  of life and freedom  in the
external world, anything that should account for and
justify the profound sense of awe we experience in
viewing the glories of the universe, without making
it the very God Himself, and thus rushing at once
into the grossest form of pantheism, is this,-that we
should give up the idea of its self-subsistence and
conceive it as a maintained manifestation of the
Divine energy. But there is a wide difference between
such a manifestation and a self-revelation of God;
nor is there a less difference between saying "the
outward world is God," and saying "that being is
God, whose energy produces immediately on our
souls the consciousness of an outward world."




CHAPTER III.
Relation of the Will to the Omniscient.
THE foreknowledge of God is frequently brought
forward by the Necessarians as offering an unanswerable objection to human liberty. The argument
founded on it consists properly of two parts, of which
the one presents at least a fair subject of investigation, while the other is a mere sophism, which would
hardly deserve a serious notice in a philosophical
treatise, if earnest thinkers had not occasionally
allowed themselves to be deceived by it.  All the
difficulties connected with this subject arise more or
less from an incorrect conception of the various relations of modality, and it will therefore be necessary
to devote a short space to their consideration.
The modality of a judgment is the peculiar nature
of its relation to truth as conceived in our minds.
If the matter of the judgment does not contradict the
laws of thought, the judgment is said to be problematical, and the matter possible: if the matter is
supplied by positive experience, it is said to be actual,
and the judgment is termed assertive: if the laws of
thought supply the matter of the judgment, both the
judgment and its matter are said to be necessary.
Now this division into possible, actual, and necessary, is really subjective, and refers, not to objective truth, but to our manner of holding truth.
We generally conceive the sphere of the possible as
far greater than that of the actual, and that of the
actual as greater than that of the necessary, and we




Relation of the Will to the Omniscient.  241
are perfectly right in doing so, as long as we adhere
strictly to the real force of these words, and apply
them simply to our subjective point of view. If, however, we would extend their application to the objects
themselves, we shall find that in the province of the
conditioned, all the possible is actual, and all the actual,
necessary; in other words, the spheres of the possible,
actual, and necessary coincide objectively, and the
distinction between them merges in their identity.
When for instance I say, it is perfectly possible
that there will be a shower this evening, I mean that
there are no laws of thinking which render this event
inconceivable to nroe, and therefore that the event
in question is possible as far as mny knowledge extends.
If, however, I attempt to carry the word possible beyond its legitimate signification, by asking whether
an event be in itself possible, without reference to
the limited powers of judgment either of myself or
others, my question is equivalent to the following:
Are all the conditions present which are necessary to
the event? If any one condition is absent, the event
is clearly impossible, or else the condition would not
have been necessary.  To be objectively possible,
therefore, all the conditions must be present, and if all
are present, the event must necessarily follow, and is
thus not only possible but actual.  Thus in the case
of the shower, it is my ignorance of the laws of the
weather that makes me speak of its possibility. If I
were perfectly acquainted with all the conditions on
which it depends, and the fact of their presence or
absence, I should regard it either as certain or the
reverse.
Now if the event be actual, it is also necessary.
For if not, (as we are here speaking of necessity
s. w.                                 16




242  Relation of the Will to the Omniscient.
absolutely, with reference to the event in itself alone,
and not to our limited knowledge,) the only alternative to its necessity is, that its non-existence would
have been conceivable by a mind acquainted with all
the conditions and the fact of their presence. But to
a mind acquainted with the fact of the presence of all
the conditions necessary to the existence of the object,
the object itself is also equally necessary.
That the actual is objectively necessary, may also
be deduced from the former proposition that the objectively possible is actual, but the proof is essentially
the same as that already given. For if the actual
were not necessary, its non-existence would be possible,
and as all the objectively possible is actual, the nonexistence would be actual, i.e. the non-existence of
the actual would be actual, which is absurd.
This necessity however is merely a consequential
not a proper necessity, that is, it is merely the necessity contained in the proposition that whatever is,
must necessarily be. But it is the only species of
necessity which attaches to mere existence, for there
is no contradiction involved in the mere conception
of non-existence. Or to express this somewhat differently, if the conditions exist, the existence of
the conditioned is a necessary consequence, but there
is no contradiction involved in the conception of
the non-existence both of the conditions and the
conditioned.
But then it may be asked, if all events are ultimately necessary, how is the act of liberty to escape
the universal bondage? To this I reply, that the
necessity of the objectively possible arises from the
consideration that it requires the presence of all the
conditions, and the necessary requires nothing more.




Relation of the Will to the Omniscient.  243
But the act of the will in the province of pure liberty
is a perfectly unconditioned self-determination of the
subject. Were it an object arising in the objective
world, it would also depend on prior conditions. But
this liberty is as it were a scintillation of the Divine
essence, by which the human will quite independently
of all conditions can originate an act, —this act consisting in its own self-determination relatively to the
Divine will. Hence it follows that the necessity
which arises in the relation between the conditions and
the conditioned has no place here, as the will is unconditioned.
Thus the identity of the objectively possible, the
actual, and the necessary, imposes no restriction on
the wills of God and man. For this identity only
exists for the things in themselves, without any
reference to the limitations of our knowledge-only
therefore where all the conditions are taken equally
into consideration; and where this is the case, the
free act of the will is precisely one of these conditions.
The freedom therefore has been already saved prior
to the completion of the conditions establishing the
necessity. If then I say, such an act is possible to
such a will, I mean that the other conditions at least
are present, and only require that of the will to complete them. But the act does not become possible
objectively, (that is, considered by itself as an event
in the universe,) until the complementary volition also
arises, and then the presence of all the conditions
makes the event not only possible but necessary.
In man the free and unconditioned act terminates in the impress it gives the character. Directly
the freedom is regarded in its overt results, it has
ceased to be pure, as it can only objectivise itself
16 —— 2




244  Relation of the Will to the Omniscient.
through the passions, affections, and principles which
constitute human nature.  When therefore I say
the act of freedom is unconditioned, I do not speak
of any act that has once taken an objective form, but
merely assert that the will is independent of conditions, in assuming its status of greater or less obedience to the inward law of the universal will;
but this status once assumed, the objective act that
results is dependent upon a great many conditions,
such as prior character, education, and outward circumstances.
My object, however, in the above remarks is not
to obliterate the boundary-line between the possible,
the actual, and the necessary, but merely to shew
that the distinction between them is really subjective, and applies to their relation to truth in our
minds, but not to the things in themselves.  When
therefore an event is said to be contingent, or such
as may or may not be, we are not expressing any
quality of the event itself, but only of our conception
of it, according to which the presence or absence of
some of the conditions necessary to its arising, is
either unknown to us, or at least not taken into
consideration.
Before leaving the subject of modality, I must
call the reader's attention to the important distinction between consequential necessity, and necessity
proper. If I assume the truths of certain judgments
A and B, another judgment C may follow from them
as a necessary conclusion; but C need not on this
account be necessary when considered alone, even
if the premises be true. Let us take an example.
All who went in the boat wore white hats. John
went in the boat, therefore John wore a white hat.




Relation of the Will to the Omniscient.  245
This is an instance of consequential necessity; but
the proposition that John wore a white hat contains
no necessity within itself. But supposing I say, all
polygons have as many angles as sides; a pentagon
is a polygon having five sides, therefore a pentagon
has five angles. In this case the conclusion is not
only necessary as such, but is also necessary in its
own nature, as it contains a law of our intuition of
space 1.
I shall now proceed to apply the foregoing observation on the nature of the contingent and the
necessary to the solution of the difficulties of reconciling the doctrine of liberty with the prescience
of God. And first, let us entirely waive the question
of the manner of the prescience and its possibility,
assuming it as a fact that God does possess this
attribute, but without pretending to explain it.  The
problem  then takes this form.  If God foreknows
that I shall perform a certain act to-morrow, when
the time comes, how is it possible that I can possess
any liberty respecting it?  I nmust perform the act,
as otherwise I should make God to have foreknown
what was not true.
This is an argument which, as I have already
hinted, deserves a refutation on historical grounds
alone.  It is a mere quibble, quite beneath the
notice of philosophy, as far as its own merits are
concerned, and is based on a childish confusion between consequential necessity and necessity proper.
As God cannot foreknow what is false, if He foreknows that I shall perform the action A, it follows,' On the subject of the Modality of Syllogism I have treated
at length in a small work entitled, A Syllaibus of Logic: Deighton,
Cambridge, 1839.




246   Relation of the Will to the Omnniscient.
as a necessary consequence of this hypothesis, that
I shall perform it, but it does not make the action
A necessary in itself. When a future time arrives
I may be perfectly free to choose between the actions
A or B, the only difference being that if I perform
B, God will have foreknown B instead of A.
An equally valid argument for necessity may
be urged without introducing foreknowledge at all.
It is at present true that I shall either perform A,
or I shall not. If I am going to perform A, then,
when the time comes, I must perform it, for if I do
not, it will not have been true that I was going to
perform it.
That I am not attributing this fallacy to the
advocates of necessity  unjustly, might be proved
by innumerable passages in various authors from
Aristotle downwards.  This philosopher argues as
follows: "But if it was always true to say that it
is or will be, it is not possible that this thing is not
or will not be.  But what is not possible not to take
place is impossible not to take place, and what is
impossible not to take place is necessary to take
place. It is necessary therefore that all things, that
are about to be, will be'."
Again, Edwards has the following passage:
"' From  what has been observed, it is evident that
1 El I  a ed aA xnOE&,v E7,rev oe-  ETrrv;1 ECT"at ovX O    Ire TL TOUVT'
EU a", OEl   eLj' Eo-ectOat.'O 8e  n OOV 76 lt; yeveOalt a i'vaouv  I
yevEcrOaL'  o e a; uvarov 1t y7evverOal, avdYayk1l yeve'aOaL.'AqravTa ouv
ra co (roeva ava7yKaLov yevEdrOaL. Aristoteles, de Interjpretatione, cap.
9. This is by no means the only case in which Aristotle has made
blunders in that fruitful source of quibbles, the modality of syllogism. I have pointed out and analysed two such fallacies in the
work mentioned in the last note. I take this opportunity of correcting an important misprint in that chapter. The T in p. 154,
1. 6, ought to be 0 in each place.




Relation of the Will to the Omniscient.  247
the abolute decrees of God are no more inconsistent with human liberty on account of any necessity
of the event, which follows from such decrees, than
the absolute foreknowledge of God.  Because the
connexion between the event and certain foreknowledge is as infallible and indissoluble, as between
the event and an absolute decree."
The fallacy in this argument is palpable. Besides
the question whether two things A and B are indissolubly connected, there is another very important
one to be taken into consideration, which Edwards
has entirely ignored; namely, whether A is determined by B, or B by A. Now a decree determines
the event, but it is the event which determines the
foreknowledge.  Edwards' argument may be illustrated as follows: "c Where the horse has gone, the
cart has gone too; and the cart has also gone the
same road as the load of hay that was fastened
upon it. Consequently, the direction the cart has
taken has been just as much determined by the
load of hay as by the horse, for both were fastened
firmly to the cart, and the cart therefore could only
go the same way that the hay did."
The general answer to the above piece of sophistry, whose whole claims to respect are to be
derived from its age, may be shortly stated thus.
I may have perfect liberty to perform A or B. If
I shall perform A, God foreknows A; if B, He
foreknows B.
If the Divine prescience be once assumed, its reconciliation with human liberty offers no difficulties,
as the whole argument has been shewn to be a trivial
quibble. The possibility, however, of the Divine' Edwards, On the Will, Part ii. sect. 12, p. 171L




248   Relation of the Will to the Omniscient.
prescience itself presents a somewhat more serious
problem. Human foreknowledge is based on a
calculation of the necessary sequence of cause and
effect, according to empirically discovered laws. It
is not, therefore, unnatural that in the first instance
we should be inclined to attribute the same character
to Divine prescience. But if a future act of the
will is only foreknown as the result of a preceding
chain of events, it is clear that it must be absolutely
determined by such events, and human liberty is impossible. We must therefore either give up liberty,
or base the Divine prescience on other grounds.
Now, as it is absurd for man to pretend to determine the nature of the Divine knowledge, the only
arguments that can avail against the possibility of
a Divine prescience not based on causality, one therefore of intuition, must tend to shew that the conception contains a contradiction in itself.  This has
accordingly been attempted by the Necessarians in
various ways.
"To suppose," says Edwards, "the future volitions of moral agents not to be necessary events;
or, which is the same thing, events which it is not
impossible but that they may not come to pass; and
yet to suppose that God certainly foreknows them,
and knows all things, is to suppose God's knowledge to be inconsistent with'itself. For to say, that
God certainly, and without all conjecture, knows that
a thing will infallibly be, which at the same time
He knows to be so contingent, that it may possibly
not be, is to suppose His knowledge inconsistent with
itself, or that one thing, which He knows, is utterly
inconsistent with another thing that He knows'."
Edwards, On the Will, Part ii. sect. 12, p. 169.




Relation of the Will to the Omniscient.  249
Now, the whole of this argument is based on the
supposition that contingency can be a quality of the
events in themselves, and that it does not refer simply
to the limitations of our knowledge. I have already
explained this fallacy in my remarks on modality.
To God, who knows all things, no event is contingent, because He knows all the conditions necessary
to their occurrence; but then among these very
conditions is the free act of the human agent. How
God foreknows what this free act will be, we cannot
pretend to say.  All for which I am now contending
is, that the foreknowledge of our future actions contains no contradiction on the score of its being a
certain knowledge of an event contingent in itself.
In short, the action is not necessary to the man, because all the conditions, exclusive of his will, are not
sufficient to determine it. But the action is not contingent in itself, or for the knowledge of God, because
He foresees the complementary condition supplied by
the human will.
Priestley's arguments on this subject are equally
fallacious.  "To all minds," says that philosopher,
"the foretelling of a contingent event is equally a
matter of conjecture: consequently, even infinite
knowledge makes no difference in this case. For
knowledge supposes an object, which, in this case,
does not exist, and therefore cannot be known to
exist'."  Here again we find an event considered
as contingent in itself.  But perhaps the weakest
sentence in the above quotation is the last. In the
first place, to object that the object of a faculty of
prescience does not exist now, is equivalent to objecting that it does not possess an accident (that of
Priestley, On t/he Doctrine of Philosophical Necessity, sect. 3.




250  Relation of the Will to the Omniiscient.
present existence), which would make it impossible
to be the object of that faculty. In the second place,
if knowledge supposes the present existence of its
object, not only is all foreknowledge impossible, but
also all knowledge of past events; and memory falls
with prescience. And if it should be urged that
memory has a present object in the representation
in the mind of past events, it may be answered, that
in like manner prescience also has its present object
in the representation in the mind of the prescient
being of future events.
But the most important consideration in this question is the nature of time. Do what we will, we can
never give any definition of it (not already involving
the conception) which shall be essentially different
from this: that it is that form of human consciousness in which the events of the world within and
without are doled out to us in portions. It is in
short the subjective form of the most abstract conception of limitation.  Now on what grounds are
we obliged to assume that God's own universe is
apportioned out to Him, as He thinks right to apportion it out to us? With God one day is as a thousand
years, and a thousand years as one day. Why then
should we imagine that His knowledge of the future
is at all a less immediate intuition than that of the
present? We see the universe and its events piecemeal, as in a moving panorama; God sees the whole
stretched out at once and for ever before Him. We
see the effect follow the cause; God may see how
the effect which is to follow has predetermined the
preceding cause. Omniscience is surely as far beyond our grasp as prescience; and if we assume the
former, it is absurd for us to pretend to determine




Relation of the Will to the Omniscient.  251
the forms of the Divine consciousness. If the reader
should feel sceptical as to the possibility of an
intuitive prescience, I would ask him to consider
the following conversation which a friend of mine
once had with a learned native of the Island of
Typhlia.
The friend in question had been wrecked on the
above-mentioned island, and on reaching the shore
and recovering his senses, was astonished to find that
the country was inhabited by a race of men entirely
destitute of the sense of vision, but in other respects
like the rest of mankind. Before he came among
them they had never met with a man who could
see, and had of course no conception of what sight
was. After a residence in the island of some years, he
succeeded in acquiring a perfect knowledge of the
language spoken there. The Typhlians have their
philosophers, like the rest of the world, and on one
occasion my friend had the following conversation
with one of their first scientific men.
Typhlian. I have not been very well lately, and
I think a good long walk would do me good. Are
you disposed to join me?
Englishnman. I shall have much pleasure in
doing so.
Typh. Where shall we go?
Engl. As you talk of a long walk, I propose
that we explore the conical hill on the other side of
the forest. It must be several thousand feet high,
and the rocks near its base assume very wild and
romantic forms.
Typh.  (with evident astonishment).  A  conical
hill! I know of no such place, and had no idea that
you had ever been even as far as to this side of the




252   Relation of the Will to the Omniscient.
forest. When have you visited this hill, that you
seem to know so much about it?
Engl. I have never been there in my life.
Typh. Who then told you that we should find
such a hill?
Engl. Nobody.
Typh. You speak in riddles! You propose that
we should walk. to a hill which you have never yet
visited, and the very existence of which no one has
ever hinted to you! How can you know that we
shall come to such a place as you describe?
Engl. Trust yourself to my guidance, and I
will convince you that there is such a hill. But it
will be two or three hours at least before we reach it.
Typh. You English must be very remarkable
people. You seem to have a most extraordinary
knowledge of what we are going to experience in the
future. The other day you cautioned me to be on
my guard, as I should probably stumble over a stone.
A minute afterwards I did stumble, and yet the
stone was on my side, and I am sure you could not
have touched it. Neither had you ever walked in
that direction before. Can you explain to me this
miraculous faculty of foreknowledge?
Engl. I saw the stone lying in your path.
Typ-h. That is to say, you knew it would be
there and that I should run up against it, for sight
and seeing are evidently the English words for foreknowing. But in what manner did you attain this
knowledge?
Engl. I was immediately conscious of it by my
sense of sight.
Typh. (musing). Sense of sight! What words
are these! You allow that you did not touch it, and




Relation of the Will to the Omniscient.  253
yet you knew it would be there. Sense of sight!
Yes, it must be so. The sense of sight is evidently
a faculty of foreknowledge. You English have extraordinary reasoning powers, and by your knowledge
of the laws of nature you were able to conclude from
something you trod upon as a cause, that I must
tread upon the stone directly after as an effect. We
Typhlians can also reason in a similar manner. When
I pass through my garden-gate, I know that I shall
feel the door of my house soon after. But then I
have often been there, whereas you had never walked
in that direction before, and yet you could foretell
the stone. Ah, I a-m afraid our natural science falls
far short of yours; you evidently reason from cause
to effect.
Engl. No, that was not the way in which I became aware of the stone. I did not reason about it
at all, but knew at once that you would stumble
against it without ever having known of the existence
of the stone till a minute before.
Typh. Excuse me, but that is absurd. You may
be gifted with other faculties than myself, but all
knowledge must have an object. Now when you
spoke, there was no object. No,-I am sure that
you foretell events by reasoning on the laws of nature
you have observed. You must know, perhaps, that
after walking over so much grass and so much sand,
one must come to such a sort of stone. But as to any
immediate faculty by which you can foreknow such
an event,-the thing is absurd,-it is a contradiction.
The reader will easily perceive the conclusion I
would draw from the above dialogue. A future event
is no immediate object of human faculties, but who
shall say that it is no object of the Divine? To say




254   Relation of the Will to the Omniscient.
that a future event is no object for any conceivable
faculty, because it is no object for us, is to judge of a
Divine faculty of prescience from  our knowledge of
other faculties. Now this is as absurd as the judgment of the Typhlian, who concluded that there was
no object for any faculty, because none was presented
to his sense of touch. It is true, we must not invent
faculties for God at pleasure. But there are reasons
of a moral and religious character for believing that
God possesses the attribute of foreknowledge, there
are also reasons for believing in man's freedom, and
the intuition of space suggests by analogy a way of
reconciling the seeming contradiction between them.
Hence I arrive at what appears to me an irresistible
conclusion, namely, that God looks through time as
we look through space, and that for the Divine mind
all that has been, is, or ever shall be, is an ever-present fhct.




BOOK  II.
THE WILL DI VINE.
CHAPTER I.
The Divine Government of the Universe.
THE  will of God may be considered generally
under three relations, namely, those to the will
of man, to the Universe, and to the Divine Nature
respectively.
The first of these subjects has been already considered, but only with reference to the possibility of
reconciling the liberty of a created soul with the
omnipotence and omniscience of its Creator.
The relation of God to the Universe involves two
principal questions, referring respectively to the
creation and the government of the world. I have
already treated of the former, briefly indeed, as I
believe that it lies for the most part beyond the grasp
of human faculties. I shall now address myself to
the consideration of the latter.
The problem may be stated thus. If God has
determined certain immutable laws for nature, and
also leaves the human will free, how is the Divine
Government possible? For the laws of nature being
fixed, the course of events must vary with the human
wills, which constitute the only remaining element in
their determination.
Now there are but two conceivable hypotheses.
Either God has given the above elements only a




256   The Divine Government of the Universe.
partial independence, and interferes miraculously
when He thinks fit, or else He has made such original
dispositions that the whole result shall conform absolutely with the Divine scheme.
The first hypothesis may again be divided into
two others, accordingly as we consider the interference
to take place in nature or the human will. On the
first assumption, God governs the world by miraculous interference with the laws of nature. Now it is
a matter of fact that such interferences do not take
place with the direct knowledge of man. If therefore they take place at all, it is in secret. A midnight act of malice has placed a stone upon the rail,
that the train may be upset, and lives destroyed.
But such a catastrophe does not lie within the scheme
of Providence.  Under the cover of the darkness
therefore the stone rolls off as if moved by an
invisible hand, the passengers hurry on their way,
and reach their destination in safety. The laws of
nature have been suspended; a miracle has been
performed, but no man has seen it.
The second hypothesis is, that God works no
miracles in external nature, but that He suspends
human liberty by a secret miraculous act, influencing
man's will, and thus making it an unconscious instrument of the Will Divine, when, if its freedom had
been left unfettered, it would have resulted in an
opposite line of conduct.
Let him who can believe in this patchwork providence of miraculous interference. It contradicts
every lofty conception of the Divine character. The
stealth, the falsehood, the imperfection of a scheme
requiring shifts and artifices even for beneficent ends,
are in the highest degree repugnant to all those sub



The Divine Governnment of the Universe.   257
jective grounds in our nature on which our faith in
God rests.
All special providence, strictly so called, must
assume one or the other of the above forms. Those
who believe in it, fondly imagine they are glorifying
God by attributing to him a perfect knowledge of
expedients. But an expedient, in its very idea, is a
mode of escaping from some form of imperfection.
Now  as the idea of God is that of the absolute
original of all things, imperfection in him is not to be
rejected merely on the grounds of the religious sentiment, but rather as a logical absurdity. For every
form of imperfection implies in its conception a perfection somewhere, as the form or rule, by its falling
short of which it is declared to be imperfection. But
this norm can be sought for nowhere else than in the
first absolute ground of all things, that is, in God.
Before I leave this question, I must add a few
remarks in anticipation of an objection which may
perhaps be raised by some persons to the doctrine of
the non-interference of Providence with the human
will, on the grounds of its irreconcilability with that
of Divine grace. What! will it be asked, do you deny
that God acts directly on the human heart in answer
to a prayer for grace, and that he thus influences
human conduct? To this I reply, that I by no means
deny such influence; on the contrary I fully believe
it. I only deny that it is special, supernatural, or
miraculous. I think it may be taken for granted that
he who makes this objection will not hesitate to allow
that God has not only created him and nature, but
that both  are sustained  by the Divine power.
Nature therefore is no less the result of Divine
energy than the supernatural or miraculous, and the
s. w.                                17




258   The Divine Government of the Universe.
only difference between them is, that the former is
the Divine energy working according to a selfimposed law, while the latter is the same energy
stepping out of these laws in a special and isolated
act. Now I maintain that grace falls under the
category of the former and not of the latter.
But perhaps my imaginary adversary may object
to this, that when he is under the influence of Divine
grace, he is immediately conscious, not only that it is
a direct, but also a special and supernatural influence
from God on his heart, and thus on his will.
That it is direct, I have allowed. But if he asks
me to believe in his immediate consciousness of its
being special, I must pause,-because he virtually
asks me to believe that he is immediately conscious
of a negation, that is, of the absence of this influence
in others; as that alone would make it special.
I am inclined to think that few persons would
advocate the doctrine of a special grace, if they were
fully aware of what it means. I would address the
man who holds such opinions as follows. Do you,
who have prayed for grace and received it, believe
that God will grant it to you again and in like
measure, if you pray for it again under similar circumstances and with like fervour? Again, the circumstances being similar, do you believe that God
would grant his grace to the prayer of another as
readily as to your own? I am sure you will answer
both these questions in the affirmative.  But even if
the circumstances are not quite similar,- supposing
for instance you meet a man who has been a great
sinner and has never experienced the benefits of
grace, will you not counsel him to pray for it too, and
will you not have full faith that if he does pray for it




The Divine Governmnent of the Universe..  259
earnestly, he will obtain it, with such difference only
as will have a reasonable ground in the difference of
the cases?  Do you not in short believe that God is
no respecter of persons?
If these questions should be answered in the
negative,- if God be supposed to send his grace to
one man and refuse it to another, or to grant more
to one man than another in exactly similar cases, or
if in different cases the difference in the measure of
his bounty is not determined by some fixed principle
or law, then are God's dealings with mankind the
sport of an arbitrary chance, and this too in precisely
the most solemn of all concerns, in man's spiritual
life. It is no argument against this view, to say that
God has his reasons for the preference, for a reason
would presume some principle, and by bringing the
act of preference into conformity with some general
rule or law would rob the grace of its special character.
But God is a God of reason, not of unreason, and
the last supposition must be rejected as irreconcileable with the Divine nature.  It is impossible therefore to escape the conclusion that God sends his
grace to men in conformity with certain principles, in
other words, that God's dealings with mankind in
spiritual matters are no less regulated by self-imposed
laws, than the manifestations of his energy in the
physical world, and that grace instead of being special or miraculous, is granted according to the general
laws which regulate our spiritual nature. In a certain
sense indeed nature itself is supernatural, as it is the
action of a God who is above nature. But this
epithet can only be applied to grace in the same sense
as to nature in general, unless we are prepared to
regard the distribution of God's most precious gift,
17 -2




260   The Divine Government of the Universe.
as utterly fortuitous and quite irrespective of all reasonable grounds. It is not however my wish to shake
any man's conviction of the immediate influence of
G od on his soul in grace, but rather to establish for
it that universality which makes it reason in God,
and nature for man. I see the hand of God in every
phenomenon of the natural world, and in grace I can
do no more. I do not therefore depreciate grace, but I
raise nature, which is only general for man's discursive reason, but for God is immediate and individual.
If then we reject all special or miraculous interference either with external nature or the human will,
the only remaining hypothesis by which we can save
the Divine government is this: that God has made
such original dispositions that the whole result of his
own and man's agency shall conform absolutely with
the Divine scheme. How is this conceivable?
Now as the problem before us is the reconciliation
of the conception of a Divine scheme with human
freedom, it is clear that we must regard each of these
elements in it as given constants, and as independent
of each other. That is to say, in the same manner
that the human will is not to be made to vary in accordance with the Divine scheme, which would destroy
its freedom, so is the latter again to be consideders a
independent of the human will, for otherwise the
world would be subject to human and not Divine
government.  But the Divine scheme considered
objectively, is the product of the human will and
nature.  Hence the reconciliation between these two
independent elements, can only be effected by considering nature as the variable. But nature regarded
in time is determined. Hence its variation is to be
sought for in the original creation of the universe,




The Divine Government of the Universe.    261
and the problem  to be solved was the determination
of such a system of nature, that in co-operation with
the foreknown will of man, the grand result should
be the scheme as predetermined in the Divine reason.
In short, the human will being known, nature was
determined as the complement necessary to the fulfilment of the Divine will'.
Perhaps a general idea of the nature of this problem and the form of its solution, may be given through
the medium of a mathematical analogy. Let us consider it then as a vast equation in which the universe
considered as a function of the human will and of
nature forms one member, and the Divine scheme
the other. So that
Divine scheme = human will x nature.
or if S = Divine scheme, w = will, n =- nature,
then                    wm- =S.
Now as, by the hypothesis, the liberty of man is to be
saved, and the course of events to conform absolutely
with the Divine scheme, it is clear that w and S are
Either the doctrine propounded in the text, or something
very similar to it, appears to have been entertained by William
von Humboldt: —" For in the terrestrial alone" writes Humboldt
-"nothing can be free, and in the suprterrestrial, nothing bound.
The opposition is only to be explained on the supposition that the
whole province of liberty exercises a dominion over the whole province of the dependent, a dominion which we cannot conceive in
detail, but which so guides the concatenation of things from the
primreval beginning that it must correspond to the free resolves of
the will."
Denn im Irdischen allein kann nichts frei, und im iiberirdischen
nichts gebunden sein. Der Widerstreit ist nur dadurch zu 16sen
dass es eine Herrschaft des ganzen Gebiets der Freiheit iiber das
ganze Gebiet der Abbhingigkeit giebt, die wir nur im Einzelnen
nicht begreifen k6nnen, die aber die Verkettung der Dinge vomr
Uranfange so leitet, dass sie den freien Beschliissen des Willens
-entsprechen muss. Humboldt's Letters, Vol. I. p. 191.




262   The Divine Government of the Universe.
to be considered as constants for the determination
of n.
S
tHence,          n =This equation being interpreted, signifies that nature
is originally determined by the relation which the
Divine scheme bears to the human will as foreknown
by God.
This analogy however is in so far imperfect, as we
have considered the human will and nature as single
quantities. Let us now assume two human wills w,
and w2 respectively, and nature as involving two
variables nl and n2 respectively. We shall then have
the following equation
(n + n2) (W~W2)=S.
But here again, as the scheme of providence is not
only a general result, but also particular in its relations to individual wills, we shall.have some additional
equations between n,, n2, S, and w, and w2 taken
separately. Now to arrive at a just conception of
the form of these equations, it will be necessary to
observe that the relation of the wills to nature considered purely as law, must be the same for each
individual will, as the laws are equally valid for all.
If, therefore, the natural world contained no other
element but law, these additional equations would
involve the individual wills homogeneously. But the
natural world contains not only laws but also particular collocations of concrete substances to which these
laws refer. The individual wills moreover, through
the medium of the body, have also particular relations
in space, and therefore to the collocations. Hence it
follows that the relations of the different individual




The Divine Government of the Universe.   263
wills to nature generally are by no means the same,
and the equations expressing them will not be homogeneous. And for the above argument what a collocation is in the external world, the innate character
of the individual derived from the parents will be in
the world of mind.
HEaving then once established that these particular equations will not be homogeneous withl regard
to we, w2, as my sole object is to give the general
form of the problem, I need not introduce any new
symbol for the collocations, but may consider the
various values of 1,, n2, either as arising from variations in the laws, or in the original collocations. If
c represent a collocation generally, and 1 a law, we
shall then have for the parts of nature either,i=  l, n2 = Ca, &c. nm =  c,rl
or,       n = el,, n2 = lc2, &c. nm =clm,
and as far as our present argument is concerned, each
set of values is equally admissible.
The equations required will then assume the form
(n, +.n) (W1 +  2) =  S............(I),
p (nl, n2, w)    = aS............. (2)
f (ni, n2, W2)   = /3..... -.  - (3)
where there will be of course a conditioning equation
between a and /3, which will make (3) identical with
(I) and (2).
Here then we have the two equations (I) and (2)
for the determination of n, and n2, and the same form
may be extended to any conceivable number of wills,
only observing that there must be a corresponding
number of variables n,, n2, &c.
The general solution of the problem of the Divine
Government, which I offer on the above consideration, is as follows:



264.The Divine Governmneent of the Uni'verse.
God, foreknowing all human wills through all
time, and unwilling to infringe on their liberty,
-created such a world, and subjected it to such laws,
that the grand resulting product of the wills and
the nature should agree exactly with that scheme
of the course of events, which he in his infinite
wisdom had predetermined.  But a system of nature
which might exactly suit the Divine scheme, considered with relation to a single will, might not suit
such scheme with reference to another, and still less
with reference to the wills of all mankind. Hence,
the only system which would suit for all wills had
to be obtained by elimination from a number of
equations equal to that of all the human wills of all
ages, in which the laws of nature, and the collocations of their objects constitute the unknown quantities.
To prevent the possibility of misconception, it
may be as well to add, that I by no means intend
to assert that God ever really solved such an equation as the above, for what man can only arrive at
by reasoning,. is known to God intuitively. But
what I do mean to assert is this: that the above
equations represent the only system of mutual dependencies for the elements of the problem of Divine
government, by which we can save at once and
entirely the absoluteness of the'Divine  scheme of
government, human liberty, and the laws of nature.
Though the above theory of Divine government
includes both the conceptions of a predestination and
a harmony, it has nothing in common with the predestined harmony of Leibnitz.  That philosopher,
~unable to conceive the possibility of any causal relations between mind and matter, believed that God




The Divine Government of the Universe.   265
had established such a system of laws for each, that.the respective series of their phenomena should exactly agree with each other in the parts of time. In
the scheme, therefore, of Leibnitz'two objective series
are to be brought into harmony. In the theory at
present under consideration, no attempt is made to
explain the causal relations between mind and matter, but on the contrary such relations are assumed.
The harmony, however, which I have attempted to
explain, is that between the conception in the Divine
mind of the Divine scheme considered in its results,
on the one hand, and, on the other, the actual course
of the universe considered as the product of nature
and of human liberty.
But although' the above theory does not in any
way correspond to the pre-established harmony of
Leibnitz, yet has it some outward similarity to the
doctrine which that philosopher has suggested, in
the concluding pages of his elaborate Essay on the
Goodness of God, Human Liberty, and the Origin
of Evil. Leibnitz first gives, in the form of a dialogue,
the substance of a passage from the work of Laurentius Valla against the fifth book of Boethius de Consolatione (the object of which'passage is to reconcile
the foreknowledge of God with the liberty of man),
and then adds a sequel of his own. The whole
dialogue is too long for insertion here, and I shall
therefore confine myself to a sketch of its philosophical contents.
Laurentius having endeavoured to explain to a
young Spaniard, Antonius Glarea, some of the difficulties connected with foreknowledge and freewill,
concludes his remarks with the following fable by
way of illustration.




266   The Divine Government of the Universe.
Sextus Tarquinius consults the Oracle of Delphi,
and there learns that he will be banished from Rome.
He complains to Apollo of his hard fate, but the
god replies, that although he knows the future, he
does not make it, and that if Sextus feels himself
aggrieved, he must apply to Jupiter and the Fates.
Sextus thinks that Jupiter has treated him very
hardly, and that he is not free. Apollo answers,
that the gods make every being such as it is,-the
wolf murderous, the hare timid, the ass stupid, and
that Jupiter has given Sextus a wicked soul, and
will punish him according to his deeds.
Leibnitz does not seem quite satisfied with this
argument, and indeed it would be difficult to imagine
how he should be; for although it does not make
the act to be determined by the foreknowledge, it
makes at least the external determination of the act
a necessary condition to the foreknowledge,-a view
which is just as fatal to liberty as the other. He
accordingly supplies a sequel to the story for the
purpose of vindicating liberty. Sextus leaves Delphi
for Dodona, and after having offered the usual sacrifices, asks Jupiter why he has condemned him to such
an unhappy fate. Jupiter answers, that if Sextus will
renounce Rome, the Fates will spin another thread
for him, and that he will then be a wise and happy
man. Sextus however cannot make up his mind to
give up a throne, goes to Rome, and is banished.
Theodorus, the high priest, has listened to the
conversation, and unable to reconcile Jupiter's de-.crees with his justice, observes very respectfully, that
Sextus must now ascribe his destruction to his own
wicked will, but adds that he should like to know
why Jupiter could not have given him another and




The Divine Government of the Universe.   267
a better will. Jupiter refers the priest to Minerva,
who in a dream conducts him to a magnificent building, which she informs him is the palace of the
destinies, and of which she has the charge.  "In
this palace," says the goddess, "not only is there
a representation of everything that happens, but
also of everything that is possible. When before
the beginning of the actual world, Jupiter considered
all possible events, he arranged them in an infinite
number of worlds, and then chose the best  t.
I have only to speak a word, and we shall behold
a complete world which my father could have created,
and in this manner we shall learn what would have
happened if this or the other possibility had actually
occurred. And if the conditions are not sufficiently
determined, there will be as many worlds as we like,
all of which will correspond to any particular case
in everyv conceivable manner.  Like all other well
educated youths, you have studied geometry. You
are aware therefore that when the conditions do not
sufficiently determine any required point, they all
fall into a locus, as the geometricians call it, and that
this locus at least, which is often a line, will be determined. In the same manner you may represent
to yourself a regular series of worlds, all of which
contain the present case, and merely introduce variations in the circumstances and their results.  But
if you assume a case which varies from the actual
world in a single definite thing and its results, only
one definite world will answer the conditions. All
these worlds are here, in pictures or in ideas. I
will shew you some in which, indeed, there is not
precisely the same Sextus whom  you have seen,
(that is impossible, for he has always had that in




268   The Divilne Government of the Universe.
him already, which he gradually becomes) but very
similar Sextuses who have in them all that you
know of the real Sextus, but not all that is really
in him, and consequently, not all that is yet to happen to him. You will find in one world a very
happy and noble Sextus, in another a Sextus who
is contented with a subordinate position,-in a word,
all sorts of Sextuses."
Upon this she conducts Theodorus into the palace,.each room of which represents a possible world. In
one of these he sees Sextus settled at Corinth, where
he buys a small garden, digs up a treasure, and dies at
a good old age, one of the most beloved and respected
of the inhabitants of that city. In another world,
Sextus goes to Thrace, marries the king's daughter,
and succeeds in the government.  These rooms,
however, are all arranged in a pyramidal form, and
become more and more beautiful as they approach
the apex. At last Theodorus enters the last and
most perfect room, in which he recognises the actually existing world, and sees Sextus as the wicked
king of Rome.
"You see," says Minerva, "'how Sextus goes to
-Rome, sets everything in confusion, violates the wife
of his friend, and is banished with his father. Had
Jupiter taken a happy Sextus at Corinth or a king
in Thrace, it would no longer have been this world;
and yet he could not do otherwise than choose this
one, as it surpasses all the others in perfection, and
forms. the apex of the pyramids.
"You see that my father has not made Sextus
wicked. He was so from all eternity, and indeed freely
and unconstrained. Jupiter has only given him the
reality, which his wisdom could not refuse the best




7'he Divine Government of the Universe.  269
world. He has taken him out of the land of possible
things and placed him in that of the actual."
The above passages are quite inadequate to
enable the reader to appreciate this fable as a work of
imagination, but I believe they contain all that is
essential to the comprehension of its philosophy.
The objections I shall offer to it may be:easily anticipated from the theory of Divine Government enrlnciated in this chapter. According to Leibnitz human
wills stand in a relation of such absolute causality
with the course of events, as predetermined in the
Divine Mind, that the quality of the former must be
predetermined too, as otherwise the Divine scheme
could not be carried out. Jupiter therefore finding
that he wanted a wicked Sextus for his scheme,
created him at the fitting moment. Leibnitz has
thus made the character of the will to be determined
by the scheme, and destroyed its freedom. To say
that Sextus as a possible being was wicked from all
eternity, and that Jupiter merely gave him reality, is
nothing more than to say, that Jupiter had from all
eternity conceived a wicked Sextus, and created him
when he wanted him.
Now according to the scheme of Divine Government propounded in this treatise, God creates wills
such that they are unconditioned self-determinants as
far as their allegiance to the will universal is concerned, and therefore free; but foreknowing what
their self-determination will be, he places them in the
midst of such a natural world, both moral and
physical, that the grand result is the scheme -which he
has preordained from the beginning.
To make my meaning plainer, I will state shortly
the change that would be necessary to make the fable




270   The Divine Government of the Universe.
of Leibnitz suit the above theory. Instead of the
Sextuses in the other possible worlds being like the
real one in certain externals, but differing from him
in essentials, I would conceive them as exactly the
reverse, i.e. as having the same intrinsically bad will
but manifesting it under other circumstances. After
having shewn. Theodorus the apparently happy and
respected Sextus at Corinth, Minerva would then
have given him an insight into his real life. Theodorus would thus have learnt that the happiness and
prosperity of Sextus were a mere illusion. He would
have seen how in the possible world Sextus would
have acquired the garden and its hidden treasure by
unjust means, and that he would be living in the
daily fear of detection, disgrace and ruin. It would
then have appeared that Jupiter, having made a
Sextus with a power of self-determination, the latter
had chosen for himself a bad will, and that Jupiter,
foreknowing what this will would be, and wanting an
instrument to bring about the liberty of Rome, had
merely arranged his world in such a way that the
circumstances acting on this bad will should cause
it to manifest itself in the form of a lascivious and
tyrannical king.
Mr Plumer Ward, in his novel of Tremaine, has
referred to the above fable with unmixed approbation,
and without pointing out its defects. His own solution however of the problem of Divine Government
agrees in great measure with that proposed here; but
it contains an ambiguity on one very important point,
and is incomplete in another no less important.
Evelyn says, in an argument with Tremaine, " So determined might the Deity be to leave man perfectly
free, that, in casting the scheme of his dispensations




The Divine Government of the Universe.  271
when he originally created mankind, he might, according to my theory, from foreseeing what every
man would do in given circumstances have originally
shaped His own government of nature accordingly."'
Now, in the first place, "the scheme of God's dispensations" is a phrase which would generally be understood to include God's moral government, and in
the above sentence it would appear that Evelyn makes
this scheme dependent on the individual wills. If this
interpretation of the passage be correct, Evelyn makes
the human and not the Divine will the ultimate
determinant in the course of events, and the Divine
governqment to be little more than Divine obedience.
Secondly, although it is evidently beyond the
reach of human faculties to attempt to obtain any
insight into the matter of the Divine decrees, yet is
the whole problem concerned with their formal
relations to nature and to human liberty. Unless
therefore we arrive at some system in which the mere
logical interdependencies of its various elements are
determined, and the possibility of their harmony
demonstrated, but little has been accomplished. Tremaine however might have answered, "If the human
wills are left free, perhaps Omniscience may be able
to find such a form for nature, as would bring a
million wills into harmony with the Divine scheme;
but how do we know that the reconciliation of the
other wills may not offer a logical contradiction?
Now the object of the above symbolical solution is to
answer this question by proving, that the problem
offers no difficulties on this score, so long as the variables arising in the possible collocations and laws of
nature is supposed equal in number to the human wills.
V Vol. II. p. 304, Colborn's Standard Novels.




272   Thte Dtvine Governnzent of the Universe.
According to the above view of the Divine Government the most minute circumstances have all
been not only foreknown, but planned by God, and
form a part of his eternal scheme. The attempt to
exclude any existence in the world of mind or matter
from the interest of God on the ground of its minuteness or unimportance, is simply one form of that
common error, which would attribute the limitations
of o.ur knowledge of objects to the objects in themselves. Nothing can really be more absurd than for
man to pretend to draw a line between the important
and the trivial for the Divine intellect, or to assume
that even the position of individual grains of sand
has no significance for Divine wisdom. Is the interest
of the Creator in his works to be measured by yards
and inches? Where are we to draw the line between
a grain of sand and Mont Blanc? Besides, the position of a single grain has its influence on the centre
of gravity of the world, and thus on the solar system;
and such effect, ever increasing through time, may
eventually exercise an immeasurable influence on
the'destination of our planet. If we were to see a
man sitting quietly in a room with a piece of wire in
each hand, what would be more natural than for a
casual spectator to regard it as a very indifferent
matter whether he held them apart or brought them
together? There is only an interval of a few inches
between them, and by a slight movement of one hand
he at length places them in contact. A few seconds
afterwards a deafening report is heard, and the earth
trembles, as if shaken by an earthquake. A fortress
of granite has been hurled from its foundations; what
a minute before was a beautiful city with its theatres
and its palaces and its temples, presents now but an




The Divine Government of the Universe.   273
unsightly heap of ruins, and thousands of human
beings that had thronged its streets in the fulness of
life and strength, now complete the scene of devastation with their blackened corpses. Such effects as
these come within man's knowledge of the possible;
and who shall dare to say, that to God, who sees and
knows all things, a deviation from their appointed
place of any two grains of sand may not be known to
involve even far greater consequences?
The moral bearings of this doctrine are very grand.
He who believes in it, learns to regard himself as an
essential link in the mighty chain that is to bind the
whole creation into that perfect unity', which has
made it find favour with the Creator. Each man has
his work to do; each man does what is to be done by
him and no other. Each has moral liberty, and can
determine for himself the moral elevation of his mission; but the task to which God will set him has
been preordained through God's perfect knowledge
of what such self-determination will be.
Perhaps the above scheme may at first be considered as derogatory to God, on account of its making
his determination of nature in any way dependent on
the will of each individual man.  But it must be reThe absurdity of the doctrine that denies this unity, by exchanging the grand doctrine of a particular Providence for the
very narrow doctrine of a partial Providence, has been wittily
exposed in the following passage.
" A perpetual curate told a lamentable tale of the upsetting of
a boat on the river.               There were two men, he
said, in the boat,-one was providentially saved.
"' And the other, Sir,' interrupted Barker sharply,'the other,
I suppose was providentially drowned.'
"The perpetual curate looked aghast.
"' Don't you think,' pursued Barker, with acrimony' that
Providence had as much to do with the drowning of the one,
as with the rescue of the other I "  Bachelor of the Albany.
S. W.                                     18




274   The Divine Government of t7he Universe.
membered, in the first place, that the Divine scheme
is completely saved; and secondly, that under any
circumstances it is only man's discursive reason that
generalises, but that to God every human soul is
individual.
The above view must not be confounded with that
weak superstition, the offspring of a morbid imagination and an overweening self-complacency in spiritual
matters, which recognises a special call to a particular
line of conduct on innumerable trivial occasions. A
special call would be a direct revelation to a particular
individual, informing him of the peculiar task which
he was destined to perform.  It would in short be a
miraculous interference with his will, to which doctrine I have already expressed my objections in my
remarks on the nature of grace. All that I here
contend for is, that every human action has its significance in the eye of God, and contributes its share to
the universal scheme.
Thus it is that all of us,-sinners as well as saints,
are in some sort soldiers in God's army, and carry out
his operations. But it is an army in which there are
no privates. Two hundred men without individual
distinction are not set to do this, and two hundred
others to do that, but each man has his special and
distinctive task. Each has his particular position to
occupy or post to storm, and does not, like a private
soldier, rank as a mere unit in a crowd of others, but
rather as an officer; and a firm faith in this fact will
enable him to bear himself bravely in the world's
campaign, and establish by the greatness of his accomplishment the loftiness of his mission.
The difficulties respecting the efficacy of prayer
vanish at once before the above view of Divine Go



The Divine Government of the Universe.  275
vernment. The laws of the nature both of mind and
matter having been once determined in the great
equation of the Universe, and the Divine scheme and
human liberty having both been saved inviolate, such
answer to each prayer as God shall see fit to grant,
has also been saved as a part of the scheme, without
any interference with the uniformity of nature. And
here, let it be observed, I have only attempted to
bring to the distinct consciousness of reason, a conviction which is absolutely indispensable to our faith, if
our prayers are to be more than a hollow mockery.
For to pray to God to save the life of one who is dear
to us, with the thought lurking in our hearts that the
Divine decrees are quite irrespective of such prayer,
to pray therefore in unbelief, and merely in the hope
of obtaining some sort of consolation from the general
tone of the feelings produced, is to make the prayer
a pitiful equivocation, and to rob it of all efficacy for
ourselves as well as others. If we are ever to be
true, surely we must be so in our heart's communion
with Him who is all truth.
There is another phasis of the above scheme of
Divine government which gives it to my mind an
unspeakable majesty.  The causality cognized by
human faculties, leading from the present to the
future, and based on the limitations of time, appears
in it only as one side of the higher and all comprehensive causality in the Divine reason, which recognises no such limitations. The universe through all
eternity and all space is thus knit together into one
great harmonious whole, and the future is found to
determine the past, just as the past determines the
future.
18-2




CHAPTER II.
The Divine Will the absolute Principle in the Divine
Character.
HAVING considered the Divine will in its relations to the human will and to nature, in the
creation and government of the universe, I shall nowproceed to examine its relation to the Divine nature.
The form which the problem assumes is the following
question: Is the Divine will co-ordinate with the
Divine nature, or is it the ground of such nature?
Or it may be stated thus: Are the laws constituting
the Divine nature imposed upon the Divine will, or
freely assumed by it in its own act? The question is
an important one, for it involves that of God's perfect liberty, and therefore of his omnipotence.
Now a very little consideration will suffice to
shew that the former alternative is incompatible with
the idea of God. For if the Divine nature be not
self-assumed, it must have a ground in some energy
out of the Divine will. But if we adopt this hypothesis, we have virtually deposed the God with which
we have originally started, for we cannot refuse to
acknowledge the higher claims of this energy, as
a still higher principle, to be enthroned in his place.
Or the same argument may be stated thus. The
nature of a being is the complex of the conditions of
its activity. All conditions presume a higher will
imposing them. Consequently, every nature presumes
a higher will as its ground. The conception of God
excludes every will superior to, or collateral with his




The Divine Will the absolute Principle, &c. 277
own. Consequently, the Divine nature has no other
ground than the Divine will.
The above conclusion by no means denies the
eternity of the Divine nature, or presumes a time
when God was not infinitely good. It merely states
that the Divine will has from all eternity made the
Divine character, and that God has assumed the
goodness freely, and not found it imposed upon him
by any form of necessity; and from this conclusion
it is impossible to escape. For directly we make the
least attempt to evade it, and endeavour to conceive
God with a certain opaque kernel of attributes, and
the Divine will as limited to certain modes of action
by laws not originating in its own act, we must look
for some higher energy which has imposed these
laws; in short, we must look for a God above God
as the ultimate ground of his having such a nature.
I will here anticipate an objection to this position.
Perhaps it may be said that this doctrine lowers
the conception of the Deity, by making him in his
essence a mere force, —-infinite no doubt,-but still
a mere force, and thus robbing him of all those high
attributes which command our veneration and our
awe.
Now the real bearings of the above view of the
Divine nature are diametrically opposed to this result.
In the first place, the conception of a will is necessarily logically prior to that of a moral law. For
can is perfectly conceivable without ought, but ought
presupposes can. In the second place, it is precisely
the opposite doctrine which would destroy all claim
on the part of the Deity to the love and reverence of
mankind. A necessarily good being is a contradiction in terms; for a necessarily good being is simply




278    The Divine Will the absolute Principle
not good, inasmuch as necessity at once removes an
action from the sphere of morality 1.  The feelings of
love and awe would, therefore, be utterly misplaced
on the supposition that there is a necessity of goodness in the Divine essence, not subject to the Divine
will, for these feelings only acquire their full significance when we have completely grasped the conviction of the absolute and unconditioned liberty of God
in the determination of his own attributes. Why
should we feel grateful to God for his loving-kindness,
if such loving-kindness were an attribute not chosen
by himself, but one of which he could not divest
himself if he would?
It follows from the foregoing considerations that
the ultimate principle of the moral law is the will
of God; in other words, that God has made morality,
The moral perfection of the Deity consists, " not in having
no power to do ill, otherwise, as D)r Clarke justly observes, there
would be no ground to thank him for his goodness to us, any more
than for his eternity or immensity; but his moral perfection consists in this, that when he has power to do everything, a power
which cannot be resisted, he exerts that power only in doing what
is wisest and best." Reid's Essays on the Active Powers, Essay IV.
Chap. Iv.
On the above passage Sir W. Hamilton has the following note.
i " To do everything consistent with his perfection. But here
one of the insoluble contradictions in the question arises; for if,
on the one hand, we attribute to the Deity the power of moral
evil, we detract from his essential goodness; and if, on the other,
we deny him. this power, we detract from his omnipotence."
Hamilton's Reid, p. 609.
In the above passages Reid's text seems to me to contain
a sounder view than the commentator's note. The power to do
evil does not detract from the goodness of the Deity as long as it
remains unexercised, any more than my power to kill a man
makes me at all the worse morally, provided I never attempt it.
But if it be urged that the power to do evil detracts from His
essential goodness, meaning thereby, goodness that is necessary,
and not chosen freely in preference to evil, then I would observe,
that such moral goodness is neither man's nor God's, as freedom is
essential to all moral goodness.




in the Divine  hchracter.     279
not found it. But this position must not for an
instant be understood to imply, that morality first
sprang into being in time through a fiat of the Almighty, in the same manner as we may conceive the
creation of a planet. Moral perfection is eternal, —as
eternal as the All-perfect God; but it is a Divine
attribute freely adopted by his will, not imposed
upon it; for necessity in any form is its death.
Still it may perhaps be argued, that morality, as
one form of eternal truth, must be independent of the
will of any being, even though that being should be
the Eternal God. Now let us consider the soundness
of this objection. Supposing God had never created
a reasonable or even a sentient creature, where would
the moral law have been then? In the mind of God,
perhaps will be the answer. Good; but now suppose
there never had been a God or any other reasonable
being, where would the moral law have been then?
Moral perfection, or any other principle, however
eternal it actually is, presupposes a reasonable mind
as its abiding place. If, however, we contemplate an
absolute void without either God or man, and still
maintain morality as an eternal principle, it is merely
as a possibility which is first to come into existence
on the creation of reasonable beings. But a mere
possibility is objectively absolutely nothing. A possibility is the conception of what may take place
without violating the laws of thought of the conceiving being, and in assuming the possibility we
have thus assumed the conceiving being, and therefore the mind in which the morality, by the necessary
laws of human thought, appears as one of its phases.
In other words, the speculator has not succeeded
in the impossible problem of producing an absolute




280   The Divine IWVill the absolute Principle
void, as he can never annihilate the speculating mind
that endeavours to conceive it.
The whole objection may be shortly answered
thus.  Whenever we think an imaginary state of
things, or rather of nothing, we think at least a thinking subject, and, therefore, the moral law has already
found a resting-place. But as this moral law has no
significance except for thinking beings, we are justified
in saying that if none such had ever existed, there
would have been no moral law; though we can never
represent such a void by any effort of the imagination, as that faculty cannot annihilate itself.
It has been attempted by Cudworth to adduce an
argument for the independence of the principles of
morality of the Divine will from the necessity of
other formal laws of thought. Could God, for instance, have made the square of the hypothenuse
greater than the sum of the squares of the other sides?
Now this argument involves precisely the same
fallacy as the last. In conceiving the supposed principle, the possibility of whose falsity is in question,
we have already assumed the conception of space,
and with it all the laws of that form of intuition as
they have actually been given us; and, consequently,
we take the truth of the principle as a starting-point
for the question in which we demand whether its
falsity be possible. To make the cases really analogous, the question should be couched as follows: Is
it conceivable that God could have created minds
without the conception of space at all? I think there
can be no hesitation ini answering this question in
the affirmative.
The analysis of the moral principle given in a
former chapter leads to precisely the same result as




in the Divine Character.       281
that at which we have arrived in this. I there endeavoured to shew that this principle consists in the
entire subjection of the human will to the will universal, thus making the latter the ultimate standard
of the moral law. And here we arrive at the true
ground of our conviction of the necessity of the moral
perfection of the Deity. The will of God must agree
with itself; and here we have the necessity of the
Divine perfection, but merely as a necessity of consequential modality. That, however, the will of God
should have been precisely what it has been, there
was no antecedent necessity; and here we have the
free and unconditioned causality of the Divine will
as the absolute original of all things.
The above views of the relation of the Divine
will to perfection, answer at once all the difficulties
arising in an optimism from its supposed limitation
to the Divine liberty. Some writers, Leibnitz for
instance, speak as if God had found so many plans
proposed to his mind as possible, with different
degrees of perfection, and chose the best. But who
determines which is this best? If he found so many
first best, and so many second best, there must have
been a God above or before him *to determine the
standard which determines the best. But he who
created the universe, is he alone who gave a meaning
to the word best.
In the first book ofthis treatise I have endeavoured to establish the position of Cudworth, that
the human will is the last thing in the human soul.
The goal I have at length arrived at in the second
book, but without the sanction of Cudworth's authority, is the extension of this principle to that Divine
energy, the absolute ground of all things in heaven




282  The Divine Will the absolute Principle, &c.
and in earth, in time and in eternity. Neither morality
nor religion will ever find a surer basis than a living
faith that the Divine will is the last thing in the
Divine mind.
And now in conclusion, I will repeat my innermost conviction, that the existence of freewill, in man
as a fact of the consciousness, in God as an object of
our faith, is the cardinal point on which all that is
sound in philosophy or true in religion ultimately
turns. Banish it from heaven and earth, and men
become nothing more than the petty wheels in the
vast machine of which God is the involuntary motive
power. But the engineer is absent, and he whom
we then call God is bound in the trammels of a merciless necessity, —no object of love, for he cannot
hate, no object of prayer, for he cannot aid, no object
of praise, for he is a tool in the hands of a higher
fate. Morality then sinks into a calculation of pressure and leverage, and nice adjustment of screws and
cogs; reverence is but the yielding of the various
parts to the primary force; the spiritual finds no resting-place, and the material has undivided sway.
Restore freewill, and where all before was death and
darkness, all now becomes life and light. Then indeed
does God cease to be the, omnipresent automaton, the
dead God of the dead, and becomes a spirit and a
power, and the living God of the living. Then, indeed, are love, and prayer, and praise his just meed
and our high privilege, for of his own freewill and
of no necessity is he a gracious God and merciful,
slow to anger and of great kindness, and his tender
mercies are over all his works. For of Him, and
through Him, and to Him, are all things; to whom
be glory for ever.




APPENDIX A.
Burthogge's anticipation of Kant.
BIsuoP  Berkeley is generally regarded as the first English
writer who propounded any form of idealism. This opinion,
however, is incorrect. Berkeley may have been the first who
made idealism the subject of a long treatise, but a far more
sweeping form of it had been enunciated in an earlier work.
An Essay on Reason and the INature of Spirits, by Richard
Burthogge, M.D., was published at London in 1694, sixteen
years, therefore, before the appearance of the Bishop's treatise
on human knowledge, and when Berkeley was only ten years
old. This work is now extremely rare, but possesses considerable interest, as it contains numerous passages expressing in
clear and unequivocal language the general theory of Kant's
Criticism of the pure reason, as far as the understanding alone
is concerned. I do not mean by this that Burthogge has hit
upon Kant's exhaustive method of deducing the categories by
an analysis of the form of a judgment, but he repeatedly
asserts that the conceptions of substance and accident, cause
and effect, whole and part are not anything in themselves,
but are only notions of the understanding under which it apprehends its particular objects, or as he sometimes calls them
modi concipiendi.
As Burthogge's work is very rare, it is highly probable
that the reader has not met with it, and I therefore subjoin a
few extracts by way of establishing the correctness of the
above statement respecting it.
In Chapter III. Sect. I., having described a notion as'any
conception formed by the mind in reference to objects' (p. 52),
he proceeds (at p. 56) as follows:'But besides the former sense of the word (notion), there
is another which is more restrained and limited; in which a




284                   Appendix.
notion is modus concipiendi, a certain particular manner of
conceiving,; a manner of conceiving things that corresponds
not to them but only as they are objects, not as they are
things; there being in every conception something that is
purely objective, purely notional; insomuch that few, if any, of
the ideas which we have of things are properly pictures; our
conceptions of things no more resembling them in strict propriety, than our words do our conceptions, for which yet they
do stand, and with which they have a kind of correspondence
and answering: just as figures that do stand for numbers, yet
are no wise like them.'To make this clearer, it must be considered that the eye
has no perception of things but under the appearance of light
and colours, and yet light and colours do not really exist in
the things themselves that are perceived and seen by means
of them, but are only in the eye. Likewise the ear has no
perceivance of things, as of a bell, of a lute, or of a viol, but
under sounds, and yet sound is only a sentiment in the ear
that hears, and is not, or anything like it, in the bell, or viol,
or lute that is heard. For as the eye has no perceivance of
things but under colours that are not in them, (and the same
with due alteration must be said of the other senses,) so the
understanding apprehends not things, or any habitudes or
aspects of them, but under certain notions that neither have
that being in objects, or that being of objects, that they seem
to have; but are, in all respects, the very same to the mind
or understanding, that colours are to the eye and sound to
the ear. To be more particular, the understanding conceives
not anything but under the notion of an entity, and this
either a substance or an accident; under that of a whole or
of a part; or of a cause, or of an effect, or the like; and yet
all these and the like are only entities of reason conceived
within the mind, that have no more of any real true existence
without it, than colours have without the eye, or sounds without the ear. Every person that hath the least understanding
of the way in which we do apprehend things, will yield this to
be true as to whole and part, to cause and etfect, and to all
the notions which are commonly termed by logicians the




Appendix.                     285
second; and it is as certainly true in reference to substance
and accident, to quantity, quality, and those other general
notions under which the understanding apprehends its objects,
though commonly they are called first ones, and in comparison
of the others, are so.'I have laboured the more to make the notion that I have
in this business plain and easy, because much of what is to be
said hereafter will depend upon it; and now taking for granted
that my meaning is intelligible, what remains is to evince true;
and this I shall do, from the very nature of cogitation in
general, (as it comprehends sensation as well as intellection),
since that the understanding doth pin its notions upon objects,
arises not fiom its being such a particular kind of cogitative
faculty, but from its being cogitative at large; let us then
reflect again on the nature of cogitation at large.'It is certain that things to us men are nothing but as they
do stand in our analogy, that is, in plain terms, they are
nothing to us but as they are known by us; and as certain,
that they stand not in our analogy, nor are known by us, but as
they are in our faculties, in our senses, imagination, or mind;
and they are not in our faculties, either in their own realities,
or by way of a true resemblance and representation, but only
in respect of certain appearances or sentiments, which, by the
various impressions that they make upon us, they do either
occasion only, or cause, or (which is most probable) concur
unto in causing with our faculties. Every cogitative faculty,
though it is not the sole cause of its own immediate (apparent)
object, yet has a share in making it: thus the eye or visive
faculty hath a share in making the colours which it is said to
see; the ear or auditive power a share in producing sounds,
which yet it is said to hear; the imagination has a part in
making the images stored in it; and there is the same reason
for the understanding, that it should have a like share in
framing the primitive notions under which it takes in and
receives objects; in sum, the immediate objects of cogitation
as it is exercised by men, are entia cogitationis, all phenomena;
appearances that do no more exist without our faculties in
the things themselves, than the images that are seen in water




286                  Appendix.
or behind a glass, do really exist in those places where they
seem to be.' And as for substance and accident, which yet are the first
steps we make toward a distinct perceivance and knowledge
of things; what are they but likewise modi concipiendi? Entities
of reason, or notions, that (it is true) are not without grounds,
but yet that have themselves, no formal being but only in the
mind that frames them; there being no such thing in the
world as a substance, or an accident, any more than such a
thing as a subject or an adjunct; and yet we apprehend not
anything but as one of these, to wit, as a substance or as an
accident; so that we apprehend not any at all, just as they
are, in their own realities, but only under the top-knots and
dresses of notions, which our minds do put upon them, p. 64.
In truth, neither accident, nor substance hath any being but
only in the mind, and by the only virtue of cogitation or
thought.'-Essay upon Reason and the Nature of Spirits, by
Richard Burthogge, M.D., London. Printed for John Dunton
at the Raven in the Poultry. 1694. Chap. III. Sect. I.
APPENDIX B.
C'udworth's Letters, while a Student at Cambridge.
THE quotation from Cudworth, at page 239, is taken from
the first of the two following letters. The originals are
in my possession. Neither of them has any date, but as
Cudworth was born in 1618, and took his degree about 1639,
the first was probably written about 1638; and the other
appears to have been written about the same time. The matter of these letters is so very interesting, as shewing the tone
of Cudworth's mind while a student at Cambridge, that I shall
offer no apology for subjoining them  at length.  The Dr




Appendix.                    287
Stoughton to whom they are addressed was Cudworth's stepfather.
To the right wo-l my very loving father, Dr STOUGHTON, at his
house in Aldermanbury, these with speede.
DEARE AND MUCH HONORD FATHER,
Hoping of yours and my Mother's healths in the
Lord: I came the last night from Seaton to Cambridge, and
find the state of things here unpleasing to me: Understanding
the departure of our Ministry which wee enjoied under Mr
Hall and Mr Goade: To thinke of stay here rellishes not my
thoughts: and therefore I am much troubled and unpleasingly
affected with my Tutor's violent importunity towards me, to
sitte the next weeke for a fellowship, as soon as I come crasingupon me: as far as I understand of your minde, your loving
councell is not, I should goe on that way: Mine owne Spirit is
for the present averse: and I shall no way satisfy my Tutor
unlesse it may please you this weeke to write a Line or two
to me to this Effecte, that your advice is, that at leaste for this
present, I should not meddle in that kinde, but suspend upon
Considerations best known to your selfe: if this be as I thinke
your judgment: in submitting to which and no other way can
I inoffensively deny to satisfy my Tutor's desire: for however,
if I were affected that way, it seems fond to mee, to put forth
myself to no purpose at such a time, when there are 4 besides
my selfe, all my seniors and 3 of them Masters of Arts: I desire
I hope seriosly not in the least to prejudice the spirituall
advantage and elevation of my soule towards my God and the
pretious knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: which if I mistake not myselfe when my soule is calme and composed
within itselfe I account my chiefes Treasure: I would looke
upon my Being as one entire whole thinge drawne out and
continued from one end of time to the length of eternity like a
continued Line having only that little knot of Death in it:
and seriosly provide for my selfe and love my selfe in Linea
not in Puncto: comprehensively taking up all the successive
moments of my selfe in one Generall View and prospect: Sir




288                   Appendix.
Fran. Bacon speaks of Idola Specus. I thinke this to bee one
when a man looks round upon himselfe bounded and limited
within the horizon of time here, as in the walls of some narrow cell, and lets not his ingenuous soule have a free prospect
upon the whole compasse of its immortality: I desire to caste
the Dy of my Being, my time and eternity upon my God:
studying only to grow in divine Life, in elevated and truly
noble Communion with his blessed selfe, thro Christ Jesus my
glorious Saviour: O the happiness that souls, spirits feel when
they come to mingle with the father of Spirits, to roll themselves in the bosome of the ever-living God, drinking of those
Streams of immortality that flow from his right-hand: his
bosome is X'k0rv /vx7v nraTrpl as the Platonists speake, and
bhee is the end of all knowledge and learning, the beholding
of him the End of all Philosophy saith Plato, tanquam eroTrreLa
T'~ -EXETe'-: to which that divine Heathen thought to sublimate
his soule by Mathematicall Abstractions, but wee have a glorious Ladder to that blessed Divinity, for so hee himselfe
interprets Jacob's Ladder in John, Christ Jesus, whose humane
Nature doth as it were yEdpvp&o-aL T'VJ y75p Kal ovpavdv: in an
unspeakable Mysterious Manner: I am perswaded all true
knowledge if our understanding were right, would end in the
Practicall Loving and closing with God: Tis an excellent
speach of Aristotles which Plutarch often remembers in his
Moralls, I remember not the Greek readily, concerning
Alexander: Hee may Glory saith he, that is Conqueror of the
whole world, and yet another may glory as well as hee, that
knows how to thinke of the Gods what hee ought: Certainly
hee that is the End of all Being would bee the End of all
knowing, knowledge doth but aVaJerpoP v ra'tXvPr rov o&vros: And
as they say well, Nihil debet esse in Globo Materiae quod
non habeat Parallelum in Globo Chrystallino vel Intellectus, so
then is our knowledge right when the Pictures in the little
world of the soule, for so are they called in the Hebrew,
have the same order that the things themselves in the great
world abroad: God being the ultimate close of all: Certainly
I cannot phanzy that to bee truly called knowledge which is
in animA but tanquam in Vase, and doth not alter and change




Ap12endix.                    289
the soule: and most of that which the world calls knowledge,
as Plutarch speakes of the Philosophy of his time,'tkvas but
Karrvoq 5tXoaodlaps, so our Tounges and jangling Arts, are to
that which is true knowledge and wisdomle: Wee cannot see
true Wisdome for the Cloths of it and the stuffe about, in
which since man's fall it is wrapt and mufled up: and which
wee mistake for knowledge itselfe: So much I thinke I know,
as truth and good are married together within mny soule: not
how much I fill my soule but change the crasis and Complection of it: The will is the Last thing in the soule, and the
ultimate resolution of all others: I thinke my understanding
and apprehension should bee but like Jupiter's Doves, to
bringe in Nectar to feed my will and affections: A man that
is aIla-0u   Ka K ERITLK 8SO To(V E1 ctoS cOcTav c EpOpvrTco may certainly
in all studies and knowledge find that which will carry in his
Love to the bosome of his God: I pray pardon my present
bodily distemper if I have troubled you with confused writing:
I hope you will not faile to send a word or two to free me from
this matter of the fellowship however at this time: and if you
mneet with any place in the country or the City which you
should thinke fit for mee, I care not how soone, to commend
mee unto it.  I wrote to you concerning mony but afterwards
I heard from Mr Theobalds: Thus hoping of your health
allso of my little sister I leave you to the Protection of Christ
Jesus,
Your ever humbly engaged Son,
R. CUDWORTH.
I pray let this Letter bee sent to my Unkle, because I have
too much neglected him.
To the right wofi my very nruch honord father, D' STOUGIHTON,
at his house in Aldermanbury these.
DEARE AND LOVING FATHER,
I am glad to heare of your and my Mother's safe
returne from the Country which I did the laste weeke by Mr
Mian-: And I presenlte you with my thankfull remembrances
S. W.                                       19




290                   Appendix.
for your invitation of mee by Mr Coxe to goe with you: but
besides other things, his Letter came too late to mee according
to that time which it afterward informed mee of: Tis a noble
thinge to walke in the beams of divine light, in St John's Phrase
Ev ) ernTL 7rep&lrareLv: Our soules, as the substance of them is
cloistered up within the thicke walls of the body, so their
apprehensions are much bounded and imprisoned within the
darke dungeon of sence; and because all their actions are
from sence and thro sence, like pure Sunbeams, that receive
a Materiall Impression of color if they passe thro colord glasse,
so they by percolation thorough the body have a grosse and
earthy tincture: and indead have allso lost their owne primitive purity. The highest excellency of our Nature is in the
deepe apprehension of God's infinite Majesty and glorious
transcendent excellency to become nothing in ourselves in the
deepest degree of holy annihilation, being swallowed up in
him, and loosing the little drop of our owne being in the vast
ocean of our eternall God, making him in the Lord Christ, the
fountaine of all in humble acknowledgment, the Centre of all
in Motion and Tendency. Moving towards him by faith, for
faith in Christ is our 7rpocraycoyl to God, and it is somewhere in
the Scriptures defined by a coming to God, and then moving and
rolling in him by a circulation of holy Love: No such wonder
in the World as that God which is all in every thing and r)tripco/La
2Tavrcov as the Platonists call the soule, should bee loste and by
so few fully discerned: What a little thing is heard of him,
saith divine Elihu, when hee had reckond up all his workes.
Nay our soules themselves are so narrow and their highest
thoughts so unworthy, that when they graspd with all their
might, to reach after him and lift themselves up towards him,
they fall downe in the midst of a thicke darkenesse: And perhaps therefore the Holy of Holies called God's Throne in the
Revelation was not only -Negatively darke, because it had no
windows, but there was allso a Cloud there, and moreover the
Priest never went in but hee was to make a Cloud before him
by his Incence: in imitation of which the Gods in Homer never
went any whither but wrapt up in a Cloud: But the best is, in
Heaven our soules shall bee filled with him, and not only as




Appendix.                    291
Buckets drawne full out of Well, but as open Vessells swimming in the Ocean: Wee shall bee baptized in God, I thinke the
expression may bee used, for so both Casaubon and the Greek
Scholiast expound that in the acts, 3alrTrc0Tra70e0 E'V TrEV'part dylt,
Domus enim in qua hoc peractum erat Spiritu Sancto fuit repleta, ita ut in eam tanquam in KoXvyfpir'Opav quandam Apostoli
demersi videantur, elegantly. But I trouble you with tediosnesse: Thus with my duties to my Mother, and my Brother
and Sisters best remembrances to you both I leave you to
the Protection of the Lord,
Your much obliged Son,
R. CUDWORTII.
Mr Genua promised to send a Copy of your Letter which
I much desire, but wee here not of it.
THE END.




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