AN INQUIRY INTO THE I MODERN PREVAILING NOTIONS RESPECTING THAT FREEDOM OF WILL WHICH IS SUPPOSED TO BE ESSENTIAL TO MORAL AGENCY, VIRTUE AND VICE, REWARDS AND PUNISHMENT, PRAISE AND BLAME. BY JONATHAN EDWARDS, A. M. WitSi an Index. ANDOVER: GOULD,. NEWMAN AND S A X T O N NEW YORK: CORNER OF FULTON AND NASSAU STS. 1840. CONTENTS. Xi r. VII. — Arminian Notions of moral Agency inconsistent with all Influence of Motive and Inducement, in either virtuous or vi- cious Actions Puire 263 PART IV. WHEREIN THE CHIEF GROUNDS OF THE REASONINGS OF ARME- NIANS, IN SUPPORT AND DEFENCE OF THEIR NOTIONS OF LIBERTY, MORAL AGENCY, ETC. ANDjAGAINST THE OPPOSITE DOCTRINE, ARE CONSIDERED. Sect. 1.— The Essence of the Virtue and Vice of the Dispositions of the Heart, arid Acts of the Will, lies not in their Causes, but their Nature 272 Sect. II. — The Falseness and Inconsistence of that metaphysical Notion of Action and Agency which seems to be generally enter- tained by the Defenders of the fore-mentioned Notions of Liberty, moral Agency, etc 2b0 Sect. III. — The Reasons why some think it contrary to common Sense, to suppose Things which are necessary, to be worthy of either Praise or Blame 290 ! V-— -It is agreeable to common Sense, and the natural Notions inkmd, to suppose moral Necessity to be consistent with . an J Blame, Reward and Punishment 299 V. Concerning those Objections that this Scheme of Neces- sity renders all Means and Endeavors for the avoiding of Sin, or the obtainincr Virtue and Holiness, vain and to no purpose; and that it makes Men no more than mere Machines in affairs of Mo- rality and Religion 310 S'/i.ct. \i.~ Concerning that Objection against the Doctrine which has been maintained, thai it agrees with the Stoical Doctrine of Fate, and the Opinion of Mr. Hobbes''' 319 Sect. VII. — Concerning the Necessity of the Divine Will . 323 Sect. VIII.— Some further Objections against the moral Necessity of God's Volitions considered 335 Sect. IX.— Concerning that Objection against the Doctrine which has been maintained, that it makes God the Author of Sin . 353 Sect. X.— Concerning Sin's first Entrance into the World . 375 Sect. XI.— Of a supposed Inconsistence of these Principles with Gods moral Character 377 Sect. XII. — Of a supposed Tendency of these Principles to Athe- ism and Licentiousness 364 Sect. XHI. — Concerning that Objection against the Reasoning by which the Calvinistic Doctrine is supported, that it is metaphysi- cal and abstruse 388 XII CONTEN* CONCLUSION. What treatment this Discourse may probably meet with from so. . Persons Page 3U8 Conseq-uences concerning several Calvinistic Doctrine" ; such as a universal, decisive Providence 400 The total Depravity and Corruption of Man's Nature . . . 401 Efficacious Grace 402 A universal and absolute Decree ; and absolute, eternal, personal Election 403 Particular Redemption 405 Perseverance of Saints • . . . . 406 Concerning the Treatment which Calvinistic Writers and Divines have met with ' 408 The unhappiness of the Chancre lately in many Protestant Coun- tries . 409 The Boldness of some Writers 410 The excellent Wisdom appearing in the holy Scriptures . . . 411 Remarks on the Essays on the principles of morality and .Natural Religion 417 INQsUIR Y, ETC. ETC. PART I. WHEREIN ARE EXPLAINED AND STATED VARIOUS TERMS AND THINGS BELONGING TO THE SUBJECT OF THE EN- SUING DISCOURSE. SECTION I. CONCERNING THE NATURE OF THE WILL. It may possibly be thought, that there is no great need of going about to define or describe the will ; this word being generally as well understood as any other words we can use to explain it ; and so, perhaps, it would be, had iot philosophers, metaphysicians, and polemic divines, brought the matter into obscurity by the things they have ■'. of it. But since it is so, I think it may be of some . and will tend to the greater clearness in the follow- discourse, to say a few things concerning it. And therefore 1 observe, that the will (without any metaphysical refining) is plainly, thai by which the mind chooses anything. The faculty of the will is that faculty or power, or principle of mind, by which it is capable of choosing ; an act of the will is the same as an act of choosing or choice. If any think it is a more perfect definition of the will to say, that, It is that by which the soul either chooses or refuses. I am content with it ; though I think that it is 2 14 THE NATURE OF THE WILL. PART I. enough to -.say;., It;is that by which the soul chooses; for in. .every act of wi-ll whatsoever, the mind chooses one .'tfiing- rather 'than, another ; it chooses something rather than the contrary, or rather than the want or non-exis- tence of that thing. So, in every act of refusal, the mind chooses the absence of the thing refused ; the positive and the negative are set before the mind for its choice, and it chooses the negative ; and the mind's making its choice in that case is properly the act of the will ; the will's de- termining between the two is a voluntary determining, but that is the same thing as making a choice. So that what- ever names we call the act of the will by, choosing, re- fusing, approving, disapproving, liking, disliking, em- bracing, rejecting, determining, directing, commanding, forbidding, inclining, or being averse, a being pleased or displeased with; all may be reduced to this of choosing. For the soul to act voluntarily, is evermore to act elec- tively. £jlr. Locke * says, " The will signifies nothing but a power or ability to prefer or choose.^ And in the fore- going page says, " The word preferring seems best to ex- press the act of volition ;" but adds, that " it does it not precisely ; for, (says he,) though a man would prefer fly- ing to walking, yet who can say he ever wills it ?" But the instance he mentions does not prove that there is any- thing else in ivilling but merely preferring ; for it should „ be considered what is the next and immediate object of the will, with respect to a man's walking, or any other external action ; which is, not being removed from one place to another, on the earth or through the air — these are remoter objects of preference — but such or such an im- * Human Understanding. Edit. 7, vol. i. p. 197. SECT. I. THE NATURE OF THE WILL. 15 mediate exertion of himself. The thing nextly chosen or preferred when a man wills to walk, is, not his being re- moved to such a place where he would be, but such an exertion and motion of his legs and feet, etc. in order to it. And liis willing such an alteration in his body in the present moment, is nothing else but his choosing or preferring such an alteration in his body at such a moment, or his liking it better than the forbearance of it. And God has so made and established the human nature, the soul being united to a body in proper state, that the soul preferring or choosing such an immediate exertion or alteration of the body, such an alteration instantaneously follows. There is nothing else in the actions of my mind, that I am con- scious of while I walk, but only my preferring or choosing, through successive moments, that there should be such alterations of my external sensations and motions, together with a concurring habitual expectation that it will be so; having ever found by experience, that on such an imme- diate preference, such sensations and motions do actually instantaneously and constantly arise. But it is not so in the case of flying ; though a man may be said remotely to choose or prefer flying, yet he does not choose or prefer, incline to, or desire, under circumstances in view, any im- mediate exertion of the members of his body in order to it, because he has no expectation that he should obtain the desired end by any such exertion ; and he does not pre- fer or incline to any bodiiy exertion or effort under this^ apprehended circumstance, of ils being wholly in vain. J So that if we carefully distinguish the proper objects of the several acts of the will, it will not appear, by this and such like instances, that there is any difference between volition and preference ; or that a man's choosing, liking 16 THE NATURE OF THE WILL. PART I. best, or being best pleased with a thing, are not the same with his willing that thing ; as they seem to be according to those general and more natural motions of men, accord- ing to which language is formed. Thus, an act of the will is commonly expressed by its pleasing a man to do thus or thus ; and a man doing as he wills, and doing as he pleases, are the same thing in common speech. Mr. Locke * says, " The will is perfectly distinguished from desire, which in the very same action may have a quite contrary tendency from that which our wills set us upon. A man (says he), whom I cannot deny, may oblige me to use persuasions to another, which, at the same time 1 am speaking, I may wish may not prevail on him. In this case, it is plain the will and desire run counter. ' : [Tjfa not suppose that will and desire are words of pre- cisely the same signification : will seems to be a word of a more general signification, extending to things present and absent. Desire respects something absent. I may prefer my present situation and posture, suppose sitting still, or having my eyes open, and so may will it. But yet I cannot think they are so entirely distinct, that they can ever be properly said to run counter. A man never, in any instance, wills anything contrary to his desires, or desires anything contrary to his will. The forementioned instance, which Mr. Locke produces, does not prove that he ever does. He may, on some consideration or other, will to utter speeches which have a tendency to persuade another, and still may desire that they may not persuade him ; but yet his will and desire do not run counter at all ; the thing which he wills, the very same he desires ; and he does not will a thing, and desire the contrary, in any * Human Understanding, vol. i. pp. 203, 204. SECT. I. THE NATURE OF THE WILL. 17 particular. In this instance, it is not carefully observed what is the thing willed, and what is the thing desired : if it were, it would he found that will and desire do not clash in the least. The thing willed on some considera- tion, is to inter such words ; and certainly, the same con- sideration so influences him, that he does not desire the contrary ; all things considered, he chooses to utter such words, and does not desire not to uttei*tb&mJ [Jnd so as to the thing which Mr. Locke speaks of as desired, viz. That the words, though they tend to persuade, should not be effectual to that end ; his will is not contrary to this ; he does not will that they should be effectual, but rather wills that they should not, as he desiresT^Jn order to prove that the will and desire may run counter, it should be shewn that they may be contrary one to the other in the same tiling, or with respect to the very same object of will or desire ; but here the objects are two ; and in each, taken by themselves, the will and desire agree. And it is no wonder that they should not agree in different things, however little distinguished they are in their nature. The will may not agree with the will, nor desire agree with desire, in different things. As in this very instance which Mr. Locke mentions, a person may, on some considera- tion, desire to use persuasions, and at the same time may desire they may not prevail ; but yet nobody will say, that desire runs counter to desire, or that this proves thai desire is perfectly a distinct thing from desire. The like might be observed of the other instance Mr. Locke pro- duces, of a man's desiring to be eased of pain, etc. But not to dwell any longer on this, whether desire and will, and whether preference and volition, be precisely the same things or no ; yet, I trust it will be allowed by 2* 18 DETERMINATION OF THE WILL. PART I. J all, thatVin every act of will there is an act of choice ; that in every volition there is a preference, or a prevailing in- clination of the soul, whereby the soul, at that instant, is out of a state of perfect indifference, with respect to the direct object of the volition. 1 So that in every act, or go- ing forth of the will, thefels some preponderation of the mind or inclination one way rather than another ; and the soul had rather have or do one thing than another, or than not to have or do that thing ; and that there, where there is absolutely no preferring or choosing, but a perfect con- tinuing equilibrium, there is no volition. SECTION II. CONCERNING THE DETERMINATION OF THE WILL. By determining the will, if the phrase be used with any meaning, must be intended, causing that the act of the will or choice should be thus, and not otherwise ; and the will is said to be determined, when, in consequence of some action or influence, its choice is directed to, and fix- ed upon, a particular object. As, when we speak of the determination of motion, we mean causing the motion of the body to be such a way, or in such a direction, rather than another. \T,o talk of the determination of the will, supposes an effect which must have a cause. If the will be deter- mined, there is a determiner. This must be supposed to be intended even by them that say the will determines it- self. If it be so, the will is both determiner and deter- mined ; it is a cause that acts and produces effects UDon itself, and is the object of its own influence and actionj With respect to that grand inquiry, What determines SECT. II. WHAT DETERMINES THE WILL. 19 the ivilll it would be very tedious and unnecessary at present to enumerate and examine all the various opin- ions which have been advanced concerning this matter ; nor is it needful that I should enter into a particular dis- quisition of all points debated in disputes on that question, Whether the will always follows the last dictate of the understanding. It is sufficient to my present purpose to say I It is that motive which, as it stands in the view of the mind, is the strongest, that determines the willjj it may be necessary that I should a little explain my meaning in this. By motive, I mean the whole of that which moves, ex- cites, or invites, the mind to volition, whether that be one thing singly, or many things conjunctly. fiVIany particu- lar things may concur and unite their strength to induce the mind ; and when it is so, all together are, as it were, one complex motive. And when I speak of the strong- Vx est motive, 1 have respect to the strength of the whole that operates to induce to a particular act of volition 77 whether that be the strength of one thing alone, or of many together. Whatever is a motive, in this sense, must be some- thing that is extant in the view or apprehension of the understanding, or perceiving faculty. | Nothing can in- duce or invite the mind to will or act anything, any further than it is perceived, or is some way or other in the mind's view ; for what is wholly unperceived, and -\y^ perfectly out of the mind's view, cannot affect the mind at all.Tjit »s most evident, that nothing is in the mind, or reaches it, or takes any holdof it, any otherwise than as it is perceived or thought of.) And I think it must also' be allowed by all, that every 20 WHAT DETERMINES THE WILL. PART I. thing that is properly called a motive, excitement, or in- ducement, to a perceiving willing agent, has some sort and degree of tendency or advantage to move or excite the will, previous to the effect, or to the act of the will excited. This previous tendency of the motive is what I call the strength of the motive. That motive which has a less degree of previous advantage or tendency to move the will, or that appears less inviting, as it stands in the view of the mind, is what I call a weaker motive. On the contrary, that which appears most inviting, and has, by what appears concerning it to the understanding or appre- hension, the greatest degree of previous tendency to ex- cite and induce the choice, is what I call the strongest motive. And in this sense, I suppose the will is always determined by the strongest motive. Things that exist in the view of the mind, have their strength, tendency, or advantage, to move or excite its will, from many things appertaining to the nature and cir- cumstances of the thing viewed, the nature and circum- stances of the mind that views, and the degree and man- ner of its view ; which it would perhaps be hard to make a perfect enumeration of. But so much I think may bo determined in general, without room for controversy, that whatever is perceived or apprehended by an intelligent and voluntary agent, which has the nature and influence of a motive to volition or choice, is considered or viewed as good; nor has it any tendency to invite or engage the election of the soul in any further degree than it appears such. For to say otherwise, would be to say, That things that appear have a tendency by the appearance they make to engage the mind to elect them some other way than by their appearing eligible to it, which is ab- SECT. II. WHAT DETERMINES THE WILL. 21 surd ; and therefore it must be true, in some sense, that the will always is as the greatest apparent good is. But only, for the right understanding of this, two things must be well and distinctly observed. 1. It must be observed in what sense I use the term goodj namely, as of the same import with agreeable. /To appear good to the mind, as 1 use the phrase, is the same as to appear agreeable, or seem phasing to the mind. Certainly, nothing appears inviting and eligible to the mind, or tending to engage its inclination and choice, considered as evil or disagreeable ; nor, indeed, as indif- ferent, and neither agreeable nor disagreeable^ But if it tends to draw the inclination and move the will, it must be under the notion of that which suits the mind. And therefore that must have the greatest tendency to attract and engage it, which, as it stands in the mind's view, suits it best and pleases it most : and in that sense is the greatest apparent good ; to say otherwise, is little, if any thing, short of a direct and plain contradiction. The word good, in this sense, includes in its significa- tion the removal or avoiding of evil, or of that which is disagreeable and uneasy. It is agreeable and pleasing to avoid what is disagreeable and displeasing, and to have uneasiness removed. \Sothat here is included what Mr. Locke supposes determines the will. For when he speaks of uneasiness as determining the will, he must be understood as supposing that the end or aim which gov- erns in the volition or act of preference, is the avoiding or removal of that uneasiness ; and that is the same tbingas choosing and seeking what is more pasy a. nd agreeablej 2. When I say the will is as the greatest apparent good is, or (as 1 have explained it) that volition has always for 22 WHAT DETERMINES THE WILL. PART I. its object the thing which appears most agreeable, it must be carefully observed, to avoid confusion and needless ob- jection, that I speak of the direct and immediate object of the act of volition, and not some object that the act of will has not an immediate, but only an indirect and remote, respect to. Many acts of volition have some remote re- lation to an object that is different from the thing most immediately willed and chosen. Thus, when a drunkard has his liquor before him, and he has to choose whether to drink it or no, the proper and immediate objects about which his present volition is conversant, and between which his choice now decides, are his own acts in drink- ing the liquor or letting it alone ; and this will certainly be done according to what, in the present view of his mind, taken in the whole of it, is most agreeable to him. If he chooses or wills to drink it, and not to let it alone, then this action, as it stands in the view of his mind, with all that belongs to its appearance there, is more agreeable a nd pl easing than letting it alone. I But the objects to which this act of volition may relate more remotely, and between which his choice may de- termine more indirectly, are the present pleasure the man expects by drinking, and the future misery which he fudges will be the consequence of it ; he may judge that this future misery, when it comes, will be more disagree- able and unpleasant than refraining from drinking now would be. But these two things are not the proper ob- jects that the act of volition spoken of is nextly conver- sant about. For the act of will spoken of, is concerning present drinking or forbearing to drinRTj If he wills to drink, then drinking is the proper object of the act of his will ; and drinking, on some account or other, now ap- SECT. II. WHAT DETERMINES THE WILL. 23 pears most agreeable to him, and suits him best. If he chooses to refrain, then refraining is the immediate object of his will, and is most pleasing to him. If in the choice he makes in the case, he prefers a present pleasure to a future advantage, which he judges will be greater when it comes, then a lesser present pleasure appears more agreeable to him than a greater advantage at a distance. If, on the contrary, a future advantage is preferred, then that appears most agreeable, and suits him best. And so still the present volition is as the greatest apparent good at present is. I have rather chosen to express myself thus, that the will always is as the greatest apparent good, or as what appears most agreeable is, than to say that the will is de- termined by the greatest apparent good, or by what seems most agreeable ; because an appearing most agreeable or pleasing to the mind, and the mind's preferring and choos- ing, seem hardly to be properly and perfectly distinct. If strict propriety of speech be insisted on, it may more pro- perly be said, that the voluntary action which is the im- mediate consequence and fruit of the mind's volition or choice, is determined by that which appears most agreea- ble, than the preference or choice itself; but that the act of volition itself is always determined by that, in or about the mind's view of the object, which causes it to appear most agreeable. I say in or about the mind's view of the object, because what has influence to render an object in view agreeable, is not only what appears in the object viewed, but also the manner of the view, and the state and circumstances of the mind that views. Particularly to enumerate all things pertaining to the mind's view of the objects of volition, which have influence in their ap- J 24 WHAT DETERMINES THE WILL. PART I. pearing agreeable to the mind, would be a matter of no small difficulty, and might require a treatise byjtself,'and is not necessary to my present purpose. I shall therefore only mention some things in general. • I. One thing that makes an object proposed to choice agreeable, is the apparent nature and circumstances of the object. And there are various things of this sort, that have a hand in rendering the object more or less agreea- ble ; as : 1. That which appears in the object, which renders it beautiful and pleasant, or deformed and irksome to the mind ,yie wing it as it is in itself 2l The apparent degree of pleasure or trouble attending the object, or the consequence of it. Such concomitants and consequents being viewed as circumstances of the ob- jects, are to be considered as belonging to it, and as it were parts of it ; askstands in the mind's view, as a pro- posed object of choice-) 3. The apparent state of the pleasure or trouble that appears, with respect to distance of time; being either nearer or farther off. It is a thing in itself agreeable to the mind, to have pleasure speedily, and disagreeable to have it delayed ; so that if there be two equal degrees of pleasure set in the mind's view, and all other things are equal, but only one is beheld as near, and the other far off; the nearer will appear most agreeable, and so will be chosen. Because, though the agreeableness of the objects be exactly equal, as viewed in themselves, yet not as viewed in their circumstances ; one of them having the additional agreeableness of the circumstance of nearness. If. Another thing that contributes to the agreeableness of an object of choice, as it stands in the mind's view, is SECT. II. WHAT DETERMINES THE WILL. 25 the manner of the view. If the object be something which appears connected with future pleasure, not only will the degree of apparent pleasure have influence, but also the manner of the view, especially in two respects. 1. With respect to the degree of judgment, or firmness of assent, with which the mind judges the pleasure to be future. Because it is more agreeable to have a certain hap- piness than an uncertain one; and a pleasure viewed as more probable, all other things being equal, is more agreea- ble to the mind than that which is viewed as less probable. 2. With respect to the degree of the idea of the future pleasure. With regard to things which are the subject of our thoughts, either past, present, or future, we have much more of an idea or apprehension of some things than others ; that is, our idea is much more clear, live- ly, and strong. Thus, the ideas we have of sensible things by immediate sensation, are usually much more lively than those we have by mere imagination, or by con- templation of them when absent. My idea of the sun when I look upon it, is more vivid than when I only think of it. Our idea of the sweet relish of a delicious fruit is usually stronger when we taste it, than when we only imagine it. And sometimes, the idea we have of things by contemplation is much stronger and clearer than at other times. Thus, a man at one time has a much stronger idea of the pleasure which is to be enjoyed in eat- ing some sort of food that he loves than at another. Now the decree, or strength of the idea or sense that men have of future good or evil, is one thing that has great influ- ence on their minds to excite choice or volition. When of two kinds of future pleasure, which the mind considers of, and are presented for choice, both are supposed ex- 3 26 WHAT DETERMINES THE WILL. PART I. actly equal by the judgment, and both equally certain, and all other things are equal, but only one of them is what the mind has a far more lively sense of than of the other ; this has the greatest advantage by far to affect and attract the mind and move the will. It is now more agreeable tqjhj? mind to take the^pleasure it has a stronglrhlflive- ]y sense i_q£ _ than _t hat which it has only a faint idea of: the view of the former is attended with the strongest ap- petite, and the greatest uneasiness attends the want of it; and it is agreeable to the mind to have uneasiness remo- ved, and its appetite gratified. And if several future en- joyments are presented together, as competitors for the choice of the mind, some of them judged to be greater, and others less, the mind also having a greater sense and more lively idea of the good of some of them, and of others a less ; and some are viewed as of greater certainty or probability than others, and those enjoyments that appear most agreeable in one of these respects, appear least so in others ; in this case, all other things being equal, the agreeableness of a proposed object of choice will be in a degree some way compounded of the degree of good sup- posed by the judgment, the degree of apparent probabili- ty or certainty of that good, and the degree of the view or sense, or liveliness of the idea the mind has of that good ; because all together concur to constitute the de- gree in which the object appears at present agreeable ; and accordingly, volition will be determined. I might further observe, the state of the mind that views a proposed object of choice, is another thing that contributes to the agreeableness or disagreeableness of that object : the particular temper which the mind has by na- ture, or that has been introduced and established by edu- SECT. II. WHAT DETERMINES THE WILL. 27 cation, example, custom, or some other means, or the frame or state that the mind is in on a particular occasion. That ohject which appears agreeable to one, does not so to another ; and the same object does not always appear alike agreeable to the same person at different times. It is most agreeable to some men to follow their reason, and to others to follow their appetites : to some men it is more agreeable to deny a vicious inclination than to gratify it, others it suits best to gratify the vilest appetites. It is more disagreeable to some men than others to counteract a for- mer resolution. In these respects, and many others which might be mentioned, different things will be most agreea- ble to different persons ; and not only so, but to the same persons at different times. But possibly it is needless and improper to mention the frame and state of the mind, as a distinct ground of the agreeableness of objects from the other two mentioned be- fore ; viz. the apparent nature and circumstances of tbe objects viewed, and the manner of the view : perhaps, if we strictly consider the matter, the different temper and state of the mind makes no alteration as to the agreeable- ness of objects any other way, than as it makes the ob- jects themselves appear differently beautiful or deformed, having apparent pleasure or pain attending them ; and, as it occasions the manner of the view to be different, causes the idea of beauty or deformity, pleasure or uneasiness, to be more or less lively. However, I think so much is certain, that volition, in no one instance that can be mentioned, is otherwise than the greatest apparent good is, in the manner which has been explained. The choice of the mind never departs from that which, at that time, and with respect to the di- J 28 WHAT DETERMINES THE WILL. PART I. rect and immediate objects of that decision of the mind, ap- pears most agreeable and pleasing, all things considered. If the immediate objects of the will are a man's own ac- tions, then those actions which appear most agreeable to him he wills. Hilt be now most agreeahle to him, all things considered >+e* walk, then he now wills to walk. If it be now, upon the whole of what at present appears to bim, most agreeable to speak, then he chooses to speak ; if it suits him best to keep silence, then he chooses to keep silenceOThere is scarcely a plainer and more universal dictate of the sense and experience of mankind, than that, when men act voluntarily, and do what they please, then they do what suits them best, or what is most agreeable to them. To say that they do what they please, or what pleases them, but yet do not do what is agreeable to them, is the same thing as to say they do what they please, but do not act their pleasure ; and that is to say, that they do what they please, and yet do not do what they please. ^Hk appears from these things, that in some sense the will always follows the last dictate of the understanding ; but then the understanding must be taken in a large sense, as including the whole faculty of perception or ap- prehension, and not merely what is called reason or judg- ment^) If by the dictate of the understanding is meant what reason declares to be best, or most for the person's happiness, taking in the whole of its duration, it is not true that the will always follows the last dictate of the understanding. Such a dictate of reason is quite a differ- ent matter from things appearing now most agreeable ; all things being put together which pertain to the mind's present perceptions, apprehensions, or ideas, in any re- spect. Although that dictate of reason, when it takes SECT. 111. THE NATURE OF NECESSITY. 29 place, is one thing that is put into the scales, and is to be considered as a thing that has concern in the compound influence which moves and induces the will ; and is one thing that is to be considered in estimating the degree of that appearance of good which the will always follows; either as having its influence added to other things, or sub- ducted from them. When it concurs with other things, then its weight is added to them, as put into the same scale ; but when it is against them, it is as a weight in the opposite scale, where it resists the influence of other things : yet its resistance is often overcome by their greater weight, and so the act of the will is determined in opposition to it. The things which I have said, may, I hope, serve in some measure to illustrate and confirm the position I laid down in the beginning of this section, viz. that The will is always determined by the strongest motive, or by that view of the mind which has the greatest degree of previous ten- dency to excite volition. But whether I have been so happy as rightly to explain the thing wherein consists the strength of motives, or not, yet my failing in this will not overthrow the position itself, which carries much of its own evidence with it, and is the thing of chief importance to the purpose of the ensuing discourse ; and the truth of it i hope will appear with great clearness before I have fin- ished what I have to say on the subject of human liberty. SECTION III. CONCERNING THE MEANING OF THE TERMS, NECESSITY, IMPOS- SIBILITY, INABILITY, ETC., AND OF CONTINGENCE. The words necessary, impossible, etc. are abundantly used in controversies about free-will and moral agency ; 3* 30 THE NATURE OE NECESSITF. PART I. and therefore the sense in which they are used should be clearly understood. Here I might say, that a thing is then said to be neces- sary, when it must be, and cannot be otherwise. But this would not properly be a definition of necessity, or an ex- planation of the word, any more than if T explained the word must, by there being a necessity. The words must, can, and cannot, need explication as much as the words necessary and impossible ; excepting that the former are words that children commonly use, and know something of the meaning of, earlier than the latter. The word necessary, as used in common speech, is a relative term, and relates to some supposed opposition made to the existence of the thing spoken of, which is overcome, or proves in vain to hinder or alter it. That is necessary, in the original and proper sense of the word, which is, or will be, notwithstanding all supposable oppo- sition. \ k To say that a thing is necessary, is the same thing as to say that it is impossible it should not be; but the word impossible is manifestly a relative term, and has re- ference to supposed power, exerted to bring a thing to pass, which is insufficient for the effect; as the word un- able is relative, and has relation to ability or endeavor, which is insufficient ; and as the word irresistible is rela- tive, and lias always reference to resistance which is made, or may be made, to some force or power tending to an effect, and is insufficient to withstand the power, or hin- der the effect The common notion of necessity and im- possibility implies something that frustrates endeavor or desire. Here several things are to be noted : — 1. Things are said to be necessary in general, which SECT. III. THE NATURE OF NECESSITY. 31 are or will be, notwithstanding any supposable opposition from us or others, or from whatever quarter. But things are said to be necessary to us which are or will be not- withstanding all opposition supposable in the case from us. The same may be observed of the word impossible, and other such like terms. 2. These terms, necessary, impossible, irresistible, etc., do especially belong to controversy about liberty and mo- ral agency, as used in the latter of the two senses now mentioned ; viz. as necessary or impossible to us, and with relation to any supposable opposition or endeavor of ours. 3. As the word necessity, in its vulgar and common use, is relative, and has always reference to some supposable insufficient opposition ; so, when we speak of anything as necessary to us, it is with relation to some supposable op- position of our wills, or some voluntary exertion or effort of ours to the contrary. For we do not properly make opposition to an event, any otherwise than as we volunta- rily oppose it. Things are said to be what must be, or necessarily are, as to us, when they are, or will be, though we desire or endeavor the contrary, or try to prevent or remove their existence ; but such opposition of ours always either consists in, or implies, opposition of our wills. It is manifest, that all such like words and phrases, as vulgarly used, are used and accepted in this manner. A thing is said to be necessary, when we cannot help it, let us do what we will. So anything is said to be impossible to us, when we would do it, or would have it brought to pass, and endeavor it ; or at least may be supposed to de- sire and seek it ; but all our desires and endeavors are, or would be, vain. And that is said to be irresistible, which overcomes all our opposition, resistance, and endeavor to 32 THE NATURE OF NECESSITY. PART I. the contrary. And we are to be said unable to do a thing, when our supposable desires and endeavors to do it are insufficient. We are accustomed, in the common use of language, to apply and understand these phrases in this sense : we grow up with such a habit, which by the daily use of these terms, in such a sense, from our childhood, becomes fixed and settled ; so that the idea of a relation to a supposed will, desire, and endeavor of ours, is strongly connected with these terms, and naturally excited in our minds, w hen- ever we hear the words used. Such ideas, and these words, are so united and associated, that they unavoidably go together — one suggests the other, and carries the other with it, and never can be separated as long as we live. And if we use the words as terms of art, in another sense, yet, unless we are exceeding circumspect and wary, we shall insensibly slide into the vulgar use of them, and so apply the words in a very inconsistent manner. This ha- bitual connection of ideas will deceive and confound us in our reasonings and discourses, wherein we pretend to use these terms in that manner, as terms of art. 4( It follows from what lias been observed, that when these terms, necessary, impossible, irresistible, unable '■, etc, are used in cases wherein no opposition, or insufficient will, or endeavor, is supposed, or can be supposed, but the very nature of the supposed case itself excludes and denies any such opposition, will, or endeavor, — these terms are then not used in their proper signification, but quite be- side their use in common speeeF?} The reason is manifest ; namely, that in such cases we cannot use the words with reference to a supposable opposition, will, or endeavor. And therefore, if any man uses these terms in such cases, SECT. III. THE NATURE OF NECESSITY. 33 he either uses them nonsensical!}', or in some new sense, diverse from their original and proper meaning. As, for instance, if a man should affirm after this manner — That it is necessary for a man, and what must be, that a man should choose virtue rather than vice, during the time that he prefers virtue to vice ; and that it is a thing impossible and irresistible, that it should be otherwise than that he should have this choice, so long as this choice continues. Such a man would use the terms, must, irresistible, etc. with perfect insignificance and nonsense, or in some new- sense, diverse from their common use ; which is with re- ference, as has been observed, to supposable opposition, unwillingness, and resistance ; whereas, here, the very supposition excludes and denies any such thing ; for the case supposed is that of being willing, and choosing. 5. It appears from what lias been said, that these terms, necessary, impossible, etc., are often used by phi- losophers and metaphysicians in a sense quite diverse from their common use and original signification ; for they ap- ply them to many cases in which no opposition is suppo- sed or supposable. Thus, they use them with respect to God's existence before the creation of the world, w hen there was no other being but He; so, with regard to ma- ny of the dispositions and acts of the divine Being, such as his loving himself, his loving righteousness, hating sin, etc. So they apply these terms to many cases of the in- clinations and actions of created intelligent beings, angels, and men ; wherein all opposition of the will is shut out and denied, in the very supposition of the case. Metaphysical or philosophical necessity is nothing dif- ferent from their certainty. I speak not now of the cer- tainty of knowledge, but the certainty that is in things 34 THE NATURE OF NECESSITY. PART I. themselves, which is the foundation of the certainty of the knowledge of them : or that wherein lies the ground of the infallibility of the proposition which affirms them. What is sometimes given as the definition of philoso- phical necessity — namely, That by which a thing cannot but be, or, whereby it cannot be otherwise, fails of be- ing a proper explanation of it, on two accounts ; first, the words can, or cannot, need explanation as much as the word necessity ; and the former may as well be explain- ed by the latter, as the latter by the former. Thus, if any one asked us what we mean, when we say, a thing cannot but be, we might explain ourselves by saying, we mean, It must necessarily be so ; as well as explain ne- cessity, by saying, It is that by which a thing cannot but be. And secondly, this definition is liable to the fore- mentioned great inconvenience ; the words cannot or un- able, are properly relative, and have relation to power exerted, or that may be exerted, in order to the thing spoken of; to which, as 1 have now observed, the word necessity, as used by philosophers, has no reference. Philosophical necessity is really nothing else than the full and fixed connection between the things signified by the subject and predicate of a proposition, which af- firms something to be true. When there is such a con- nection, then the thing affirmed in the proposition is ne- cessary, in a philosophical sense, whether any opposition or contrary effort be supposed, or supposable in the case, or no. When the subject and predicate of the 'proposi- tion, which affirms the existence of anything, either sub- stance, quality, act, or circumstance, have a full and cer- tain connection, then the existence or being of that thing is said to be necessary, in a metaphysical sense. And in SECT. III. THE NATURE OF NECESSITY. 35 this sense I use the word necessity in the following dis- course, when I endeavour to prove that necessity is not inconsistent with liberty. The subject and predicate of a proposition which af- firms existence of something; may have a full, fixed, and certain connection several ways. 1. They may have a full and perfect connection in and of themselves, because it may imply a contradiction or gross absurdity to suppose them not connected. Thus, many things are necessary in their own nature. /So the eternal existence of being, generally considered, is necessary in itself; because it would be, in itself, the greatest absur- dity to deny the existence of being in general, or to say there was absolute and universal nothing ; and is, as it were, the sum of all contradictions, as might be shewn, if this were a proper place for it. So, God's infinity and other attributes are necessary. So it is necessary in its own nature, that two and two should be four ; and it is necessary that all right lines, drawn from the centre of a circle to the circumference, should be equal. It is ne- cessary, fit and suitable, that men should do to others as they would that they should do to them. So, innumera- ble metaphysical and mathematical truths are necessary in themselves ; the subject and predicate of the proposi- tion which affirms them are perfectly connected of them- selves. \ 2. The connection of the subject and predicate of a proposition which affirms the existence of something, may be fixed and made certain ; because the existence of that thing is already come to pass, and either now is or has been, and so has, as it were made sure of existence. And therefore the proposition which affirms present and past 36 THE NATURE OF NECESSITY. PART I. existence of it, may by this means be made certain, and necessarily and unalterably true ; the past event has fixed and decided the matter, as to its existence, and has made it impossible but that existence should be truly predi- cated of it. Thus, the existence of whatever is already come to pass, is now become necessary ; it is become impossible it should be otherwise than true, that such a thing has been. 3. The subject and predicate of a proposition which affirms something to be, may have a real and certain con- nection consequentially ; and so the existence of the thing may be consequentially necessary, as it may be surely and firmly connected with something else that is necessary in one of the former respects ; as it is either fully and thoroughly connected with that which is absolutely neces- sary in its own nature, or with something which has already received and made sure of existence. This ne- cessity lies in, or may be explained by, the connection of two or more propositions one with another. Things which are perfectly connected with other things that are necessary, are necessary themselves, by a necessity of consequence. And here it may be observed, that all things which are future, or which will hereafter begin to be, which can be said to be necessary, are necessary only in this last way : their existence is not necessary in itself; for if so, they always would have existed. Nor is their existence be come necessary by being made sure, by being already come to pass. Therefore, the only way that anything that is come to pass hereafter, is or can be necessary, is by a connection with something that is necessary m its own nature, or something that already is, or has been ; so that SECT. III. THE NATURE OF NECESSITY. 37 the one being supposed, the other certainly follows. And this, also, is the only way that all things past, excepting those which were from eternity, could be necessary before they came to pass, or could come to pass necessarily ; and therefore the only way in which any effect or event, or anything whatsoever that ever has had or will have a beginning, has come into being necessarily, or \\ ; 11 here- after necessarily exist. And therefore this\s the necessity which especially belongs to controversies about the acts of the will. It may he of some use in these controversies, further to observe concerning metaphysical necessity, that (agree- able to the distinction before observed of necessity, as vulgarly understood) things that exist may be said to be necessary, either with a general r or particular necessity. The existence of a thing may be said to be necessary with a general necessity, when all tilings whatsoever being considered, there is a foundation for certainty of their existence ; or when, in the most general and univer- sal view of things, the subject and predicate of the propo- sition which affirms its existence, would appear with an infallible connection. An event, or the existence of a thing, may be said to be necessary with a particular necessity, or with regard to a particular person, thing, or time, when nothing that can be taken into consideration, in or about that person, thing, or time, alters the case at all, as to the certainty of that event, or the existence of that thing ; or can be of any account at all, in determining the infallibility of the connection of the subject and predicate in the preposition which affirms the existence of the thing ; so that it is all one, as to that person or thing, at least, at that time, as 38 THE NATURE OF NECESSITY. PART I. if the existence were necessary with a necessity that is most universal and absolute. Thus, there are many things that happen to particular persons, which they have no hand in. and in the existence of which no will of theirs has any concern, at least at that time; which, whether they are necessary or not, with regard to things in general, yet are necessary to them, and with regard to any volition of theirs at that time, as they prevent all acts of the will about the affair. 1 shall have occasion to ap- ply this observation to particular instances in the follow- ing discourse. Whether the same things that are neces- sary with a particular necessity, be not also necessary with a general necessity, may be a matter of future con- sideration. Let that be as it will, it alters not the case, as to the use of this distinction of the kinds of necessity. These things may be sufficient for the explaining of the terms necessary and necessity, as terms of art, and as often used by metaphysicians and controversial writers in divin- ity, in a sense diverse from and more extensive than their original meaning in common language, which was before explained. What has been said to show the meaning of the terms necessary and necessity, may be sufficient for explaining of the opposite terms impossible and impossibility ; for there is no difference, but only the latter are negative, and the former positive. Impossibility is the same as negative necessity, or a necessity that a thing should not be ; and it is used as a term of art, in a like diversity from the original and vulgar meaning with necessity. The same may be observed concerning the words unable and inability. It has been observed, that these terms, in their original and common use, have relation to SECT. III. THE NATURE OF NECESSITY. 39 will and endeavour, as supposable in the case, and as in- sufficient for the bringing to pass the thing willed and endeavoured ; but as these terms are often used by phi- losophers and divines, especially writers on controversies about free-will, they are used in a quite different and far more extensive sense, and are applied to many cases wherein no will or endeavour for the bringing of the thing to pass is or can be supposed, but is actually denied and excluded in the nature of the case. As the words necessary, impossible, unable, etc., are used by polemic writers in a sense diverse from their com- mon signification, the like has happened to the term con- tingent. Anything is said to be contingent, or to come to pass by chance or accident, in the original meaning of such words, when its connection with its causes or antece- dents, according to the established course of things, is not discerned ; and so is what we have no means of the fore- sight of. And especially is any thing said to be contin- gent or accidental with regard to us, when any thing comes to pass that we are concerned in, as occasions or subjects, without our foreknowledge, and beside our design and scope. But the word contingent is abundantly used in a very different sense ; not for that whose connection with the series of things we cannot discern, so as to foresee the event, but for something which has absolutely no previ- ous around or reason, with which its existence has any fixed and certain connection. 40 OF NATURAL AND MORAL NECESSITY. PART I. SECTION IV. OF THE DISTINCTION OF NATURAL AND MORAL NECESSITY, AND INABILITY. That necessity which has been explained, consisting in an infallible connection of the things signified by the subject and predicate of a proposition, as intelligent beings are the subjects of it, is distinguished into moral and natu- ral necessity. I shall not now stand to inquire whether this distinction be a proper and perfect distinction ; but shall only explain how these two sorts of necessity are understood, as the terms are sometimes used, and as they are used in the following discourse. The phrase moral necessity is used variously ; some- times it is used for a necessity of moral obligation. So, we say a man is under necessity, when he is under bonds of duty and conscience, which he cannot be discharged from. So, the word necessity is often used for great ob- ligation in point of interest. Sometimes, by moral neces- sity is meant that apparent connection of things which is the ground of moral evidence; and so is distinguished from absolute necessity, or that sure connection of tilings that is a foundation for infallible certainty. In this sense, moral necessity signifies much the same as that high de- gree of probability which is ordinarily sufficient to satisfy, and be relied upon by mankind, in their conduct and be- havior in thevvorld, as they would consult their own safety and interest, and treat others properly as members of so- ciety. And sometimes by moral necessity is meant that necessity of connection and consequence which arises from SECT. IV. OF NATURAL AND MORAL NECESSITY. 4^ such moral causes, as the strength of inclination, or mo- tives, and the connection which there is in many cases between these, and such certain volitions and actions. And it is in this sense that I use the phrase moral neces- sity in the following discourse. By natural necessity, as applied to men, I mean such necessity as men are under through the force of natural causes ; as distinguished from what are called moral causes, such as habits and dispositions of the heart, and moral motives and inducements. Thus, men placed in certain circumstances are the subjects of particular sensations by necessity ; they feel pain when their bodies are wounded ; they see the objects presented before them in a clear light when their eyes are opened ; so, they assent to the truth of certain propositions as soon as the terms are understood ; as that two and two make four, that black is not white, that two parallel lines can never cross one another; so, by a natural necessity, men's bodies move downwards when there is nothing to support them. But here several things may be noted concerning these two kinds of necessity. lLMoral necessity may be as absolute as natural ne- cessity ; that is, the effect may be as perfectly connected with its moral cause as a natural necessary effect is with its natural cause. Whether the will in every case is ne- cessarily determined by the strongest motive, or whether the will ever makes any resistance to such a motive, or v / can ever oppose the strongest present inclination, or not; if that matter should be controverted, yet I suppose none will deny, but that, in some cases, a previous bias and in- clination, or the motive presented, may be so powerfu!, that the act of the will may be certainly and indissolubly 4* 42 OF NATURAL AND MORAL NECESSITY. PART I. connected therewith. When motives or previous bias are very strong, all will allow that there is some difficulty in going against them. And if they were yet stronger, the difficulty would be still greater. And therefore, if more were still added to their strength, to a certain degree, it would make the difficulty so great, that it would be whol- ly impossible to surmount it ; for this plain reason, be- 'cause, whatever power men may be supposed to have to surmount difficulties, yet that power is not infinite ; and so goes not beyond certain limits. If a man can surmount ten degrees of difficulty of this kind with twenty degrees of strength, because the degrees of strength are beyond the degrees of difficulty ; yet, if the difficulty be increased to thirty, or a hundred, or a thousand degrees, and his strength not also increased, his strength will be wholly insufficient to surmount the difficulty. As, therefore, it must be allowed, that there may be such a thing as a sure and perfect connection between moral causes and effects ; so this only is what J call by the name of moral necessity. 2. When I use this distinction of moral and natural ne- cessity, I would not be understood to suppose, that if any thing comes to pass by the former kind of necessity, the nature of things is not concerned in it, as well as in the latter. I do not mean to determine, that when. a moral habit or motive is so strong, that the act of the will infal- libly follows, this is not owing to the nature of things. But these are the names that these two kinds of necessi- ty have usually been called by ; and they must be distin- guished by some names or other; for there is a distinction .or difference between them, that is very important in its consequences ; which difference does not lie so much in the nature of the connection as in the two terms connected. SECT. IV. OF NATURAL AND MORAL NECESSITY. 43 The cause with which the effect is connected is of a par- ticular kind ; viz. that which is of a moral nature ; either some previous habitual disposition, or some motive exhi- bited to the understanding. And the effect is also of a particular kind ; being likewise of a moral nature, consist- ing in some inclination or volition of the soul or voluntary action. I suppose, that necessity which is called natural, in distinction from moral necessity, is so called, because mere nature, as the word is vulgarly used, is concerned without anything of choice. The word nature is often used in opposition to choice ; not because nature has indeed never any hand in our choice ; but this probably comes to pass by means that we first get our notion of nature from that discernible and obvious course of events, which we ob- serve in many things that our choice has no concern in ; and especially in the material world, which, in very ma- ny parts of it, we easily perceive to be in a settled course ; the stated order and manner of succession being very ap- parent. But where we do not readily discern the rule and connection (though there be a connection, according to an established law, truly taking place), we signify the manner of event by some other name. Even in many things which are seen in the material and inanimate world, which do not discernibly and obviously come to pass ac- cording to any settled course, men do not call the manner of the event by the name of nature, but by such name? j as accident, chance, contingent, etcY So men make t^_J distinction between nature and choice, although they were completely and universally distinct. Whereas, I suppose none will deny but that choice, in many cases, arises from nature as truly as other evenrsf^But the dependence and 44 OF MORAL NECESSITY. FART it connection between acts of volition or choice, and their causes, according to established laws, is not so sensible and obvious. And we observe that choice is as it were a new principle of motion and action, different from that established law and order of things which is most obvious, that is seen especially in corporeal and sensible things ; and also the choice often interposes, interrupts, and alters the chain of events in these external objects, and causes them to proceed otherwise than they would do, if let alone, and left to go on according to the laws of motion among themselves. Hence, it is spoken of as if it were a principle of motion entirely distinct from nature, and properly set in opposition to it. Names being commonly given to things, according to what is most obvious, and : s suggested by what appears to the senses without reflec- tion and research. 3. It must be observed, that in what lias been ex- plained, as signified by the name of moral necessity, the word necessity is not used according to the original de- sign and meaning of the; word: for, as was observed be- fore, such terms, necessary, impossible, irresistible, etc. in common speech, and their most proper sense, are al- ways relative ; having reference to some supposable vol- untary opposition or endeavour that is insufficient. But no such opposition, or contrary will and endeavour, is supposable in the case of moral necessity ; which is a cer- tainty of the inclination and will itself, which does not ad- mit of the supposition of a will to oppose and resist it. For it is absurd to suppose the same individual will to oppose itself in its present act, or the present choice to be opposite to and resisting present choice ; as absurd a* it is to talk of two contrary motions in the same moving SECT. IV. OF MORAL INABILITY. 45 body at the same time. And therefore the very case sup- posed never admits of any trial, whether an opposing or resisting will can overcome this necessity. \ What has been said of natural and moral necessity, may serveTN explain what is intended by natural and moral ina- bility. We are said to be naturally unable to do a thing, when we cannot do it if we will, because what is commonly called nature does not allow of it, or because of some impeding defect or obstacle that is extrinsic to the will ; either in the faculty of understanding, constitution of body, or external objects. Moral inability consists not in any of these things; but either in the want of inclination, or the strength of a contrary inclination, or the want of suffi- cient motives in view to induce and excite the act of the will, or the strength of apparent motives to the contrary^ Or both these may be resolved into one ; and it may be said in one word, that moral inability consists in the op- position or want of inclination. For when a person is unable to will or choose such a thing, through a defect of motives, or prevalence of contrary motives, it is the same thing as his being unable, through the want of an inclination, or the prevalence of a contrary inclination, in such circumstances, and under the influence of such views. To give some instances of this moral inability. — A woman of great honor and chastity may have a moral in- ability to prostitute herself to her slave. A child of great love and duty to his parents may be unable to be willing to kill his father. A very lascivious man, in case of cer- tain opportunities and temptations, and in the absence of such and such restraints, may be unable to forbear grati- fying his lust. A drunkard, under such and sue!) circum- stances, may be unable to forbear taking of strong drink. fti J 46 Or MORAL INABILITY. PART I. A very malicious man may be unable to exert benevo- lent acts to an enemy, or to desire his prosperity : yea, some may be so under the power of a vile disposition, that they may be unable to love those who are most worthy of their esteem and affection. A s trong habit of virtue, and great degree of holiness, may cause a moral Inability to love wickedness in general, may render a man unable to take complacence in wicked persons or things, or to choose a wicked life, and prefer it to a virtuous life. And, on the other hand, a great degree of habitual wickedness may lay a man under an inability to love and choose holi- ness, and render him utterly unable to love an infinitely ho- ly JBeing, or to choose and cleave to him as his chief good. LiJere it may be of use to observe this distinction of moral inability, viz. of that which is general and habitu- al, and that which is particular and occasio nal^] By a general and habitual moral inability, I mean an inability in the heart to all exercises or acts of will of that nature or kind, through a fixed and habitual inclination, or an habitual and stated defect, or want of a certain kind of in- clination. Thus, a very ill-natured man may be unable to exert such acts of benevolence, as another, who is full of good nature, commonly exerts ; and a man, whose heart is habitually void of gratitude, may be unable to ex- ert such grateful acts, through that stated defect of a grateful inclination. By particular and occasional mor- al inability, I mean an inability of the will or heart to a particular act, through the strength or defect of present motives, or of inducements presented to the view of the understanding on this occasion. If it be so, that the will is always determined by the strongest motive, then it must always have an inability, in this latter sense, to act SECT. IV. OF MORAL INABILITY. 47 otherwise than it does ; it not being possible, in any case, that the will should at present go against the molive which has now, all things considered, the greatest strength and advantage to excite and induce it. The former of these kinds of moral inability, consisting in that which is stated, habitual, and general, is most commonly called by the name of inability ; because the word inability, in its most proper and original signification, has respect to some stated defect. And this especially obtains the name of inability also upon another account. I before observed, that the word inability, in its original and most common use, is a relative term ; and has respect to will and endea- vor, as supposable in the case, and as insufficient to bring to pass the thing desired and endeavored. Now, there may be more of an appearance and shadow of this, with respect to the acts which arise from a fixed and strong habit, than others that arise only from transient occasions and causes. Indeed, will and endeavor against, or di- verse from, present acts of the will, are in no case sup- posable, whether those acts be occasional or habitual ; for, that would be to suppose the will at present to be other- wise than at present it is. But yet there may be will and endeavour against future acts of the will, or volitions that are likely to take place, as viewed at a distance. It is no contradiction to suppose that the acts of the will at one time, may be against the will at another time ; and there may be desires and endeavours to prevent or excite future acts of the will ; but such desires and en- deavours are, in many cases, rendered insufficient and vain, through fixedness of habit ; when the occasion returns, the strength of habit overcomes and baffles all such opposition. In this respect, a man may be in J 48 OF MORAL INABILITY. PART I. miserable slavery and bondage to a strong habit. But it may be comparatively easy to make an alteration with respect to such future acts, as are only occasional and transient ; because the occasion or transient cause, if fore- seen, may often easily be prevented or avoided. On this account, the moral inability that attends fixed habits, especially obtains the name of inability. And then, as the will may remotely and indirectly resist itself, and do it in vain, in the case of strong habits, so reason may re- sist present acts of the will, and its resistance be insuffi- cient ; and this is more commonly the case also when the acts arise from strong habit. (jBut it must be observed, concerning moral inability, in eaclfYmd of it, that the word inability is used in a sense very diverse from its original import. The word signifies only a natural inability, in the proper use of it ; and is ap- plied to such cases only wherein a present will or incli- nation to the thing, with respect to which a person is said to be unable, is supposable. It cannot be truly said, ac- cording to the ordinary use of language, that a malicious man, let him be never so malicious, cannot hold his hand from striking, or that he is not able to shew his neigh- bor kindness ; or that a drunkard, let his appetite be never so strong, cannot keep the cup from his mouthTj In the strictest propriety of speech, a man has a thing in his power, if he has it in his choice, or at his election; and a man cannot be truly said to be unable to do a thing when he can do it if he will. It is improperly said, that a person cannot perform those external actions which are dependent on the act of the will, and which would be easily performed if the act of the will were present. And if it be improperly said, that he cannot perform those exter- SECT. V. THE NOTION OF LIBERTY, ETC. 49 nal voluntary actions which depend on the will, it is in some respect more improperly said, that he is unable to exert the acts of the will themselves; because it is more evidently false, with respect to these, that he cannot if he will : for to say so, is a downright contradiction : it is to say, he cannot will, if he does will. And in this case, not only is it true, that it is easy for a man to do the thing if he will, but the very willing is the doing; when once he has willed, the thing is performed, and nothing else re- mains to be done. Therefore, in these things to ascribe a non-performance to the want of power or ability, is not just ; because the thing wanting is not a being able, but a beino" willing. There are faculties of mind and ca- pacity of nature, and everything else sufficient, but a dis- position : nothing is wanting but a will. SECTION V. CONCERNING THE NOTION OF LIBERTY AND OF MORAL AGENCY. 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. Or, in other words, his being fvee from hinderance or impedi- ment in the way of doing, or conducting, in any respect, as he wills.* And the contrary to liberty, whatever name we call that by, is a person's being hindered or unable to conduct as he will, or being necessitated to do otherwise. If this which I have mentioned be the meaning of the * I say, not only doing, but conducting ; because a voluntary for- bearing to do, sitting still, keeping silence, etc are instances of per sons' conduct, about which liberty is exercised ; though they are not so properly called doing. 5 50 THE NOTION OF LIBERTY, PART. I. word liberty, in the ordinary use of language, as I trust that none that has ever learned to talk, and is unprejudiced, will deny ; then it will follow, that in propriety of speech, neither liberty, nor its contrary, can properly be ascribed to any being or thing, but that which has such a faculty, power, or property, as is called will. For that which is possessed of no such thing as will, cannot have any power or opportunity of doing according to its will, nor be ne- cessitated to act contrary to its will, nor be restrained from acting agreeably to it. And therefore, to talk of liberty, or the contrary, as belonging to the very will itself, is not to speak good sense, if we judge of sense and non- sense by the original and proper signification of words. For the will itself is not an agent that has a will ; the power of choosing itself has not a power of choosing. That which has the power of volition or choice, is the man or the soul, and not the power of volition itself. And he that has the liberty of doing according to his will, is the agent or doer who is possessed of the will, and not the will which he is possessed of. We say with propriety, that a bird let loose has power and liberty to fly ; but not that the bird's power of flying has a power and liberty of flying. To be free, is the property of an agent who is possessed of powers and faculties, as much as to be cunning, valiant, bountiful, or zealous. But these quali- ties are the properties of men or persons, and not the prop- erties of properties. There are two things that are contrary to this, which is called liberty in common speech. One is constraint ; the same is otherwise called force, compulsion, and coac- tion, which is a person's being necessitated to do a thing contrary to his will. The other is restraint ; which is SECT. V. AND OF MORAL AGENCY. 51 his being hindered, and not having power to do according to his will. But that which has no will, cannot be the subject of these things. — I need say the less on this head, Mr. Locke having set the same thing forth with so great clearness in his " Essay on the Human Understanding." But one tiling more I would observe concerning what is vulgarly called liberty : namely, that power and oppor- tunity for one to do and conduct as he will, or according to his choice, is all that is meant by it ; without taking into the meaning of the word, anything of the cause or original of that choice, or at all considering how the p3r- son came to have such a volition, whether it was caused by some external motive or internal habitual bias ; whether it was determined by some internal antecedent volition, or whether it happened without a cause ; whether it was necessarily connected with something foregoing, or not connected. 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 pri- mary and common notion of freedom. What has been said may be sufficient to show what is meant by liberty, according to the common notions of mankind, and in the usual and primary acceptation of the word : but the word, as used by Arminians, Pelagians, and others, who oppose the Calvinists, has an entirely different signification. These several things belong to their notion of liberty. 1 . That it consists in a self-de- termining power in the will, or a certain sovereignly the will has over itself, and its own acts, whereby it deter- mines its own volitions ; so as not to be dependent in its determinations on any cause without itself, nor determined 52 THE NOTION OF LIBERTY, PART I. by any thing prior to its own acts. 2. Indifference be- longs to liberty, in their notion of it, or that the mind, previous to the act of volition, be in equilibria. 3. Con- tingence is another thing that belongs and is essential to it ; not in the common acceptation of the word, as that has been already explained, but as opposed to all necessity, or any fixed and certain connection with some previous ground or reason of its existence. They suppose the es- sence of liberty so much to consist in these things, that unless the will of man be free in this sense, he has no real freedom, how much soever he may be at liberty to act according to his will. A moral agent \s a being that is capable of those ac- tions that have a moral quality, and which can properly be denominated good or evil in a moral sense, virtuous or vicious, commendable or faulty. To moral agency be- longs a moral faculty t or sense of moral good and evil, or of such a tiling as desert or worthiness, of praise or blame, reward or punishment ; and a capacity which an agent has of being influenced in his actions by moral induce- ments or motives, exhibited to the view of understanding and reason, to engage to a conduct agreeable to the mor- al faculty. The sun is very excellent and beneficial in its action and influence on the earth, in warming it, and causing it to bring forth its fruits ; but it is not a moral agent : its action, though good, is not virtuous or meritorious. Fire that breaks out in a city, and consumes great part of it, is very mischievous in its operation ; but is not a moral agent ; what it does is not faulty or sinful, or deserving of any punishment. The brute creatures are not moral agents : the actions of some of them are very profitable 5ECT. V. AND OF MORAL AGENCY. 53 and pleasant; others are very hurtful: yet, seeing they have no moral faculty or sense of desert, and do not act from choice guided hy understanding, or with a capacity of reasoning and reflecting, but only from instinct, and are not capable of being influenced by moral inducements* their actions are not properly sinful or virtuous; nor are they properly the subjects of any such moral treatment for what they do, as moral agents are for their faults or good deeds. Here it may be noted, that there is a circumstantial difference between the moral agency of a ruler and a subject. I call it circumstantial, because it lies only in the difference of moral inducements they are capable of being influenced by, arising from the difference of circum- stances. A ruler acting in that capacity only, is not ca- pable of being influenced by a moral law, and its sanctions of threatenings and promises, rewards and punishments, as the subject is: though both may be influenced by a know- ledge of moral good and evil. And therefore the moral agency of the Supreme Being, who acts only in the ca- pacity of a ruler towards his creatures, and never as a sub- ject, differs in that respect from the moral agency of cre- ated intelligent beings. God's actions, and particularly those which he exerts as a moral governor, have moral qualifications, are morally good in the highest degree. They are most perfectly holy and righteous ; and we must conceive of Him as influenced in the highest degree by that which, above all others, is properly a moral induce- ment ; viz. the moral good which He sees in such and such things ; and therefore He is in the most proper sense, a moral agent, the source of all moral ability and ' agency, the fountain and rule of all virtue and moral 5* 54 THE NOTION OF LIBERTY, ETC. PART I. good ; though by reason of His being supreme over all, it is not possible He should be under the influence of law or command, promises or threatenings, rewards or pun- ishments, counsels or warnings. The essential qualities of a moral agent are in God in the greatest possible per- fection ; such as understanding, to perceive the differ- ence between moral good and evil ; a capacity of dis- cerning that moral worthiness and demerit by which some things are praiseworthy, others deserving of blame and punishment ; and also a capacity of choice, and choice guided by understanding, and a power of acting ac- cording to his choice or pleasure, and being capable of doing those things which are in the highest sense praise- worthy. And herein does very much consist that image of God wherein he made man (which we read of, Gen. i. 26, 27, and chap. ix. 6), by which God distinguished man from the beasts, viz. in those faculties and principles of nature whereby He is capable of moral agency. Here- in very much consists the natural image of God ; as his spiritual and moral image, wherein man was made at first, consisted in that moral excellency that he was endowed with. PART II. WHEREIN IT IS CONSIDERED, WHETHER THERE IS OR CAN BE ANY SUCH SORT OF FREEDOM OF WILL AS THAT WHEREIN ARMINIANS PLACE THE ESSENCE OF THE LIBERTY OF ALL MORAL AGENTS; AND WHETHER ANY SUCH THING EVER WAS OR CAN BE CONCEIVED OF. SECTION I. SHEWING THE MANIFEST INCONSISTENCE OFT HE ARMlNIi\ ^NO- TION OF LIBERTY OF WILL CONSISTING IN THE WILL'S SELF- DETERMINING POWER. Having taken notice of those things which may be ne- cessary to be observed concerning the meaning of the principal terms and phrases made use of in controversies concerning human liberty, and particularly observed what liberty is according to the common language and general apprehension of mankind, and what it is as understood and maintained by Arminians ; I proceed to consider the Ar- rainian notion of the freedom of the will, and the suppo- sed necessity of it in order to moral agency, or in order to any one's being capable of virtue or vice, and properly the subject of command or counsel, praise or blame, prom- ises or threatenings, rewards or punishments ; or whether that which has been described as the thing meant by lib- erty in common speech be not sufficient, and the only lib- erty which makes, or can make, any one a moral agent ; and so properly the subject of these things. In this Part 56 THE INCONSISTENCE OF PART 11. 1 shall consider whether any such thing be possible or con- ceivable, as that freedom of will which Arminians insist on ; and shall inquire whether any such sort of liberty be necessary to moral agency, etc. in the next Part. And first of all I shall consider the notion of a self-de- termining poiver in the will ; wherein, according to the Arminians, does most essentially consist the will's free- dom ; and shall particularly inquire whether it be not plainly absurd, and a manifest inconsistence, to suppose that the will itself determines all the free acts of the will. Here I shall not insist on the great impropriety of such phrases, and ways of speaking, as the wiWs determin- ing itself; because actions are to be ascribed to agents, and not properly to the powers of agents; which impro- per way of speaking leads to many mistakes, and much confusion, as Mr. Locke observes. But I shall suppose that the Arminians, when they speak of the will's deter- mining itself, do by the will mean the soul willing. I shall take it for granted, that when they speak of the will, as the determiner, they mean the soul in the exercise of a power of willing, or acting voluntarily. I shall sup- pose this to be their meaning, because nothing else can be meant, without the grossest and plainest absurdity. In all cases when we speak of the powers or principles of acting, as doing such things, we mean that the agents which have these powers of acting do them in the exer- cise of those powers. So, when we say, valor fights courageously, we mean the man who is under the influ- ence of valor fights courageously. When we say, love seeks the object loved, we mean the person loving seeks that object. When we say, the understanding discerns, SECT. I. ^ELF-DETERMINING POWER. OT we mean the soul in the exercise of that faculty. So, when it is said, the will decides or determines, the mean- ing must be, that the person in the exercise of a power of willing and choosing, or the soul acting voluntarily, de- termines. Therefore, if the will determines all its own free acts, the soul determines all the free acts of the will, in the ex- ercise of a power of willing and choosing ; or, which is the same thing, it determines them of choice ; it deter- mines its own acts by choosing its own acts. If the will determines the will, then choice orders and determines the choice ; and acts of choice are subject to the decision, and follow the conduct, of other acts of choice .And therefore, if the will determines all its own free acts, then every Uce act of choice is determined by a preceding act o( choice, choosing that act. And if that preceding act of the will or choice be also a free act, then, by these principles, in this act too, the will is self-determined ; that is, this, in like manner, is an act that the soul voluntarily chooses ; or, which is the same thing, it is an act determined still by a preceding act of the will choosing that. And the like may again be observed of the last-mentioned act. Which brings us directly to a contradiction ; for it supposes an act of the will preceding the first act in the whole train, directing and determining the rest ; or a free act of the will, before the first free act of the will. Or else we must come at last to an act of the will, determining the consequent acts, wherein the will is not self-determined, and so is not a free act, in this notion of freedom ; but if the first act in the train, determining and fixing the rest, be not free, none of them all can be free; as is manifest at first view, but shall be demonstrated presently. 58 THE INCONSISTENCE OF PART. II. If the will, which we find governs the members of the body, and determines and commands their motions and actions, does also govern itself, and determine its own motions and actions, it doubtless determines them the same way, even by antecedent volitions. The will determines which way the hands and feet shall move, by an act of volition or choice ; and there is no other way of the will's determining, directing, or commanding anything at all. Whatsoever the will commands, it commands by an act of the will. And if it has itself under its command, and de- termines itself in its own actions, it doubtless does it the same way that it determines other things which are under its command : so that if the freedom of the will consists in tills, that it has itself and its own actions under its com- mand and direction, and its own volitions are determined by itself, it will follow, that every free volition arises from another antecedent volition, directing and commanding that: and if that directing volition be also free, in that also the will is determined ; that is to say, that directing volition is determined by another going before that, and so on, till we come to the first volition in the whole se- ries : and if that first volition be free, and the will self-de- termined in it, then that is determined by another voli- tion preceding that. Which is a contradiction ; because, by the supposition, it can have none before it, to direct or determine it, being the first in the train. But if that first volition is not determined by any preceding act of the will, then that act is not determined by the will, and so is not free in the Arminian notion of freedom, which consists in the will's self-determination. And if that first act of the will, which determines and fixes the subsequent sets, be not free, none of the following acts, which are SECT. I. SELF-DETERMINING POWER. 59 determined by it, can be free. If we suppose there are five acts in the train, the fifth and last determined by the fourth, and the fourth by the third, the third by the sec- ond, and the second by the first ; if the first is not deter- mined by the will, and so not free, then none of them are truly determined by the will : that is, that each of them are as they are, and not otherwise, is not first owing to the will, but to the determination of the first in the series, which is not dependent on the will, and is that which the will has no hand in the determination of. And this being that which decides what the rest shall be, and determines their existence ; therefore the first determination of their existence is not from the will. The case is just the same, if, instead of a chain of five acts of the will, we should suppose a succession of ten, or a hundred, or ten thousand. If the first act be not free, being determined by some- thing out of the will, and this determines the next to be agreeable to itself, and that the next, and so on ; they are none of them free, but all originally depend on, and are determined by some cause out of the will : and so all freedom in the case is excluded, and no act of the will can be free, according to this notion of freedom. If we should suppose a long chain often thousand links, so con- nected that if the first link moves it will move the next, and that the next ; and so the whole chain must be de- termined to motion, and in the direction of its motion, by the motion of the first link ; and that is moved by some- thing else : in this case, though all the links but one are moved by other parts of the same chain, yet it appears that the motion of no one, nor the direction of its motion, is from any self-moving or self determining power in the chain, any more than if every link were immediately 60 SUPPOSED EVASIONS CONSIDERED. PART II. moved by something that did not belong to the chain. If the will be not free in the first act, which causes the next, then neither is it free in the next, which is caused by that first act : for though, indeed, the will caused it, yet it did not cause it freely ; because the preceding act, by which it was caused was not free. And again, if the will be not free in the second act, so neither can it be in the third, which is caused by that ; because, in like manner, that third was determined by an act of the will that was not free. And so we may go on to the next act, and from that to the next ; and how long soever the succession of acts is, it is all one ; if the first on which the whole chain depends, and which determines all the rest, be not a free act, the will, is not free in causing or determining any one of those acts ; because the act by w hich it determines them all is not a free act, and therefore the will is no more free in determining them than if it did not cause them at all. Thus, this Arminian notion of liberty of the will, consisting in the will's self-determination, is repugnant to itself, and shuts itself wholly out of the world. SECTION II. SEVERAL SUFPOSED WAYS OF EVADING THE FOREGOING REASONING, CONSIDERED. If, to evade the force of what has been observed, it should be said, that when the Arminians speak of the will's determining its own acts, they do not mean that the will determines its acts by any preceding act, or that one act of the will determines another; but only that the faculty or power of will, or ihe soul in the use of that power, determines its own volitions ; and that it does it SECT. II. SUPPOSED EVASIONS CONSIDERED. 61 without any act going before the act determined : such an evasion would be full of the most gross absurdity. I confess it is an evasion of my own inventing; and I do not know but I should wrong the Arminians in supposing that any of them would make use of it. But it being as good a one as I can invent, I would observe upon it a few things. First, If the faculty or power of the will determines an act of volition, or the soul in the use or exercise of that poiver determines it, that is the same thing as for the soul to determine volition by an act of will. For an exercise of the power of will, and an act of that power, are the same thing. Therefore, to say that the power of will, or the soul in the use or exercise of that power, determines volition, without an act of will preceding the volition de- termined, is a contradiction. Secondly, If a power* of will determines the act of the will, then a power of choosing determines it. For, as was before observed, in every act of will, there is choice ; and a power of willing is a power of choosing. But if a power of choosing determines the act of volition, it determines it by choosing it. For it is most absurd to say that a power of choosing determines one thing rather than another, without choosing anything. But if a pow- er of choosing determines volition by choosing it, then here is the act of volition determined by an antecedent choice, choosing that volition. Thirdly, To say, the faculty, or the soul, determines its own volition, but not by any act, is a contradiction. Because for the soul to direct, decide or determine any thing, is to act ; and this is supposed ; for the soul is here spoken of as being a cause in this affair, bringing 6 62 SUPPOSED EVASIONS CONSIDERED. PART II. something to pass, or doing something ; or, which is the same thing, exerting itself in order to an effect, which effect is the determination of volition, or the par- ticular kind and manner of an act of will. But certainly, this exertion or action is not the same with the effect, in order to the production of which it is exerted ; but must be something prior to it. Again, The advocates for this notion of the freedom of the will speak of a certain sovereignty in the will, whereby it has power to determine its own volitions. And therefore the determination of volition must itself be an act of the will ; for, otherwise, it can be no exercise of that supposed power and sovereignty. Again, If the will determines itself, then either the will is active in determining its volitions, or it is not. If it be active in it, then the determination is an act of the will ; and so there is one act of the will determining another. But if the will is not active in the determination, then how does it exercise any liberty in it ? These gentlemen sup- pose, that the thing wherein the will exercises liberty, is in its determining its own acts. But how can this be, if it be not active in determining ? Certainly the will, or the soul, cannot exercise any liberty in that wherein it doth not act, or wherein it doth not exercise itself. So that if either part of this dilemma be taken, this scheme of liberty, consisting in self-determining power, is over- thrown. If there be an act of the will in determining all its own free acts, then one free act of the will is deter- mined by another ; and so we have the absurdity of every free act, even the very first, determined by a foregoing free act. But if there be no act or exercise of the will in de- termining its own acts, then no liberty is exercised in de- SECT. II. SUPPOSED EVASIONS CONSIDERED. 63 termining tliein. From whence it follows, that no liberty consists in the will's power to determine its own acts ; or, which is the same thing, that there is no such thing as liberty consisting in a self-determining power of the will. If it should be said, that although it be true, if the soul determines its own volitions, it must be active in so doing, and the determination itself must be an act ; yet there is no need of supposing this act to be prior to the volition determined : but the will or soul determines the act of the will in willing; it determines its own volition, in the very act of volition ; it directs and limits the act of the will, causing it to be so and not otherwise, in exerting the act, without any preceding act to exert that. If any should say after this manner, they must mean one of these three things: either (1) that the determining act, though it be before the act determined in the order of nature, yet is not before it in order of time. Or, (2) that the deter- mining act is not before the act determined, either in the order of time or nature, nor is truly distinct from it ; but that the soul's determining the act of volition Js the same thing with its exerting the act of volition : the mind's ex- erting such a particular act, is its causing and determining the act. Or, (3) that volition has no cause, and is no effect ; but comes into existence, with such a particular determination, without any ground or reason of its exis- tence and determination. — I shall consider these distinctly. 1. If all that is meant be, that the determining act is not before the act determined in order of time, it will not help the case at all, though it should be allowed. If it be before the determined act in the order of nature, being the cause or ground of its existence, this as much proves it to be distinct from it and independent on it, as if it were 64 SUPPOSED EVASIONS CONSIDERED. PART II. before in the order of time. As the cause of the particu- lar motion of a natural body, in a certain direction, may have no distance as to time, yet cannot be the same with the motion effected by it, but must be as distinct from it as any other cause that is before its effect in the order of time : as the architect is distinct from the house which he builds, or the father distinct from the son which he begets. And if the act of the will determining be distinct from the act determined, and before it in the order of nature, then we can go back from one to another, until we come to the first in the series, which has no act of the will be- fore it in the order of nature, determining it ; and conse- quently is an act not determined by the will, and so not a free act, in this notion of freedom. And this being the act which determines all the rest, none of them are free acts. As, when there is a chain of many links, the first of which only is taken hold of and drawn by hand ; all the rest may follow and be moved at the same instant, with- out any distance of time ; but yet the motion of one link is before that of another in the order of nature ; the last is moved by the next, and that by the next, and so till we come to the first ; which not being moved by any other, but by something distinct from the whole chain, this as much proves that no part is moved by any self-moving power in the chain, as if the motion of one link followed that of another in the order of time. 2. If any should say, that the determining act is not before the determined act, either in the order of time or of nature, nor is distinct from it; but that the exertion of the act is the determination of the act ; that for the soul to exert a particular volition, is for it to cause and deter- mine that act of volition : I would on this observe, that SECT. I!. SUPPOSED EVASIONS CONSIDERED. 65 the thing in question seems to be forgotten, or kept out of sight, in a darkness and unintelligibleness of speech ; un- less such an objector would mean to contradict himself* — The very act of volition itself is doubtless a determination of mind ; L e. it is the mind's drawing up a conclusion, or coming to a choice between two things, or more, propo- sed to it. But determining among external objects of choice is not the same with determining the act of choice itseif, among various possible acts of choice. — The ques- tion is, What influences, directs, or determines the mind or will to come to such a conclusion or choice as it does? Or what is the cause, ground, or reason, why it concludes thus, and not otherwise ? Now it must be answered, ac- cording to the Arminian notion of freedom, that the will influences, orders, and determines itself thus to act. And if it does, I say it must be by some antecedent act. To say it is caused, influenced, and determined by something, and yet not determined by any thing antecedent, either in order of time or nature, is a contradiction. For that is what is meant by a thing's being prior in the order of na- ture, that it is some way the cause or reason of the thing with respect to which it is said to be prior. If the particular act or exertion of will, which comes into existence, be anything properly determined at all, then it has some cause of its existing, and of its existing in such a particular determinate manner, and not another ; some cause, whose influence decides the matter; which cause is distinct from the effect, and prior to it. But to say, that the will or mind orders, influences, and deter- mines itself to exert such an act as it does, by the very exertion itself, is to make the exertion both cause and ef- fect ; or the exerting such an act, to be a cause of the 6* 66 SUPPOSED EVASIONS CONSIDERED. PART II. exertion of such an act. For the question is, What is the cause and reason of the soul's exerting such an act? To which the answer is; The soul exerts such an act; and that is the cause of it. And so, by this, the exertion must be prior in the order of nature to itself, and distinct from itself. 3. If the meaning be, that the soul's exertion of such a particular act of will is a thing that comes to pass of it- self, without any cause ; and that there is absolutely no ground or reason of the soul's being determined to exert such a volition, and make such a choice, rather than another ; I say, if this be the meaning of Arminians, when they contend so earnestly for the will's determin- ing its own acts, and for liberty of will consisting in self- determining power ; they do nothing but confound them- selves and others with words without a meaning. In the question, What determines the will? and in their answer, that the will determines itself and in all the dispute about it, it seems to be taken for granted, that something deter- mines the will ; and the controversy on this head is not, whether anything at all determines it, or whether its de- termination has any cause or foundation at all ; but where the foundation of it is, whether in the will itself, or some- where else. But if the thing intended be what is above mentioned, then all comes to this, that nothing at all de- termines the will ; volition having absolutely no cause or foundation of its existence, either within or without. There is a great noise made about self-determining power, as the source of all free acts of the will ; but when the matter comes to be explained, the meaning is, that no power at all is the source of these acts, neither self-determining power, nor any other, but they arise from nothing ; no SECT. III. NO EVENT WITHOUT A CAUSE. 67 cause, no power, no influence, being at all concerned in the matter. However, this very thing, even that the free acts of the will are events which come to pass without a cause, is certainly implied in the Arminian notion of liberty of will; though it be very inconsistent with many other things in their scheme, and repugnant to some things im- plied in their notion of liberty. Their opinion implies, that the particular determination of volition is without any cause; because they hold the free acts of the will to be contingent events ; and contingence is essential to free- dom, in their notion of it. But certainly, those things which have a prior ground and reason of their particular existence, a cause which antecedently determines them to be, and determines them to be just as they are, do not happen contingently. If something foregoing, by a cau- sal influence and connection, determines and fixes precise- ly their coming to pass, and the manner of it, then it does not remain a contingent thing whether they shall come to pass or no. And because it is a question in many respects very im- portant, in this controversy about the freedom of will, whether the free acts of the will are events which come to pass without a cause; 1 shall be particular in examin- ing this point in the two following sections. SECTION III. WHETHER ANY EVEIMT WHATSOEVER, AND VOLITION IN PARTI- CULAR, CAN COME TO PASS WITHOUT A CAUSE OF ITS EXIST- ENCE. Before I enter on any argument on this subject, I would explain how I would be understood, when I use 68 NO EVENT WITHOUT A CAUSE. PART II. the word cause in {his discourse ; since, for want of a better word, I shall have occasion to use it in a sense which is more extensive than that in which it is some- times used. The word is often used in so restrained a sense as to signify only that which has a positive efficien- cy or influence to produce a thing, or bring it to pass. But there are many things which have no such positive productive influence, which yet are causes in that respect, that they have truly the nature of a ground or reason why some things are, rather than others ; or why they are as they are, rather than otherwise. Thus, the absence of the sun in the night is not the cause of the falling of the dew at that time, in the same manner as its beams are the cause of the ascending of the vapors in the day- time ; and its withdrawment in the winter is not in the same manner the cause of the freezing of the waters, as its approach in the spring is the cause of their thawing. But yet the withdrawment or absence of the sun is an an- tecedent, with which these effects in the night and winter are connected, and on which they depend ; and is one thing that belongs to the ground and reason why they come to pass at that time rather than at other times ; though. the absence of the sun is nothing positive, nor has any positive influence. It may be further observed, that when I speak of con- nection\of causes and effects, I have respect to moral eau- ces, as well as those that are called natural in distinction from them. Moral causes may be causes in as proper a sense as any causes whatsoever ; may have as real an in- fluence, and may as truly be the ground and reason of an event's coming to pass. Therefore I sometimes use the word cause, in this in- SECT. III. NO EVENT WITHOUT A CAUSE. 69 quiry to signify any antecedent, either natural or moral, positive or negative, on which an event, either a thing, or the manner and circumstance of a thing, so depends, that it is the ground and reason, either in whole or in part, why it is, rather than not ; or why it is as it is, ra- ther than otherwise ; or, in other words, any antecedent with which a consequent event is so connected, that it truly belongs to the reason why the proposition which af- firms that event is true, whether it has any positive influ- ence or not. And in an agreeableness to this, I sometimes use the word effect for the consequence of another thing, which is, perhaps, rather an occasion than a cause, most properly speaking. I am the more careful thus to explain my meaning, that I may cut off occasion from any that might seek oc- casion to cavil and object against some things which I may say concerning the dependence of all things which come to pass on some cause, and their connection with their cause. Having thus explained what I mean by cause, 1 assert, that nothing ever comes to pass without a cause. What is self-existent, must be from eternity, and must be un- changeable ; but as to all things that begin to be, they are not self-existent, and therefore must have some foundation of their existence without themselves.— That whatsoever beoins to be, which before was not. must have a cause why it then begins to exist, seems to be the first dictate of the common and natural sense which God hath implan- ted in the minds of all mankind, and the main foundation of all our reasonings about the existence of things past, present, or to come. And this dictate of common sense equally respects sub* 70 NO EVENT WITHOUT A CAUSE. PART II. stances and modes, or things and the manner and circum- stances of things. Thus, if we see a body which has hitherto been at rest, start out of a state of rest, and be- gin to move, we do as naturally and necessarily suppose there is some cause or reason of this new mode of exis- tence, as of the existence of a body itself which had hith- erto not existed. And so, if a body, which had hitherto moved in a certain direction, should suddenly change the direction of its motion ; or if it should put off its old figure, and take a new one ; or change its color : the beginning of these new modes is a new event, and the mind of man- kind necessarily supposes that there is some cause or rea- son of them. If this grand principle of common sense be taken away, all arguing from effects to causes ceaseth, and so all know- ledge of any existence, besides what we have by the most direct and immediate intuition. Particularly all our proof of the being of God ceases : we argue his being from our own being, and the being of other things, which we are sensible once were not, but have begun to be ; and from the being of the world, with all its constituent parts, and the manner of their existence ; all which we see plainly are not necessary in their own nature, and so not self-ex- istent, and therefore must have a cause. But if things, not in themselves necessary, may begin to be without a cause, all this arguing is vain. Indeed, I will not affirm, that there is in the nature of things no foundation for the knowledge of the being of God, without any evidence of it from his works. I do suppose there is a great absurdity, in the nature of things simply considered, in supposing that there should be no God, or in denying being in general, and supposing an SECT. III. NO EVENT WITHOUT A CAUSE. 71 eternal, absolute, universal nothing: and therefore that here would be foundation of intuitive evidence that it can- not be, and that eternal, infinite, most perfect Being must be ; if we had strength and comprehension of mind suffi- cient to have a clear idea of general and universal being, or, which is the same thing, of the infinite, eternal, most perfect Divine nature and essence. But then we should not properly come to the knowledge of the being of God by arguing ; but our evidence would be intuitive : we should see it, as we see other things that are necessary in themselves, the contraries of which are in their own na- ture absurd and contradictory ; as we see that twice two is four ; and as we see that a circle has no angles. If we had as clear an idea of universal, infinite entity, as we have of these other things, I suppose we should most in- tuitively see the absurdity of supposing such being not to be ; should immediately see there is no room for the ques- tion, whether it is possible that being, in the most general abstracted notion of it, should not be. But we have not that strength and extent of mind, to know this certainly in this intuitive independent manner : but the way that mankind come to the knowledge of the being of God, is that which the apostle speaks of, Rom. i. 20, '"'The in- visible things of him, from the creation of the world, are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made ; even his eternal power and Godhead." Wejirst ascend, and prove a posteriori, or from effects, that there must be an eternal cause ; and then, secondly, prove by argu- mentation, not intuition, that this being must be necessa- rily existent ; and then, thirdly, from the proved neces- sity of his existence, we may descend and prove many of his perfections a priori. 72 NO EVENT WITHOUT A CAUSE. PART II. But if once this grand principle of common sense be given up, that what is not necessary in itself, must have a cause ; and we begin to maintain, that things may come into existence, and begin to be, which heretofore have not been, of themselves, without any cause ; all our means of ascending in our arguing from the creature to the Crea- tor, and all our evidence of the being of God, is cut off at one blow. In this case, we cannot prove that there is a God, either from the being of the world and the crea- tures in it, or from the manner of their being, their order, beauty, and use. For if things may come into existence without any cause at all, then they doubtless may without any cause answerable to the effect. (Our minds do alike naturally suppose and determine both these things ; name- ly, that what begins to be has a cause, and also that it has a cause proportionable and agreeable to the effect. The same principle which leads us to determine, that there cannot be anything coming to pass without a cause, leads us to determine that there cannot be more in the effect than in the cause. Yea, if once it should be allowed, that things may come to pass without a cause, we should not only have no proof of the being of God, but we should be without evidence of the existence of anything whatsoever, but our own immediately present ideas and consciousness.\ For we have no way to prove anything else, but by arguing from effects to causes: from the ideas now immediately in view, we argue other things not immediately in view : from sensations now excited in us, we infer the existence of things without us, as the causes of these sensations : and from the existence of these things, we argue other things, which they depend on, as effects on causes. We infer SECT. III. NO EVENT WITHOUT A CAUSE. 73 the past existence]of ourselves, or anything else, by memo- ry ; only as we argue, that the ideas which are now in our minds, aro the consequences of past ideas and sensa- tions. We immediately perceive nothing else but the ideas which are this moment extant in our minds. We perceive or know other things only by means of these, as necessarilv connected with others, and dependent on them. But if tilings may be without causes, all this necessary connection and dependence is dissolved, and so all means of our knowledge is gone. If there be no absurdity or difficulty in supposing one thing to start out of non-exist- ence into being of itself without a cause, then there is no absurdity or difficulty in supposing the same of millions of millions. For nothing, or no difficulty multiplied, still is nothing, or no difficulty : nothing multiplied by nothing does not increase the sum. And indeed, according to the hypothesis I am oppo- sing, of the acts of the will coming to pass without a cause, it is the case in fact, that millions of millions of events are continually coming into existence contingently, without any cause or reason why they do so, all over the World, every day and hour, through all ages. So it is, in a constant succession, in every moral agent. This contingency, this efficient nothing, this effectual no-cause, is always ready at hand to produce this sort of effects, as long as the agent exists, and as often as he has occasion. If it were so, that things only of one kind, viz. acts of the will, seemed to come to pass of themselves, but those of this sort in general came into being thus ; and it were an event that was continual, and that happened in a course, wherever were capable subjects of such events ; this very 7 74 NO EVENT WITHOUT A CAUSE. TART II. thing would demonstrate that there was some cause of them, which made such a difference between this event and others, and that they did not really happen contin- gently. For contingence is blind, and does not pick and choose for a particular sort of events. Nothing has no choice. This no-cause, which causes no existence, can- not cause the existence which comes to pass to be of one particular sort only, distinguished from all others. Thus, that only one sort of matter drops out of the heavens, even water, and that this comes so often, so constantly and plentifully, all over the world, in all ages, shows that there is some cause or reason of the falling of water out of the heavens ; and that something besides mere contingence has a hand in the matter. If we should suppose nonentity to be about to bring forth ; and things were coming into existence without any cause or antecedent, on which the existence, or kind or manner of existence, depends ; or which could at all determine whether the things should be stones, or stars, or beasts, or angels, or human bodies, or souls, or only some new motion or figure in natural bodies, or some new sen- sations in animals, or new ideas in the human understand- ing, or new volitions in the will ; or anything else of all the infinite number of possibles ; then certainly it would not be expected, although many millions of millions of things are coming into existence in this manner, all over the face of the earth, that they should all be only one particular kind, and that it should be thus in all ages, and that this sort of existences should never fail to come to pass where there is room for them, or a subject capable of them, and that constantly, whenever there is occasion for them. SECT. 111. NO EVENT WITHOUT A CAUSE. 75 If any should imagine, there is something in the sort of event that renders it possible for it to come into exist- ence without a cause, and should say, that the free acts of the will are existences of an exceeding different nature from other tilings; by reason of which they may come into existence without any previous ground or reason of it, though other things cannot ; if they make this objection in good earnest, it would be an evidence of their strange- ly forgetting themselves ; for they would be giving an ac- count of some ground of the existence of a thing, when at the same time they would maintain there is no ground of its existence. Therefore I would observe, that the particular nature of existence, be it never so diverse from others, can lay no foundation for that tiling's coming into exist- ence without a cause ; because to suppose this, would be to suppose the particular nature of existence to be a thing prior to the existence ; and so a thing which makes way for existence, with such a circumstance, namely, without a cause or reason of existence. But that which in any respect makes way for a thing's coming into being, or for any manner or circumstance of its first existence, must be prior to the existence. The distinguished nature of the effect, which is something belonging to the effect, cannot have influence backward, to act before it is. The peculiar nature of that thing called volition, can do noth- ing, can have no influence, while it is not. And after- wards it is too late for its influence; for then the thing has made sure of existence already, without its help. r So that it is indeed as repugnant to reason to suppose that an act of the will should come into existence with- out a cause, as to suppose the human soul, or an angel, or the globe of the earth, or the whole universe, should 76 VOLITION NOT WITHOUT A CAUSE. PART II. come into existence without a cause. And if once we allow that such a sort of effect as a volition may come to pass without a cause, how do we know but that many other sorts of effects may do so too ? It is not the parti- cular kind of effect that makes the absurdity of supposing it has being without a cause, but something which is com- mon to all things that ever begin to be, viz. that they are not self-existent, or necessary in the nature of things. SECTION IV. WHETHER VOLITION CAN ARISE WITHOUT A CAUSE, THROUGH THE ACTIVITY OF THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. The author of the " Essay on the Freedom of the Will in God and the Creatures," in answer to that objection against his doctrine of a self-determining power in the will (p. 68, 69), That nothing is, or comes to pass, without a sufficient reason why it is, and why it is in this man- ner rather than another, allows that it is thus in corporeal things, which are, properly and philosophically speaking, passive being ; but denies that it is thus in spirits, which are beings of an active nature, who have the spring of action within themselves, and can determine themselves. By which it is plainly supposed, that such an event as an act of the will may come to pass in a spirit, without a sufficient reason why it comes to pass, or why it is after this manner rather than another, by reason of the activity of the nature of a spirit. But certainly this author, in this matter, must be very unwary and inadvertent. For, 1. The objection or difficulty proposed by this author seems to be forgotten in his answer or solution. The very difficulty, as he himself proposes it, is this: how a,n SECT. IV. VOLITION NOT WITHOUT A CAUSE. 77 event can come to pass without a sufficient reason why it is, or why it is in this manner rather than another? In- stead of solving this difficulty, or answering this question with regard to volition, as he proposes, he forgets himself, and answers another question quite diverse, and wholly inconsistent with this, viz. What is a sufficient reason why it is, and why it is in this manner rather than another? And he assigns the active heing's own determination as the cause, and a cause sufficient for the effect ; and leaves all the difficulty unresolved, and the question unanswered, which yet returns, even, How the soul's own determina- tion, which he speaks of, came to exist, and to be what it was, without a cause ? f The activity of the soul may enable it to be the cause of effects ; but it does not at all enable or help it to be the subject of effects which have no cause, which is the thing this author supposes concern- ing acts of the will. Activity of nature will no more en- able a being to produce effects, and determine the man- ner of their existence, ivithin itself, without a cause, than out ©/itself, in some other being. But if an active being should, through its activity, produce and determine an effect in some external object, how absurd would it be to say that the effect was produced without a cause ! 2. The question is not so much, How a spirit endowed with activity comes to act, as, Why it exerts such an act and not another ; or why it acts with such a particular determination. If activity of nature be the cause why a spirit (the soul of man, for instance,) acts, and does not lie still, yet that alone is not the cause why its action is thus and thus limited, directed, and determined. : Active nature is a general thing; it is an ability or tendency of nature to action, generally taken, which may be a cause 7* 78 VOLITION NOT WITHOUT A CAUSE. PART II. why the soul acts as occasion or reason is given ; but this alone cannot be a sufficient cause why the soul exerts such a particular act, at such a time, rather than others. In order to this, there must be something besides a gen- eral tendency to action ; there must also be a particular tendency to that individual action. If it should be asked, why the soul of man uses its activity in such a manner as it does ; and it should be answered, that the soul uses its activity thus rather than otherwise, because it has ac- tivity, would such an answer satisfy a rational man ? Would it not rather be looked upon as a very impertinent one ? 3. An active being can bring no effects to pass by his activity but what are consequent upon his acting ; he pro- duces nothing by his activity, any other way than by the exercise of his activity, and so nothing but the fruits of its exercise ; he brings nothing to pass by a dormant activity. But the exercise of his activity is action ; and so his ac- tion or exercise of his activity, must be prior to the ef- fects of his activity. If an active being produces an ef- fect in another being, about which his activity is conver- sant, the effect being the fruit of bis activity, his activity must be first exercised or exerted, and the effect of it must follow. So it must be, with equal reason, if the ac- tive being is his own object, and his activity is conversant about himself, to produce and determine some effect in himself; still the exercise of his activity must go before the effect, which he brings to pass and determines by it. And therefore his activity cannot be the cause of the deter- mination of the first action, or exercise of activity itself, whence the effects of activity arise ; for that would imply a contradiction ; it would be to say, the first exercise of ac- SECT. IV. VOLITION NOT WITHOUT A CAUSE. 79 tivity is before the first exercise of activity, and is the cause of it. 4. That the soul, though an active substance, cannot diversify its own acts, but by first actlsg ; or be a deter- mining cause of different acts, or any different effects, sometimes of one kind and sometimes of another, any oth- er way than in consequence of its own diverse acts, is man- ifest by this : that if so, then the same cause, the same causal power, force, or influence, without variation in any respect, would produce different effects at different times. For the same substance of the soul before it acts, and the same active nature of the soul before it is exerted (i. e. before in the order of natute) would be the cause of dif- ferent effects, viz. different volitions at different times. But the substance of the soul before it acts, and its ac- tive nature before it is exerted, are the same without vari- ation. For it is some act that makes the first variation in the cause, as to any causal exertion, force, or influence. But if it be so that the soul has no different causality, or diverse causal force or influence in producing these di- verse effects ; then it is evident that the soul has no influ- ence, no hand in the diversity of the effect, and that the difference of the effect cannot be owing to anything in the soul ; or, which is the same thing, the soul does not de- termine the diversity of the effect ; which is contrary to the supposition. It is true tbe substance of the soul be- fore it acts, and before there is any difference in that re- spect, may be in a different state and circumstances : but those whom I oppose will not allow the different circum- stances of the soul to be the determining causes of tbe acts of the will, as being contrary to their notion of self-deter- mination and self-motion. 80 VOLITION NOT WITHOUT A CAUSE. PART. 11. 5. Let .us suppose, as these divines do, that there are no acts of the soul, strictly jspeaking, but free volitions ; then it will follow, that the soul is an active being in noth- ing further than it is a voluntary or elective being; and whenever it produces effects actively, it produces effects voluntarily and electively. But to produce effects thus is the same thing as to produce effects in co?isequence of, and according to, its own choice. And if so, then sure- ly the soul does not by its activity produce all its own acts of will or choice themselves ; for this, by the supposition, is to pioduce all its free acts of choice voluntarily and elec- tively, or in consequence of its own free acts of choice, which brings the matter directly to the fore-mentioned contradiction, or of a free act of choice before the first free act of choice. According to these gentlemen's own notion of action, if there arises in the mind a volition, without a free act of the will or choice to determine and produce it, the mind is not the active voluntary cause of that volition ; because it does not arise from, nor is regulated by, choice or design. And therefore it cannot be, that the mind should be the active, voluntary, determining cause of the first and leading volition that relates to the affair. The mind's being a designing cause only enables it to produce effects in consequence of its design; it will not enable it to be the designing cause of all its own designs. The mind's being an elective cause will only enable it to pro- duce effects in consequence of its elections, and according to them ; but cannot enable it to be the elective cause of all its own elections ; because that supposes an election before the first election. So the mind's being an active cause enables it to produce effects in consequence of its own acts, but cannot enab-le it to be the determining cause SECT. V. THESE EVASIONS IMPERTINENT. 81 of all its own ads; for that is still in the same manner a contradiction, as it supposes a determining act conversant about the first act, and prior to it, having a causal influence on its existence and manner of existence. I can conceive of nothing else that can be meant by the soul's having power to cause and determine its own volitions, as a being to whom God has given a power of action, but this: that God has given power to the soul, sometimes, at least, to excite volitions at its pleasure, or according as it chooses. And this certainly supposes, in all such cases, a choice preceding all volitions which are thus caused, even the first of them ; which runs into the fore-mentioned great absurdity. Therefore the activity of the nature of the soul affords no relief from the difficulties which the notion of a self- determining power in the will is attended with ; nor will it help, in the least, its absurdities and inconsistencies. SECTION V. SHOWING, THAT IF THE THINGS ASSERTED IN THESE EVASIONS SHOULD EE SUPPOSED TO BE TRUE, THEY ARE ALTOGETHER IM- PERTINENT, AND CANNOT HELP THE CAUSE OF ARMIN1AN LIB- ERTY ; AND HOW (THIS BEING THE STATE OF THE CASE) AR- MINIAN WRITERS ARE OBLIGED TO TALK INCONSISTENTLY. What was last observed in the preceding section, may show, not only that the active nature of the soul cannot be a reason why an act of the will is, or why it is in this manner rather than another; but also that if it could be so, and it could be proved that volitions are contingent events, in that sense, that their being and manner of being is not fixed or determined by any cause, or anything an- 82 THESE EVASIONS IMPERTINENT. PART. II. tecedent ; it would not at all serve the purpose of Ar- minians to establish the freedom of the will, according to their notion of its freedom, as consisting in the will's determination of itself ; which supposes every free act of the will to be determined by some act of the will going before to determine it ; inasmuch as for the will to deter- mine a thing, is the same as for the soul to determine a thing by willing ; and there is no other way that the will can determine an act of the will, than by willing that act of the will, or, which is the same thing, choosing it. So that here must be two acts of the will in the case, one goTng before another, one conversant about the oth- er, and the latter the object of the former, and chosen by the former. If the will does not cause and determine the act by choice, it does not cause or determine it at all ; for that which is not determined by choice is not determined voluntarily or willingly; and to say that the will deter- mines something which the soul does not determine wil- lingly, is as much as to say that something is done by the will which the soul doth not with its will, So that if Arminian liberty of will, consisting in the will's determining its own acts, be maintained, the old ab- surdity and contradiction must be maintained, that every free act of will is caused and determined by a foregoing free act of will ; which doth not consist with the free acts arising without any cause, and being so contingent as not to be fixed by anything foregoing. So that this evasion must be given up, as not at all relieving, and as that which instead ofsupporting this sort of liberty, directly destroys it. And if it should be supposed that the soul determines its own acts of will some other way than by a foregoing act of will, still it will not help the cause of their liberty SECT. V. THESE EVASIONS IMPERTINENT. 83 of will." If it determines them by an act of the understand- ing, or some other power, then the will does not deter- mine itself; and so the self-determining power of the will is given up. And what liberty is there exercised, accor- ding to their own opinion of liberty, by the soul's being determined by something besides its own choice ? The acts of the will, it is true, may be directed and effectually determined and fixed ; but it is not done by the soul's own will and pleasure: there is no exercise at all of choice or will in producing the effect ; and if ivill and choice are not exercised in it, how is the liberty of the will exer- cised in it ? So that let Arminians turn which way they please, with their notion of liberty consisting in the will's deter- mining its own acts, their notion destroys itself. If they hold every free act of will to be determined by the soul's own free choice, or foregoing free act of will, for egoing either in the order of time or nature, it implies that gross contradiction that the first free act belonging to the affair is determined by a free act which is before it ; or if they say that the free acts of the will are determined by some other act of the soul, and not an act of will or choice, this also destroys their notion of liberty consisting in the acts of the will being determined by the will itself; or if they bold that the acts of the will are determined by noth- ing at all that is prior to them, but that they are contin- gent in that sense, that they are determined and fixed by no cause at all, this also destroys their notion of liberty consisting in the will's determining its own acts. This being the true state of the Arminian notion of lib- erty, it hence comes to pass that the writers that defend it are forced into gross inconsistencies in what they say 84 ARMINIANS TALK INCONSISTENTLY. PART. II. upon this subject. To instance in Dr. Whitby : he, in his discourse on the freedom of the will,* opposes the opinion of the Calvinists, who place man's liberty only in a power of doing wha t he will, as that wherein they plainly agree with Sir. HotHSe^And yet he himself men- tions the very same notion of liberty as the dictate of the sense and common reason of mankind, and a rule laid down by the light of nature; viz. that liberty is a power of acting from ourselves, or doing what we wiLL.f This is indeed, as he says, a thing agreeable to the sense and common reason of mankind ; and therefore it is not so much to be wondered at, that he unawares acknow- ledges it against himself: for if liberty does not consist in this, what else can be devised that it should consist in ? If it be said, as Dr. Whitby elsewhere insists, that it does not only consist in liberty of doing what we will, but also a liberty of willing without necessity, still the question returns, what does that liberty of willing without necessity consist in, but in a power of willing as we please, without being impeded by a contrary necessity, or, in other words, a liberty for the soul in its willing to act according to its own choice ? Yea, this very thing the same author seems to allow, and suppose again and again, in the use he makes of sayings of the Fathers, whom he quotes as his vouchers. Thus he cites the words of Origen, which he produces as a testimony on his side :{ The soul acts by her own choice, and it is free for her to incline to whatever part she w^ill. And those words of Justin Martyr :'§ the doctrine of the Christians is this, that * In his book on the Five Points, second edition, p. 350, 351, 352. t Ibid. p. 325, 326. J Ibid. p. 342. & In his book on the Five Points, second edition, p. SCO. SECT. V. ARMINIANS TALK INCONSISTENTLY. 85 nothing is done or suffered according to fate, but that every man doth good or evil according to his own free choice. And from Eusebius these words:* If fate be established ', philosophy and piety are overthrown ; all these things depending upon the necessity introduced by the stars, and not upon meditation and exercise pro- ceeding from our own free choice. And again, the words of Maccarius : f God, to preserve the liberty of man's will, suffered their bodies to die, that it might be in their choice to turn to good or evil. They who are acted by the Holy Spirit are not held under any necessity, but have liberty to turn themselves, and do what they will in this life. Thus the doctor, in effect, comes into that very notion of liberty which the Calvinists have ; which he at the same time condemns, as agreeing with the opinion of Mr. Hobbes, namely, the soul's acting by its own choice, men's doing good, or evil according to their own jree choice, their being in that exercise which proceeds from their own free choice, leaving it in their choice to turn to good or evil, and doing what they mill. So that if men exercise this liberty in the acts of the will themselves, it must be in exerting acts of will as they will, or according to their own free choice, or exerting acts of will that pro- ceed from their choice. And if it be so, then let every one judge whether this does not suppose a free choice going be- fore the free act of will, or whether an act of choice does not go before that act of the will which proceeds from it. And if it be thus with all free acts of the will, then let every one jud^e, whether it will not follow, that there is a free choice or will going before the first free act of the will * Ibid. p. 3G3. t Ibid. 3G9, 370. 86 ARMINIANS TALK INCONSISTENTLY. PART II. exerted in the case. And then let every one judge, whether this be not a contradiction. And finally, let every one judge whether, in the scheme of these writers, there be any possibility of avoiding these absurdities. If liberty consists, as Dr. Whitby himself says, in a man's doing what he will; and a man exercises this lib- erty, not only in external actions, but in the acts of the will themselves ; then, so far as liberty is exercised in the latter, it consists in ivilling what he wills; and if any say so, one of these two things must be meant; either, 1. That a man lias power to will, as he does will ; because what he wills, he wills ; and therefore has power to will what he has power to will. If this be their meaning, then all this mighty controversy about freedom of the will and self-determining power, comes wholly to nothing; all that is contended for being no more than this, that the mind of man does what it does, and is the subject of what it is the subject of, or that what is, is ; wherein none has any controversy with them. Or, 2. The meaning must be, that a man has power to will as he pleases or chooses to will : that is, lie has power by one act of choice, to choose another; by an antecedent act of will, to choose a consequent act ; and therein to execute his own choice. And if this be their meaning, it is nothing but shuffling with those they dispute with, and baffling their own rea- son. For still the question returns, Wherein lies man's liberty in that antecedent act of will which chose the consequent act ? The answer, according to the same principles, must be, that his liberty in this also lies in his willing as he would, or as he chose, or agreeable to ano- ther act of choice preceding that. And so the question returns in infinitum, and the like answer must be made in SECT. VI. OF CHOOSING IN THINGS INDIFFERENT. 87 infinitum; in order to support their opinion, there must be no beginning, but free acts of will must have been cho- sen by foregoing free acts of will in the soul of every man, without beginning; and so before he had a being, from all eternity. SECTION VI. CONCERNING THE WILL'S DETERMINING IN THINGS WHICH ARE PERFECTLY INDIFFERENT IN THE VIEW OF THE MIND. A great argument for self-determining power is the supposed experience we universally have of an ability to determine our wills, in cases wherein no prevailing mo- tive is presented ; the will (as is supposed) has its choice to make between two or more things, that are perfectly equal in the view of the mind ; and the will is apparently altogether indifferent ; and yet we find no difficulty in coming to a choice ; the will can instantly determine it- self to one, by a sovereign power which it has over itself, without being moved by any preponderating inducement. Thus, the fore-mentioned author of an "Essay on the Freedom of the Will, "etc. pp. 25, 26, 27, supposes, " That there are many instances wherein the will is deter- mined neither by present uneasiness nor by the greatest apparent good, nor by the last dictate of the understand- ing, nor by anything else, but merely by itself, as a sove- reign self-determining power of the soul ; and that the soul does not will this or that action, in some cases, by any other influence but because it will. Thus (says he) I can turn my face to the south, or the north ; I can point with my finger upward or downward. — And thus, in some cases, the will determines itself in a very sovereign man- 88 OF CHOOSING IN THINGS INDIFFERENT. FART II. ner, because it will, without a reason borrowed from the understanding ; and hereby it discovers its own perfect power of choice, rising from within itself, and free from all influence or restraint of any kind." And in pages 66, 70, and 73, 74, this author very expressly supposes the will in many cases to be determined by no motive at all, and acts altogether ivithout motive or ground of pre- ference. — Here 1 would observe, 1. The very supposition which is here made directly contradicts and overthrows itself. For the tiling suppo- sed, wherein this grand argument consists, is, that among several things the will actually chooses one before ano- ther, at the same time that it is perfectly indifferent ; which is the very same thing as to say the mind has a preference, at the same time that it has no preference. What is meant cannot be, that the mind is indifferent be- fore it comes to have a choice, or until it has a prefer- ence ; or, which is the same thing, that the mind is indif- ferent until it comes to be not indifferent. For certainly this author did not suppose he had a controversy with any person in supposing this. And then it is nothing to his purpose, that the mind which chooses was indifferent once ; unless it chooses, remaining indifferent ; for other- wise, it does not choose at all in that case of indifference, concerning which is all the question. Besides, it appears in fact, that the thing which this author supposes, is not that the will chooses one thing before another, concern- ing which it is indifferent before it chooses, but also is in- different when it chooses, and that its being otherwise than indifferent is not until afterwards, in consequence of its choice ; that the chosen things appearing preferable and more agreeable than another, arises from its choice SECT. VI. OF CHOOSING IN THINGS INDIFFERENT. 89 already made. His words are (p. 30), " Where the ob- jects which are proposed appear equally fit or good, the will is left without a guide or director; and therefore must take its own choice by its own determination ; it being properly a self-determining power. And in such cases the will does as it were make a good to itself by its own choice, i. e. creates its own pleasure or delight in this self-chosen good. Even as a man, by seizing upon a spot of unoccupied land in an uninhabited country, makes it his own possession and property, and as such re- joices in it. Where things were indifferent before, the will finds nothing to make them more agreeable, consid- ered merely in themselves ; but the pleasure it feels aris- ing from its own choice, and its perseverance therein. We love many things which we have chosen, and pure- ly BECAUSE WE CII03E THEM." This is as much as to say, that we first begin to prefer many things, now ceasing any longer to be indifferent with respect to them, purely because we have preferred and chosen them before. — These things must needs be be spoken inconsiderately by this author. Choice or pre- ference cannot be before itself in the same instance, ei- ther in the order of time or nature. It cannot be the foundation of itself, or the fruit or consequence of itself. The very act of choosing one thing rather than another, is preferring that thing, and that is setting a higher value on that thing. But that the mind sets a higher value on one thing than another, is not, in the fust place, the fruit of its setting a higher value on that thing. This author says, p. 36, ' ; The will may be perfectly indifferent, and yet the will may determine itself to choose one or the other." And again, in the same page, u I am 90 OF THE WILL'S DETERMINING PART II. entirely indifferent to either ; and yet my will may deter- mine itself to choose." And again, " Which I shall choose must be determined by the mere act of my will/' If the choice is determined by a mere act of will, then the choice is determined by a mere act of choice. And concerning this matter, viz. That the act of the will itself is determined by an act of choice, this writer is express, in p. 12. Speaking of the case where there is no superior fitness in objects presented, he has these words : " There it must act by its own choice, and determine itself as it pleases." Where it is supposed that the very deter- mination, which is the ground and spring of the will's act, is an act of choice and jjlcasurc wherein one act is more agreeable, and the mind better pleased in it, than another ; and this preference, and superior pleasedness, is the ground of all it does in the case. And if so, the mind is not indifferent when it determines itself, but had rather do one thing than another, had rather determine itself one way than another. And therefore the will does not act at all in indifference, not so much as in the first step it takes, or the first rise and beginning of its acting. If it be possible for the understanding to act in indifference, yet to be sure the will never does ; because the will's beginning to act is the very same thing as its beginning to choose or prefer. And if in the very first act of the will, the mind prefers something, then the idea of that thing preferred does at that time preponderate, or prevail in the mind ; or which is the same thing, the idea of it has a pre vailing influence on the will. So that this wholly des- troys the thing supposed, viz. That the mind can by a sovereign power choose one of two or more things, which in the view of the mind are, in every respect, perfectly SECT. IV. IN THINGS INDIFFERENT. 91 equal, one of which does not at all preponderate, nor has any prevailing influence on the mind above another. So that this author, in his grand argument for the ability of the will to choose one of two, or more things, concern- ing which it is perfectly indifferent, does at the same time, in effect, deny the thing he supposes, and allows and as- serts the point he endeavors to overthrow : even that the will, in choosing, is subject to no prevailing influence of the idea, or view of the thing chosen. And indeed it is impossible to offer this argument without overthrowing it ; the tiling supposed in it being inconsistent with itself, and that which denies itself. To suppose the will to act at all in a state of perfect indifference, either to determine itself, or to do anything else, is to assert that the mind chooses without choosing. To say that when it is indifferent, it can do as it pleases, is to say that it can follow its pleas- ure, when it has no pleasure to follow. And therefore, if there be any difficulty in the instances of two cakes, or two eggs, etc. which are exactly alike, one as good as another ; concerning which this author supposes the mind in fact has a choice, and so in effect supposes that it has a preference, it as much concerned himself to solve the diffi- culty, as it does those whom he opposes. For if these instances prove anything to his purpose, they prove that a man chooses without choice. And yet this is not to his purpose ; because if this is what he asserts, his own words are as much against him, and do as much contradict him, as the words of those he disputes against can do. 2. There is no great difficulty in showing, in such in- stances as are alleged, not only that it must needs be so, that the mind must be influenced in its choice by some- thing that has a preponderating influence upon it, but also 92 OF THE WILLIS DETERMINING PART II. how it is so. A little attention to our own experience, and a distinct consideration of the acts of our own minds, in such cases, will be sufficient to clear up the matter. Thus, supposing 1 have a chess-board before me; and because I am required by a superior, or desired by a friend, or to make some experiment concerning my own ability and liberty, or on some other consideration, 1 am deter- mined to touch some one of the spots or squares on the board with my finger; not being limited or directed in the first proposal, or my own first purpose, which is general, to any one in particular; and there being nothing in the squares, in themselves considered, that recommends any one of all the sixty-four, more than another; in this case my mind determines to give itself up to what is vulgarly called accident,* by determining to touch that square which happens to be most in view, which my eye is es- pecially upon at that moment, or which happens to be then most in my mind, or which I shall be directed to by some other such like accident. Here are several steps of the mind's proceeding (though all may be done as it were in a moment): the first sic \) is its general deter- mination that it will touch one of the squares. The next step is another general determination to give itself up to accident, in some certain way ; as to touch that which shall be most in the eye or mind at that time, or to some other such like accident. The third and last step is a particular determination to touch a certain individual * 1 have elsewhere observed what that is which is vulgarly called accident; that it is nothing akin to the Arminian metaphysical no- tion of contingciice, something not connected with anything forego- ing ; but that it is something that comes to pass in the course of things, in some affair that men are concerned in, unforeseen, and not owing to their design. SECT. VI. IN THINGS INDIFFERENT. 93 spot, even that square which, by that sort of accident the mind has pitched upon, has actually offered itself beyond others. Now it is apparent., that in none of these several steps does the mind proceed in absolute indifference, but in each of them is influenced by a preponderating induce- ment. So it is in the first step ; the mind's general deter- mination to touch one of the sixty-four spots: the mind is not absolutely indifferent whether it does so or no: it is induced to it, for the sake of making some experiment, or by the desire of a friend, or some other motive that pre- vails. So it is in the second step ; the mind's determin- ing to give itself up to accident, by touching that which shall be most in the eye, or the idea of which shall be most prevalent in the mind, etc. The mind is not abso- lutely indifferent whether it proceeds by this rule or no; but chooses it because it appears at that time a convenient and requisite expedient in order to fulfil the general pur- pose aforesaid. And so it is in the third and last step ; it is determining to touch that individual spot which actu- ally does prevail in the mind's view. The mind is not indifferent concerning this ; but is influenced by a pre- vailing inducement and reason ; which is, that this is a prosecution of the preceding determination, which appear- ed requisite, and was fixed before in the second step. Accident will ever serve a man, without hindering him a moment, in such a case. It will always be so among a number of objects in view ; one will prevail in the eye, or in idea, beyond others. When we have our eyes open in the clear sunshine, many objects strike the eye at once, and innumerable images may be at once painted in it by the rays of light ; but the attention of the mind is not equal to several of them at once ; or if it be, it does not 94 OF THE WILL'S DETERMINING, ETC. PART It. continue so for any time. And so it is with respect to the ideas of the mind in general : several ideas are not in equal strength in the mind's view and notice at once ; or at least, do not remain so for any sensihle continuance. There is nothing in the world more constantly varying, than the ideas of the mind : they do not remain precisely in the same state for the least perceivable space of time : as is evident by this: That all perceivable time is judged and perceived by the mind only by the succession or the successive changes of its own ideas. Therefore, while the views or perceptions of the mind remain precisely in the same state, there is no perceivable space or length of time, because no sensible succession at all. As the acts of the will, in each step of the fore-men- tioned procedure, do not come to pass without a particu- lar cause, every act is owing to a prevailing inducement : so the accident, as I have called it, or that which hap- pens in the unsearchable course of things, to which the mind yields itself, and by which it is guided, is not any thing that comes to pass without a cause ; and the mind in determining to be guided by it, is not determined by some- thing that has no cause ; any more than if it determined to be guided by a lot, or the casting of a die. For though the die's falling in such a manner be accidental to him that casts it, yet none will suppose that there is no cause why it falls as it does. The involuntary changes in the succession of our ideas, though the cause may not be ob- served, have as much a cause, as the changeable motions of the motes that float in the air, or the continual, infinitely various, successive changes of the unevenness 0:1 the sur- face of the water. There are two things especially, which are probably SECT. VI. OF CHOOSING IN THINGS INDIFFERENT. 95 the occasions of confusion in the minds of them who in- sist upon it, that the will acts in a proper indifference, and without being moved by any inducement, in its determina- tions in such cases as have been mentioned. I. They seem to mistake the point in question, or at least not to keep it distinctly in view. The question they dispute about, is, Whether the mind be indifferent about the objects presented, one of which is to be taken, touch- ed, pointed to, etc., as two eggs, two cakes, which ap- pear equally good. Whereas the question to be consid- ered is, Whether the person be indifferent with respect to his own actions ; whether he does not, on some considera- tion or other, prefer one act with respect to these objects before another. The mind in its determination and choice, in these cases, is not most immediately and directly con- versant about the objects presented ; but the acts to be done concerning these objects. The objects may appear equal, and the mind may never properly make any choice be- tween them : but the next act of the will being about the external actions to be performed, taking, touching, etc., these may not appear equal, and one action may properly be chosen before another. In each step of the mind's progress, the determination is not about the objects, unless indirectly and improperly, but about the actions, which, it chooses for other reasons than any preference of the objects, and fDr reasons not taken at all from the objects. There is no necessity of supposing that the mind does ever at all properly choose one of the objects before ano- ther ; either before it has taken, or afterwards. Indeed, the man chooses to take or touch one rather than ano- ther ; but not because it chooses the thing taken, or touched; but from foreign considerations. The case may 96 OF CHOOSING IN THINGS INDIFFERENT. PART If. be so, that of two tilings offered, a man may, for certain reasons, choose and prefer the taking of that which he undervalues, and choose to neglect to take that which his mind prefers. In such a case, choosing the thing taken, and choosing to take, are diverse ; and so they are in a case where the things presented are equal in the mind's esteem, and neither of them preferred. All that fact and experience make evident is, that the mind choos- es one action rather than another; and therefore the ar- guments which they bring, in order to be to their purpose, ought to be to prove that the mind chooses the action in perfect indifference with respect to that action; and not to prove that the mind chooses the action in per- fect indifference with respect to the object; which is very possible, and yet the will not act at all without preva- lent inducement, and proper preponderation. 2. Another reason of confusion and difficulty in this matter seems to be, not distinguishing between a general indifference, or an indifference with respect to what is to be done in a more distant and general view of it, and a particular indifference, or an indifference with respect to the next immediate act, viewed with its particular and present circumstances. A man may be perfectly indiffer- ent with respect to his own actions, in the former respect, and yet not in the latter. Thus, in the foregoing instance of touching one of the squares of a chess-hoard ; when it ' is first proposed that I should touch one of them, I may be perfectly indifferent which I touch ; because as yet I view the matter remotely and generally, being but in the first step of the mind's progress in the affair. But yet, when I am actually come to the last step, and the very next thing to be determined is, which is to be touched, SECT. VII. OF LIBERTY OF INDIFFERENCE. 97 having already determined that I will touch that which happens to be most in my eye or mind, and myjmind be- ing now fixed on a particular one, the act of touching that, considered thus immediately, and in these present cir- cumstances, is not what my mind is absolutely indifferent about. SECTION VII. CONCERNING THE NOTION OF LIBERTY OF WILL, CONSISTING IN INDIFFERENCE. What has been said in the foregoing section has a ten- dency, in some measure, to evince the absurdity of the opinion of such as place liberty in indifference, or in that equilibrium whereby the will is without all antecedent de- termination, or bias, and left hitherto free from any pre- possessing inclination to one side or the other ; that the determination of the will to either side may be entirely from itself, and that it may be owing only to its own pow- er, and that sovereignty which it has over itself, that it goes this way rather than that.* * Dr. Whitbj r , and some other Arminians, make a distinction of different kinds of freedom ; one of God, and perfect spirits above; another of persons in a state of trial. The former, Dr. Whitby al- lows to consist with necessity ; the latter, he holds to be without ne- cessity ; and this latter he supposes to be requisite to our being the subjects of praise or dispraise, rewards or punishments, precepts and prohibitions, promises and threats, exhortations and dehortations, and a covenant treaty. And to this freedom he supposes indifference to be requisite. In his discourse on the Five Points, pp. 299, 300, he says: — "It is a freedom (speaking of a freedom not only from co-ac- tion, but from necessity) requisite, as we conceive, to render us ca- pable of trial er probation, and to render our actions worthy of praise or dispraise, and our persons of rewards or punishments." And in 98 OF LIBERTY OF INDIFFERENCE. PART. II. But inasmuch as this has been of such long standing, and has been so generally received, and so much insisted on by Pelagians, semi-Pelagians, Jesuits, Socinians, Ar- minians, and others, it may deserve a more full conside- ration. And therefore I shall now proceed to a more par- ticular and thorough inquiry into this notion. Now lest some should suppose that I do not understand those that place liberty in indifference, or should charge me with misrepresenting their opinion, I would signify, that I am sensible there are some, who, when they talk of the liberty of the will as consisting in indifference, ex- press themselves as though they would not be understood of the indifference of the inclination or tendency of the will, but of, I know not what, indifference of the soul's power of willing ; or that the will, with respect to its power or ability to choose, is indifferent, can go cither way indifferently, either to the right hand or left, either act or forbear to act, one as well as the other. Though this seems to be a refining only of some particular wri- ters, and newly invented, and which will by no means con- sist with the manner of expression used by the defen- ders of libertv of indifference in general. And I wish such refiners would thoroughly consider whether they dis- tinctly know their own meaning, when they make a dis- tinction between indifference of the soul as to its poiver or ability of willing or choosing, and the soul's indifference the next page, speaking of the same matter, he says, " Excellent to this purpose are the words of Mr. Thorndike : We say not that in- difference is requisite to all freedom, but to the freedom of man alone in this state of travail and proficicnce : the ground of which is God's ten- der of a treaty, and conditions of peace and reconcilement to fallen man, together with those precepts and prohibitions, those promises and threats^ those exhortations and dehortations , it is enforced with" SECT. VII. OF LIBERTY OF INDIFFERENCE. 99 as to the preference or choice itself: and whether they do not deceive themselves in imagining that they have any distinct meaning at all. The indifference of the soul as to its ability or power to will, must be the same thing as the indifference of the state of the power or faculty of the will, or the indifference of the state which the soul itself, which has that power or faculty, hitherto remains in, as to the exercise of that power, in the choice it shall by and by make. But not to insist any longer on the abstruseness and in- explicableness of this distinction, let what will be suppo- sed concerning the meaning of them that make use of it, thus much must at least be intended by Arminians when they talk of indifference as essential to liberty of will, if they intend anything, in any respect to their purpose ; viz. that it is such an indifference as leaves the will not deter- mined already ; but ^ree from actual possession, and va- cant of predetermination, so far, that there may be room for the exercise of the self-determining power of the will ; and that the will's freedom consists in, or depends upon, this vacancy and opportunity that is left for t he will itself to be the determiner of the act that is to be the free act. And here I would observe in ihe Jirst place, that to make out this scheme of liberty, the indifference must be perfect and absolute ; there must be a perfect freedom from all antecedent preponderation, or inclination. Be- cause, if the will be already inclined, before it exerts its own sovereign power on itself, then its inclination is not wholly owing to itself; if when two opposites are propo- sed to the soul for its choice, the proposal does not find the soul wholly in a state of indifference, then it is not found hi a state of liberty for mere self-determination. 100 OF LIBERTY OF WILL PART II. The least degree of an antecedent bias must be inconsis- tent with their notion of liberty. For so long as prior inclination possesses the will, and is not removed, it binds the will, so that it is utterly impossible that the will should act otherwise than agreeably to it. Surely the will can- not act or choose contrary to a remaining prevailing incli- nation of the will. To suppose otherwise, would be the same thing as to suppose that the will is inclined contra- ry to its present prevailing inclination, or contrary to what it is inclined to. That which the will chooses and pre- fers, that, all things considered, it preponderates and in- clines to. It is equally impossible for the will to choose contrary to its own remaining and present preponderating inclination, as it is to prefer contrary to its own present preference or choose contrary to its own present choice. The will, therefore, so long as it is under the influence of an old preponderating inclination, is not at liberty for a new free act, or any act tjiat shall now be an act of self- determination. The act which is a self-determined free act, must be an act which the will determines in the pos- session and use of such a liberty, as consists in a free- dom from everything, which, if it were there, would make it impossible that the will, at that time, should be otherwise than that way to which it tends. If any one should say there is no need that the indif- ference should be perfect ; but although a former inclina- tion and preference 'still remains, yet, if it be not very strong and violent, possibly the strength of the will may oppose and overcome it ; this is grossly absurd ; for the strength of the will, let it be never so great, does not at all enable it to act one way, and the contrary way, both at the same time. It gives it no such sovereignty and com- SECT. VII. CONSISTING IN INDIFFERENCE. 101 mand, as to cause itself to prefer and not to prefer at the same time, or to choose contrary to H3 own present choice. Therefore, if there be the least; degree? of antecedent preponderation of the will, it must be perfectly abolished before the will can be at liberty to determine itself the contrary way. And if the will determines itself the same way, it was not a free determination, because the will is not wholly at liberty in so doing ; its determination is not altogether from itself, but it was partly determined be- fore, in its prior inclination ; and all the freedom the will exercises in the case is in an increase of inclination, which it gives itself, over and above what it had by foregoing bias ; so much is from itself, and so much is from perfect indifference. For though the will had a previous ten- dency that way, yet as to that additional degree of inclina- tion, it had no tendency ; therefore the previous tendency is of no consideration, with respect to the act wherein the will is free. So that it comes to the same thing which was said at first, that as to the act of the will, wherein the will is free, there must be jjcrfect indifference or equilibrium* To illustrate this; if we should suppose a sovereign self-moving power in a natural body, but that the body is in motion already, by an antecedent bias ; for instance, gravitation towards the centre of the earth ; and has one degree of motion already, by virtue of that previous ten- dency ; but by its self-moving power it adds one degree more to its motion, and moves so much more swiftly to- wards the centre of the earth than it would do by its gravity only ; it is evident, that all that is owing to a self- moving power in this case, is the additional degree of mo- tion ; and that the other degree of motion which it had 9* 102 OF LIBERTY OF WILL PART II. from gravity, is of no consideration in the case, does not help the effect of the free self-moving power in the least; the effect is just the same as if the body had received IroTri itself one oegree of motion from a state of perfect rest. So, if we should suppose a self-moving power giv- en to the scale of a balance, which has a weight of one de- gree beyond the opposite scale ; and we ascribe to it an ability to add to itself another degree of force the same way, by its self-moving power ; this is just the same thing as to ascribe to it a power to give itself one degree of preponderation from a perfect equilibrium ; and so much power as the scale has to give itself an over-balance from a perfect equipoise, so much self-moving self-prepondera- ting power it has, and no more. So that its free power this way is always to be measured from perfect equilibri- um. I need say no more to prove, that if indifference be es- sential to liberty, it must be perfect indifference; and that so far as the will is destitute of this, so far it is destitute of that freedom by which it is its own master, and in a capacity of being its own determiner, without being at all passive, or subject to the power and sway of something else, in its motions and determinations. Having observed these things, let us now try whether this notion of the liberty of will consisting in indifference and equilibrium, and the will's self-determination in such a state, be not absurd and inconsistent. And here I would lay down this as an axiom of un- doubted truth ; that every free act is done in a state of freedom, and not only after such a state. If an act of the will be an act wherein the soul is free, it must be exerted in a state of freedom, and in the time of freedom. SECT. VII. CONSISTING IN INDIFFERENCE. 1 03 It will not suffice, that the act immediately follows a state of liberty ; but liberty must yet continue, and co- exist with the act ; the soul remaining in possession of liberty. Because that is the notion of a free act of the soul, even an act wherein the soul uses or exercises lib- erty. But if the soul is not, in the very time of the act, in the possession of liberty, it cannot at that time be in the use of it. Now the question is, whether ever the soul of man puts forth an act of will, while it yet remains in a state of liberty, in that notion of a state of liberty, viz. as imply- ing a state of indifference ; or whether the soul ever ex- erts an act of choice or preference, while at that very time the will is in a perfect equilibrium, not inclining one way more than another. The very putting of the ques- tion is sufficient to show the absurdity of the affirmative answer : for how ridiculous would it be for any body to insist, that the soul chooses one thing before another, when at the very same instant it is perfectly indifferent with respect to each ! This is the same thing as to say, the soul prefers one thing to another, at the very same time that it has no preference. — Choice and preference can no^nore be in a state of indifference, than motion can be in a state of rest, or than the preponderation of the scale of a balance can be in a state of equilibrium. Mo- tion may be the next moment after rest ; but cannot co- exist with it in any, even the hast part of it. So, choice may be immediately after a state of indifference, but has no co-existence with it; even the very beginning of it is not in a state of indifference. And therefore if this be liberty, no act of the will, in any degree, is ever perform- ed in a state of liberty, or in the time of liberty. Voli- 104 OF LIBERT! OF WILL PART. II. tion and liberty are so far from agreeing together, and be- ing essential one to another, that they are contrary one to another, and one excludes and destroys the other, as much as motion and rest, light and darkness, or life and death. So that the will acts not at all, does not so much as begin to act, in the time of such liberty ; freedom is perfectly at an end, and has ceased to be, at the first mo- ment of action ; and therefore liberty cannot reach the action, to affect, or qualify it, or give it a denomination, or any part of it, any more than if it had ceased to be, twenty years before the action began. The moment that liberty ceases to be, it ceases to be a qualification of any- thin" - . If light and darkness succeed one another instan- taneously, light qualifies nothing after it is gone out, to make any thing lightsome or bright, any more at the first moment of perfect darkness, than months or years after. Life denominates nothing vital at the first moment of per- fect death. So freedom, if it consists in, or implies, indif- ference, can denominate nothing U'ee, at the first moment of preference or preponderation. Therefore it is manifest, that no liberty which the soul is posessed of, or ever uses, in any of its acts of volition, consists in indifference ; and that the opinion of s*ich as suppose that indifference be- longs to the very essence of liberty, is to the highest de- gree absurd and contradictory. If any one should imagine, that this mann?r of arguing is nothing but a trick and delusion ; and, to evade the reasoning, should say, that the thing wherem the will exercises its liberty, is not in the act of choice or prepon- deration itself, but in determining itself to a certain choice or preference ; that the act of the will wherein it is free, and uses its own sovereignty, consists in its causing or SECT. VII. CONSISTING IN INDIFFERENCE. 105 determining the change or transition from a state of in- difference to a certain preference, or determining to give a certain turn to the balance, which has hitherto been even ; and that this act the will exerts in a state of liberty, or while the will yet remains in equilibrium, and perfect faster of itself: — I say, if any one chooses to express his notion of liberty after this, or some such manner, let us see if he can make out his matters any better than before. What is asserted is, that the will, while it yet remains in perfect equilibrium, without preference, determines to change itself from that state, and excite in itself a certain choice or preference. Now let us see whether this does not come to the same absurdity we had before. If it be so, that the will, while it yet remains perfectly indifferent, determines to put itself out of that state, and give itself a certain preponderation ; then, I would inquire, whether the soul does not deiermine this of choice ; or whether the will's coming to a determination to do so, be not the same thing as the soul's coming to a choice to do so. If the soul does not determine this of choice, or in the ex- ercise of choice, then it does not determine it, voluntarily ; and if the soul does not determine it voluntarily, or of its own will, then in what sense does its will determine it ? And if the will does not determine it, then how is the lib- erty of the will exercised in the determination? What sort of liberty is exercised by the soul in those determina- tions, wherein there is no exercise of choice, which are not voluntary, and wherein the will is not concerned ? — But if it be allowed, that this determination is an act of choice, and it be insisted on that the soul, while it yet remains in a state of perfect indifference, chooses to put itself out of that state, and to turn itself one way ; then the soul is already 106 OF LIBERTY OF WILL PART II* come to a choice, and chooses that way. And so we have the very same absurdity which we had before. Here is the soul in a state of choice, and in a state of equilibrium, both at the same time : the soul already choosing one way, while it remains in a state of perfect indifference, and has no choice of one way more than the other. — And in- deed this manner of talking, though it may a little hide the absurdity in the obscurity of expression, is more non- sensical, and increases the inconsistency. To say, the free act of the will, or the act which the will exerts in a stale of freedom and indifference, does not imply prefer- ence in it, but is what the will does in order to causing or producing a preference, is as much as to say, the soul chooses (for to will and to choose are the same thing) without choice, and prefers without preference, in order to cause or produce the beginning of a preference, or the first choice. And that is, that the first choice is exerted without choice, in order to produce itself,' If any, to evade these things, should own, that a state of liberty and a state of indifference are not the same, and that the former may he without the latter ; but should say, that indifference is still essential to the freedom of an act of will, in some sort, namely, as it is necessary to go immediately before it ; it being essential to the freedom of an act of will that it should directly and immediately* arise out of a state of indifference : still this will not help the cause of Arminian liberty, or make it consistent with itself. For if the act springs immediately out of a state of indifference, then it does not arise from antecedent choice or preference. But if the act arises directly cut of a state of indifference, without any intervening choice tQ choose and determine it, then the act not being deter- SECT. VII. CONSISTING IN INDIFFERENCE. 107 mined by choice, is not determined by the will ; the mind exercises no free choice in the affair, and free choice and free will have no hand in the determination of the act. Which is entirely inconsistent with their notion of the freedom of volition. If any should suppose, that these difficulties and absur- dities may be avoided, by saying, that the liberty of the mind consists in a power to suspend the act of the will, and so to keep it in a state of indifference until there has been opportunity for consideration ; and so shall say, that however indifference is not essential to liberty in such a manner that the mind must make its choice in a state of indifference, which is an inconsistency, or that the act of will must spring immediately out of indifference, yet in- difference may be essential to the liberty of acts of the will in this respect, viz., That liberty consists in a power of the mind to forbear or suspend the act of volition, and keep the mind in a state of indifference for the present, until there has been opportunity for proper deliberation : I say, if any one imagines that this helps the matter, it is a great mistake ; it reconciles no inconsistency, and re- lieves no difficulty, which the affair is attended with. — For here the following things must be observed : 1. That this suspending of volition, if there be prop- erly any such thing, is itself an act of volition. If the mind determines to suspend its act, it determines it vol- untarily ; it chooses, on some consideration, to suspend it. And this choice or determination is an act of the will : and indeed it is supposed to be so in the very hypothesis ; for it is supposed that the liberty of the will consists in its power to do this, and that its doing it is the very thing wherein (he will exercises its liberty. But how can the 108 of liberty's lying in a power TART II, will exercise liberty in it, if it be not an act of the will ? The liberty of the will is not exercised in anything but what the will does. 2. This determining to suspend acting is not only an act of the will, but it is supposed to be the only free act of the will ; because it is said, that this is the thing wherein the liberty of the will consists. — Now if this be so, then this is all the act of will that we have to consider in this controversy, about the liberty of will, and in our inquiries, wherein the liberty of man consists. And now the fore-mentioned difficulties remain : the former ques- tion returns upon us, viz. Wherein consists the freedom of the will in those acts wherein it is free ? And if this act of determining a suspension be the only act in which the will is free, then wherein consists the will's freedom with respect to this act of suspension ? And how is in- difference essential to this act ? The answer must be, ac- cording to what is supposed in the evasion under consid- eration — That the liberty of the will, in this act of sus- pension, consists in a power to suspend even this act, until there has been opportunity for thorough deliberation. But this will be to plunge directly into the grossest non- sense : for it is the act of suspension itself that we are speaking of; and there is no room for a space of delibera- tion and suspension in order to determine whether we will suspend or no. For that supposes, that even suspen- sion itself may be deferred ; which is absurd : for the very deferring the determination of suspension, to consider whether we will suspend or no, will be actually suspen- ding. For during the space of suspension, to consider whether to suspend, the act is ipso facto suspended. There is no medium between suspending to act, and im- SECT. VII. OF SUSPENDING VOLITION. 109 mediately acting: and therefore no possibility of avoiding either the one or the other one moment. And besides, this is attended with ridiculous absurdity another way : for now it is come to that, that liberty consists wholly in the mind's having power to suspend its determination, whether to suspend or no ; that there may be time for consideration, whether it be best to suspend. And if liberty consists in this only, then this is the liberty under consideration : we have to inquire now, how liberty with respect to this act of suspending a determination of suspension, consists in indifference, or how indifference is essential to it. The answer according to the hypothe- sis we are upon, must be, that it consists in a power of suspending even this last-mentioned act, to have time to consider whether to suspend that. And then the same difficulties and inquiries return over again with respect to that ; and so on for ever. Which if it would shew any tiling, would shew only that there is no such thing as a free act. It drives the exercise of freedom back in infini- tum; and that is to drive it out of the world. And besides all this, there is a delusion, and a latent gross contradiction, in the affair another way ; inasmuch as, in explaining how, or in what respect, the will is free with regard to a particular act of volition, it is said, that its liberty consists in a power to determine to suspend that act, which places liberty not in that act of volition which the inquiry is about, but altogether in another antecedent act. Which contradicts the thing supposed in both the question and answer. The question is, wherein consists the mind's liberty in any particular act of volition ? And the answer in pretending to shew wherein lies the mind's liberty in that act, in effect says, it does not lie in that act 10 HO OF THE SUPPOSED LIBERTY PART II. at all, but in another, viz. a volition to suspend that act. And therefore the answer is both contradictory, and alto- gether impertinent and beside the purpose. For it does not shew wherein the liberty of the will consists in the act in question ; instead of that, it supposes it does not consist in that act at all, but in another distinct from it, even a volition to suspend that act, and take time to con- sider of it. And no account is pretended to be given wherein the mind is free with respect to that act, wherein this answer supposes the liberty of the mind indeed con- sists, viz. the act of suspension, or of determining the sus- pension. On the whole, it is exceeding manifest, that the liberty of the mind does not consist in indifference, and that in- difference is not essential or necessary to it, or at all belong- ing to it, as the Arminians suppose ; that opinion being full of nothing but absurdity and self-contradiction. SECTION VIII. CONCERNING THE SUPPOSED LIBERTY OF THE WILL, AS OPPOSITE TO ALL NECESSITY. It is a thing chiefly insisted on by Arminians, in this controversy, as a thing most important and essential in hu- man liberty, that volitions, or the acts of the will are con- tingent events ; understanding contingence as opposite, not only to constraint, but to all necessity. Therefore I would particularly consider this matter. And 1. I would inquire, whether there is, or can be, any such thing as a volition which is contingent in such a sense, as not only to come to pass without any necessity of con- straint or coaction, but also without a necessity of conse- SECT. VIII. WITHOUT ALL NECESSITY. Ill quence, or an infallible connection with anything fore- going. 2. Whether, if it were so, this would at all help the cause of liberty. I would consider whether volition is a thing that ever does, or can, come to pass, in this manner, contingently. And here it must be remembered, that it has been already shewn, that nothing can ever come to pass without a cause ? or reason why it exists in this manner rather than another ; and the evidence of this has been particularly applied to the acts of the will. Now if this be so, it will demonstra- bly follow, that the acts of the will are never contingent, or without necessity, in the sense spoken of; inasmuch as those things which have a cause or reason of their ex- istence, must be connected with their cause. This ap- pears by the following considerations. 1. For an event to have a cause and ground of its ex- istence, and yet not to be connected with its cause, is an inconsistency. For if the event be not connected with the cause, it is not dependent on the cause ; its existence is, as it were, loose from its influence, and may attend it, or may not ; it being a mere contingence, whether it fol- lows or attends the influence of the cause, or not : and that is the same thing as not to be dependent on it. And to say, the event is not dependent on its cause, is absurd : it is the same thing as to say, it is not its cause, nor the event the effect of it ; for dependence on the influence of a cause is the very notion of an effect. If there be no such relation between one thing and another, consisting in the connection and dependence of one thing on the in- fluence of another, then it is certain there is no such rela- tion between them as is signified by the terms cause and 112 OF THE SUPPOSED LIBERTY PART II. effect. So far as an event is dependent on a cause and connected with it, so much causality is there in the case, and no more. The cause does, or brings to pass, no more in any event, than is dependent on it. If we say, the connection and dependence is not total, but partial, and that the effect, though it has some connection and de- pendence, yet is not entirely dependent on it ; that is the same thing as to say, that not all that is in the event is an effect of that cause, but that only part of it arises from thence, and part some other way. 2. If there are some events which are not necessarily connected with their causes, then it will follow, that there are some things which come to pass without any cause, contrary to the supposition. For if there be any event which was not necessarily connected with the influence of the cause under such circumstances, then it was con- tingent whether it would attend or follow the influence of the cause, or no ; it might have followed, and it might not, when the cause was the same, its influence the same, and under the same circumstances. And if so, why did it follow, rather than not follow ? There is no cause or reason of this. Therefore here is something without any cause or reason why it is, viz. the following of the effect on the influence of the cause, with which it was not ne- cessarily connected. If there be a necessary connection of the effect on anything antecedent, then we may sup- pose that sometimes the event will follow the cause, and sometimes not, when the cause is the same, and in every respect in the same state and circumstances. And what can be thecasue and reason of this strange phenomenon, even this diversity, that in one instance, the effect should fol- low, in another not? It is evident by the supposition, SECT. VIII. WITHOUT ALL NECESSITY. 113 that this is wholly without any cause or ground. Here is something in the present manner of the existence of things, and state of the world, that is absolutely without a cause. Which is contrary to the supposition, and con- trary to what has been before demonstrated. 3. To suppose there are some events which have a cause and ground of their existence, that yet are not ne- cessarily connected with their cause, is to suppose that they have a cause which is not their cause. Thus ; if the effect be not necessarily connected with the cause, with its influence, and influential circumstances; then, as I observed before, it is a thing possible and supposable, that the cause may sometimes exert the same influence, under the same circumstances, and yet the effect not follow. And if this actually happens in any instance, this instance is a proof, in fact, that the influence of the cause is not sufficient to produce the effect. For if it had been suffi- cient, it would have done it. And yet, by the supposi- tion, in another instance, the same cause, with perfectly the same influence, and when all circumstances which have any influence are the same, it u-as followed with the effect. By which it is manifest that the effect in this last instance was not owing to the influence of the cause, but must come to pass some other way. For it was proved before, that the influence of the cause was not suffi- cient to produce the effect. And if it was not sufficient to produce it, then the production of it could not be owing to that influence, but must be owing to something else, or owing to nothing. And if the effect be not owing to the influence of the cause, then it is not the cause. Which brings us to the contradiction, of a cause, and no cause ; that which is the ground and reason of the existence of 10* 114 OF THE SUPPOSED LIBERTY, ETC. PART IT. a thing, and at the same time is not the ground and rea- son of its existence, nor is sufficient to be so. If the matter be not already so plain as to render any further reasoning upon it impertinent, 1 would say, that that which seems to be the cause in the supposed case, can be no cause ; its power and influence having, on a full trial, proved insufficient to produce such an effect : and if it be not sufficient to produce it, then it does not produce it. To say otherwise, is to say, there is power to do that which there is not power to do. If there be in a cause sufficient power exerted, and in circumstances sufficient to produce an effect, and so the effect be actual- ly produced at one time ; these things all concurring, will produce the effect at all times. And so we may turn it the other way ; that which proves not sufficient at one time, cannot be sufficient at another, with precisely the same in- fluential circumstances. And therefore if the effect fol- lows, it is not owing to that cause ; unless the different time be a circumstance which has influence ; but that is contrary to the supposition ; for it is supposed that all cir- cumstances that have influence are the same. And besides, this would be to suppose the time to be the cause ; which is contrary to the supposition of the other thing's being the cause. But if merely diversity of time has no influ- ence, then it is evident that it is as much of an absurdity to say, the cause was sufficient to produce the effect at one time, and not at another ; as to say, that it is sufficient to produce the effect at a certain time, and yet not sufficient to produce the same effect at the same time. On the whole, it is clearly manifest, that every effect has a necessary connection with its cause, or with that which is the true ground and reason of its existence. And SECT. IX. CONNECTION OF THE WILL, ETC. 115 therefore, if there be no event without a cause, as was pro- ved before, then no event whatsoever is contingent in the manner that Arminians suppose the free acts of the will to be contingent. SECTION IX. OF THE CONNECTION OF THE ACTS OF THE WILL WITH THE DICTATES OF THE UNDERSTANDING. It is manifest, that the acts of the will are none of them contingent in such a sense as to be without all necessity, or so as not to be necessary with a necessity of conse- quence and connection ; because every act of the will is some way connected with the understanding, and is as the greatest apparent good is, in the manner which has alrea- dy been explained ; namely, that the soul always wills or chooses that which, in the present view of the mind, con- sidered in the whole of that view, and all that belongs to it, appears most agreeable. Because, as was observed before, nothing is more evident than that, when men act voluntarily, and do what they please, then they do what appears most agreeable to them; and to say otherwise, would be as much as to affirm, that men do not choose what appears to suit them best, or what seems most pleas- ing to them ; or that they do not choose what they pre- fer. Which brings the matter to a contradiction. And it is very evident in itself, that the acts of the will have some connection with the dictates or views of the understanding ; so this is allowed by some of the chief of the Arminian writers, particularly by Dr. Whitby and Dr. Samuel Clarke. Dr. Turnbull, though a great ene- my to the doctrine of necessity, allows the same thing. 116 CONNECTION OF THE WILL PART II. In his "Christian Philosophy," (p. 196) he with much approbation cites another philosopher, as of the same mind, in these words : " No man (says an excellent philoso- pher) sets himself about anything, but upon some view or other, which serves him for a reason for what he does ; and whatsoever faculties he employs, the understanding, with such light as it has, well or ill formed, constantly leads; and by that light, true or false, all her operative powers are directed. The will itself, how absolute and incontrollable soever it may be thought, never fails in its obedience to the dictates of the understanding. Temples have their sacred images ; and we see what influence they have always had over a great part of mankind ; but in truth, the ideas and images in men's minds are the in- visible powers that constantly govern them ; and to these they all pay universally a ready submission." But whether this be in a just consistence with them- selves, and their own notions of liberty, I desire may now be impartially considered. Dr. Whitby plainly supposes, that the acts and deter- minations of the will always follow the understanding's apprehension or view of the greatest good to be obtained, or evil to be avoided ; or, in other words, that the deter- minations of the will constantly and infallibly follow these two things in the understanding : 1. The degree of good to be obtained, and evil to be avoided, proposed to the understanding, and apprehended, viewed, and taken notice of by it. 2. The degree of the understanding's view, notice, or apprehension of that good or evil ; which is in- creased by attention and consideration. That this is an opinion he is exceeding peremptory in (as he is in every opinion which he maintains in his controversy with the SECT. IX. \VITH THE UNDERSTANDING* 117 Calvinists) with disdain of the contrary opinion, as absurd and self-contradictory, will appear by the following words of his, in his discourse on the Five Points.* " Now it is certain, that what naturally makes the un- derstanding to perceive, is evidence proposed and appre- hended, considered or adverted to ; for nothing else can be requisite to make us come to the knowledge of the truth. Again, what makes the will choose, is something approved by the understanding; and consequently appear- ing to the soul as good. And whatsoever it refuseth, is something represented by the understanding, and so ap- pearing to the will as evil. Whence all that God requires of us is and can be only this ; to refuse the evil, and choose the good. Wherefore, to say that evidence pro- posed, apprehended, and considered, is not sufficient to make the understanding approve; or that the greatest good proposed, the greatest evil threatened, when equal- ly believed and reflected on, is not sufficient to engage the will to choose the good and refuse the evil, is in effect to say, that which alone doth move the will to choose or to re- fuse, is not sufficient to engage it so to do ; which being contradictory to itself, must of necessity be false. Be it then so, that we naturally have an aversion to the truths proposed to us in the Gospel ; that only can make us in- disposed to attend to them, but cannot hinder our convic- tion, when we do apprehend them, and attend to them. Be it, that there is in us also a renitency to the good we are to choose ; that only can indispose us to believe it is, and to approve it as our chiefest good. Be it, that we are prone to the evil that we should decline ; that only can render it the more difficult for us to believe it is the * Second edit, pp.211, 212, 213. 118 CONNECTION OF THE WILL PART II. worst of evils. But yet, what we do really believe to be our chiefest good, will still be chosen; and what we ap^ prehend to be the ivorst oj evils, will, whilst we do con- tinue under that conviction, be refused by us. It there- fore can be only requisite, in order to these ends, that the good Spirit should so illuminate our understandings, that we, attending to, and considering, what lies before us, should apprehend, and be convinced of our duty ; and that the blessings of the Gospel should be so propounded to us, as that we may discern them to be our chiefest good ; and the miseries it threatened!, so as we may be convinced that they are the worst of evils ; that we may choose the one, and refuse the other." Here let it be observed, how plainly and peremptorily it is asserted, that the greatest good proposed, and the greatest evil threatened, when equally believed, and reflec- ted on, is sufficient to engage the will to choose the good, and refuse the evil, and is that alone which doth move the will to choose or to refuse ; and that it is contradic- tory to itself, to suppose otherwise ; and, therefore, must of necessity be false ; and then what we do really believe to be our chiefest good, will still be chosen ; and what we apprehend to be the worst of evils, will, whilst we continue under that conviction, be refused by us. Noth- ing could have been said more to the purpose, fully to signify and declare, that the determinations of the will must evermore follow the illumination, conviction, and notice of the understanding, with regard to the greatest good and evil proposed, reckoning both the degree of good and evil understood, and the degree of understand- ing, notice, and conviction, of that proposed good and evil ; and that it is thus necessarily, and can be otherwise in no SECT. IX. WITH THE UNDERSTANDING. 119 instance ; because it is asserted, that it implies a contra- diction, to suppose it ever to be otherwise. I am sensible, the doctor's aim in these assertions is against the Calvinists ; to shew, in opposition to them, that there is no need of any physical operation of the Spirit of God on the will, to change and determine that to a good choice, but that God's operation and assistance is only moral, suggesting ideas to the understanding ; which he supposes to be enough, if those ideas are attend- ed to, infallibly to obtain the end. But whatever his de- sign was, nothing can more directly and fully prove, that every determination of the will in choosing and refusing, m necessary ; directly contrary to his own notion of the lib- erty of the will. For if the determination of the will ev- ermore in this manner follows the light, conviction, and view of the understanding, concerning the greatest good and evil, and this be that alone which moves the will, and it be a contradiction to suppose otherwise; then it is ne- cessarily so, the will necessarily follows this light or view of the understanding, not only in some of its acts, but in every act of choosing and refusing. So that the will does not determine itself in any one of its own acts ; but all its acts, every act of choice and refusal, depends on, and is necessarily connected with, some antecedent cause ; which cause is not the will itself, nor any act of its own, nor any thing pertaining to that faculty, but something belonging to another faculty, whose acts go before the will, in all its acts, and govern and determine them every one. Here, if it should be replied, that although it be true, that, according to the doctor, the final determination of the will always depends upon, and is infallibly connected with, the understanding's conviction, and notice of the 120 CONNECTION OF THE WILL PART II. greatest good ; yet the acts of the will are not necessary, because that conviction and notice of the understanding is first dependent on a preceding act of the will, in deter- mining to attend to, and take notice of the evidence ex- hibited ; by which means the mind obtains that degree of conviction, which is sufficient and effectual to determine the consequent and ultimate choice of the will ; and that the will with regard to that preceding act, whereby it de- termines whether to attend or no, is not necessary; and that in this the liberty of the will consists, that when God holds forth sufficient objective light, the will is at liberty whether to command the attention of the mind to it. Nothing can be more weak and inconsiderate than such a reply as this. For that preceding act of the will, in determining to attend and consider, still is an act of the will (it is so to be sure, if the liberty of the will con- sists in it, as is supposed), and if it be an act of the will, it is an act of choice or refusal. And therefore, if what the doctor asserts be true, it is determined by some ante- cedent light in the understanding, concerning the greatest apparent good or evil. For he asserts, it is that light which alone doth move the will to choose or refuse. And therefore the will must be moved by that in choos- ing to attend to the objective light offered, in order to another consequent act of choice ; so that this act is no less necessary than the other. And if we suppose ano- ther act of the will, still preceding both these mentioned, to determine both, still that also must be an act of the will, and an act of choice; and so must, by the same principles, be infallibly determined by some certain degree of light in the understanding concerning the greatest good. And let us suppose as many acts of the will, one SECT. IX. WITH THE UNDERSTANDING. 121 preceding another, as we please, yet they are every one of them necessarily determined by a certain decree of light in the understanding, concerning the greatest and most eligible good in that case ; and so, not one of them free, according to Dr. Whitby's notion of freedom. And if it be said, the reason, why men do not attend to light held forth, is because of ill habits contracted by evil acts committed before, whereby their minds are indisposed to attend to, and consider of the truth held forth to them by God ; the difficulty is not at all avoided : still the ques- tion returns, What determined the will in those preceding evil acts? It must, by Dr. Whitby's principles, still be the view of the understanding concerning the greatest good and evil. If this view of the understanding be that alone which doth move the will to choose or refuse, as the doc- tor asserts, then every act of choice or refusal, from a man's first existence, is moved and determined by this view ; and this view of the understanding exciting and governing the act, must be before the act ; and therefore the will is necessarily determined, in every one of its acts, from a man's first existence, by a cause beside the will, and a cause that does not proceed from, or depend on, any act of the will at all. Which at once utteily abol- ishes the doctor's whole scheme of liberty of will; and he, at one stroke, has cut the sinews of all his arguments from the goodness, righteousness, faithfulness, and sincer- ity of God, in his commands, promises, threatening*, calls, invitations, expostulations; which he makes use of, under the heads of reprobation, election, universal redemption, sufficient and effectual grace, and the freedom of the will of man ; and has enervated and made vain all those ex- clamations against the doctrine of the Calvinists, as charg- 11 122 CONNECTION OF THE WILL PART II. ing God with manifest unrighteousness, unfaithfulness, hy- pocrisy, fallaciousness, and cruelty ; which he has over, and over, and over again, numberless times in his book. Dr. Samuel Clarke, in his " Demonstration of the Be- ing and Attributes of God,"* to evade the argument to prove the necessity of volition, from its necessary connec- tion with the last dictate of the understanding, supposes the latter not to be diverse from the act of the will itself. But if it be so, it will not alter the case as to the evidence of the necessity of the act of the will. If the dictate of the understanding be the very same with the determina- tion of the will or choice, as Dr. Clarke supposes, then this determination is do fruit or effect of choice : and if so, no liberty of choice has any hand in it : as to volition or choice, it is necessary, that is, choice cannot prevent it. If the last dictate of the understanding be the same with the determination of volition itself, then the existence of that determination must be necessary as to volition ; inasmuch as volition can have no opportunity to determine whether it shall exist or no, it having existence already before volition has opportunity to determine anything. It is itself the very rise and existence of volition. But a thing, after it exists, has no opportunity to determine as to its own existence ; it is too late for that. If liberty consists in that which Arminians suppose, viz. in the will's determining its own acts, having free oppor- tunity, and being without all necessity ; this is the same as to say, that liberty consists in the soul's having power and opportunity to have what determinations of the will it pleases or chooses. And if the determinations of the will, and the last dictates of the understanding, be the same * Sixth edit. p. 93. SECT. IX. WITH THE UNDERSTANDING. 123 thing, then liberty consists in the mind's having power to have what dictates of the understanding it pleases, having opportunity to choose its own dictates of understanding. But this is absurd ; for it is to make the determination of choice prior to the dictate of the understanding, and the ground of it, which cannot consist with the dictate of un- derstanding's being the determination of choice itself. Here is no way to do in this case, but only to recur to the old absurdity of one determination before another, and the cause of it ; and another before that, determining that ; and soon in infinitum. If the last dictate of the under- standing be the determination of the will itself, and the soul be free with regard to that dictate, in the Arminian notion of freedom : then the soul, before that dictate of its understanding exists, voluntarily and according to its own choice determines, in every case, what that dictate of the understanding shall be ; otherwise, that dictate, as to the will, is necessary, and the acts determined by it must also be necessary. So that here is a determination of the mind prior to that dictate of the understanding ; an act of choice going before it, choosing and determining what that dictate of the understanding shall be : and this preceding act of choice, being a free act of will, must also be the same with another last dictate of the understanding: and if the mind also be free in that dictate of understanding, that must be determined still by another ; and so on for ever. Besides, if the dictate of the understanding, and deter- mination of the will, be the same, this confounds the un- derstanding and will, and makes them the same. Wheth- er they be the same or no, I will not now dispute ; but only would observe, that if it be so, and the Arminian no- 124 CONNECTION OF THE WILL PART II. tion of liberty consists in a self-determining power in the understanding, free of all necessity ; being independent, undetermined by anything prior to its own acts and de- terminations ; and the more the understanding is thus in- dependent, and sovereign over its own determinations, the more free. By this therefore the freedom of the soul, as a moral agent, must consist in the independence of the understanding on any evidence or appearance of things, or anything whatsoever, that stands forth to the view of the mind, prior to the understanding's determination. And what a sort of liberty is this ! consisting in an ability, free- dom v and easiness of judging, either according to evidence, or against it ; having a sovereign command over itself at all times, to judge, either agreeably or disagreeably to what is plainly exhibited to its own view. Certainly it is no lib- erty that renders persons the proper subjects of persuasive reasoning, arguments, expostulations, and such like moral means and inducements. The use of which with mankind is a main argument of the Arminians, to defend their no- tion of liberty without all necessity. For according to this, the more free men are, the less they are under the govern- ment of such means, less subject to the power of evidence and reason, and more independent on their influence in their determinations. And whether the understanding and will are the same or no, as Dr. Clarke seems to suppose, yet, in order to maintain the Arminian notion of liberty without necessity, the free will is not determined by the understanding, nor necessarily connected with the understanding ; and the further from such connection, the greater the freedom. And when the liberty is full and complete, the determi- nations of the will have no connection at all with the die- SECT. X. WITH THE UNDERSTANDING. 125 tales of the understanding. And if so, in vain are all the applications to the understanding, in order to induce to any- free virtuous act ; and so in vain are all instructions, coun- sels, invitations, expostulations, and all arguments and persuasives whatsoever; for these are but applications to the understanding, and a clear and lively exhibition of the objects of choice to the mind's view. But if, after all, the will must be self-determined, and independent of the un- derstanding, to what purpose are things thus represented to the understanding, in order to determine the choice ? SECTION X. VOLITION NECESSARILY CONNECTED WITH THE INFLUENCE OP MOTIVES : WITH PARTICULAR OBSERVATIONS ON THE GREAT INCONSISTENCE OF MR. CHUBfi's ASSERTIONS AND REASON- INGS ABOUT THE FREEDOM OF THE WILL. f That every act of the will has some cause, and conse- quently (by what has been already proved) has a neces- sary connection with its cause, and so is necessary by a necessity of connection and consequence, is evident by this, that every act of the will whatsoever is excited by some motive ; which is manifest, because, if the will or mind, in willing and choosing after the manner that it does, is excited so to do by no motive or inducement, then it has no end which it proposes to itself, or pursues, in so doing ; it aims at nothing, and seeks nothing. And if it seeks nothing, then it does not go after anything, or exert any inclination or preference towards any thing. Which brings the matter to a contradiction ; because, for the mind to will something, and for it to go after something by an act of preference and inclination, are the same thing. But if every act of the will is excited by a motive, then 11* 126 ACTS OF THE WILL PART II. that motive is the cause of the act of the will. If the acts of the will are excited by motives, then motives are the causes of their being excited ; or, which is the same thing, the cause of their being put forth into act and existence. And if so, the existence of the acts of the will is properly the effect of their motives. Motives do nothing as mo- tives or inducements, hut by their influence ; and so much as is done by their influence is the effect of them. For that is the notion of an effect, something that is brought to pass by the influence of another thing. And if volitions are properly the effects of their motives, then they are necessarily connected with their motives ; every effect and event being, as was proved before, ne- cessarily connected with that which is the proper ground and reason of its existence. Thus it is manifest that vo- lition is necessary, and is not from any self-determining power in the will ; the volition, which is caused by pre- vious motive and inducement, is not caused by the will exercising a sovereign power over itself, to determine, cause, and excite volitions in itself. This is not consis- tent with the will's acting in a state of indifference and equilibrium, to determine itself to a preference ; for the way in which motives operate, is by biassing the will, and giving it a certain inclination or preponderation one way. Here it may be proper to observe, that Mr. Chubb, in his Collection of Tracts on various subjects, has advanced a scheme of liberty which is greatly divided against itself, and thoroughly subversive of itself ; and that many ways. 1. He is abundant in asserting, that the will, in all its acts, is influenced by motive and excitement; and that this is the previous ground and reason of all its acts, and SECT. X. CONNECTED WITH MOTIVES. 127 that it is never otherwise in any instance. He says, p. 262 : No action can (alee place without some motive to excite it. And in p. 263 : Volition cannot take place without some previous reason or motive to induce it. And in p. 310: Action would not take place without some reason or motive to induce it; it being absurd to suppose, that the active faculty would be exerted without some previous reason to dispose the mind to action. So also p. 257. And he speaks of these things, as what we may be absolutely certain of, and which are the foun- dation, the only foundation we have, of a certainty of the moral perfections of God. Pages 252 — 255, 261 — 264. And yet at the same time, by his scheme, the influ- ence of motives upon us, to excite to action, and to be actually a ground of volition, is consequent on the volition or choice of the mind. For he very greatly insists upon it, that in all free actions, before the mind is the subject of those volitions which motives excite, it chooses to be so. It chooses, whether it will comply with the motive which presents itself in view, or not ; and when various motives are presented, it chooses which it will yield to, and which it will reject. So p. 256 : Every man has power to act, or to refrain from acting, agreeably with, or contrary to, any motive that presents. P. 257 : Every man is at liberty to act, or refrain from acting, agreea- bly with, or contrary to, what each of these motives, consid- ered singly, would excite him to. — Man has power, and is as much at liberty, to reject the motive that does prevail, as he has power, and is at liberty, to reject those motives that do not. And so pp. 310, 311 : In order to consti- tute a moral agent, it is necessary that he should have 128 INCONSISTENCE OF MR. CHUBB S TART II. power to act, or to refrain from acting, upon such moral motives as he pleases. And to the like purpose in many other places. According to these things, the will acts first, and chooses or refuses to comply with the motive that is presented, before it falls under its prevailing influ- ence ; and it is first determined by the mind's pleasure or choice, what motives it will be induced by, before it is in- duced by them. Now, how can these things hang together ? How can the mind first act, and by its act of volition and choice determine what motives shall be the ground and reason of its volition and choice? For|this supposes the choice is already made before the motive has its effect ; and that the volition is already exerted before the motive prevails, so as actually to be the ground of the volition ; and makes the prevailing of the motive, the consequence of the voli- tion, which yet it is the ground of. If the mind has al- ready chosen to comply with a motive, and to yield to its excitement, it does not need to yield to it after this ; for the thing is effected already that the motive would excite to, and the will is beforehand with the excitement ; and the excitement comes in too late, and is needless and in vain afterwards. If the mind has already chosen to yield to a motive which invites to a thing, that implies, and in fact is, a choosing the thing invited to ; and the vevy act of choice is before the influence of the motive which in- duces, and is the ground of the choice ; the son is before- hand with the father that begets him ; the choice is sup- posed to be the ground of that influence of the motive, which very influence is supposed to be the ground of the choice. And so vice versa, the choice is supposed to be the consequence of the influence of the motive, which in- SECT. X. SCHEME OF LIBERTY, ETC. 129 fluence of the motive is the consequence of that very choice. And besides, if the will acts first towards the motive before it falls under its influence, and the prevailing of the motive upon it to induce it to act and choose, be the fruit and consequence of its act and choice, then how is the motive a previous ground and reason of the act and choice, so that in the nature of the things volition cannot take place without some previous reason and motive to induce it; and that this act is consequent upon, and fol- lows the motive? Which things Mr. Chubb often asserts, as of certain and undoubted truth. So that the very same motive is both previous and consequent, both before and after, both the ground and fruit of the very same thing ! II. Agreeable to the fore-mentioned inconsistent notion of the will's first acting towards the motive, choosing whether it will comply with it, in order to its becoming a ground of the will's acting, before any act of volition can take place, Mr. Chubb frequently calls motives and excitements to the action of the will, the passive ground or reason of that action. Which is a remarkable phrase ; than which I presume there is none more unintelligible, and void of distinct and consistent meaning, in all the writings of Duns Scotus or Thomas Aquinas. When he represents the motive to action or volition as passive, he must mean — passive in that affair, or passive with respect to that action, which he speaks of; otherwise it is nothing to his purpose, or relating to the design of his argument : he must mean, (if that can be called a meaning,) that the motive to volition is first acted upon or towards by the volition choosing to yield to it, making it a ground of ac- tion, or determining to fetch its influence from thence ; 130 INCONSISTENCE OF MR. CHUBB's PART. II. and so to make it a previous ground of its own excitation and existence. Which is the same absurdity, as if one should say, that the soul of man, or any other thing, should, previous to its existing, choose what cause it would come into existence by, and should act upon its cause to fetch influence from thence to brinn; it into being ; and so its cause should be a passive ground of its existence ! Mr. Chubb does very plainly suppose motive or excite- ment to be the ground of the being of volition. He speaks of it as the ground or reason of the exertion of an act of the will, pp. 391, 392, and expressly says, that volition cannot take place without some previous ground or motive to induce it, p. 363. And he speaks of the act as from the motive, and from the influence of the motive, p. 352 ; and from the influence that the motive has on the man for the production of an action, p. 317. Certainly there is no need of multiplying words about this ; it is easily judged, whether motive can be the ground of volition's being exerted and taking place, so that the very production of it is from the influence of the motive, and yet the motive, before it becomes the ground of the volition, is passive, or acted upon by the volition. But this I will say, that a man, who insists so much on clearness of meaning in others, and is so much in bla- ming their confusion and inconsistence, ought, if he was able, to have explained his meaning in this phrase of pas- sive ground of action, so as to shew it not to be confused and inconsistent. If any should suppose that Mr. Chubb, when he speaks of motive as a passive ground of action, does not mean passive with regard to that volition which it is the ground of, but some other antecedent volition, (though his pur- SECT. X. SCHEME OF LIBERTY, ETC. 131 pose and argument, and whole discourse, will by no means allow of such, a supposition), yet it would not help the matter in the least. For (1.) if we suppose there to be an act of volition or choice, by which the soul chooses to yield to the invitation of a motive to another volition, by which the soul chooses something else ; both these sup- posed volitions are in effect the very same. A volition, or choosing to yield to the force of a motive inviting to choose something, comes to just the same thing as choos- ing the tiling which the motive invites to, as I observed before. So that here can be no room to help the matter, by a distinction of two volitions. (2) If the motive be passive with respect, not to the same volition that the motive excites to, but one truly distinct and prior ; yet, by Mr. Chubb, that prior volition cannot take place, without a motive or excitement, as a previous ground of its existence. For he insists, that it is absurd to suppose any volition should take place without some previous mo- tive to induce it. So that at last it comes to just the same absurdity ; for if every volition must have a previous motive, then the very first in the whole series must be excited by a previous motive ; and yet the motive to that first volition is passive; but cannot be passive with regard to another antecedent volition, because, by the supposition, it is the very first : therefore, if it be passive with respect 4o any volition, it must be so with regard to that very vo- lition that it is the ground of, and that is excited by it. Ill Though Mr. Chubb asserts, as above, that every volition has some motive, and that in the nature of the thing, no volition can take place without some motive to induce it; yet he asserts, that volition does not always follow the strongest motive ; or, in other words, is not 132 INCONSISTENCE OF MR. CHUBb's PART II. governed by any superior strength of the motive that is followed, beyond motives to the contrary, previous to the volition itself. His own words, p. 258, are as follows : " Though with regard to physical causes, that which is strongest always prevails, yet it is otherwise with regard to moral causes. Of these, sometimes the stronger, some- times the weaker, prevails. And the ground of this differ- ence is evident, viz., that what we call moral causes, strict- ly speaking, are no causes at all, but barely passive reasons of, or excitements to, the action, or to the refraining from acting : which excitements we have power, or are at liber- ty, to comply with or reject, as I have showed above." And so, throughout the paragraph, he, in a variety of phrases } insists, that the will is not always determined by the strong- est motive, unless by strongest we preposterously mean actually prevailing in the event ; which is notjn the mo- tive, but in the will ; but that the will is not always deter- mined by the motive, which is strongest, by any strength previous to the volition itself. And he elsewhere does abundantly assert, that the will is determined by no supe- rior strength or advantage that motives have from any constitution or state of things, or any circumstances what- soever, previous to the actual determination of the will. And indeed his whole discourse on human liberty implies it, his whole scheme is founded upon it. But these things cannot stand together. There is such a thing as a diversity of strength in motives to choice, pre- vious to the choice itself. Mr. Chubb himself supposes, that they do previously invite, induce, excite, and dispose the mind to action. This implies that they have some- thing in themselves that is inviting^ some tendency to in- duce and dispose to volition, previous to volition itself. SECT. X. SCHEME OF LIBERTY, ETC. 133 And if they have in themselves this nature and tendency, doubtless they have it in certain limited degrees, which are capable of diversity ; and some have it in greater de- grees, others in less ; and they that have most of this ten- dency, considered with all their nature and circumstances, previous to volition, they are the strongest motives ; and those that have least are the weakest motives. Now if volition sometimes does not follow the motive which is strongest, or has most previous tendency or ad- vantage, all things considered, to induce or excite it, but follows the weakest, or that which, as it stands previously in the mind's view, has least tendency to induce it ; here- in the will apparently acts wholly without motive, without any previous reason to dispose the mind to it, contrary to what the same author supposes. The act, wherein the will must proceed without a previous motive to induce it, is the act of preferring the weakest motive. For how ab- surd is it to say, the mind sees previous reason in the mo- tive to prefer that motive before the other; and at the same time to suppose, that there is nothing in the motive, in its nature, state, or any circumstance of it whatsoever, as it stands in the previous view of the mind, that gives it any preference ; but, on the contrary, the other motive that stands in competition with it, in all these respects, has most belonging to it that is inviting and moving, and has most of a tendency to choice and preference. This is certainly as much as to say, there is previous ground and reason in the motive for the act of preference, and yet no previous reason for it. By the supposition, as to all that is in the two rival motives, which tends to prefer- ence, previous to the act of preference, it is not in that which is preferred, but wholly in the other ; because ap- 12 134 INCONSISTENCE OF MR. CHUBB S PART II. pearing superior strength, and all appearing preferable- ness, is in that; and yet Mr. Chubb supposes, that the act of preference is from previous ground and reason in the motive which is preferred. But are these things consistent ? Can there be previous ground in a thing for an event that takes place, and yet no previous tendency in it to that event ? If one thing follows another, without any previous tendency to its following, then I should think it very plain that it follows it without any manner of pre- vious reason why it should follow. Yea, in this case, Mr. Chubb supposes that the event follows an antecedent or a previous thing, as the ground of its existence, not only that has no tendency to it, but a contrary tendency. The event is, the preference which the mind gives to that motive which is weaker, as it stands in the previous view of the mind ; the immediate antece- dent is, the view the mind has of the two rival motives conjunctly ; in which previous view of the mind, all the pre- ferableness, or previous tendency to preference, is suppos- ed to be on the other side, or in the contrary motive ; and all the unworthiness of preference, and so previous tenden- cy to comparative neglect, rejection, or undervaluing, is on that side which is preferred : and yet in this view of the mind is supposed to be the previous ground or reason of this act of preference, exciting it and disposing the mind to it. Which I leave the reader to judge, whether it be absurd or not. If it be not, then it is not absurd to say, that the previous tendency of an antecedent to a conse- quent, is the ground and reason why that consequent does not follow ; and the want of a previous tendency to an event, yea, a tendency to the contrary, is the true ground and reason why that event does not follow. SECT. X. SCHEME OF LIBERTY, ETC. 135 An act of choice or preference is a comparative act, wherein the mind acts with reference to two or more things that are compared, and stand in competition in the mind's view. If the mind, in this comparative act, prefers that which appears inferior in the comparison, then the mind herein acts absolutely without motive, or inducement, or any temptation whatsoever. Then, if a hungry man has the offer of two sorts of food, both which he finds an ap- petite to, but has a stronger appetite to one than the oth- er, and there be no circumstances or excitements whatso- ever in the case to induce him to take either the one or the other, but merely his appetite ; if in the choice he makes between them, he chooses that which he has least appetite to, and refuses that to which he has the strongest appetite, this is a choice made absolutely without previ- ous motive, excitement, reason, or temptation, as much as if he were perfectly without all appetite to either : be- cause his volition in this case is a comparative act, attend- ing and following a comparative view of the food which he chooses, viewing it as related to, and compared with, the other sort of food, in which view his preference has absolutely no previous ground, yea, is against all previous ground and motive. And if there be any principle in man, from whence an act of choice may arise after this manner, from the same principle volition may arise wholly without motive on either side. If the mind in its volition can go beyond motive, then it can go without motive ; for when it is beyond the motive, it is out of the reach of the motive, out of the limits of its influence, and so with- out motive. If volition goes beyond the strength and ten- dency of motive, and especially if it goes against its ten- dencv, this demonstrates the independence of volition or 136 INCONSISTENCE OF MR. CHUBB's FART II motive. And if so, no reason can be given for what Mr. Chubb so often asserts, even that in the nature of things volition cannot take place without a motive to induce it. If the Most High should endow a balance with agency or activity of nature, in such a manner, that when unequal weights are put into the scales, its agency could enable it to cause that scale to descend which has the least weight, and so to raise the greater weight ; this would clearly de- monstrate, that the motion of the balance does not depend on weights in the scales, at least as much as if the balance should move itself, when there is no weight in either scale. And the activity of the balance, which is suffi- cient to move itself against the greater weight, must cer- tainly be more than sufficient to move it when there is no weight at all. Mr. Chubb supposes, that the will cannot stir at all without some motive ; and also supposes, that if there be a motive to one thing, and none to the contrary, volition will infallibly follow that motive. This is virtually to suppose an entire dependence of the will on motives ; if it were not wholly dependent on them, it could surely help itself a little without them, or help itself a little against a motive, without help from the strength and weight of a contrary motive. And yet his supposing that the will, when it has before it various opposite motives, can use them as it pleases, and choose its own influence from them, and- neglect the strongest, and follow the weakest, supposes it to be wholly independent on motives. It further appears, on Mr. Chubb's supposition, that vo- lition must be without any previous ground in any motive, thus: if it be, as he supposes, that the will is not deter- mined by any previous superior strength of the motive, SECT. X. SCHEME OF LIBERTY, ETC. 137 but determines and chooses its own motive, then, when the rival motives are exactly equal in strength and ten- dency to induce in all respects, it may follow either ; and may in such a case sometimes follow one, sometimes the other. And if so, this diversity which appears between the acts of the will, is plainly without previous ground in either of the motives, for all that is previously in the mo- tives is supposed precisely and perfectly the same, without any diversity whatsoever. Now, perfect identity, as to all that is previous in the antecedent, cannot be the ground and reason of diversity in the consequent. Perfect identity in the ground cannot be a reason why it is not followed with the same consequence. And therefore the source of his diversity of consequence must be sought for elsewhere. And lastly, it may be observed, that however Mr. Chubb does much insist that no volition can take place without some motive to induce it, which previously dis- poses the mind to it ; yet, as he also insists that the mind, without reference to any superior strength of motives, picks and chooses for its motive to follow ; he himself herein plainly supposes, that with regard to the mind's preference of one motive before another, it is not the mo- tive that disposes the will, but the will disposes itself to follow the motive. IV. Mr. Chubb supposes necessity to be utterly incon- sistent with agency '; and that to suppose a being to be an agent in that which is necessary, is a plain contradic- tion. At p. 311, and throughout his discourses on the subject of liberty, he supposes, that necessity cannot con- sist with agency, or freedom ; and that to suppose other- wise, is to make liberty and necessity, action and passion, the same thing. And so he seems to suppose, that there 12* 138 INCONSISTENCE OF MR. CHUBB 5 S PART 11. is no action, strictly speaking, but volition ; and that as to the effects of volition in body or mind, in themselves con- sidered, being necessary, they are said to be free, only as they are the effects of an act that is not necessary. And yet, according to him, volition itself is the effect of volition ; yea, every act of free volition : and therefore every act of ivee volition must, by what has now been observed from him, be necessary. That every act of free volition is itself the effect of volition, is abundantly sup- posed by him. In p. 341, he says, " If a man is such a creature as I have proved him to be, that is, if he has in him a power or liberty of doing either good or evil, and either of these is the subject of his own free choice, so that he might, if he had pleased, have chosen and done the contrary." — Here he supposes, all that is good or evil in man is the effect of his choice ; and so that his good or evil choice itself is the effect of his pleasure or choice, in these words, he might, if he had pleased, have chosen the contrary. So in p. 356, " Though it be highly reasonable, that a man should always choose the greater irood, — yet he may, if he please, choose other- wise." Which is the same thing as if he had said, he may, if he chooses, choose otherwise. And then he goes on, — " that is, he may, if he pleases, choose what is good for himself," etc. And again, in the same page, " The will is not confined by the understanding to any particular sort of good, whether greater or less ; but is at liberty to choose what kind of good it pleases." If there be any meaning in the last words, the meaning must be this, that the will is at liberty to choose what Icind of good it chooses to choose; supposing the act of choice itself determined by an antecedent choice. The liberty Mr. Chubb speaks of, SECT. X. SCHEME OF LIBERTY, ETC. 139 is not a man's having power to move his body agreeably to an antecedent act of choice, but to use or exert the fac- ulties of his soul. Thus, in p. 379, speaking of the fac- ulties of his mind, he says, " Man has power, and is at lib- erty, to neglect these faculties, to use them aright, or to abuse them, as he pleases." And that he supposes an act of choice, or exercise of pleasure, properly distinct from, and antecedent to, those acts thus chosen, directing, com- manding, and producing the chosen acts, and even the acts of choice themselves, is very plain in p. 283. " He can command his actions, and herein consists his liberty ; he can give or deny himself that pleasure, as he pleases ." And p. 377 : " If the actions of men are not the produce of a free choice, or election, but spring from a necessity of nature, — he cannot in reason be the object of reward or punishment on their account. Whereas, if action in man, whether good or evil, is the produce of will or free choice, so that a man, in either case, had it in his power, and was at liberty, to have chosen the contrary ; he is the proper object of reward or punishment, according as he chooses to behave himself." Here, in these last words, he speaks of liberty of choosing, according as he chooses. So that the behaviour which he speaks of, as subject to his choice, is his choosing itself, as well as his external conduct consequent upon it. And therefore it is evident, he means not only external actions, but the acts of choice themselves, when he speaks of all free actions as the produce of free choice. And this is abundantly evident in what he says in pp. 37-2, 373. Now these things imply a twofold great absurdity and inconsistence. 1. To suppose, as Mr. Chubb plainly does, that every 140 INCONSISTENCE OF MR. CHDBb's PART II. free act of choice is commanded by, and is the produce of free choice, is to suppose the first free act of choice be- longing to the case, yea, the first free act of choice that ever man exerted, to be the produce of an antecedent act of choice. But I hope I need not labour at all to con- vince my readers, that it is an absurdity to say, the very first act is the produce of another act that went before it. 2. If it were both possible and real, as Mr. Chubb in- sists, that every free act of choice were the produce or the effect of a free act of choice ; yet even then, accord- ing to his principles, no one act of choice would be free, but every one necessary ; because, every act of choice being the effect of a foregoing act, every act would be ne- cessarily connected with that foregoing cause. For Mr. Chubb himself says, p. 389, " When the self-moving power is exerted, it becomes the necessary cause of its effects." — So that his notion of a free act, that is reward- able or punishable, is a heap of contradictions, it is a free act, and yet, by his own notion of freedom, is neces- sary ; and therefore by him it is a contradiction to sup- pose it to be free. According to him, every free act is the produce of a free act ; so that there must be an infi- nite number of free acts in succession, without any begin- ning, in an agent that has a beginning. And therefore here is an infinite number of free acts, every one of them free ; and yet not any one of them free, but every act in the whole infinite chain a necessary effect. All the acts are rewardable or punishable, and yet the agent cannot, in reason, be the object of reward or punishment, on ac- count of any one of these actions. He is active in them all, and passive in none; yet active in none, but passive in all, etc. SECT. X. SCHEME OF LIBERTY, ETC. 141 V. Mr. Chubb does most strenuously deny that mo- tives are causes of the acts of the will ; or that the mov- ing principle in man is moved, or caused to be exerted, by motives. His words, pp.388, 389, are, " If the moving principle in man is moved, or caused to be exerted, by something external to man, which all motives are, then it would not be a self-moving principle, seeing it would be moved by a principle external to itself. And to say, that a self-moving principle is moved, or caused to be exerted, by a cause external to itself, is absurd and a contradiction," etc. — And in the next page it is par- ticularly and largely insisted, that motives are causes in no case, that they are merely passive in the production of ac- tion, and have no causality in the production of it — no causality to be the cause of the exertion of the will. Now I desire it may be considered, how this can pos- sibly consist with what he says in other places. Let it be noted here, 1. Mr. Chubb abundantly speaks of motives as excite- ments of the acts of the will ; and says, that motives do excite volition, and induce it, and that they are necessary to this end ; that in the reason and nature of things, vo- lition cannot take place without motives to excite it. But now, if motives excite the will, they move it ; and yet he says, it is absurd to say the will is moved by motives. And again (if language is of any significancy at all), if motives excite volition, then they are the cause of its be- ing excited ; and to cause volition to be excited, is to cause it to be put forth or exerted. Yea, Mr. Chubb says himself, p. 317, motive is necessary to the exertion of the active faculty. To excite, is positively to do some- thing; and certainly that which does something, is the 142 INCONSISTENCE OF MR. CHUBB's PART II. cause of the thing done by it. To create, is to cause to be created ; to make, is to cause to be made ; to kill, is to cause to be killed ; to quicken, is to cause to be quickened ; and to excite is to cause to be excited. To excite, is to be a cause, in the most proper sense ; not merely a neg- ative occasion, but a ground of existence by positive in- fluence. The notion of exciting, is exerting influence to cause the effect to arise or come forth into existence. 2. Mr. Chubb himself, p. 317, speaks of motives as the ground and reason of action by influence, and by pre- vailing influence. Now, what can be meant by a cause, but something that is the ground and reason of a thing by its influence, an influence that is prevalent, and so effectual ? 3. This author not only speaks of motives as the ground and reason of action, by prevailing influence ; but express- ly of their influence as prevailing for the production of an action, in the same page (317): which makes the inconsistency still more palpable and notorious. The pro- duction of an effect is certainly the causing of an effect ; and productive influence is causal influence, if any thing is ; and that which has this influence prevalently, so as thereby to become the ground of another thing, is a cause of that thing, if there be any such thing as a cause. This influence, Mr. Chubb says, motives have to produce an action ; and yet, he says it is absurd and a contradiction to say they are causes. 4. In the same page, he once and again speaks of mo- tives as disposing the agent to action, by their influence. His words are these : " As motive, which takes place in the understanding, and is the product of intelligence, is necessary to action, that is, to the exertion of the ac- SECT. X. SCHEME OF LIBERTY, ETC. 143 tive faculty, because that faculty would not be exerted without some previous reason to dispose the mind to action ; so from hence it plainly appears, that when a man is said to be disposed to one action rather another, this properly signifies the prevailing influence that one motive has upon a man for the production of an action, or for the being at rest, before all other motives for the production of the contrary. For as motive is the ground and reason of any action, so the motive that pre- vails, disposes the agent to the performance of that action. Now, if motives dispose the mind to action, then they cause the mind to be disposed ; and to cause the mind to be disposed, is to cause it to be willing ; and to cause it to be willing, is to cause it to will ; and that is the same thing as to be the cause of an act of the will. And yet this same Mr. Chubb holds it to be absurd to suppose motive to be a cause of the act of the will. And if we compare these things together, we have here again a whole heap of inconsistences. Motives are the previous ground and reason of the acts of the will ; yea, the necessary ground and reason of their exertion, without which they will not be exerted, and cannot, in the nature of things, take place ; and they do excite these acts of the will, and do this by a prevailing influence ; yea, an influence which prevails for the production of the act of the will, and for the disposing of the mind to it ; and yet it is absurd to suppose motive to be a cause of an act of the will, or that a principle of will is moved or caused to be exerted by it, or that it has any causality in the produc- tion of it, or any causality to be the cause of the exertion of the will. 144 GOD CERTAINLY FOREKNOWS PART II. A due consideration of these things which Mr Chubb has advanced, the strange inconsistences which the notion of liberty, consisting in the will's power of self-determina- tion void of all necessity, united with that dictate of com- mon sense, that there can be no volition without a motive, drove him into, may be sufficient to convince us, that it is utterly impossible ever to make that notion of liberty consistent with the influence of motives in volition. And as it is in a manner self-evident, that there can be no act of will, choice, or preference of the mind, without some motive or inducement, something in the mind's view, which it aims at, seeks, inclines to, and goes after ; so it is most manifest, there is no such liberty in the universe as the Arminians insist on ; nor any such thing possible or con- ceivable. SECTION XI. THE EVIDENCE OF GOd's CERTAIN FOREKNOWLEDGE OF THE VOLITIONS OF MORAL AGENTS. That the acts of the wills of moral agents are not con- tingent events, in that sense as to be without all necessity, appears by God's certain foreknowledge of such events. In handling this argument, I would in the first place prove that God has a certain foreknowledge of the volun- tary acts of moral agents ; and secondly, shew the conse- quence, or how it follows from hence, that the volitions of moral agents are not contingent, so as to be without ne- cessity of connection and consequence. / First, I am to prove, that God has an absolute and cer- teiTfToreknowledge of the free actions of moral agenTsT- One would think it should be wholly needless to enter SECT. XI. THE VOLITIONS OF MORAL AGENTS. 145 on such an argument with any that profess themselves Christians : but so it is ; God's certain foreknowledge of the free acts of moral agents, is denied by some that pre- tend to believe the Scriptures to be the word of God ; and especially of late. I therefore shall consider the evidence of such a prescience in the Most High, as fully as the de- signed limits of this essay will admit of; supposing myself herein to have to do with such as own the truth of the Bible. Arg. 1. My first argument shall be taken from God's prediction of such events. Here I would, in the first place, lay down these two things as axioms. 1. If God does not foreknow, he cannot foretell such events ; that is, he cannot peremptorily and certainly fore- tell them. If God has no more than an uncertain guess concerning events of this kind, then he can declare no more than an uncertain guess. Positively to foretell, is to profess to foreknow, or declare positive foreknowledge. 2. If God does not certainly foreknow the future voli- tions of moral agents, then neither can he certainly fore- know those events which are consequent and dependent on these volitions. The existence of the one depending on the existence of the other, the knowledge of the exis- tence of the one depends on the knowledge of the exis- tence of the other ; and the one cannot be more certain than the other. Therefore, how many, how great, and how extensive soever the consequences of the volitions of moral agents may b \ ; though they should extend to an alteration of the state of things through the universe, and should be contin- ued in a series of successive events to all eternity, and shoul d, in the progress of things, branch forth into an infi- 13 146 GOD CERTAINLY FOREKNOWS PART IT. nite number of series, each of them going on in an endless line or chain of events ; God must be as ignorant of all these consequences, as he is of the volition whence they first take their rise : all these events, and the whole state of things depending on them, how important, extensive, and vast soever, must be hid from him. These positions being such as, I suppose, none will deny, I now proceed to observe the following things. 1. Men's moral conduct and qualities, their virtues and vices, their wickedness and good practice, things reward- able and punishable, have often been foretold by God. — Pharaoh's moral conduct, in refusing to obey God's com- mand, in letting his people go, was foretold. God says to Moses, Exod. iii. 19, " 1 am sure that the king of Egypt will not let you go." Here God professes not only to guess at, but to know, Pharaoh's future disobedience. In chap. viii. 4, God says, " but Pharaoh shall not hearken unto you ; that I may lay mine hand upon Egypt," etc. And chap. ix. 30, Moses says to Pharaoh, " as for thee, and thy servants, I know that ye will not fear the Lord." See also chap. xi. 9. — The moral conduct of Josiah, by name, in his zealously exerting himself in opposition to idolatry, in particular acts of his, was foretold above three hundred years before he was born, and the prophecy sealed by a miracle, and renewed and confirmed by the words of a second prophet, as what surely would not fail, 1 Kings, xiii. I — 6, 32. This prophecy was also in ef- fect a prediction of the moral conduct of the people, in upholding their schismatical and idolatrous worship until that time, and the idolatry of those priests of the high places, which it is foretold Josiah should offer upon that altar of Bethel. — Micaiah foretold the foolish and sinful SECT. XI. THE VOLITIONS OF MORAL AGENTS. 147 conduct of Ahab in refusing to hearken to the word of the Lord by him, and choosing rather to hearken to the false prophets, in going to Ramoth-Gilead to his ruin, 1 Kings xxi. 20 — 22. The moral conduct of Hazael was foretold, in that cruelty he should be guilty of; on which Hazael says, " what, is thy servant a dog, that he should do this thing?" The prophet speaks of the event as what he knew, and not what he conjectured, 2 Kings viii. 1*2, ** I know the evil that thou wilt do unto the children of Israel: thou wilt dash their children, and rip up their women with child." The moral conduct of Cyrus is foretold long before he had a being, in his mercy to God's people, and regard to the true God, in turning the captivity of the Jews, and promoting the building of the temple, Isai. xliv. 28, and lxv. 13. Compare 2 Chron. xxxvi. 22, 23, and Ezra i. 1 — 4. How many instances of the moral conduct of the kings of the north and south, particular instances of the wicked behavior of the kings of Syria and Egypt, are foretold in the I lth chapter of Daniel? their corruption, violence, robbery, treachery, and lies. ' And particularly, how much is foretold of the horrid wickedness of Antiochus Epiphanes, called there a vile person, instead of Epiphanes, or illustrious. In that chapter, and also in chap. viii. ver. 9, 14, 23, to the end, are foretold his flattery, deceit, and lies, his having his heart set to do mischief, and set against the holy cov- enant, his destroying and treading under foot the holy people, in a marvellous manner, his having indignation against the holy covenant, setting his heart against it, and conspiring against it, his polluting the sanctuary of strength, treading it under foot, taking away the daily sacrifice, and placing the abomination that maketh deso- 148 GOD CERTAINLY FOREKNOWS PART II. late ; his great pride, magnifying himself against God, and uttering marvellous blasphemies against him, until God in indignation should destroy him. Withal, the moral conduct of the Jews, on occasion of his persecution, is predicted. It is foretold, that " he should corrupt many by flatteries," chap. xi. 32 — 34. But that others should behave with a glorious constancy and fortitude, in opposition to him, ver. 32. And that some good men should fall and repent, ver. 35. Christ foretold Peter's sin in denying his Lord, with its circumstances, in a per- emptory manner. And so that great sin of Judas in be- traying his Master, and its dreadful and eternal punish- ment in hell, was foretold in the like positive manner, Matt. xxvi. 21 — 25. and parallel places in the other Evangelists. 2. Many events have been foretold by God, which are consequent and dependent on the moral conduct of par- ticular persons, and were accomplished either by their virtuous or vicious actions. Thus, the children of Israel's going down into Egypt to dwell there, was foretold to Abraham, Gen. xv., which was brought about by the wickedness of Joseph's brethren in selling him, and the wickedness of Joseph's mistress, and his own signal virtue in resisting her temptation. The accomplishment of the thing prefigured in Joseph's dream, depended on the same moral conduct. Jotham's parable and prophecy, Judges ix. 15 — 20, was accomplished by the wicked conduct of Abimelech and the men of Shechem. The prophecies against the house of Eli, 1 Sam. chap. ii. and iii. were accomplished by the wickedness of Doeg the Edomite in accusing the priests, and the great impiety and extreme cruelty of Saul in destroying the priests at SKCT. Xt. THE VOLITIONS OF MORAL AGENTS. 149 Nob, 1 Sam. xxii. Nathan's prophecy against David, 2 Sam. xii. 11, 1*2, was fulfilled by the horrible wickedness of Absalom, in rebelling against his father, seeking his life, and lying with his concubines in the sight of the sun. The prophecy against Solomon, 1 Kings xi. 11 — 13, was fulfilled by Jeroboam's rebellion and usurpation, which are spoken of as his wickedness, 2 Chron. xiii. 5, 6, compare ver. 18. The prophecy against Jeroboam's family, 1 Kings xiv. was fulfilled by the conspiracy, treason, and cruel murders of Baasha, 2 Kings, xv. 27, etc. The predictions of the prophet Jehu against the house of Baasha, 1 Kings, xvi. at the beginning, were fulfilled by the treason and parricide of Zimri, I Kings, xvi. 9—13, 20. 3. How often has God foretold the future moral con- duct of nations and people, of numbers, bodies, and suc- cessions of men ; svith God's judicial proceedings, and many other events consequent and dependent on their virtues and vices; which could not be foreknown, if the volitions of men, wherein they acted as moral agents, had not been foreseen? The future cruelty of the Egyptians in oppressing Israel, and God's judging and punishing them for it, was foretold long before it came to pass, Gen. xv. 13, 14. The continuance of the iniquity of the Amorites, and the increase of it until it should he full, and they ripe for destruction, was foretold above four hundred years beforehand, Gen. xv. 16. Acts vii. 6, 7 The prophecies of the destruction of Jerusalem and the land of Judah, were absolute; 2 Kings xx 17 — 19. chap. xxii. 15, to the end. It was foretold in Hezekiah's time, and was abundantly insisted on in the book of the prophet Isaiah, who wrote nothing after Hezekiah's days. 13* 150 GOD CER.TAINLY FOREKNOWS *>AKT It. It was foretold in Josiah's time in the beginning of a threat reform a lion, 2 Kings xxii. And it is manifest by innu- merable things in the prediction of the prophets, relating to this event, its time, its circumstances, its continuance and end ; the return from the captivity, the restoration of the temple, city, and land, and many circumstances and consequences of that ; I say, these show plainly that the prophecies of this great event were absolute. And yet this event was connected with, and dependent on, two things in men's moral conduct : first, the injurious rapine and violence of the king of Babylon and his people, as the efficient cause; which God often speaks of as what he highly resented, and would severely punish : and, second- ly, the final obstinacy of the Jews. That great event is of- ten spoken of as suspended on this, Jer. iv. 1, and v. 1. vii. 1 — 7. xi. 1 — 6. xvii. 24, to the end, xxv. 1 — 7. xxvi. 1 — 8, 13, and xxxviii. 17, 18. Therefore this destruction and captivity could not be foreknown, unless such a moral conduct of the Chaldeans and Jews had been foreknown. And then it was foretold, that the peo- ple should be finally obstinate, to the destruction and ut- ter desolation of the city and land. Isai. vi. 9 — 11. Jer. i. 18, 19. vii. 27, 29. Ezek. iii. 7, and xxiv. 13, 14. The final obstinacy of those Jews who were left in the land of Israel, in their idolatry and rejection of the true God, was foretold by God, and the prediction confirmed with an oath, Jer. xliv. 26, 27. And God tells the people Isai. xlviii. 3, 4 — 8, that he had predicted those tilings which should be consequent on their treachery and obstina- cy because he knew they would be obstinate ; and that he had declared these things beforehand, for their conviction of his being the only true God, etc. SECT. XI. THE VOLITIONS OF MORAL AGENTS. 151 The destruction of Babylon, with many of the pircum- tances of it, was foretold, as the judgment of God for the exceeding pride and haughtiness of the heads of that mon- archy. Nebuchadnezzar, and his successors, and their wickedly destroying other nations, and particularly for their exalting themselves against the true God and his people, before any of these monarchs had a being ; Isai. chap. xiii. xiv. xlvii. : compare Habakkuk ii. 5, to the end, and Jer. chap. 1. and li. That Babylon's destruction was to be a " recompense, according to the works of their own hands," appears by Jer. xxv. 14. The immorality which the peo- ple of Babylon, and particularly her princes and great men, were guilty of, that very night that the city was destroyed, their revelling and drunkenness at Belshazzar's idolatrous feast, was foretold, Jer. li. 39, 57. The return of the Jews from the Babylonish captivity is often very particularly foretold, with many circumstances, and the promises of it are very peremptory ; Jer. xxxi. 35 — 40, and xxxii. 6 — 15, 41 — 44, and xxxiii. 24 — 26. And the very time of their return was prefixed ; Jer. xxv. 11, 12. xxix. 10, 11. 2 Chron. xxxvi. 21. Ezek. iv. 6 and Dan. ix 2. And yet the prophecies represent their return as consequent on their repentance. And their re- pentance itself is very expressly and particularly foretold, Jer. xxix. 12, 13, 14. xxxi. 8, 9, 18—31. xxxiii. 8. 1. 4, 5. Ezek. vi. 8, 9, 10. vii. 16. xiv. 22, 23, and xx. 43, 44. It was foretold, under the Old Testament, that the Mes- siah should suffer greatly through the malice and cruelty of men ; as is largely and fully set forth, Psal. xxii, ap- plied to Christ in the New Testament, Matt, xxvii. 35, 43. Luke xxiii. 34. John xix. 24. Heb. ii. 12. And 152 GOD CERTAINLY FOREKNOWS PART II. likewise in Psal. lxix. which, it is also evident by the New Testament, is spoken of Christ; John xv. 25. vii. 5, etc. and ii. 17. Rom. xv. 3. Matt, xxvii. 34, 48. Mark xv. 23. John xix. 29. The same thing is also foretold, Isai. liii. and 1. 6, and Mic. v. 1. This cruelty of men was their sin, and what they acted as moral agents. It was foretold, that there should be an union of heathen and Jew- ish rulers' against Christ, Psal. ii. 1,2, compared with Acts iv. 25 — 28. It was foretold, that the Jews should generally reject and despise the Messiah, Isai. xlix. 5, 6, 7, and liii. 1 — 3. Ps. xxii. 6, 7, and lxix. 4, 8,19, 20. And it was foretold, that the body of that nation should be rejec- ted in the Messiah's days, from being God's people, for their obstinacy in sin ; Isai. xlix. 4 — 7, and viii. 14, 15, 16, compared with Rom. x. 19, and Isai. lx v. at the begin- ning, compared with Rom. x. 20, 21. It was foretold, that Christ should be rejected by the chief priests and rulers among the Jews, Psalm cxviii. 22, compared with Malt. xxi. 42. Acts iv. 11. 1 Pet. ii. 4, 7. Christ himself foretold his being delivered into the hands of the elders, chief priests, and scribes, and his being cru- elly treated by them and condemned to death ; and that he by them should be delivered to the Gentiles; and that he should be mocked and scourged and crucified, (Matt, xvi. 21, and xx. 17—19. Luke ix. 22. John viii. 28); and that the people should be concerned in and consenting to his death (Luke xx. 13 — 18), especially the inhabi- tants of Jerusalem ; Luke xiii. 33 — 35. He foretold, that the disciples should all be offended because of him that night that he was betrayed, and should forsake him ; Matt . xxvi. 31. John xvi. 32. He foretold, that he should be rejected of that generation, even the body of the people, SECT. XI. THE VOLITIONS OF MORAL AGENTS. 153 and that they should continue obstinate, to their ruin : Matt. xii. 45. xxi. 33 — 42, and xxii. 1 — 7. Luke xiii. 16, 21, 24. xvii. 25. xix. 14,27, 41—44. xx. 13—18. and xxiii. 34 — 39. As it was foretold in both Old Testament and New, that the Jews should reject the Messiah, so it was fore- told that the Gentiles should receive him, and so be ad- mitted to the privileges of God's people : in places too many to be now particularly mentioned. It was foretold in the Old Testament, that the Jews should envy the Gentiles on this account : Deut. xxxii. 21, compared with Rom. x. 19. Christ himself often foretold, that the Gen- tiles would embrace the true religion, and become his fol- lowers and people ; Matt. viii. 10, II, 12. xxi. 41 — 43, and xxii. 8 — 10. Luke xiii. 28. xiv. 16 — 24, and xx. 16. John, x. 16. He also foretold the Jews' envy of the Gentiles on this occasion ; Matt. xx. 12 — 16. Luke, xv. 26, to the end. He foretold, that they should continue in this opposition and envy, and should manifest it in the cruel persecutions of his followers, to their utter destruc- tion ; Matt. xxi. 33 — 42. xxii. 6, and xxiii. 34 — 39. Luke xi. 49 — 51. The Jews' obstinacy is also foretold, Acts xxii. 18. Christ often foretold the great persecu- tions his followers should meet with, both from Jews and Gentiles; Matt. x. 16—18, 21, 22, 34—36, and xxiv. 9. Mark xiii. 9. Luke x. 3. xii. 11, 49—53, and xxi. 12, 16, 17. John xv. 18—21, and xvi. 1—4, 20—22, 23. He foretold the martyrdom of particular persons ; Matt. xx. 23. John xiii. 36, and xxi. 18, 19, 22. He foretold the great success of the Gospel in the city of Sa- maria, as near approaching ; which afterwards was fulfil- led by the preaching of Philip ; John iv. 35 — 38. He 154 GOD CERTAINLY FOREKNOWS PART II. foretold the rising of many deceivers after his departure, Matt. xxiv. 4, 5, 11, and the apostasy of many of his professed followers, Matt. xxiv. 10 — 12. The persecutions which the apostle Paul was to meet with in the world, were foretold ; Acts ix. 16. xx. 23, and xxi. 11. The apostle says to the Christian Ephe- sians, Acts xx. 29, 30, " I know, that after my depart- ure shall grievous wolves enter in among you, not sparing the flock : also of your own selves shall men arise, speak- ing perverse things, to draw away disciples after them." Tire apostle says, he Jcneiv this : but he did not know it, if God did not know the future actions of moral agents. 4. Unless God foreknows the future acts of moral agents, all the prophecies we have in Scripture concern- ing the great antichristian apostasy ; the rise, reign, wick- ed qualities, and deeds, of the man of sin, and his instru- ments and adherents ; the extent and long continuance of his dominion, his influence on the minds of princes and others, to corrupt them, and draw them away to idol- atry and other foul vices ; his great and cruel persecu- tions ; the behavior of the saints under these great tempta- tions, etc. I say, unless the volitions of moral agents are foreseen, all these prophecies are uttered without know- ing the things foretold. The predictions relating to this great apostasy are all of a moral nature, relating to men's virtues and vices, and their exercises, fruits and consequences, and events depending on them ; and are very particular ; and most of them of- ten repeated, with many precise characteristics, descrip- tions, and limitations of qualities, conduct, influence, ef- fects, extent, duration, periods, circumstances, final issue, etc., which it would be very long to mention particularly. SECT. XI. THE VOLITIONS OF MORAL AGENTS. 155 And to suppose all these effects are predicted by God without any certain knowledge of the future moral beha- vior of free agents, would be to the utmost degree absurd. (5. Unless God foreknows the future acts of men's wills, and their behavior as moral agents, all those "Teat things which are foretold in both Old Testament and New con- cerning the erection, establishment, and universal extent of the kingdom of the Messiah, were predicted and pro- mised while God was in ignorance whether any of these things would come to pass or no, and did but guess at them. \For that kingdom is not of this world, it does not consist in things external, but is within men, and consists in the dominion of virtue in their hearts, in righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost ; and in these tilings made manifest in practice, to the praise and glory of God. The Messiah came to save men from their sins, and de- liver them from their spiritual enemies ; that they might serve him in righteousness and holiness before him : he gave himself for us, that he might redeem its from all in- iquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people, zeal- ous of good works. And therefore his success consists in gaining men's hearts to virtue, in their being made God's willing people in the day of his power. .His conquest of his enemies consists in his victory over men's corruptions and vices. And such success, such victory, and such a reign and dominion, is often expressly foretold : that his kingdom shall fill the earth : that all people, nations, and languages, should serve and obey him : and so that all nations should go up to the mountain of the house of the Lord, thafhe might teach them his ways, and that they mighfivalk in his paths ; and that all men should be drawn to Christ, and the earth be full of the knowledge of the 156 GOD CERTAINLY FOREKNOWS PART II. Lord (by which, in the style of Scripture, is meant true virtue and religion,) as the waters cover the seas ; that GooVs law should be put into men's inward parts, and written in their hearts ; and that God's people should be all righteous, etc., etc. A very great part of the prophecies of the Old Testa- ment is taken up in such predictions as these. — And here I would observe, that the prophecies of the universal pre- valence of the kingdom of the Messiah, and true religion of Jesus Christ, are delivered in the most peremptory man- ner, and confirmed by the oath of God, Isai. xlv. 22, to the end, " Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth ; for I am God, and there is none else. I have sworn by myself, the word is gone out of my mouth in righteousness, and shall not return, That unto me every knee shall bow, and every tongue shall swear. Surelt, shall one say, In the Lord have I righteousness and strength : even to him shall men come," etc. But here this peremptory declaration, and great oath of the Most High, are delivered with such mighty solemnity to things which God did not know, if he did not certainly foresee the volitions of moral agents. And all the predictions of Christ and his apostles, to the like purpose, must be without knowledge : as those of our Saviour comparing the kingdom of God to a grain of mustard-seed, growing exceeding great from a small beginning; and to leaven, hid in three measures of meal until the whole was leavened, etc. — And the prophecies in the epistles concerning the restoration of the nation of the Jews to the true church of God, and the bringing in the fulness of the Gentiles ; and the prophecies in all the Revelation concerning the glorious change in the moral SECT. XI. THE VOLITIONS OF MORAL AGENTS. 157 state of the world of mankind, attending the destruction of antichrist, the kingdoms of the world becoming the kingdoms of our Lord and. of his Christ; and its being granted to the church to be arrayed in that fine linen, white and clean, which is the righteousness of saints, etc. Corol. 1. Hence that great promise and oath of God to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, so much celebrated in Scripture, both in the Old Testament and New, namely, That in their seed all the nations and families of the earth should be blessed, must be made on uncertainties, if God does not certainly foreknow the volitions of moral agents. For the fulfilment of this promise consists in that success of Christ in the work of redemption, and that set- ting up of his spiritual kingdom over the nations of the world, which has been spoken of. Men are blessed in Christ no otherwise than as they are brought to acknow- ledge him, trust in him, love and serve him, as is repre- sented and predicted in Psal. lxx.il. 11, " All kings shall fall down before him ; all nations shall serve him." With ver. 17, " Men shall be blessed in him ; all nations shall call him blessed." . This oath to Jacob and Abraham is fulfilled in subduing men's iniquities; as is implied in that of the prophet Micah, chap. vii. 19, 20. Corol. 2. Hence also it appears, that first gospel-prom- ise that ever was made to mankind, that great prediction of the salvation of the Messiah, and his victory over Satan, made to our first parents, Gen. iii. 15, if there be no cer- tain prescience of the volitions of moral agents, must have no better foundation than conjecture. For Christ's vic- tory over Satan consists in men's being saved from sin, and in the victory of virtue and holiness, over that vice 14 158 GOD CERTAINLY FOREKNOWS PART II. and wickedness, which Satan by his temptation has intro- duced, and wherein his kingdom consists. 6. If it be so, that God has not a prescience of the fu- ture actions of moral agents, it will follow, that the pro- phecies of Scripture in general are without foreknow- ledge. For Scripture prophecies,^almost all of them, if not universally without any exception, are either predic- tions of the actings and behaviors of moral agents, or of events depending on them, or some way connected with them ; judicial dispensations, judgments on men for their wickedness, or rewards of virtue and righteousness, re- markable manifestations of favor to the righteous, or mani- festations of sovereign mercy to sinners, forgiving their iniquities, and magnifying the riches of Divine grace; or dispensations of providence, in some respect or other, re- lating to the conduct of the subjects of God's moral gov- ernment, wisely adapted thereto ; either providing for what should be in a future state of things, through the volitions and voluntary actions of moral agents, or conse- quent upon them, and regulated and ordered according to them. So that all events that are foretold, are either moral events, or other events which are connected with, and accommodated to, moral events. That the predictions of Scripture in general must be without knowledge, if God does not foresee the volitions of men, will further appear, if it be considered, that almost all events belonging to the future state of the world of man- kind, the changes and revolutions which come to pass in empires, kingdoms, and nations, and all societies, depend innumerable ways on the acts of men's wills; yea, on an innumerable multitude of millions of millions of volitions SECT. XI. THE VOLITIONS OF MORAL AGENTS. 159 of mankind. Such is the state and course of things in the world of mankind, that one single event, which appears in itself exceeding inconsiderable, may, in the progress and series of things, occasion a succession of the greatest and most important and extensive events ; causing the state of mankind to be vastly different from what it would otherwise have been, for all succeeding generations. For instance, the coming into existence of those par- ticular men, who have been the great conquerors of the world, which, under God, have had the main hand in all the consequent state of the world in all after ages ; such as Nebuchadnezzar, Cyrus, Alexander, Pompey, Julius Caesar, etc., undoubtedly depended on many millions of acts of the will, which followed and were occasioned one by another, in their parents. And perhaps most of these volitions depended on millions of volitions of hundreds and thousands of others, their contemporaries of the same gen- eration ; and most of these on millions of millions of voli- tions of others in preceding generations. — As we go back, still the number of volitions, which were some way the occasion of the event, multiply as the branches of a river, until they come at last, as it were, to an infinite number. This will not seem strange to any one who well considers the matter; if we recollect what philosophers tell us of the innumerable multitudes of those things which are, as it were, the principia, or stamina vita, concerned in gen- eration ; the animalcula in semen masculo, and the ova in the womb of the female ; the impregnation, or animating of one of these in distinction from all the rest, must de- pend on things infinitely minute, relating to the time and circumstances of the act of the parents, the state of their bodies, etc., which must depend on innumerable foregoing 160 GOD CERTAINLY FOREKNOWS PART II. circumstances and occurrences ; which must depend, in- finite ways, on foregoing acts of their wills ; which are oc- casioned by innumerable things that happen in the course of their lives, in which their own, and their neighbors' be- havior, must have a hand an infinite number of ways. And as the volitions of others must be so many ways con- cerned in the conception and birth of sucli men ; so, no less in their preservation, and circumstances of life, their par- ticular determinations and actions, on which the great revolutions they were the occasion of, depended. As, for instance, when the conspirators in Persia against the Ma- gi, were consulting about a succession to the empire, it came into the mind of one of them to propose, that he whose horse neighed first, when they came together the next morning, should be king. Now such a thing's com- ing into his mind, might depend on innumerable incidents, wherein the volitions of mankind had been concerned. But, in consequence of this accident, Darius the son of Hystaspes, was king. And if this had not been, probab- ly his successor would not have been the same, and all the circumstances of the Persian empire might have been far otherwise. And then perhaps Alexander might never have conquered that empire. And then probably the cir- cumstances of the world in all succeeding ages, might have been vastly otherwise. I might further instance in many other occurrences ; such as those on which depend- ed Alexander's preservation in the many critical junc- tures of his life, wherein a small trifle would have turned the scale against him ; and the preservation and success of the Roman people in the infancy of their kingdom and commonwealth, and afterwards ; which all the succeed- ing changes in their state, and the mighty revolutions that SECT. XI. THE VOLITIONS OF MORAL AGENTS. 161 afterwards came to pass in the habitable world, depended upon. But these hints may be sufficient for every dis- cerning considerate person, to convince him, that the whole state of the world of mankind, in all ages, and the very being of every person who has ever lived in it, in every age, since the times of the ancient prophets, has depended on more volitions, or acts of the wills of men, than there are sands on the sea-shore. And therefore, unless God does most exactly and per- fectly foresee the future acts of men's wills, all the predic- tions which he ever uttered concerning David, Hezekiah, Josiah, Nebuchadnezzar, Cyrus, Alexander; concerning the four monarchies, and the revolutions in them ; and concerning all the wars, commotions, victories, prosperi- ties, and calamities, of any of the kingdoms, natioas, or communities, of the world, have all been without know- ledge. So that, according to this notion of God's not foresee- ing the volitions and fvee actions of men, God could fore- see nothing appertaining to the state of the world of man- kind in future ages; not so much as the being of one per- son that should live in it ; and could foreknow no events, but only such as he would bring to pass himself by the extraordinary interposition of his immediate power; or things which should come to pass in the natural material world, by the laws of motion, and course of nature, where- in that is independent on the actions or works of mankind : that is, as he might, like a very able mathematician and astronomer, with great exactness calculate the revolutions of the heavenly bodies, and the greater wheels of the ma- chine of the external creation. And if we closely consider the matter, there will ap- 14* 162 GOD CERTAINLY FOREKNOWS PART II. pear reason to convince us, that he could not, with any absolute certainty, foresee even these. As to the first, namely, things done by the immediate and extraordinary interposition of God's power, these cannot be foreseen, unless it can be foreseen when there shall be occasion for such extraordinary interposition. Aiid that cannot be fore- seen, unless the state of the moral world can be foreseen. For whenever God thus interposes, it is with regard to the state of the moral world requiring such divine interposition. Thus, God could not certainly foresee the universal de- luge, the calling of Abraham, the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, the plagues on Egypt, and Israel's redemption out of it, the expelling the seven nations of Canaan, and the bringing Israel into that land ; for these all are repre- sented as connected with things belonging to the state of the moral world. Nor can God foreknow the most pro- per and convenient time of the day of judgment and gen- eral conflagration ; for that chiefly depends on the course and state of things in the moral world. Nor, secondly, can we on this supposition reasonably think, that God can certainly foresee what things shall come to pass, in the course of things, in the natural and material world, even those which in an ordinary state of things might be calculated by a good astronomer. For the moral world is the end of the natural world ; and the course of things in the former is undoubtedly subordinate to God's designs with respect to the latter. Therefore he has seen cause, from regard to the state of things in the moral world, extraordinarily to interpose, to interrupt and lay an arrest on the course of things in the natural world ; and even in the greater wheels of its motion, even so as to stop the sun in its course. And unless he can foresee SECT. XI. THE VOLITIONS OF MORAL AGENTS. 163 the volitions of men, and so know something of the future state of the moral world, he cannot know but that he may still have as great occasion to interpose in this manner, as ever he had : nor can he foresee how, or when, he shall have occasion thus to interpose. Corol. 1. It appears from the things which have been observed, that unless God foresees the volitions of moral agents, that cannot be true which is observed by the apostle James, Acts xv. 18, " Known unto God are all his works from the beginning of the world." Corol. 2. It appears from what has been observed, that unless God foreknows the volitions of moral agents, all the prophecies of Scripture have no better foundation than mere conjecture ; and that, in most instances, a conjecture which must have the utmost uncertainty ; depending on an innumerable, and, as it were, infinite multitude of voli- tions, which are all, even to God, uncertain events : how- ever, these prophecies are delivered as absolute predic- tions, and very many of them in the most positive manner, with asseverations; and some of them with the most so- lemn oaths. Corol. 3. It also follows, from what has been observed, that if this notion of God's ignorance of future volitions be true, in vain did Christ say (after uttering many great and important predictions concerning God's moral kingdom, and things depending on men's moral actions), Matt. xxiv. 35, " Heaven and earth shall pass away ; but my words shall not pass away." Corol. 4. From the same notion of God's ignorance, it would follow, that in vain has God himself often spoken of the predictions of his word as evidences of foreknow- ledge ; and so as evidences of that which is his preroga- 164 GOD CERTAINLY FOREKNOWS PART II. tive as God, and his peculiar glory, greatly distinguishing him from all other beings ; as in lsai. xli. 22 — 26. xliii. 9, 10. xliv. 8. xlv. 21. xlvi. 10. and xlviii. 14. Arg. II. If God does not foreknow the volitions of moral agents, then he did not foreknow the fall of man, nor of angels, and so could not foreknow the great things which are consequent on these events ; such as his seed- ing his Son into the world to die for sinners, and all things pertaining to the great work of redemption ; all the things which were done for four thousand years before Christ came, to prepare the way for it ; and the incarnation, life, death, resurrection, and ascension, of Christ ; and the set- ting him at the head of the universe, as king of heaven and earth, angels and men ; and the setting up his church and kingdom in this world, and appointing him the judge of the world ; and all that Satan should do in the world in opposition to the kingdom of Christ: and the great trans- actions of the day of judgment, that men and devils shall be the subjects of, and angels concerned in ; they are all what God was ignorant of before the fall. And if so, the following Scriptures, and others like them, must be without any meaning, or contrary to truth. Eph. i. 4, " According as he hath chosen us in him before the foundation of the world." 1 Pet. i. 20, " Who verily was foreordained be- fore the foundation of the world." 2 Tim. i. 9, " Who hath saved us, and called us with an holy calling ; not ac- cording to our works, but according to his own purpose and grace, which was given us in Chrisl Jesus before the world began." So, Eph. hi. 11, (speaking of the wis- dom of God in the work of redemption), " According lo the eternal purpose which he purposed in Christ Jesus." Tit. i. 2, " In hope of eternal life, which God, that can- SECT. XI. THE VOLITIONS OF MORAL AGENTS. 165 not lie, promised before the world began." Rom. viii. 29, " Whom he did foreknow, them he also did predes- tinate," etc. 1 Pet. i. 2, Elect, according to the fore- knowledge of God the Father." If God did not foreknow the fall of man, nor the re- demption by Jesus Christ, nor the volitions of man since the fall ; then he did not foreknow the saints in any sense ; neither as particular persons, nor as societies or nations ; either by election, or mere foresight of their virtue or good works ; or any foresight of anything about them relating to their salvation ; or any benefit they have by Christ, or any manner of concern of theirs with a Redeemer. Arg. III. On the supposition of God's ignorance of the future volitions of free agents, it will follow, that God must in many cases truly repent what he has done, so as properly to wish he had done otherwise : by reason that the event of things, in those affairs which are most impor- tant, viz. the affairs of his moral kingdom, being uncertain and contingent, often happens quite otherwise than he was aware beforehand. And there would be reason to understand that in the most literal sense in Gen. vi. 6, " It repented the Lord that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart." And that 1 Sam. xv. 11, contrary to that, Num. xxiii. 19, " God is not the son of man, that he should repent." And 1 Sam. xv. 15, 29, " Also the strength of Israel will not lie, nor re- pent ; for he is not a man, that he should repent." Yea, from this notion it would follow, that God is liable to re- pent and be grieved at his heart, in a literal sense, contin- ually ; and is always exposed to an infinite number of real disappointments in his governing the world ; and to manifold, constant, great perplexity and vexation ; but 166 GOD CERTAINLY FOREKNOWS PART II. this is not very consistent with his title of God over all, blessed Jbrevermore ; which represents him as possessed of perfect, constant, and uninterrupted tranquillity and fe- licity, as God over the universe, and in his management of the affairs of the world as supreme and universal ruler. See Rom. i. 25. ix. 5. 2 Cor. xi. 34. 1 Tim. vi. 15. Arg. IV. It will also follow, from this notion, that as God is liable to be continually repenting what he has done, so he must be exposed to be constantly changing his mind and intentions as to his future conduct ; al- tering his measures, relinquishing his old designs, and forming new schemes and projections. For his purposes, even as to the main parts of his scheme, namely, such as belong to the state of his moral kingdom, must be always liable to be broken, through want of foresight ; and he must be continually putting his system to rights, as it gets out of order, through the contingence of the actions of moral agents : he must be a being, who, instead of being absolutely immutable, must necessarily be the subject of infinitely the most numerous acts of repentance and chan- ges of intention, of any being whatsoever ; for this plain reason, that his vastly extensive charge comprehends an infinitely greater number of those things which are to him contingent and uncertain. In such a situation, he must have little else to do but to mend broken links as well as he can, and be rectifying his disjointed frame and disor- dered movements in the best manner the case will allow. The supreme Lord of all things must needs be under great and miserable disadvantages, in governing the world which he has made and has the care of, through his be- ing utterly unable to find out things of chief importance which hereafter shall befall his system, which, if he did SECT. XI. THE VOLITIONS OF MORAL AGENTS. 167 but know, he might make seasonable provision for. In many cases, there may be very great necessity that he should make provision, in the manner of his ordering and disposing things, for some great events which are to hap- pen, of vast and extensive influence, and endless conse- quence to the universe, which he may see afterwards, when it is too late, and may wish in vain that he had known beforehand, that he might have ordered his affairs accordingly. And it is in the power of man, on these principles, by his devices, purposes, and actions, thus to disappoint God, break his measures, make him continual- ly to change his mind, subject him to vexation, and bring him into confusion. But how do these things consist with reason, or with the word of God ? which represents that all God's works, all that he has ever to do, the whole scheme and series of his operations, are from the beginning perfectly in his view ; and declares that, whatever devices and designs are in the hearts of men, " the counsel of the Lord is that which shall stand, and the thoughts of his heart to all gen- erations," Prov. xix. 21. Psal. xxxiii. 10,11. "And that which the Lord of Hosts hath purposed none shall disannul," Isai. xiv. 27. And that he cannot be frustra- te- m one design or thought, Job xlii. 2. And "that which God doth, it shall be for ever, that nothing can be put to it or taken from it," Eccl. iii. 14. The stabil- ity and perpetuity of God's counsels are expressly spoken of as connected with the foreknowledge of God, Isaiah xlvi. 10, " Declaring the end from the beginning, and from ancient times the things that are not yet done ; say- ing, My counsel shall stand, and 1 will do all my pleas- ure." And how are these things consistent with what 168 GOD CERTAINLY FOREKNOWS PART II. the Scripture says of God's immutability, which repre- sents him as without variableness or shadow of turning ; and speaks of him most particularly as unchangeable with regard to his purposes, Mai. iii. 6, " I am the Lord ; I change not ; therefore ye sons of Jacob are not consumed." Exod. iii. 14, " 1 am that I am." Job xxiii. 13, 14, " He is in one mind; and who can turn him? And what his soul desireth,even that he doth : for he perform- ed the thing that is appointed for me." Arc. V. If this notion of God's ignorance of future vo- litions of moral agents be thoroughly considered in its consequences, it will appear to follow from it, that God, after he had made the world, was liable to be wholly frustrated of his end in the creation of it ; and so has been, in like manner, liable to be frustrated of his end in all the r>reat works he hath wrought. It is manifest, the moral world is the end of the natural : the rest of the creation is but an house which God hath built, with fur- niture, for moral agents : and the good or bad state of the moral world depends on the improvement they make of their natural agency, and so depends on their volitions. And therefore, if these cannot be foreseen by God, be- cause they are contingent, and subject to no kind of ne- cessity, then the affairs of the moral world are liable to go wrong, to any assignable degree ; yea, liable to be utterly ruined. As, on this scheme, it may well be supposed to be literally said, when mankind, by the abuse of their moral agency, became very corrupt before the flood, that the Lord repented that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart ; so, when he made the universe, he did not know but that he might be so disap- pointed in it, that it might grieve him at his heart that hfr SECT. XI. THE VOLITIONS OF MORAL AGENTS. 169 had made it. It actually proved, that all mankind be- came sinful, and a very great part of the angels aposta- tised : and how could God know beforehand that all of them would not? And how could God know but that all mankind, notwithstanding means used to reclaim them, bein" still left to the freedom of their own will, would continue in their apostasy, and grow worse and worse, as they of the old world before the flood did? According to the scheme I am endeavoring to confute, neither the fall of men nor angels could be foreseen, and God must be greatly disappointed in these events; and so the grand scheme and contrivance for our redemption, and destroying the works of the devil, by the Messiah. and all the great things God has done in the prosecution of these designs, must be only the fruits of his own dis- appointment, and contrivances of his to mend and patch up, as well as he could, his system, which originally was all very good, and perfectly beautiful, but was marred, broken, and confounded, by the free will of angels and men. And still he must be liable to be totally disappoint- ed a second time. He could not know that he should have his desired success, in the incarnation, life, death, resurrection, and exaltation, of his only-begotten Son, and other great works accomplished to restore the state of things : he could not know, after all, whether there would actually be any tolerable measure of restoration ; for this depended on the free will of man. There has been a general great apostasy of almost all the Christian world, to that which was worse than heathenism, which contin- ued for many ages. And how could God, without fore- seeing men's volitions, know whether ever Christendom would return from this apostasy ? And which way could 15 170 CERTAIN FOREKNOWLEDGE PART II. he tell beforehand how soon it would begin ? The apos- tle says it began to work in his time ; and how could it be known how far it would proceed in that age? Yea, how could it be known, that the Gospel, which was not effectual for the reformation of the Jews, would ever be effectual for the turning of the heathen nations from their heathen apostasy, which they had been confirmed in for so many ages ? It is represented often in Scripture, that God, who made the world for himself, and created it for his pleas- ure, would infallibly obtain his end in the creation, and in all his works; that as all things are o/him, so they would all be to him ; and that in the final issue of tilings, it would appear that he is the first and the last. Rev. xxi. 6, " And he said unto me, It is clone. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last." But these things are not consistent with God's being so liable to be disappointed in all his works, nor in- deed with his failing of his end in anything that he has undertaken or done. SECTION XII. god's certain foreknowledge of the future volitions OF moral agents, inconsistent with such a contin- GENCE OF THOSE VOLITIONS AS IS WITHOUT ALL NECESSITY. Having proved that God has a certain and infallible prescience of the act of the will of moral agents, I come now, in the second place, to show the consequence ; to show how it follows from hence, that these events are necessary, with a necessity of connection or consequence. The chief Arminian divines, so far as I have had op- SECT. XII. INFERS SOME NECESSITY. 171 portunity to observe, deny this consequence ; and affirm, that if such foreknowledge be allowed, it is no evidence of any necessity of the event foreknown. Now I desire, that this matter may be particularly and thoroughly in- quired into. I cannot but think that, on particular and full consideration, it may be perfectly determined, wheth- er it be indeed so or not. In order to a proper consideration of this matter, 1 would observe the following things. I. It is very evident, with regard to a thing whose ex- istence is infallibly and indissolubly connected with some- thing which already hath or has had existence, the exis- tence of that thing is necessary. Here may be noted : 1. I observed before, in explaining the nature of ne- cessity, that in things which are past, their past existence is now necessary : having already made sure of existence, it is too late for any possibility of alteration in that res- pect : it is now impossible that it should be otherwise than true, that that thing has existed. 2. If there be any such thing as a divine foreknow- ledge of the volitions of free agents, that foreknowledge, by the supposition, is a thing which already has, and long ago had, existence ; and so, now its existence is neces- sary ; it is now utterly impossible to be otherwise than that this foreknowledge should be, or should have been. 3. It is also v^ry manifest, that those things which are indissolubly connected with other things that are neces- sary, are themselves necessary. As that proposition whose truth is necessarily connected with another propo- sition, which is necessarily true, is itself necessarily true. To say otherwise, would be a contradiction : it would be in effect to say, that the connection was indissoluble, and 172 CERTAIN FOREKNOWLEDGE PART II. yet was not so, but might be broken. If that, whose existence is indissolubly connected with something whose existence is now necessary, is itself not necessary, then it may possibly not exist, notwithstanding that indissoluble connection of its existence. — Whether the absurdity be not glaring, let the reader judge. 4. It is no less evident, that if there be a full, certain, and infallible foreknowledge of the future existence of the volitions of moral agents, then there is a certain infallible and indissoluble connection between those events and that foreknowledge ; and that therefore, by the preceding observations, those events are necessary events ; being infallibly and indissolubly connected with that, whose ex- istence already is, and so is now necessary, and cannot but have been. To say the foreknowledge is certain and infallible, and yet the connection of the event with that foreknowledge is not indissoluble, but dissoluble and fallible, is very ab- surd. To affirm it, would be the same thing as to affirm that there is no necessary connection between a proposi- tion's being infallibly known to be true, and its being true indeed. So that it is perfectly demonstrable, that if there be any infallible knowledge of future volitions, the event is necessary ; or, in other words, that it is impossible but the event should come to pass. For if it be not impossi- ble but that it may be otherwise, then it is not impossible but that the proposition which affirms its future coming to pass, may not now be true. But how absurd is that, on the supposition that there is now an infallible know- ledge (i. e. knowledge which it is impossible should fail) that it is true. There is this absurdity in it, that it is not SECT. XII. INFERS SOME NECESSITY. 173 impossible but that there now should be no truth in that proposition which is now infallibly known to be true. II. That no future event can be certainly foreknown, whose existence is contingent, and without all necessity, may be proved thus ; it is impossible for a thing to be certainly known to any intellect without evidence. To suppose otherwise, implies a contradiction : because, for a thing to be certainly known to any understanding, is for it to be evident to that understanding : and for a thing to be evident to any understanding, is the same thing as for that understanding to see evidence of it : but no under- standing, created or increated, can see evidence where there is none : for that is the same thing as to see that to be which is not. And therefore, if there be any truth which is absolutely without evidence, that truth is abso- lutely unknowable, insomuch that it implies a contradic- tion to suppose that it is known. But if there be any future event, whose existence is contingent, without all necessity, the future existence of the event is absolutely without evidence. If there be any evidence of it, it must be one of these two sorts, either self-evidence or proof; for there can be no other sort of evidence hut one of these two : an evident thing must be either evident in itself or evident in something else ; that is, evident by connection with something else. But a future thing, whose existence is without all neces- sity, can have neither of these sorts of evidence. It can- not be self-evident ; for if it be, it may be now known, by what is now to be seen in the thing itself; either its present existence, or the necessity of its nature : hut both these are contrary to the supposition. It is supposed, 15* 174 CERTAIN FOREKNOWLEDGE PART II. both that the thing has no present existence to be seen, and also that it is not of such a nature as to be necessarily existent for the future : so that its future existence is not self-evident. And, secondly, neither is there any proof, or evidence in anything else, or evidence of connection with something else that is evident : for this is also con- trary to the supposition. It is supposed, that there is now nothing existent, with which the future existence of the contingent event is connected. For such a connection destroys its contingence, and supposes necessity. Thus it is demonstrated, that there is in the nature of things ab- solutely no evidence at all of the future existence of that event, which is contingent, without all necessity (if any such event there be), neither self-evidence nor proof. And therefore the thing in reality is not evident ; and so cannot be seen to be evident, or, which is the same thing, cannot be known. Let us consider this in an example. Suppose that five thousand seven hundred and sixty years ago there was no other being but the Divine Being ; and then this world, or some particular body or spirit, all at once starts out of nothing into being, and takes on itself a particular nature and form ; all in absolute contingence, without any con- cern of God, or any other cause, in the matter; without any manner of ground or reason of its existence ; or any dependence upon, or connection at all with, anything foregoing : I say, that if this be supposed, there was no evidence of that event beforehand. There was no evi- dence of it to be seen in the thing itself; for the thing itself as yet was not. And there was no evidence of it to be seen in anything else; for evidence in something else, is connection with something else : but such connec- SECT. XII. INFERS SOME NECESSITY. 175 tion is contrary to the supposition. There was no evi- dence before, that this thing would happen ; for, by the supposition, there was no reason why it should happen, rather than something else, or rather than nothing. And if so, then all things before were exactly equal, and the same with respect to that and other possible things ; there was no preponderation, no superior weight or value ; and therefore nothing that could be of any weight or value to determine any understanding. The thing was absolutely without evidence, and absolutely unknowable. An in- crease of understanding, or of the capacity of discerning, has no tendency, and makes no advance, to a discerning any signs or evidences of it, let it be increased never so much ; yea, if it be increased infinitely. The increase of the strength of sight may have a tendency to enable to discern the evidence which is far off, and very much hid, and deeply involved in clouds and darkness ; but it has no tendency to enable to discern evidence where there is none. If the sight be infinitely strong, and the capacity of discerning infinitely great, it will enable to see all that there is, and to see it perfectly, and with ease : yet it has no tendency at all to enable a being to discern that evi- dence which is not ; but, on the contrary, it has a tendency to enable to discern with great certainty that there is none. III. To suppose 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 176 CERTAIN FOREKNOWLEDGE PART II. 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 that he knows, is utterly inconsistent with another thins: that he knows. It is the same thins as to say, he now knows a proposition to be of certain infalli- ble truth, which he knows to be of contingent uncertain truth. If a future volition is so without all necessity, that there is nothing hinders but that it may not be, then the proposition which asserts its future existence, is so un- certain, that there is nothing hinders but that the truth of it may entirely fail. And if God knows all things, he knows this proposition to be thus uncertain. And that is inconsistent with his knowing that it is infallibly true, and so inconsistent with his infallibly knowing that it is true. If the thing be indeed contingent, God views it so, and judges it to be contingent, if he views things as they are. If the event be not necessary, then it is possible it may never be : and if it be possible it may never be, God knows it may possibly never be ; and that is to know that the proposition which affirms its existence, may possibly not be true ; and that is to know that the truth of it is uncertain ; which surely is inconsistent with his know- ing it as a certain truth. If volitions are in themselves contingent events, without all necessity, then it is no ar- gument of perfection of knowledge in any being to de- termine peremptorily that they will be ; but, on the con- trary, an argument of ignorance and mistake, because it would argue, that he supposes that proposition to be cer- tain, which in its own nature, and all things considered, is uncertain and contingent. To say, in such a case, that God may have ways of knowing contingent events which SECT. XII. INFERS SOME NECESSITY. 17? we cannot conceive of, is ridiculous ; as much so, as to say that God may know contradictions to be true, for ought we know, or that he may know a thing to be certain, and at the same time know it not to be certain, though we cannot conceive how ; because he has ways of knowing, which we cannot comprehend. Corol. 1. From what has been observed, it is evident that the absolute 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 connection between the event and certain foreknowledge, is as infallible and indissoluble as between the event and an absolute decree. That is, it is no more impossible, that the event and de- cree should not agree together, than that the event and absolute knowledge should disagree. The connection be- tween the event and foreknowledge is absolutely perfect, by the supposition ; because it is supposed, that the cer- tainty and infallibility of the knowledge is absolutely per- fect. And it being so, the certainty cannot be increased ; and therefore the connection between the knowledge and the thing known, cannot be increased ; so that if a decree be added to the foreknowledge, it does not at all increase the connection, or make it more infallible and indissoluble. If it were not so, the certainty of knowledge might be in- creased by the addition of a decree ; which is contrary to the supposition, which is, that the knowledge is abso- lutely perfect, or perfect to the highest possible degree. There is as much of an impossibility but that the things which are infallibly foreknown, should be or (which is the same thing) as great a necessity of their future existence, as if the event were already written down 3 and was knowq 178 FOREKNOWLEDGE INFERS NECESSITY, PART II. and read by all mankind, through all preceding ages, and there was the most indissoluble and perfect connection possible between the writing and the thing written. In such a case, it would be as impossible the event should fail of existence, as if it had existed already ; and a decree cannot make an event surer or more necessary than this. And therefore, if there be any such foreknowledge, as it has been proved there is, then necessity of connection and consequence is not at all inconsistent with any liberty which man or any other creature enjoys. And from hence it may be inferred, that absolute decrees of God, which do not at all increase the necessity, are not at all inconsistent with the liberty which man enjoys, on any such account, as that they make the event decreed ne- cessary and render it utterly impossible but' that it should come to pass. Therefore, if absolute decrees are incon- sistent with man's liberty as a moral agent, or his liberty in a state of probation, or any liberty whatsoever that he enjoys, it is not on account of any necessity which abso- lute^ decrees infer. Dr. Whitby supposes there is a great difference be- tween God's foreknowledge, and his decrees, with regard to necessity of future events. In his " Discourse on the Five Points," p. 474, etc. he says, " God's prescience has no influence at all on our actions. — Should God, (says he,) by immediate revelation, give me the knowledge of the event of any man's state or actions, would my know- ledge of them have any influence upon his actions ? Surely none at all — our knowledge doth not affect the things we know, to make them more certain, or more future, than they would be without it. Now, foreknowledge in God is knowledge. As therefore knowledge has no influence on SECT. XII. AS MUCH AS A DECREE. 179 things that are, so neither has foreknowledge on things that shall be. And, consequently, the foreknowledge of any ac- tion that would be otherwise free, cannot alter or diminish that freedom. Whereas God's decree of election is power- ful and active, and comprehends the preparation and exhi- bition of such means as shall unfrustrably produce the end. Hence God's prescience renders no actions neccessary." And to this purpose, p. 473, he cites Origen, where he says, " God's prescience is not the cause of things future, but their being future is the cause of God's prescience that they will be :" and Le Blanc, where he says, " This is the truest resolution of this difficulty, that prescience is not the cause that things are future ; but their being future is the cause they are foreseen." In like manner, Dr. Clarke, in his " Demonstration of the Being and Attributes of God," pp. 95 — 99. And the author of the " Freedom of Will in God and the Creature," speaking to the like purpose with Dr. Whitby, represents " Foreknowledge as having no more influence on things known, to make them necessary, than after-knowledge," or to that pur- pose. To all which I would say, that what is said about knowledge, its not having influence on the thing known to make it necessary, is nothing to the purpose, nor does it in the least affect the foregoing reasoning. Whether prescience be the thing that makes the event necessary or no, it alters not the case. Infallible foreknowledge may prove the necessity of the event foreknown, and yet not be the thing which causes the necessity. If the fore- knowledge be absolute, this proves the event known to be necessary, or proves that it is impossible but that the event should be, by some means or other, either by a de- 180 FOREKNOWLEDGE INFERS NECESSITY, PART II. cree, or some other way, if there be any other way ; be- cause, as was said before, it is absurd to say, that a pro- position is known to be certainly and infallibly true, which yet may possibly prove not true. The whole of the seeming force of this evasion lies in this ; that, inasmuch as certain foreknowledge does not cause an event to be necessary, as a decree does ; there- fore it does not prove it to be necessary, as a decree does. But there is no force in this arguing : for it is built wholly on this supposition, that nothing can prove, or be an evidence of a thing's being necessary, but that which has a causal influence to make it so. But this can never be maintain- ed. If certain foreknowledge of the future existing of an event, be not the thing which first makes it impossible that it should fail of existence ; yet it may, and certainly does, demonstrate that it is impossible it should fail of it, however that impossibility comes. If foreknowledge be not the cause, but the effect, of this impossibility, it may prove that there is such an impossibility, as much as if it were the cause. It is as strong arguing from the effect to the cause, as from the cause to the effect. It is enough, that an existence, which is infallibly foreknown, cannot fail, whether that impossibility arises from the foreknow- ledge, or is prior to it. It is as evident, as it is possible anything should be, that it is impossible a thing which is infallibly known to be true, should prove not to be true : therefore there is a necessity that it should be otherwise ; whether the knowledge be the cause of this necessity, or the necessity the cause of the knowledge. All certain knowledge, whether it be foreknowledge or after-knowledge, or concomitant knowledge, proves the thing known now to be necessary, by some means or other; or proves that it is impossible it should now be SECT. XII. AS MUCH AS A DECREE. 181 otherwise than true. 1 freely allow, that foreknowledge does not prove a thing to be necessary, any more than after-knowledge ; but then after-knowledge, which is certain and infallible, proves that it is now become impos- sible but that the proposition known should be true. Cer- tain after-knowledge proves that it is now, in the time of the knowledge, by some means or other, become impos- sible but that the proposition which predicates past exis- tence on the event, should be true. And so does certain foreknowledge prove, that now, in the time of the know- ledge, it is, by some means or other, become impossible but that the proposition which predicates future existence on the event, should be true. The necessity of the truth of the propositions, consisting in the present impossibility of the non-existence of the event affirmed, in both cases is the immediate ground of the certainty of the knowledge; there can be no certainty of knowledge without it. There must be a certainty in things themselves, before they are certainly known, or (which is the same thing) known to be certain. For certainty of knowledge is nothing else but knowing or discerning the certainty there is in the things themselves, which are known. Therefore there must be a certainty in things to be a ground of cer- tainty of knowledge, and to render things capabie of be- ing known to be certain. And this is nothing but the necessity of the truth known, or its being impossible but that it should be true ; or, in other words, the firm and infallible connection between the subject and predicate of the proposition that contains that truth. All certainty of knowledge consists in the view of the firmness of that connection. So God's certain foreknowledge of the future existence of any event, is his view of the firm and indis- 16 182 FOREKNOWLEDGE INFERS NECESSITY", PART II. soluble connection of the subject and predicate of the proposition that affirms its future existence. The subject is that possible event ; the predicate is its future existing : but if fulule existence be firmly and indissolubly connected with that event, then the future existence of that event is necessary. If God certainly knows the future existence of an event which is wholly contingent, and may possibly never be, then he sees a firm connection between a sub- ject and predicate that are not firmly connected ; which is a contradiction. I allow what Dr. Whitby says to be true, " That mere knowledge does not affect the thing known, to make it more certain or more future." But yet, I say, it supposes and proves the thing to be already both future and certain ; i. e. necessarily future. Knowledge of futurity, suppo- ses futurity ; and a certain knowledge of futurity, suppo- ses certain futurity, antecedent to that certain knowledge. But there is no other certain futurity of a thing, antece- dent to certainty of knowledge, than a prior impossibility but that the thing should prove true ; or (which is the same thing) the necessity of the event. I would observe one thing further concerning this mat- ter ; it is this : that if it be as those forementioned writers suppose, that God's foreknowledge is not the cause, but the effect, of the existence of the event foreknown ; this is so far from showing that this foreknowledge doth not infer the necessity of the existence of that event, that it rather shows the contrary the more plainly. Because it shows the existence of the event to be so settled *id firm, that it is as if it had already been ; inasmuch as in effect it actually exists already ; its future existence has already had actual influence and efficiency, and has pro- SECT. XII. AS MUCH AS A DECREE. 183 duced an effect, viz. prescience : the effect exists already ; and as the effect supposes, the cause is connected with the cause, and depends entirely upon it, therefore it is as if the future event which is the cause, had existed al- ready. The effect is firm as possible, it having already the possession of existence, and has made sure of it. But the effect cannot be more firm and stable than its cause, ground, and reason. The building cannot be firmer than the foundation. To illustrate this matter, let us suppose the appear- ances and images of things in a glass ; for instance, a re- flecting telescope, to be the real effects of heavenly bodies (at a distance, and out of sight) which they resemble : if it be so, then, as these images in the telescope have had a past actual existence, and it is become utterly impossi- ble now that it should be otherwise than that they have existed ; so they, being the true effects of the heavenly bodies they resemble, this proves the existing of those heavenly bodies to be as real, infallible, firm, and neces- sary, as the existing of these effects ; the one being con- nected with, and wholly depending on, the other. — Now let us suppose future existences some way or other to have influence back, to produce effects beforehand, and cause exact and perfect images of themselves in a glass, a thousand years before they exist, yea, in all preceding ages ; but yet that these images are real effects of these future existences, perfectly dependent on, and connected with, their cause ; these effects and images having already had actual existence, rendering that matter of their exist- ing perfectly firm and stable, and utterly impossible to be otherwise : this proves in like manner, as in the other in- stance, that the existence of the things, which are their 184 CERTAIN FOREKNOWLEDGE PART II. causes, is also equally sure, firm, and necessary ; and that it is alike impossible but that they should be, as if they had been already, as their effects have. And if, instead of images in a glass, we suppose the antecedent effects to be perfect ideas of them in the Divine Mind, which have existed there from all eternity, which are as properly ef- fects, as .truly and properly connected with their cause, the case is not altered. Another thing which has been said by some Arminians, to take off the force of what is urged from God's pre- science, against the contingence of the volitions of moral agents, is to this purpose : — " That when we talk of fore- knowledge in God, there is no strict propriety in our so speaking ; and that although tf be true, that there is in God the most perfect knowledge of all events, from eter- nity to eternity, yet there is no such thing as before and af- ter in God, but he sees all things by one perfect, unchange- able view, without any succession." To this I answer: 1. It has been already shown, that all certain know- ledge proves the necessity of the truth known ; whether it be before, after, or at the same time. Though it be true, that there is no succession in God's knowledge, and the manner of his knowledge is to us inconceivable, yet thus much we know concerning it, that there is no event, past, present, or to come, that God is ever uncertain of; he never is, never was, and never will be, without infalli- ble knowledge of it ; he always sees the existence of it to be certain and infallible, And as he always sees things just as they are in truth, hence there never is in reality anything contingent in such a sense, as that possibly it may happen never to exist. If, strictly speaking, there is no foreknowledge in God, it is because those things SECT. XII. INFERS SOME NECESSITY. 185 which are future to us, are as present to God as if they already had existence ; and that is as much as to say, that future events are always in God's view as evident, clear, sure, and necessary, as if they already were. U there never is a time wherein the existence of the event is not present with God, then there never is a time wherein it is not as much impossible for it to fail of existence, as if its existence were present, and were already come to pass. God's viewing things so perfectly and unchangeably as that there is no succession in his ideas or judgment, does not hinder but that there is properly now, in the mind of God, a certain and perfect knowledge of moral actions of men, which to us are an hundred years hence : yea, the objection supposes this ; and therefore it certainly does not hinder but that, by the foregoing arguments, it is now im- possible these moral actions should not come to pass. We know that God knows the future voluntary actions of men in such a sense beforehand, as that he is able par- ticularly to declare, and foretell them, and write them, or cause them to be written down in a book, as he often has done ; and that therefore the necessary connection which there is between God's knowledge and the event known, does as much prove the event to be necessary beforehand, as if the Divine knowledge were in the same sense before the event, as the prediction or writing is. If the know- ledge be infallible, then the expression of it in the written prediction is infallible ; that is, there is an infallible con- nection between that written prediction and the event. And if so, then it is impossible it should ever be other- wise, than that that prediction and the event should agree; and this is the same thing as to say, it is impossible but 16* 186 CERTAIN FOREKNOWLEDGE PART II. that the event should come to pass ; and this is the same as to say, that its coming to pass is necessary. So that it is manifest, that there being no proper succession in God's mind, makes no alteration as to the necessity of the exist- ence of the events which God knows. Yea, 2. This is so far from weakening the proof which has been given of the impossibility of the not coming to pass of future events known, as that it establishes that where- in the strength of the foregoing arguments consists, and shows the clearness of the evidence. For, (1.) The very reason why God's knowledge is without succession, is, because it is absolutely perfect, to the high- est possible degree of clearness and certainty : all things, whether past, present, or to^ come, being viewed with equal evidence and fulness; future things being seen with as much clearness as if they were present; the view is always in absolute perfection ; and absolute constant per- fection admits of no alteration, and so no succession; the actual existence of the tiling known, does not at all in- crease or add to the clearness or certainty of the thing known : God calls the things that are not as though they were ; they are all one to him as if they had already ex- isted. But herein consists the strength of the demon- stration before given, of the impossibility of the not exist- ing of those things, whose existence God knows ; that it is as impossible they should fail of existence, as if -they existed already. This objection, instead of weakening this argument, sets it in the clearest and strongest light; for it supposes it to be so indeed, that the existence of fu- ture events is in God's view so much as if it already had been, that when they come actually to exist, it makes not the least alteration or variation in his view or knowledge of them. SECT. XII. INFERS SOME NECESSITY. 187 (2.) The objection is founded on the immutability of God's knowledge : for it is the immutability of knowledge that makes his knowledge to be without succession. But this most directly and plainly demonstrates the thing I in- sist on, viz. that it is utterly impossible the known events should fail of existence. For if that were possible, then it would be possible for there to be a change in God's knowledge and view of things. For if the known event should fail of existence, and not come into being, as God expected, then God would see it, and so would change his mind, and see his former mistake ; and thus there would be change and succession in his knowledge. But as God is immutable, and so it is utterly infinite- ly impossible that his view should be changed ; so it is, for the same reason, just so impossible that the foreknown event should not exist : and that is to be impossible in the highest degree : and therefore the contrary is neces- sary. Nothing is more impossible than that the immuta- ble God should be changed by the succession of time ; who comprehends all things, from eternity to eternity, in one most perfect and unalterable view ; so that his whole eternal duration is vita interminabilis, tota, simul, ct per- fecta possessio. On the whole I need not fear to say, that there is no geometrical theorem or proposition whatsoever more ca- pable of strict demonstration, than that God's certain pre- science of the volitions of moral agents is inconsistent with such a contingence of these events, as is without all ne- cessity ; and so is inconsistent with the Arminian notion of liberty. Corol. 2. Hence the doctrine of the Calvinists, con- cerning the absolute decrees of God, does not at all infer 188 CERTAIN FOREKNOWLEDGE, ETC. PART II. any more fatality in things, than will demonstrably fol- low from the doctrine of most Arminian divines, who ac- knowledge God's omniscience and universal prescience. Therefore all objections they make against the doctrine of the Calvinists, as implying Hobbs's doctrine of neces- sity, or the stoical doctrine of fate, lie no more against the doctrine of Calvinists than their own doctrine : and therefore it doth not become those divines to raise such an outcry against the Calvinists on this account. Corol. 3. Hence all arguing, from necessity, against the doctrine of the inability of unregenerate men to perform the conditions of salvation, and the commands of God re- quiring spiritual duties, and against the Calvinistic doctrine of efficacious grace ; I say, all arguings of Arminians (such of them as own God's omniscience) against these things, on this ground, that these doctrines, though they do not suppose men to be under any constraint or coaction, yet suppose them under necessity with respect to their moral actions, and those things which are required of them in order to their acceptance with God ; and their arguing against the necessity of men's volitions, taken from the reasonableness of God's commands, promises, and threat- enings, and the sincerity of his counsels and invitations; and all objections against any doctrines of the Calvinists, as being inconsistent with human liberty, because they in- fer necessity ; I say, all these arguments and objections must fall to the ground, and be justly esteemed vain and frivolous, as coming from them ; being maintained in an inconsistence with themselves, and in like manner levelled against their own doctrine, as against the doctrine of the Calvinists. SECT. XIII. ARMINIAN LIBERTY INCONSISTENT. 189 SECTION XIII. WHETHER WE SUPPOSE THE VOLITIONS OF MORAL AGENTS TO BE CONNECTED WITH ANYTHING ANTECEDENT, OR NOT, YET THEY MUST BE NECESSARY IN SUCH A SENSE AS TO OVERTHROW ARMINIAN LIBERTY. Every act of the will has a cause, or it has not. If it has a cause, then, according to what has already been de- monstrated, it is not contingent, but necessary; the effect being necessarily dependent and consequent on its cause ; and that, let the cause be what it will. If the cause is the will itself, by antecedent acts choosing and determining, still the determined and caused act must be a necessary effect. The act, that is the determined effect of the fore- going act which is its cause, cannot prevent the efficiency of its cause, but must be wholly subject to its determina- tion and command, as much as the motions of the hands and feet. The consequent commanded acts of the will are as passive and as necessary, with respect to the ante- cedent determining acts, as the parts of the body are to the volitions which determine and command them. And therefore, if all the free acts of the will are thus, if they are all determined effects, determined by the will itself, that is, determined by antecedent choice, then they are all necessary ; they are all subject to, and decisively fixed by the foregoing act, which is their cause : yea, even the de- termining act itself; for that must be determined and fixed by another act, preceding that, if it be a free and volun- tary act ; and so must be necessary. So that by this all the free acts of the will are necessary, and cannot be free unless they are necessary : because they cannot be free, 190 BOTH NECESSITY AND CONTINGENCE PART II. according to the Arminian notion of freedom, unless they are determined by the will, which is to be determined by antecedent choice ; which being their cause, proves them necessary. And yet they say, necessity is utterly incon- sistent with liberty. So that, by their scheme, the acts of the will cannot be (ree f unless they are necessary, and yet cannot be free if they be not necessary ! But if the other part of the dilemma be taken, and it be affirmed that the free acts of the will have no cause and are connected with nothing whatsoever that goes be- fore them and determines them, in order to maintain their proper and absolute contingence, and this should be allow- ed to be possible; still it will not serve their turn. For if the volition come to pass by perfect contingence, and with- out any cause at all, then it is certain, no act of the will, no prior act of the soul, was the cause; no determination or choice of the soul had any hand in it. The will, or the soul, was indeed the subject of what happened to it accidentally, but was not the cause. The will is not ae* tive in causing or determining, but purely the passive sub- ject ; at least, according to their notion of action and pas- sion. In this case, contingence does as much prevent the determination of the will, as a proper cause ; and as to the will, it was necessary, and could be no otherwise. For to suppose that it could have been otherwise, if the will or soul had pleased, is to suppose that the act is depen- dent on some prior act of choice or pleasure ; contrary to what now is supposed: it is to suppose that it might have been otherwise, if its cause had made it or ordered it otherwise. But this does not agree to its having no cause or orderer at all. That must be necessary as to the soul, which is dependent on no free act of the soul: but that SECT. XIII. INCONSISTENT WITH ARMlN. LIBERTY. 191 which is without a cause, is dependent on no free act of the soul ; because, by the supposition, it is dependent on nothing, and is connected with nothing. In such a case, the soul is necessarily subjected to what accident brings to pass, from time to time, as much as the earth, that is in- active, is necessarily subjected to what falls upon it. But this does not consist with the Arminian notion of liberty, which is the will's power of determining itself in its own acts, and being wholly active in it, without passiveness, and without being subject to necessity. Thus, contingence belongs to the Arminian notion of liberty, and yet is in- consistent with it. I would here observe, that the author of the " Essay on the Freedom of Will in God and the Creature, " pages 76, 77, says as follows : " The word chance always means something done without design. Chance and design stand in direct opposition to each other ; and chance can never be properly applied to acts of the will, which is the spring of all design, and which designs to choose whatsoever it doth choose, whether there be any superior fitness in the thing which it chooses, or no ; and it designs to determine itself to one thing, where two things, perfectly equal, are proposed, merely because it will." But herein appears a very great inadvertence in this author. For if the will be the spring of all design, as he says, then certainly it is not always the effect of design ; and the acts of the will themselves must sometimes come to pass, when they do not spring from design ; and consequently come to pass by chance, according to his own definition of chance. And if the will designs to choose v hatsoever it does choose, and designs to determine itself as he says, then it designs to determine all its designs : w hicii carries us 192 BOTH NECESSITY AND CONTlNGENCE TART it. back from one design to a foregoing design determining that, and to another determining that ; and so on in in- finitum. The very first design must be the effect of fore- going design, or else it must be by chance, in his notion of it. Here another alternative may be proposed, relating to the connection of the acts of the will with something fore- going, that is their cause, not much unlike to the other ; which is this : either human liberty is such, that it may well stand with volitions being necessarily connected with the views of the understanding, and so is consistent with necessity ; or it is consistent with, and contrary to, such a connection and necessity. The former is directly sub- versive of the Arminian notion of liberty, consisting in freedom from all necessity. And if the latter be chosen and it be said that liberty is inconsistent with any such ne- cessary connection of volition with foregoing views of the understanding, it consisting in freedom from any such ne- cessity of the will as that would imply ; then the liberty of the soul consists (in part at least) in the freedom from restraint, limitation, and government, in its actings by the understanding, and in liberty and liableness to act contrary to the understanding's views and dictates ; and consequently, the more the soul has of this disengagedness in its acting, the more liberty. Now let it be considered what this brings the noble principle of human liberty to, particularly when it is possessed and enjoyed in its perfec- tion, viz. a full and perfect freedom and liableness to act altogether at random, without the least connection with, or restraint or government by, any dictate of reason, or anything whatsoever apprehended, considered, or viewed by the understanding; as being inconsistent with the full SECT. XIII. INCONSISTENT WITH ARMIN. LIBERTY. 193 and perfect sovereignty of the will over its own determi- nations. The notion mankind have conceived of liberty, is some dignity or privilege, something worth claiming. But what dignity or privilege is there, in being given up to such a wild contingence as this, to be perfectly and constantly liable to act unintelligently and unreasonably, and as much without the guidance of understanding, as if we had none, or were as destitute of perception as the smoke that is driven by the wind ! 17 PART III. WHEREIN IS INQUIRED, WHETHER ANY SUCH LIBERTY OF WILL AS ARMINIANS HOLD, BE NECESSARY TO MORAL AGENCY, VIRTUE AND VICE, PRAISE AND DISPRAISE, ETC. SECTION I. GOD'e MORAL EXCELLENCY NECESSARY, YET VIRTUOUS AND PRAISEWORTHY. Having considered the first thing that was proposed to be inquired into, relating to that freedom of will which Arminians maintain ; namely whether any such thing does, ever did, or ever can exist, or be conceived of; I come now to the second thing proposed to be the subject of inquiry, viz: Whether any such kind of liberty be re- quisite to moral agency, virtue and vice, praise and blame, reward and punishment, etc. I shall begin with some consideration of the virtue and agency of the supreme moral Agent, and Fountain of all agency and virtue. Dr. Whitby, in his discourse on. the " Five Points," p. 14, says, " If all human actions are necessary, virtue and vice must be empty names ; we being capable of nothing that is blame-worthy, or deserveth praise ; for who can blame a person for doing only what he could not help, or judge that he deserveth praise only for what he could not avoid ?" To the like purpose he speaks in places in- numerable ; especially in his discourse on the " Freedom of the Will ;" constantly maintaining, that a freedom not only from coaction, but necessity, is absolutely requi- SECT. I. GOD'S MORAL EXCELLENCY NECESSARY. 195 site, in order to actions being either worthy of blame, or deserving of praise. And to this agrees, as is well known, the current doctrine of Arminian writers, who, in general hold, that there is no virtue or vice, reward or punish- ment, nothing to be commended or blamed, without this freedom. And yet Dr. Whitby, p. 300, allows, that God is without this freedom ; and Arminians, so far as 1 have had opportunity to observe, generally acknowledge that God is necessarily holy, and his will necessarily deter- mined to that which is good. So that, putting these things together, the infinitely holy God, who always used to be esteemed by God's people not only virtuous, but a Being in whom is all possible virtue, and every virtue in the most absolute purity and perfection, and in infinitely greater brightness and amia- bleness than in any creature ; the most perfect pattern of virtue, and the fountain from whom all others' virtue is but as beams from the sun ; and who has been supposed to be, on the account of his virtue and holiness, infinitely more worthy to be esteemed, loved, honored, admired, commended," extolled, and praised, than any creature : and he who is thus everywhere represented in Scripture;! say, this Being, according to this notion of Dr. Whitby, and other Arminians, has no virtue at all : virtue, when ascribed to him, is but an empty name ; and he is deserv- ing of no commendation or praise ; because he is under necessity, he cannot avoid being holy and good as he is ; therefore no thanks to him for it. It seems, the holiness, justice, faithfulness, etc. of the Most High, must not be accounted to be of the nature of that which is virtuous and praiseworthy. They will not deny, that these things in God are good ; but then we must understand them, 196 god's moral excellency NECESSARY, PART III. that they are no more virtuous, or of the nature of any thing commendable, than the good that is in any other being that is not a moral agent ; as the brightness of the sun, and the fertility of the earth, are good, but not vir- tuous, because these properties are necessary to these bodies, and not the fruit of self-determining power. There needs no other confutation of this notion of God's not being virtuous or praise-worthy, to Christians acquain- ted with the Bible, but only stating and particularly rep- resenting of it. To bring texts of Scripture, wherein God is represented as in every respect in the highest man- ner virtuous and supremely praise- worthy, would be end- less, and is altogether needless to such as have been brought up in the light of the Gospel. It were to be wished that Dr. Whitby, and other divines of the same sort, had explained themselves, when they have asserted, that that which is necessary, is not deserv- ing of 'praise ; at the same time that they have owned God's perfection to be necessary, and so in effect repre- senting God as not deserving praise. Certainly, if their words have any meaning at all, by praise they must mean the exercise or testimony of some sorts of esteem, respect, or honorable regard. And will they then say, that men are worthy of that esteem, respect, and honor, for their virtue, small and imperfect as it is, which yet God is not worthy of, for his infinite righteousness, holiness, and good- ness ? If so, it must be because of some sort of peculiar excellency in the virtuous man, which is his prerogative, wherein he really has the preference; some dignity that is entirely distinguished from any excellency, amiableness, or honorableness in God ; not in imperfection and depen- dence, but in pre-eminence ; which, therefore, he does SECT. I. YET VIRTUOUS AND PRAISEWORTHY. 197 not receive from God, nor is God the fountain or pattern of it ; nor can God, in that respect, stand in competition with him, as the object of honor and regard ; but man may claim a peculiar esteem, commendation, and glory, that God can have no pretension to. Yea, God has no right, by virtue of his necessary holiness, to intermeddle with that grateful respect and praise due to the virtuous man, who chooses virtue in the exercise of a freedom ad utrum- que, any more than a precious stone, which cannot avoid being hard and beautiful. And if it be so, let it be explained what that peculiar respect is that is due to the virtuous man, which differs in nature and kind, in some way of pre-eminence, from all that is due to God. What is the name or description of that peculiar affection ? Is it esteem, love, admiration, honor, praise, or gratitude ? The Scripture everywhere represents God as the highest object of all these : there we read odhe souFs magnifying the Lord, of loving him with all the heart, with all the soul, with all the mind, and with all the strength ; admiring him, and hisyight- eous acts, or greatly regarding them as marvellous and wonderful; honoring, glorifying, exalting, extolling, blessing, thanking, and praising him ; giving unto him. all the glory of the good which is done or received, rather than unto men ; that no flesh should glory in his presence ; but that he should be regarded as the Being to whom all glory is due. What, then, is that respect ? What pas- sion, affection, or exercise, is it, that Arminians call praise, diverse from all these things which men are worthy of for their virtue, and which God is not worthy of in any degree ? If that necessity which attends God's moral perfections and actions be as inconsistent with a being worthy of praise, 17* 198 CONCERNING GOD*S VIRTUE. PART III. as a necessity of coaction, as is plainly implied in, or in- ferred from Dr. Whitby's discourse ; then why should we thank God for his goodness, any more than if he were forced to be good, or any more than we should thank one of our fellow-creatures who did us good, not freely, and of good will, or from any kindness of heart, but from mere compulsion or extrinsical necessity ? Arminians sup- pose that God is necessarily a good and gracious being: for this they make the ground of some of their main argu- ments against many doctrines maintained by Calvinists ; they say these are certainly false, and it is impossible they should be true, because they are not consistent with the goodness of God. This supposes, that it is impossible but that God should be good : for if it be possible that he should be otherwise, then that impossibility of the truth of these doctrines ceases, according to their own argu- ment. That virtue in God is not, in the most proper sense rewardable, is not for want of merit in his moral perfec- tions and actions, sufficient to deserve rewards from his creatures; but because he is infinitely above all capacity of receiving any reward or benefit from the creature : he is already infinitely and unchangeably happy, and we can- not be profitable unto him. But still he is worthy of our supreme benevolence for his virtue ; and would be wor- thy of our beneficence, which is the fruit and expression of benevolence, if our goodness could extend to him. It God deserves to be thanked and praised for his goodness, he would, for the same reason, deserve that we should also requite his kindness, if that were possible. What shall I render to the Lord for all his benefits ? is the nat- ural language of thankfulness : and so far as in us lies, it SECT. II. ACTS OF THE WILL OF CHRIST, ETC. 199 is our duty to recompense God's goodness, and render again according to benefits received. And that we might have opportunity for so natural an expression of our grati- tude to God as beneficence, notwithstanding his being in- finitely above our reach; he lias appointed others to be his receivers, and to stand in his stead as the objects of our beneficence ; such are especially our indigent brethren. / THE AC SECTION II. ACTS OF THE WILL OF THE HUMAN SOUL OF JESUS CHRIST ^*s ^ NE AF.ss\TitT.Y HOLY, YET TRULY VIRTUOUS, PRAISEWORTHY, REWARDABLE, ETC I have already considered how Dr. Whitby insists upon it, that a freedom, not only from coaction, but ne- cessity, is requisite either to virtue or vice, praise or dis- praise, reward or punishment. He also insists on the same freedom as absolutely requisite to a person's being the subject of a law, of precepts, or prohibitions ; in the book before mentioned, (pp. 301, 314, 328, 339, 340, 341,342, 347,361,373, 410.) And of promises and threatening*, (pp. 293, 301, 305, 311, 339, 340, 363.) And as requisite to a state of trial, (p. 297, etc.) Now, therefore, with an eye to these tiling?, I would inquire into the moral conduct and practices of our Lord Jesus Christ, which he exhibited in his human nature here in his state of humiliation. CXnd first, I would show, that his holy behavior was necessary ; or that it was im- possible it should be otherwise than that he should behave himself holily, and that he should be perfectly holy in each individual act of his life. And secondly, that his holy behavior was properly the nature of virtue, and was 200 ACTS OF THE WILL OF CHRIST PART III. worthy of praise ; and that he was the subject odaio, pre- /cepts, or commands, j^romises, and rewards ; and that he /was in a state of trial. J / 1. It was impossible that the acts of the will of the hu- man soul of Christ should, in any instance, degree, or cir- cumstance, be otherwise than holy, and agreeable to God's nature and will. The following things make this evident. 1. God had promised so effectually to preserve and uphold him by his Spirit, under all his temptations, that he could not fail of reaching the end for which he came into the world ; which he would have failed of, had he fallen into sin. We have such a promise, Isai. xlii. 1, 2, 3, 4. " Behold my servant, whom I uphold ; mine elect, in whom my soul delighteth : I have put my Spirit upon him ; he shall bring forth judgment to the Gentiles. He shall not cry, nor lift up, nor cause his voice to be heard in the street. — lie shall bring forth judgment unto truth. He shall not fail nor be discouraged, till he have set judg- ment in the earth ; and the isles shall wait for his law." This promise, of Christ's having God's Spirit put upon him, and his not crying and lifting up his voice, etc. re- lates to the time of Christ's appearance on earth ; as is manifest from the nature of the promise, and also the ap- plication of it in the New Testament, Matt. xii. 18. And the words imply a promise of his being so upheld by God's Spirit, that he should be preserved from sin ; particularly from pride and vain glory, and from being overcome by any of the temptations he should be under to affect the glory of this world, the pomp of an earthly prince, or the applause and praise of men : and that he should be so up- held, that he should by no means fail of obtaining the end of his coming into the world, of bringing forth judgment SECT. II. NECESSARILY HOLY. 201 unto victory, and establishing his kingdom of grace in the earth. — And in the following verses this promise is con- firmed, with the greatest imaginable solemnity : " Thus saith the Lord, he that created the heavens, and stretch- ed them out ; he that spread forth the earth, and that which cometh out of it; he that giveth breath unto the people upon it, and spirit to them that walk therein : I the Lord have called thee in righteousness, and will hold thine hand, and will keep thee, and give thee for a cove- nant of the people, for a light of the Gentiles ; to open the blind eyes, to bring out the prisoners from the prison, and them that sit in darkness out of the prison house. I am Jehovah, that is my name," etc. Very parallel with these promises is that, Isai. xlix. 7, 8, 9, which also has an apparent respect to the time of Christ's humiliation on earth : " Tims saith the Lord, the Redeemer of Israel, and his Holy One, to him whom man despiseth, to him whom the nation abhorreth, to a servant of rulers, Kings shall see and arise, princes also shall wor- ship, because of the Lord that is faithful, and the Holy One of Israel, and he shall choose thee. Thus saith the Lord, In an acceptable time have I heard thee, and in a day of salvation have I helped thee ; and I will preserve thee, and give thee for a covenant of the people, to estab- lish the earth," etc. And in Isai. 1. 5, 6, we have the Messiah expressing his assurance, that God would help him, by so opening his ear, or inclining his heart to God's commandments, that he should not be rebellions, but should persevere, and not apostatise, or turn his back: that through God's help, he should be immovable, in a way of obedience, under the great trials of reproach and suffering he should 202 ACTS OF THE WILL OF CHRIST PART III. meet with ; setting his face like a flint : so that he knew, he should not be ashamed, or frustrated in his design ; and finally should be approved and justified, as having done his work faithfully : " The Lord hath opened mine ear ; so that I was not rebellious, neither turned away my back. I gave my back to the smiters, and my cheeks to them that plucked off the hair : I hid not my face from shame and spitting. For the Lord God will help me; therefore shall I not be confounded : therefore have I set my face as a flint, and I know that I shall not be ashamed. He is near that justifieth me ; who will contend with me ? let us stand together. Who is mine adversary ? let him come near to me. Behold, the Lord God will help me ; who is he that shall condemn me ? lo, they all shall wax old as a garment; the moth shall eat them up." 2. The same thing is evident from all the promises which God made to the Messiah, of his future glory, King- dom and success, in his office and character of a Mediator : which ulorv could not have been obtained if his holiness had failed, and he had been guilty of sin. God's absolute promise of any thing makes the things promised necessary, and their failing to take place absolutely imjJossibh : and, in like manner, it makes those things necessary on which the thing promised depends, and without which it cannot take effect. Therefore it appears, that it was utterly im- possible that Christ's holiness should fail, from such abso- lute promises as those, Psal. ex. 4, " The Lord hath sworn, and will not repent, Thou art a priest for ever, after the order of Melchizedek." And from every other prom- ise in that psalm, contained in each verse of it. And Psal. ii. 7, 8, " 1 will declare the decree : the Lord hath said unto me, Thou art my Son ; this day have I begotten SECT. II. NECESSARILY HOLY. 203 thee. Ask of me, and I will give thee the heathen for thine inheritance," etc. Psal. xlv. 3,4, etc. " Gird thy sword on thy thigh, O most Mighty, with thy glory and thy majesty : and in thy majesty ride prosperously." And so everything that is said from thence to the end of the psalm. And those promises, Isai. iii. 13, 14, 15; and liii. 10, 11, 12. And all those promises which God makes to the Messiah, of success, dominion, and glory, in the character of a Redeemer, in Isai. chap. xlix. 3. It was often promised to the church of God of old, for their comfort, that God would give them a righteous, sinless Saviour. Jer. xxiii. 5,6: " Behold the days come, saith the Lord, that I will raise up unto David a righteous Branch, and a King shall reign and prosper, and shall execute judgment and justice in the earth. In his days shall Judah be saved, and Israel shall dwell safely : and this is the name whereby he shall be called, The Lord our Righteousness." So, Jer. xxxiii. 15 "I will cause the Branch of righteousness to grow up unto David ; and he shall execute judgment and righteousness in the land." Isai. ix. 6, 7 : " For unto us a child is born ; — upon the throne of David and of his kingdom, to order it, and to establish it with judgment and justice, from henceforth even for ever. The zeal of the Lord of Hosts will do this." Chap. xi. at the beginning : " There shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse, and a Branch shall grow out of his roots : and the Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him, the spirit of knowledge, and of the fear of the Lord. With righteousness shall he judge the poor, and reprove with equity. Righteousness shall be the gir- dle of his loins, and faithfulness the girdle of his reins." Chap. Iii. 13 : " My servant shall deal prudently." Chap. 204 ACTS OF THE WILL OF CHRIST PART 111* liii. 9 : " Because lie had done no violence, neither was guile found in his mouth." IT it be impossible that these promises should fail, and it be easier for heaven and earth to pass away, than for one jot or tittle of these promises of God to pass away, then it was impossible that God should commit any sin. Christ himself signified, that it was impossible but that the things which were spoken concerning him should be fulfilled. Luke xxiv. 44 : " That all things must be fulfilled, which were written in the law of Moses, and in the prophets, and in the Psalms, concerning me." Matt. xxvi. 53, 54 : " But how then shall the Scripture be fulfilled, that thus it must be?" Mark, xiv. 49: " But the Scriptures must be fulfilled." And so the Apostle, Acts. i. 16, 17 : " This Scripture must needs have been fulfilled." 4. All the promises, which were made to the church of old, of the Messiah as a future Saviour, from that made to our first parents in Paradise, to that which was deliver- ed by the prophet Malachi, show it to be impossible that Christ should not have persevered in perfect holiness. The ancient predictions given to God's church, of the Messiah as a Saviour, were of the nature of promises, as is evident by the predictions themselves, and the manner of deliver- ing them. But they are expressly, and very often, called promises in the New Testament ; as in Luke i. 54, 55, 72, 73. Acts xiii. 32, 33. Rom. i. 1,2,3, and chap. xv. 8. Heb. vi. 13, etc. These promises were often made with great solemnity, and confirmed with an oath ; as in Gen. xxii. 16, 17 : " By myself have I sworn, saith the Lord, that in blessing I will bless thee, and in multi- plying 1 will multiply thy seed as the stars of heaven, and as the sand which is upon the sea-shore ; and in thy seed SECT. II. NECESSARILY HOLY. , 205 shall all the nations of the earth be blessed." Comp. Luke i. 72, 73 ; and Gal. iii. 8, 15, 16. The Apostle, in Heb. vi. 17, 18, speaking of this promise to Abraham, says : " Wherein God, willing more abundantly to show to the heirs of promise the immutability of his counsel, confirm- ed it by an oath ; that by two immutable things, in which it was impossible for God to lie, he might have strong consolation." In which words, the necessity of the ac- complishment, or (which is the same thing) the impossi- bility of the contrary, is fully declared. So God confirm- ed the promise of the great salvation of the Messiah, made to David, by an oath ; Psnl. lxxxix. 3, 4 : "I have made a covenant with my chosen, I have sworn unto David my servant ; Thy seed will I establish for ever, and build up thy throne to all generations." There is nothing that is so abundantly set forth in Scripture as sure and irrefra- gable, as this promise and oath to David. See Psal. lxxxix. 34, 35, 36. 2 Sam. xxiii. 5. Isai. lv. 4. Acts ii. 29, 30, and xiii. 34. The Scripture expressly speaks of it as utterly impossible that this promise and oath to David, concerning the everlasting dominion of the Messiah of his seed, should fail. Jer. xxxiii. 15, etc. : " In those days, and at that time, 1 will cause the Branch of righteous- ness to grow up unto David. For thus saith the Lord, David shall never want a man to sit upon the throne of the house of Israel." Ver. 20, 21 : " If you can break my covenant of the day, and my covenant of the night, and that there should not be day and night in their sea- son ; then may also my covenant be broken with David my servant, that he should not have a son to reign upon Ills throne." So in ver. 25, 26. Thus abundant is the Scripture in representing how impossible it was, that the 18 206 ACTS OF THE WILL OF CHRIST PART III. promises made of old concerning the great salvation and kingdom of the Messiah should fail; which implies, that it was impossible that this Messiah, the second Adarn, the promised seed of Abraham and of David, should fall from his integrity, as the first Adam did. 5. All the promises that were made to the church of God under the Old Testament, of the great enlargement of the church, and advancement of her glory, in the clays of the Gospel, after the coming ofthe Messiah ; the increase of her light, liberty, holiness, joy, triumph over her ene- mies, etc., of which so great a part ofthe Old Testament consists; which are repeated so often, are so variously exhibited, so frequently introduced with great pomp and solemnity, and are so abundantly sealed with typical and symbolical representation ; I say, all these promises imply, that the Messiah should perfect the work of redemption ; and this implies that he should persevere in the work which the Father had appointed him, being in all things conformed to his will. These promises were often con- firmed by an oath. (See Isai. liv. 9, with the context; chap. lxii. 18.) And it is represented as utterly impos- sible that these promises should fail. (Isai. xlix. 15, with the context ; chap. liv. 10, with the context ; chap. li. 4 — 8; chap. xl. 8, with the context.) And therefore it was impossible that the Messiah should fail, or commit sin. 6. It was impossible that the Messiah should fail of per- severing in integrity and holiness, as the first Adam did, because this would have been inconsistent with the pro- mises which God made to the blessed virgin his mother, and to her husband, implying that he should save his peo, pie from their sins ; that God would give him the throne SECT. II. NECESSARILY HOLY. 207 of his father David ; that he should reign over the house of Jacob forever ; and that of his kingdom there shall be no end. These promises were sure, and it was im- possible they should foil. And therefore the Virgin Ma- ry, in trusting fully to them, acted reasonably, having an immovable foundation of her faith ; as Elizabeth observes, ver. 45 : " And blessed is she that believeth ; for there shall be a performance of those things which were told her from the Lord." 7. That it should have been possible that Christ should sin, and so fail in the work of our redemption, does not consist with the eternal purpose and decree of God, re- vealed in the Scriptures, that he would provide salvation for fallen man in and by Jesus Christ, and that salvation should be offered to sinners through the preaching of the Gospel. Such an absolute decree as this Arminians do not deny. Thus much at least (out of all controversy) is implied in such Scriptures as 1 Cor. h. 7. Eph. i. 4, 5. and chap. iii. 9, 10, 11. 1 Pet. i. 19, 20. Such an ab- solute decree as this, Arminians allow to be signified in these texts. And the Arminians' election of nations and societies, and general election of the Christian church, and conditional election of particular persons, imply this. God could not decree before the foundation of the world, to save all that should believe in, and obey Christ, unless he had absolutely decreed that salvation should be provi- ded, and effectually wrought out by Christ. And since (as the Arminians themselves strenuously maintain) a de- cree of God infers necessity ; hence it becomes necessary, that Christ should persevere, and actually work out salva- tion for us, and that he should not fail by the commission of sin. 208 ACTS OF THE WILL OF CHRIST PART III. 8. That it should have been possible for Christ's holi- ness to fail, is not consistent with what God promised to his son, before all ages. For, that salvation should be offered to men, through Christ, and bestowed on all his faithful followers, is what is at least implied in that certain and infallible promise spoken of by the apostle, Tit. i. 2: "In hope of eternal life, which God, that cannot lie, pro- mised before the world began." This does not seem to be controverted by Arminians.* 9. That it should be possible for Christ to fail of doing his Father's will, is inconsistent with the promise made to the Father by the Son, by the Logos that was with the Father from the beginning, before he took the human nature: as may be seen in Psal. xl. 6, 7, 8, (compared with the apostle's interpretation, Heb. x. 5 — 9) : " Sa- crifice and offering thou didst not desire : mine ears hast thou opened (or bored) ; burnt-offering and sin-offering thou hast not required. Then said I, Lo, I come : in the volume of the book it is written of me, I delight to do thy will, O my God, and thy law is within my heart." Where is a manifest allusion to the covenant, which the willing servant, who loved his master's service, made with his master, to be his servant for ever, on the day wherein he had his ear bored ; which covenant was probably inserted in the public records, called the volume of the book, by the judges, who were called to take cognisance of the transaction, Exod. xxi. If the Logos, who was with the Father before the world, and who made the world, thus engaged in covenant to do the will of the Father in the human nature, and the promise was as it were recorded, * See Dr. Whitby on the Five Points, pp. 48, 49, 50. SECT. II. NECESSARILY HOLY. 209 that it might be made sure, doubtless it was impossible that it should fail ; and so it was impossible that Christ should fail of doing the will of the Father in the human nature. 10. If it was possible for Christ to have failed of doing the will of his Father, and so to have failed of effectually working out redemption for sinners, then the salvation of all the saints, who were saved from the beginning of the world to the death of Christ,- was not built on a firm foun- dation. The Messiah, and the redemption which he was to work out by his obedience unto death, was the founda- tion of the salvation of all the posterity of fallen man that ever were saved. Therefore, if when the Old Testament saints had the pardon of their sins and favor of God promised them, and salvation bestowed upon them ; still it was possible that the Messiah, when he came, might commit sin, then all this was on a foundation that was not firm and stable, but liable to fail ; something which it wa* possible might never be. God did as it were trust to what his son had engaged and promised to do in future time ; and depended so much upon it, that he proceeded actual- ly to save men on the account of it, as though it had been already done. But this trust and dependence of God, on the supposition of Christ's being liable to fail of doing his will, was leaning on a staff that was weak, and might pos- sibly break. The saints of old trusted on the promises of a future redemption to be wrought out and completed by the Messiah, and built their comfort upon it: Abraham saw Christ's day, and rejoiced ; and he and the other pa- triarchs died in the faith of the promise of it. (Heb. xi. 13.) But on this supposition, their faith, and their com- % fort, and their salvation, was built on a movable, fallible 18* 210 ACTS OF THE WILL OF CHRIST PART III. foundation ; Christ was not to thern a tried stone, a sure foundation, as in Isai. xxviii. 16. David entirely rested on the covenant of God with him, concerning the fu- ture glorious dominion and salvation of the Messiah, of his seed ; says it was " all his salvation, and all his desire ;" and comforts himself that this covenant was an " everlast- ing covenant, ordered in all things and sure," 2 Sam. xxiii. 5. But if Christ's virtue might fail, he was mista- ken : his great comfort was not built so sure as he thought it was, being founded entirely on the determinations of the free-will of Christ's human soul ; which was subject to no necessity, and might be determined either one way or the other. Also, the dependence of those who look- ed for redemption in Jerusalem, and waited for the conso- lation of Israel (Luke ii. 25, and 38,) and the confidence of the disciples of Jesus, who forsook all and followed him, that they might enjoy the benefits of his future king- dom, was built on a sandy foundation. 11. The man Christ Jesus, before he had finished his course of obedience, and while in the midst of temptations and trials, was abundant in positively predicting his own future glory in his kingdom, and the enlargement of his church, the salvation of the Gentiles through him, etc., and in promises of blessings he would bestow on his true disciples in his future kingdom ; on which promises he required the full dependence of his disciples. (John xiv.) But the disciples would have no ground for such dependence, if Christ had been liable to fail in his work ; and Christ himself would have been guilty of presump- tion, in so abounding in peremptory promises of great things, which depended on a mere contingence, viz. the determinations of his free will, consisting in a freedom' SECT. II. NECESSARILY HOLY. 211 ad uirumque, to either sin or holiness, standing in indiffer- ence and incident, in thousands of future instances, to go either one way or the other. Thus it is evident, that it was impossible that the acts of the will of the human soul of Christ should be other- wise than holy, and conformed to the will of the Father ; or, in other words, they were necessarily so conformed. I have been the longer in the proof of this matter, it being a thing denied by some of the greatest Arminians — by Episcopius in particular; and because I look upon it as a point clearly and absolutely determining the contro- versy between Calvinists and Arminians, concerning the necessity of such a freedom of will as is insisted on by the latter, in order to the moral agency, virtue, command or prohibition, promise or threatening, reward or punishment, praise or dispraise, merit or demerit. I now therefore pro- ceed, II. To consider whether Christ, in his holy behavior on earth, was not thus a moral agent, subject to com- mands, 'promises, etc. Dr. Whitby very often speaks of what he calls a free- dom ad utrumlibct, without necessity, as requisite to law and commands ; and he speaks of necessity as entirely inconsistent with injunctions and prohibitions. But yet we read of Christ's being the subject of the commands of his Father, John x. 18, and xv. 10. And Christ tells us, that every thing that he said or did was in compli- ance with " commandments he had received of the Fa- ther," Jch. xii. 49, 50, and xiv. 31. And we often read of Christ's obedience to his Father's commands, Rom. v. 19. Phil. ii. 18. Heb. v. 8. The fore-mentioned writer represents promises offered 212 Christ's righteousness part hi. as motives to persons to do their duty, or a being moved and induced, by promises, as utterly Inconsistent with a state wherein persons have not a liberty ad utrumlibet, but are necessarily determined to one. (See particularly, pp. 298 and 311.) But the thing which this writer as- serts is demonstrably false, if the Christian religion be true. If there be any truth in Christianity or the Holy Scriptures, the man Christ Jesus had his will infallibly, unalterably, and unfrustrably determined to good, and that alone ; but yet he had promises of glorious rewards made to him, on condition of his persevering in, and perfecting, the work which God had appointed him ; Isai. liii. 10, 11, 12. Psal. ii. and ex. Isai. xlix. 7, 8, 9. In Luke xxii. 28, 29, Christ says to his disciples, " Ye are they which have continued with me in my tempta- tions ; and I appoint unto you a kingdom as my Father hath appointed unto me." The word most properly sig- nifies to appoint by covenant or promise. The plain meaning of Christ's words is this : " As you have par- took of my temptations and trials, and have been stead- fast, and have overcome, T promise to make you partak- ers of my reward, and to give you a kingdom ; as the Father has promised me a kingdom for continuing stead- fast, and overcoming in those trials." And the words are well explained by those in Rev. iii. 21 : " To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with me in my throne ; even as I also overcame, and am set down with my Fath- er in his throne." And Christ had not only promises of glorious success, and rewards made to his obedience and sufferings, but the Scriptures plainly represent him as using these promises for motives and inducements to obey and suffer; and particularly that promise of a kingdom SECT. II. PRAISEWORTHY, REWARDABLE, ETC. 213 which the father had appointed him, or sitting with the Father on his throne ; as in Heh. xii. 1, 2: "Let us lay aside every weight, and the sin w hich doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who, for the joy that was set before him, endur- ed the cross, despising the shame, and is set down on the right hand of the throne of God." And how strange would it be to hear any Christian as- sert, that the holy and excellent temper and behavior of Jesus Christ, and that obedience which he performed un- der such great trials, was not virtuous or praiseworthy , because his will was not free ad utrumque, to either ho- liness or sin, but was unalterably determined to one ; that, upon this account, there is no virtue at all in all Christ's humility, meekness, patience, charily, forgiveness of ene- mies, contempt of the world, heavenly-mindedness, sub- mission to the will of God, perfect obedience to his com- mands, (though he was obedient unto death, even the death of the cross,) his great compassion to the afflicted, his unparalleled love to mankind, his faithfulness to God and man under such great trials, his praying for his ene- mies, even when nailing him to the cross ; that virtue, when applied to these things, is but an empty name ; that there was no merit in any of these things ; that is, that Christ was worthy of nothing at all on the account of them, worthy of no reward, no praise, no honor or re- spect from God or man, because his will was not indiffer- ent, and free either to these things or the contrary ; but under such a strong inclination or bias to the things that were excellent, as made it impossible that he should choose the contrary ; that, upon this account, (to use Dr. 214 Christ's righteousness part hi. Whitby's language,) it would be sensibly unreasonable that the human nature should be rewarded for any of these things. According to this doctrine, that creature who is evi- dently set forth in Scripture as the first born of every crea- ture, as having in all things the pre-eminence, and as the highest of all creatures in virtue, honor, and worthiness of esteem, praise, and glory : on the account of his virtue, is less worthy of reward or praise than the very least of saints ; yea, no more worthy than a clock or mere ma- chine, that is purely passive, and moved by natural ne- cessity. If we judge by Scriptural representations of things, we have reason to suppose that Christ took on him our nature, and dwelt with us in this world, in a suffering state, not only to satisfy for our sins, but that he, being in our na- ture and circumstances, and under our trials, might be our most fit and proper example, leader, and captain, in the exercise of glorious and victorious virtue, and might be a visible instance of the glorious end and reward of it ; that we might see in him the beauty, amiableness, and true honor and glory, and exceeding benefit, of that virtue which it is proper for us human beings to practise ; and might thereby learn, and be animated, to seek the like glory and honor, and to obtain the like glorious reward. See Heb. ii. 9 — 14, with v. 8, 9, and xii. 1, 2, 3. John xv. 10. Rom. viii. 17. 2 Tim. ii. 11, 12. 1 Pet. ii. 19, 20, and iv. 13. But if there was nothing of any virtue or merit, or worthiness of any reward, glory, praise, or commendation at all, in all that he did, because it was all necessary, and he could not help it ; then how is here anything so proper to animate and incite us, free crea- SECT. II. PRAISEWORTHY, REWARD ABLE, ETC. 215 tures, by patient continuance in well-doing, to seek for honor, glory, and virtue ? God speaks of himself as peculiarly well pleased with the righteousness of this servant of his. Isai. xlii. 21 : " The Lord is well pleased for his righteousness' sake." The sacrifices of old are spoken of as a sweet savor to God, but the obedience of Christ as far more acceptable than they. Psal. xl. 6, 7 : " Sacrifice and offering thou didst not desire ; mine ear hast thou opened fas thy servant per- forming willing obedience] : burnt-offering and sin-offer- ing hast thou not required. Then said I, Lo, I come [as a servant that cheerfully answers the calls of his master] : I delight to do thy will, O my God, and thy law is with- in my heart." Matt. xvii. 5 : " This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased." And Christ tells us express- ly, that the Father loves him for that wonderful instance of his obedience, his voluntary yielding himself to death, in compliance with the Father's command ; John x. 17, 18 : " Therefore doth my Father love me, because I lay down my life. No man taketh it from me ; but I lay it down of myself. This commandment received I of my Father." And if there was no merit in Christ's obedience unto death, if it was not worthy of praise and of the most glo- rious rewards, the heavenly hosts were exceedingly mis- taken, by the account that is given of them in Rev. v. 8 — 12 : " The four beasts and the four and twenty elders fell down before the Lamb, having every one of them harps, and golden vials full of odors. And they sung a new song, saying, Thou art worthy to lake the book, and to open the seals thereof; for thou wast slain. And I beheld, and I heard the voice of many angels round 216 Christ's righteousness part hi. about the throne, and the beasts and the elders : and the number of them was ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands ; saying with a loud voice, Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glo- ry, and blessing." Christ speaks of the eternal life which he was to re- ceive as the reward of his obedience to the Father's com- mandments ; John xii. 49, 50 : "I have not spoken of myself ; but the Father which sent me, he gave me a commandment, what I should say, and what I should speak. And I know that his commandment is life ever- lasting : whatsoever I speak, therefore, even as the Fa- ther said unto me, so I speak." God promises to divide him a portion with the great, etc., for his being his righ- teous servant, for his glorious virtue under such great trials and afflictions ; Isai. liii. 11, 12 : " He shall see of the travail of his soul, and be satisfied : by his knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many ; for he shall bear their iniquities. Therefore will I divide him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong ; because he hath poured out his soul unto death." The Scriptures represent God as rewarding him far above all his other servants ; Phil. ii. 7, 8, 9 : " He look on him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men ; and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name above every name." Psal. xlv. 7 : " Thou lovest righteousness, and hatest wicked- ness ; therefore God, thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows." SECT. II. PRAISEWORTHY, REWARDABLE, ETC. 217 There is no room to pretend that the glorious benefits bestowed in consequence of Christ's obedience are not properly of the nature of a reward. What is a reward, in the most proper sense, but a benefit bestowed in conse- quence of something morally excellent in quality or beha- vior, in testimony of well-pleasedness in that moral excel- lency, and respect and favor on that account ? If we consider the nature of a reward most strictly, and make the utmost of it, and add to the things contained in this description proper merit or worthiness, and the bestowment of the benefit in consequence of a promise ; still it will be found there is nothing belonging. to it, but that the Scrip- ture is most express as to its belonging to the glory be- stowed on Christ after his sufferings, as appears from what has been already observed : there was a glorious benefit bestowed in consequence of something morally excellent, being called Righteousness and Obedience ; there was great favor, love, and well-pleasedness, for this righteous- ness and obedience, in the bestower ; there was proper merit, or worthiness of the benefit in the obedience : it was bestowed in fulfilment of promises made to that obedi- ence ; and was bestowed (here/ore or because he had per- formed that obedience. . I may add to all these things, that Jesus Christ, while here in the flesh, was manifestly in a state of trial. The last Adam, as Christ is called, 1 Cor. xv. 45. Rom. v. 14, taking on him the human nature, and so the form of a servant, and being under the law, to stand and act for us, was put into a state of trial, as the first Adam was. Dr. Whitby mentions these three things as evidences of persons being in a state of trial, (on the Five Points, pp. 298, 299): namely, their afflictions being spoken of as 19 218 INABILITY AND SIN OF SUCH PART III. their trials or temptations, their being the subjects of pro- mises, and their being exposed to Satan's temptations. But Christ was apparently the subject of each of these. Concerning promises made to him, I have spoken alrea- dy. The difficulties and afflictions he met with in the course of his obedience, are called his temptations or tri- als ; Luke xxii. 28 : " Ye are they which have continued with me in my temptations, [or trials.]" Heb. ii. 18 : " For in that he himself hath suffered, being tempted [or tried], he is able to succor them that are tempted." And chap. iv. 15: " We have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities, but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin." And as to his being tempted by Satan, it is what none will dispute. SECTION III. THE CASE OF SUCH AS ARE GIVEN UP OF GOD TO SIN, AND OF FALLEN MAN IN GENERAL, PROVES MORAL NECESSIT Y AND INABILITY TO BE CONSISTENT WITH BLAMEWORTHINESS^^ Dr. Whitby asserts freedom, not only from co^acjion, but necessity, to be essential to anything deserving the name of sin, and to an action's being culpable, in these words (Discourse on the Five Points, edit. 3. p. 348) : "If they be thus necessitated, then neither their sins of omis- sion or commission could deserve that name ; it being es- sential to the nature of sin, according to St. Austin's defi- nition, that it be an action a quo libcrum est abstinere. Three things seem plainly necessary to make an action or omission culpable: 1. That it be in our power to perform or forbear it ; for as Origen and all the fathers say, no SECT. III. AS ARE GIVEN UP TO SlN. 219 man is blameworthy for not doing what he could not do." And elsewhere the doctor insists, that " when any do evil of necessity, what they do is no vice, that they are guilty of no fault,* are worthy of no blame, dispraise,f or dis- honor, J but are unblamable. "|| If these things are true, in Dr. Whitby's sense of ne- cessity, they will prove all such to be blameless who are given up of God to sin, in what they commit after they are thus given up. That there is such a thing as men's being judicially given up to sin, is certain, if the Scripture rightly informs us, such a thing being often there spoken of: as in Psal. Ixxxi. 12: " So I gave them up to their own hearts' lusts, and they walked in their own counsels." Acts vii. 42 : " Then God turned, and gave them up to worship the host of heaven." Rom. i. 24 : " Wherefore God also gave them up to uncleanness, through the lusts of their own hearts, to dishonor their own bodies between themselves." Ver. 26 : " For this cause God gave them up to vile affections." Ver. 28 : " And even as they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind, to do those things that are not conven ient." 4*It is needless to stand particularly to inquire what God's giving men up to their own hearts' lusts signifies : it is sufficient to observe, that hereby is certainly meant God's so ordering or disposing things, in some respect or other, either by doing or forbearing to do, as that. jthe c on- sequence should be men's continuing in their sins. J So much as men are given up to, so much is the consequence * Discourse on the Five points, pp. 347, 3G0, 3G1, 377. t 303, 32G, 320, and many other places. J 371. || 304,301. 220 INABILITY AND SIN OF SUCH PART III. of their being given up, whether that be less or more. If God does not order things so, by action or permission, that sin will be the consequence, then the event proves that they are not given up to that consequence. If good be the consequence, instead of evil, then God's mercy is to be acknowledged in that good ; which mercy must be contrary to God's judgment in giving up to evil. If the event must prove that they are given up to evil as the consequence, then the persons who are the subjects of this judgment must be the subjects of such an event, and so the event is necessary. If not only co-action, but all necessity, will prove men blameless, then Judas was blameless, after Christ had given him over, and had already declared his certain dam- nation, and that he should verily betray him. He was guilty of no sin in betraying his Master, on this supposi- tion ; though his so doing is spoken of by Christ as the most aggravated sin, more heinous than the sin of Pilate in crucifying him. And the Jews in Egypt, in Jeremiah's time, were guilty of no sin, in their not worshipping the true God, after God had " sworn by his great name, that his name should be no more named in the mouth of any man of Judah, in all the land of Egypt." Jer. xliv. 26. Dr. Whitby (Disc, on the Five Points, pp. 302, 303) denies that men, in this world, are ever so given up by God to sin, that their wills should be necessarily deter- mined to evil ; though he owns, that hereby it may be- come exceeding difficult for men to do good, having a strong bent and powerful inclination to what is evil. — But if we should allow the case to be just as he represents, the judgment of giving up to sin will no better agree with his notions of that liberty which is essential to praise or SECT. III. AS ARE GIVEN UP TO SIN. 221 blame, than if we should suppose it to render the avoid- ing of sin impossible. For if an impossibility of avoiding sin wholly excuses a man, then, for the same reason, its being difficult to avoid it excuses him in part, and this just m proportion to the degree of difficulty. If the in- fluence of moral impossibility or inability be the same, to excuse persons in not doing, or not avoiding anything, as that of natural inability (which is supposed), then un- doubtedly, in like manner, moral difficulty has the same influence to excuse with natural difficulty. But all al- low that natural impossibility wholly excuses, and also that natural difficulty excuses in part, and makes the act or omission less blamable in proportion to the difficulty. All natural difficulty, according to the plainest dictates of the light of nature, excuses in some degree, so that the neglect is not so blamable, as if there had been no diffi- culty in the case : and so the greater the difficulty is, still the more excusable, in proportion to the increase of the difficulty. And as natural impossibility wholly excuses and excludes all blame, so the nearer the difficulty ap- proaches to impossibility, still the nearer a person is to blamelessness in proportion to that approach. And if the case of moral impossibility or necessity be just the same with natural necessity or co-action, as to influence to excuse a neglect, then also, for the same reason, the case of natu- ral difficulty does not differ in influence, to excuse a ne- glect, from moral difficulty, arising from a strong bias or bent to evil, such as Dr. Whitby owns in the case of those that are given up to their own hearts' lusts. So that the fault of such persons must be lessened, in pro- portion to the difficulty, and approach to impossibility. If ten degrees of moral difficulty make the action quite 19* 222 INABILITY AND SIN OF SUCH PART III. impossible, and so wholly excuse, then if there be nine degrees of difficulty, the person is in great part excused, and is nine degrees in ten less blameworthy than if there had been no difficulty at all ; and he has but one degree of blameworthiness. The reason is plain, on Arminian principles, viz. because as difficulty, by antecedent bent and bias on the will, is increased, Jiberty of indifference, and self-determination in the will, is diminished : so much hinderance and impediment is there in the way of the will's acting freely, by mere self-determination. And if ten degrees of such hinderance take away all such liberty, then nine degrees take away nine parts in ten, and leave but one degree of liberty. And therefore there is but one degree of blamableness, cceieris paribus, in the neglect; the man being no further blamable in what he does or neglects than he has liberty in that affair: for blame or praise (say they) arises wholly from a good use or abuse of liberty. From all which it follows, that a strong bent and bias one way, and difficulty of going the contrary, never causes a person to be at all more exposed to sin, or anything blamable : because, as the difficulty is increased, so much the less is required and expected. Though in one respect exposedness to sin or fault is increased, viz. by an in- crease of exposedness to the evil action or omission, yet it is diminished in another respect to balance it, namely, as the sinfulness or blamableness of the action or omission is diminished in the same proportion. So that, on the whole, the affair, as to exposedness to guilt or blame, is left just as it was. To illustrate this, let us suppose a scale of a balance to be intelligent, and a free agent, and indued with a self- SECT. III. AS ARE GIVEN UP TO SIN. 223 moving power, by virtue of winch it could act and pro- duce effects to a certain degree, ex. gr. to move itself up or down with a force to a weight of ten pounds ; and that it might therefore be required of it, in ordinary circum- stances, to move itself down with that force ; for which it has power and full liberty, and therefore would be blame- worthy if it failed of it. But then let us suppose a weight of ten pounds to be put in the opposite scale, which in force entirely counterbalances its self-moving power, and so renders it impossible for it to move down at all ; and therefore wholly excuses it from any such motion. But if we suppose there to be only nine pounds in the oppo- site scale, this renders its motion not impossible, but yet more difficult ; so that it can now only move down with the force of one pound : but, however, this is all that is required of it^under these circumstances ; it is wholly ex- cused from nine parts of its motion : and if the scale, un- der these circumstances, neglects to move, and remains at rest, all that it will be blamed for, will be its neglect of that one-tenth part of its motion; which it had as much liberty and advantage for, as in usual circumstances it has for the greater motion which in such a case would be re- quired. So that this new difficulty does not at all increase its exposedness to anything blameworthy. And thus the very supposition of difficulty in the way of a man's duty^ or proclivity to sin, through a being given up to hardness of heart, or indeed by any other means whatsoever, is an inconsistence, according to Dr. Whitby's notions of liberty, virtue and vice, blame and praise. The avoiding sin and blame, and the doing what is virtuous and praiseworthy, must be always equally easy. Dr. Whitby's notions of liberty, obligation, virtue, sin, 224 INABILITY OF FALLEN MAN. PART III. etc. lead him into another great inconsistence. He abun- dantly insists, that necessity is inconsistent with the na- ture of sin or fault. He says, in the fore-mentioned trea- tise, p. 14, Who can blame a person for doing what he could not help 1 And page J 5, It being sensibly unjust to punish any man for doing that which was never in his power to avoid. And in p. 341, to confirm his opin- ion, he quotes one of the fathers, saying, Why doth God command, if man hath not free will and power to obey ? And again, in the same and the next page, Who will not cry out, that it is folly to command him that hath not lib- erty to do what is commanded ; and that it is unjust to condemn him that has it not in his power to do what is required? And in p. 373, he cites another, saying, A law is given to him that can turn to both parts ; i.e. obey or transgress it ; but no law can be against him who is bound by nature. And yet the same Dr. Whitby asserts, that fallen man is not able to perform perfect obedience. In p. 165, he has these words : " The nature of Adam had power to continue innocent and without sin ; whereas it is certain our nature never had." But if we have not power to continue innocent and without sin, then sin is inconsistent with necessity, and we may be sinful in that which we have not power to avoid ; and those things cannot be true, which he asserts elsewhere, namely, " That if we be ne- cessitated neither sins of omission nor commission would deserve that name,'' (p. 348.) If we have it not in our power to be innocent, then we have it not in our power to be blameless ; and if so, we are under a necessity of being blameworthy. And how does this consist with what he so often asserts, that necessity is inconsistent with SECT. III. INABILITY OF FALLEN MAN. 225 blame or piaise ? If we have it not in our power to per- form perfect obedience to all the commands of God, then we are under a necessity of breaking some commands, in some degree ; having no power to perform so much as is commanded. And if so, why does lie cry out of the un- reasonableness and folly of commanding beyond what men have power to do ? And Arminians in general are very inconsistent with themselves in what they say of the inability of fallen man in this respect. They strenuously maintain, that it would be unjust in God to require any thing of us beyond our present power and ability to perform ; and also hold, that we are now unable to perform perfect obedience, and that Christ died to satisfy for the imperfections of our obedi- ence, and has made way, that our imperfect obedience might be accepted instead of perfect : wherein they seem insensibly to run themselves into the grossest inconsist- ence. For, (as I have observed elsewhere) " they hold, that God, in mercy to mankind, has abolished that rigo- rous constitution or law that they were under originally ; and instead of it, has introduced a more mild constitution, and put us under a new law, which requires no more than imperfect sincere obedience, in compliance with our poor, infirm, impotent circumstances since the fall." Now, how can these things be made consistent ? I would ask, what law these imperfections of our obedience are a breach of? If they are a breach of no law that we were ever under, then they are not sins. And if they be not sins, what need of Christ's dying to satisfy for them ? But if they are sins, and the breach of some law, what law is it ? They cannot be a breach of their new law ; for that requires no other than imperfect obedience, or obe- 226 INABILITY OF FALLEN MAN. PART III. dience with imperfections : and therefore to have obedi- ence attended with imperfections, is no breach of it ; for it is as much as it requires. And they cannot be a breach of their old law ; for that, they say, is entirely abolished ; and we never were under it. — They say it would not be just in God to require of us perfect obedience, because it would not be just to require more than we can perform, or to punish us for failing of it. And, therefore, by their own scheme, the imperfections of our obedience do not deserve to be punished. What need, therefore, of Christ's dying to satisfy for them? What need of his suffering, to satisfy for that which is no fault, and in its own nature deserves no suffering 1 What need of Christ's dying to purchase, that our imperfect obedience should be accep- ted, when, according to their scheme, it would be unjust in itself, that any other obedience than imperfect should be required? What need of Christ's dying to make way for God's accepting such an obedience as it would be un- just iu him not to accept ? — Is there any need of Christ's dying to prevail with God not to do unrighteously ? — If it be said, that Christ died to satisfy that old law for us, that so we might not be under it, but that there might be room for our being under a more mild law ; still I would inquire, what need of Christ's dying, that we might not be under a law, which (by their principles) it would be in itself unjust that we should be under, whether Christ had died or no, because in our present state, we are not able to keep it ? So the Arminians are inconsistent with themselves, not only in what they say of the need of Christ's satisfaction to atone for those imperfections which we cannot avoid, but also in what they say of the grace of God, granted to SECT. IV. COMMANDS CONSISTENT, ETC. 227 enable men to perform the sincere obedience of the new law. " I grant (says Dr. Stebbing*) indeed, that by reason of original sin, we are utterly disabled for the performance of the condition, without new grace from God. But I say then, that he gives such a grace to all of us, by which the performance of the condition is truly possible : and upon this ground he may and doth most righteously re- quire it." If Dr. Stebbing [intends to speak properly, by grace he must mean, that assistance which is of grace, or of free favor and kindness. But yet in the same place he speaks of it as very unreasonable, unjust, and cruel, for God to require that, as the condition of pardon, that is become impossible by original sin. If it be so, what grace is there in giving assistance and ability to perform the condition of pardon ? Or why is that called by the name of grace, that is an absolute debt, which God is bound to bestow, and which it would be unjust and cruel in him to withold, seeing he requires that as the condition of pardon, which he cannot perform without it ? SECTION IV. COMMAND AND OBLIGATION TO OBEDIENCE CONSISTENT WITH MORAL INABILITY TO OBEY. \ It being so much insisted on by Arminian writers, that necessity is inconsistent with law or command, and par- ticularly, that it is absurd to suppose God by his com- mand should require that of men which they are unable to do ; not allowing in this case for any difference that there is between natural and moral inability ; I would therefore now particularly consider this matterT 1 * Treatise of the Operations of the Spirit. 2d edit. pp. 112, 113. 228 COMMANDS CONSISTENT PART III. And, for the greater clearness, I would distinctly lay down the following things. I. The will itself, and not only those actions which are the effects of the will, is the proper object of precept or command. That is, such or such a state or acts of men's wills is in many cases properly required of them by com- mands ; and not only those alterations in the state of their bodies or minds that are the consequences of volition. This is most manifest ; for it is the soul only that is pro- perly and directly the subject of precepts or commands ; that only being capable of receiving or perceiving com- mands. The motions or state of the body are matter of command, only as they are subject to the soul, and con- nected with its acts. But now the soul has no other fac- ulty whereby it can, in the most direct and proper sense, consent, yield to, or comply with, any command, but the faculty of the will ; and it is by this faculty only, that the soul can directly disobey, or refuse compliance ; for the very notions of consenting, yielding, accepting, comply- ing, refusing, rejecting, etc. are, according to the mean- in* T of the terms, nothing but certain acts of the will. Obedience, in the primary nature of it, is the submitting and yielding of the will of one to the will of another. Disobedience is the not consenting, not complying of the wi'l of the commanded to the manifested will of the com- mander. Other acts that are not the acts of the will, as certain motions of the body and alterations in the soul, are obedience or disobedience only indirectly, as they are con- nected with the state or actions of the will, according to an established law of nature. So that it is manifest, the will itself may be required : and the being of a good will is the most proper, direct, and immediate subject of com- SECT. IV. WITH MORAL INABILITY. 229 mand ; and if this cannot be prescribed or required by command or precept, nothing can ; for other things can be required no otherwise than as they depend upon, and are the fruits of, a good will. Corol. 1. If there be several acts of the will, or a series of acts, one following another, and one the effect of ano- ther, ihe Jirst and determining act is properly the subject of command, and not only the consequent acts, which are dependent upon it. Yea, this more especially is that to which command or precept has a proper respect; because it is this act that determines the whole affair: in this act the obedience or disobedience lies, in a peculiar manner; the consequent acts being all subject to it, and governed and determined by it. This determining gov- erning act must be the proper object of precept, or none. Corol. 2. It also follows, from what has been observed, that if there be any sort of act or exertion of the soul, prior to all free acts of the will or acts of choice in the case,-directing and determining what the acts of the will shall be ; that act or exertion of the soul cannot properly be subject to i\ny command or precept, in any respect whatsoever, either directly or indirectly, immediately or remotely. Such acts cannot be subject to commands di- rectly, because they are no acts of the will; being by the supposition prior to all acts of the will, determining and giving rise to all its acts: they not being acts of the will, there can be in them no consent to, or compliance with, any command. Neither can they be subject to command or precept indirectly or remotely; for they are not so much as the effects or consequences of the will, being pri- or to all its acts. So that if there be any obedience in that original act of the soul, determining all volitions, it is 20 230 COMMANDS CONSISTENT PART III. an act of obedience wherein the will has no concern at all ; it preceding every act of will. And, therefore, if the soul either obeys or disobeys in this act, it is wholly involun- tarily ; there is no willing obedience or rebellion, no com- pliance or opposition of the will in the affair : and what sort of obedience or rebellion is this ? And thus the Arminian notion of the freedom of the will consisting in the soul's determining its own acts of will, instead of being essential to moral agency, and to men's being the subjects of moral government, is utterly inconsistent with it. For if the soul determines all its acts of will, it is therein subject to no command or moral government, as has been now observed ; because its ori- ginal determining act is no act of will or choice, it being prior, by the supposition, to every act of will. And the soul cannot be the subject of command in the act of the will itself, which depends on the foregoing determining act, and is determined by it ; inasmuch as this is necessa- ry, being the necessary consequence and effect of that prior determining act, which is not voluntary. Nor can the man be the subject of command or government in his external actions ; because these are all necessary, being the necessary effects of the acts of the will themselves. So that mankind, according to this scheme, are subjects of command or moral government in nothing at all ; and all their moral agency is entirely excluded, and no room for virtue or vice in the world. So that it is the Arminian scheme, and not the scheme of the Calvinists, that is utterly inconsistent with moral government, and with all use of laws, precepts, prohibi- tions, promises, or threatenings. Neither is there any way whatsoever to make their principles consist with SECT. IV. WITH MORAL INABILITY. 231 these things. For if it be said, that there is no prior de- determining act of the soul, preceding the acts of the will, but that volitions are events that come to pass by pure accident, without any determining cause, this is most pal- pably inconsistent with all use of laws and precepts ; for nothing is more plain than that laws can be of no use to direct and regulate perfect accident; which, by the sup- position of its being pure accident, is in no case regulated by anything preceding; but happens, this way or that, perfectly by chance, without any cause or rule. The perfect nselessness of laws and precepts also follows from the Arminian notion of indifference, as essential to that liberty which is requisite to virtue or vice. For the end of laws is to bind to one side; and the end of commands is to turn the will one way : and therefore they are of no use unless they turn or bias the will that way. But if lib- erty consists in indifference, then their biassing the will one way only, destroys liberty ; as it puts the will out of equilibrium. So that the will, having a bias, through the influence of binding law, laid upon it, is not wholly left to itself, to determine itself which way it will, without influ- ence from without. Iliffaving shown that the will itself, especially in those acts WrtclTare original, leading and determining in any case, is the proper subject of precept and command, and not only those alterations in the body, etc. which are the effects of the will; I now proceed, in the second place, to observe, that the very opposition or defect of the will it- self, in that act which is its original and determining act in the case ; I say, the will's opposition in this act to a thing proposed or commanded, or its failing of compliance, implies a moral inability to that thing : or, in other words, 232 COMMANDS CONSISTENT PART III. whenever a command requires a certain state or act of the will, and the person commanded, notwithstanding the command and the circumstances under which it is exhibi- ted, still finds his will opposite or wanting, in that, belong- ing to its state or acts, which is original and determining in the affair, that man is morally unable to obey that command. } ThisTs manifest from what was observed in the first part, concerning the nature of moral inability, as distin- guished from natural : where it was observed, that a man may then be said to be morally unable to do a thing, when he is under the influence or prevalence of a contrary in- clination ; or has a want of inclination, under such circum- stances and views. It is also evident, from what has been before proved, that the will is always, and in every indi- vidual act, necessarily determined by the strongest motive ; and so is always unable to go against the motive, which, all things considered, has now the greatest strength and advantage to move the will. But not further to insist on these things, the truth of the position now laid down, viz* that when the will is opposite to, or failing of a compli- ance with a thing in its original determining inclination or act, it is not able to comply, appears by the considera- tion of these two things. 1. The will in the time of that diverse or opposite lead- ing act or inclination, and when actually under the influ- ence of it, is not able to exert itself to the contrary, to make an alteration, in order to a compliance. The incli- nation is unable to change itself; and that for this plain reason, that it is unable to incline to change itself. Pre- sent choice cannot at present choose to be otherwise : for that would be at present to choose something diverse from 5KCT. IV. WITH MORAL INABILITY. 233 \ bat is at present chosen. If the will, all things now considered, inclines or chooses to go that way ; then it cannot choose, all things now considered, to go the other way 3 and so cannot choose to be made to go the other way. To suppose that the mind is now sincerely inclined to change itself to a different inclination, is to suppose the mind is now truly inclined otherwise than it is now inclined. The will may oppose some future remote act that it is exposed to, but not its own present act. 2. As it is impossible that the will should comply with the thing commanded, with respect to its leading act, by any act of its own, in the time of that diverse or opposite leading and original act, or after it has actually come under the influence of that determining choice or inclina- tion ; so it is impossible it should be determined to a com- pliance by any foregoing act ; for, by the very supposi- tion, there is no foregoing act ; the opposite or non-com- plying act being that act which is original and determining in the case. Therefore it must be so, that if this first determining act be found non-complying, on the proposal of the command, the mind is morally unable to obey. For to suppose it to be able to obey, is to suppose it to be able to determine and cause its first determining act to be otherwise, and that it has power belter to govern and regulate its first governing and regulating act, which is absurd ; for it is to suppose a prior act of the will, de- termining its first determining act ; that is, an act prior to the first, and leading and governing the original and go- verning act of all ; which is a contradiction. Here if it should be said, that although the mind has not any ability to will contrary to what it does will, in the original and leading act of the will, because there is sup- 20* 234 COMMANDS CONSISTENT PART III. posed to be no prior act to determine and order it other- wise, and the will cannot immediately change itself, be- cause it cannot at present incline to a change ; yet, the mind has an ability for the present to forbear to proceed to action, and taking time for deliberation ; which may be an occasion of the change of the inclination. I answer, (1) In this objection that seems to be forgot- ten which was observed before, viz. that the determining to take the matter into consideration, is itself an act of the will ; and if this be all the act wherein the mind exerci- ses ability and freedom, then this, by the supposition, must be all that can be commanded or required by pre- cept. And if this act be the commanding act, then all that has been observed concerning the commanding act of the will remains true, that the very want of it is a mo- ral inability to exert it, etc. (2) We are speaking con- cerning the first and leading act of the will in the case, or about the affair; and if a determining to deliberate, or, on the contrary, to proceed immediately without delibera- ting, be the first and leading act ; or whether it be or no, if there be another act before it, which determines that; or whatever be the original and leading act ; still, the foregoing proof stands good, that the non-compliance of the leading act implies moral inability to comply. If it should be objected, that these things make all mo- ral inability equal, and suppose men morally unable to will otherwise than they actually do will, in all cases, and equally so in every instance ; In answer to this objection, I desire two things may be observed. First, That if by being equally unable be meant as really unable ; then, so far as the inability is merely moral, it is true, the will, in every instance, acts SECT. IV. WITH MORAL INABILITY. 235 by moral necessity, and is morally unable to act otherwise, as truly and properly in one case as another ; as, I hum- bly conceive, has been perfectly and abundantly demon- strated by what has been said in the preceding part of this essay. But yet, in some respect, the inability may be said to be greater in some instances than others : though the man may be truly unable, (if moral inability can truly be called inability), yet he may be further from being able to do some things than others ; as it is in things which men are naturally unable to do. A person, whose strength is no more than sufficient to lift the weight of one hundred pounds, is as truly and really unable to lift one hundred and one pounds, as ten thousand pounds ; but yet he is further from being able to lift the latter weight than the former ; and so, according to common use of speech, has a greater inability for it. So it is in moral inability. A man is truly morally unable to choose contrary to a present inclination, which in the least de- gree prevails ; or contrary to that motive which, all things considered, has strength and advantage now to move the will, in the least degree, superior to all other motives in view: but yet he is further from ability to resist a very strong habit, and a violent and deeply-rooted inclination, or a motive vastly exceeding all others in strength. And again, the inability may in some respects, be called great- er in some instances than others, as it may be more gen- eral and extensive to all acts of that kind. So, men may be said to be unable in a different sense, and to be further from moral ability, who have that moral inability which is general and habitual, than they who have only that in- ability which is occasional and particular * Thus, in ca- * See this distinction of moral inability explained in Part I. § 4. 236 COMMANDS CONSISTENT PART III. ses of natural inability ; be that is born blind may be said to be unable to see. in a different manner, and is, in some respects, further from being able to see, than he whose sight is hindered by a transient cloud or mist. And besides, that which was observed in the first part of this discourse, concerning the inability which attends a strong and settled habit, should be here remembered ; viz., that fixed habit is attended with this peculiar moral inability, by which it is distinguished from occasional vo- lition, namely, that endeavors to avoid future volitions of that kind, which are agreeable to such a habit, much more frequently and commonly prove vain and insufficient. For though it is impossible there should be any true sincere desires and endeavors against a present voli- tion or choice, yet there may be against volitions of that kind, when viewed at a distance. A person may de- sire and use means to prevent future exercises of a cer- tain inclination ; and, in order to it, may wish the habit might be removed ; but his desires and endeavors may be ineffectual. The man may be said in some sense to be unable ; yea, even as the word unable is a relative term, and has relation to ineffectual endeavors ; yet not with re- gard to present, but remote endeavors. Secondly, It must be borne in mind, according to what was observed before, that indeed no inability whatsoever, which is merely moral, is properly called by the name of inability; and that in the strictest propriety of speech, a man may be said to have a thing in his power, if he has it at his election ; and he cannot be said to be unable to do a thing, when he can, if he now pleases, or whenever he has a proper, direct, and immediate desire for it. As to those desires and endeavors that may be against the SECT. IV. WITH MORAL INABILITY. 237 exercises of a strong habit, with regard to which men may be said to be unable to avoid those exercises, they are re- mote desires and endeavors in two respects. First, as to time : they are never against present volitions, but only against volitions of such a kind, when viewed at a dis- tance. Secondly, as to their nature : these opposite de- sires are not directly and properly against the habit and inclination itself, or the volitions in which it is exercised ; for these, in themselves considered, are 'agreeable ; but against something else that attends them, or is their con- sequence : the opposition of the mind is levelled entirely against this; the inclination or volitions themselves are not at all opposed directly, and for their own sake ; but only indirectly and remotely, on the account of something alien anjj foreign. IlfT Though the opposition of the will itself, or the very want uf Will, to a thing commanded, implies a moral ina- bility to that thing ; yet, if it be, as has been already shown, that the being of a good state or act of will, is a thing most properly required by command ; then, in some cases, such a state or act of will may properly be requi red, which at present is not, arid which may also be want ing after it is commanded. And therefore those things may properly be comm-anded, which men have a moral inability for. Such a state, or act of the will may be required by command as does not already exist. For if that volition only may be commanded to be which already is, there could be no use of precept; commands in all cases would be perfectly vain and impertinent. And not only may such a will be required, as is wanting before the command is given, but also such as may possibly be wanting after- 238 COMMANDS CONSISTENT PART III. wards ; such as the exhibition of the command may not be effectual to produce or excite. Otherwise, no such thing as disobedience to a proper and rightful command ,is possible in any case : and there is no case supposable or possible wherein there can be an inexcusable or faulty disobedience. J Which Arminians cannot affirm, consis- tently vvJIETtneir principles : for this makes obedience to just and proper commands always necessary, and disobe- dience impossible. And so the Arminian would overthrow himself, yielding the very point we are upon, which he so strenuously denies, viz. that law and command are consistent with necessity. If merely that inability will excuse disobedience, which is implied in the opposition or defect of inclination re- maining after the command is exhibited, then wickedness always carries that in it which excuses it. It is evermore so, that by how much the more wickedness there is in a man's heart, by so much is his inclination to evil the stronger, and by so much the more, therefore, has he of moral inability to the good required. His moral inability, consisting in the strength of his evil inclination, is the very thing wherein his wickedness consists : and yet, ac- cording to Arminian principles, it must be a thing incon- sistent with wickedness; and by how much the more he has of it, by so much is he the further from wickedness. Therefore on the whole, it is manifest, that moral ina- bility alone (which consists in disinclination) never renders anything improperly the subject matter of precept or command, and never can excuse any person in disobedi- ence or want of conformity to a command. Natural inability, arising from the want of natural ca- pacity, or external hindrance (which alone is properly SECT. IV. WITH MORAL INABILITY. 239 called inability), without doubt wholly excuses, or makes a thing improperly the matter of command. If men are excused from doing or acting any good thing, supposed to be commanded, it must be through some defect or obsta- cle that is not in the will itself, but intrinsic to it; either in the capacity of understanding, or body, or outward cir- cumstances. Here two or three things may be observed : 1. As to spiritual duties or acts, or any good thing in the state or imminent acts of the will itself, or of the affec- tions (which are only certain modes of the exercise of the will), if persons are justly excused, it must be through want of capacity in the natural faculty of understanding. Thus the same spiritual duties, or holy affections and exer- cises of heart, cannot be required of men as may be of angels; the capacity of understanding being so much in- ferior. So, men cannot be required to love those amiable persons whom they have had no opportunity to see, or hear of, or come to the knowledge of, in any way agree- able to the natural state and capacity of the human under- standing. But the insufficiency of motives will not ex- cuse ; unless their being insufficient arises not from the moral state of the will or inclination itself, but from the state of the natural understanding. The great kindness and generosity of another may be a motive insufficient to excite gratitude in the person that receives the kindness, through his vile and ungrateful temper: in this case, the insufficiency of the motive arises from the state of the will or inclination of heart, and does not at all excuse. But if this generosity is not sufficient to excite gratitude, being unknown, there being no means of information ade- quate to the state and measure of the person's faculties, 240 COMMANDS CONSISTENT PART III. this insufficiency is attended with a natural inability, which entirely excuses. 2. As to such motions of body, or exercises and altera- tions of mind, which do not consist in the imminent acts or state of the will itself, but are supposed to be required as effects of the will ; I say, in such supposed effects o( the will, in cases wherein there is no want of a capacity of un- derstanding, that inability, and that only, excuses, which consists in want of connection between them and the will. If the will fully complies, and the proposed effect does not prove, according to the laws of nature, to be connected with his volition, the man is perfectly excused : he has a natural inability to the thing required. For the will itself, as has been observed, is all that can be directly and im- mediately required by command ; and other things only indirectly, as connected with the will. If, therefore, there be a full compliance of will, the person has done his duty ; and if other things do not prove to be connected with his volition, that is not owing to him. 3. Both these kinds of natural inability that have been mentioned, and so all inability that excuses, may be re- solved into one thing; namely, want of natural capacity or strength ; cither capacity of understanding, or external strength. For when there are external defects and ob- stacles, they would he no obstacles, were it not for the imperfection and limitations of understanding and strength. Corol. If things for which men have a moral inability may properly be the matter of precept or command, then they may also of invitation and counsel. Commands and invitations come very much to the same thing; the differ- ence is only circumstantial : commands are as much a manifestation of the will of him that speaks, as invitations, SECT. V. WITH MORAL INABILITY. 241 and as much testimonies of expectation of compliance. The difference between them lies in nothing that touches the affair in hand. The main difference between com- mand and invitation consists in the enforcement of the will of him who commands or invites. In the latter it is his kindness, the goodness which his will arises from : in the former it is his authority. But whatever be the ground of the will of him that speaks, or the enforcement of what he says, yet seeing neither his will nor expectation is any more testified in the one case than the other, therefore a person's being directed by invitation, is no more an evi- dence of insincerity in him that directs, in manifesting either a will or expectation which he has not, than his be- ing known to be morally unable to do what he is direc- ted to by command. So that all this grand objection of Arminians against the inability of fallen men to exert faith in Christ, or to perform other spiritual gospel duties, from the sincerity of God's counsels and invitations, must be without force. SECTION V. THAT SINCERITY OF DESIRES AND ENDEAVORS, WHICH IS SUP- POSED TO EXCUSE IN THE NON-PERFORMANCE OF THINGS IN THEMSELVES GOOD, PARTICULARLY CONSIDERED. It is what is much insisted on by many, that some men, though they are not able to perform spiritual duties, such as repentance of sin, love to God, a cordial acceptance of Christ as exhibited and offered in the gospel, etc., yet they may sincerely desire and endeavor these things, and therefore must be excused ; it being unreasonable to blame 21 242 WHAT WILLINGNESS AND PART III. them for the omission of those things which they sincerely desire and endeavor to do, but cannot do. Concerning this matter, the following things may be observed : 1 . What is here supposed, is a great mistake, and gross absurdity ; even that men may sincerely choose and de- sire those spiritual duties of love, acceptance, choice, re- jection, etc., consisting in the exercise of the will itself, or in the disposition and inclination of the heart ; and yet not be able to perform or exert them. Thjs is absurd, because it is absurd to suppose that a man should directly, properly, and sincerely incline to have an inclination which at the same time is contrary to his inclination ; for that is to suppose him not to be inclined to that which he is in- clined to. If a man, in the state and acts of his will and inclination does properly and directly fall in with those du- ties, he therein performs them : for the duties themselves consist in that very thing ; they consist in the state and acts of the will being so formed and directed. If the soul properly and sincerely falls in with a certain proposed act of will or choice, the soul therein makes that choice its own. Even as when a moving body falls in with a proposed direction of its motion, that is the same thing as to move in that direction. 2. That which is called a desire and willingness for those inward duties, in such as do not perform, has respect to these duties only indirectly and remotely, and is im- properly represented as a willingness for them ; not only because (as was observed before) it respects those good volitions only in a distant view, and with respect to future time ; but also because evermore, not these things them- SECT. V. SINCERITY IS NO EXCUSE. 243 selves, but something else, that is alien and foreign, is the object that terminates these volitions and desires. A drunkard, who continues in his drunkenness, being under the power of a love and violent appetite to strong drink, and without any love to virtue, but being also ex- tremely covetous and close, and very much exercised and grieved at the diminution of* his estate, and prospect of poverty, may in a sort desire the virtue of temperance ; and tlfough his present will is to gratify his extravagant appetite, yet he may wish he had a heart to forbear future acts of intemperance, and forsake his excesses through an unwillingness to part witli his money : but still he goes on with his drunkenness ; his wishes and endeavors are insufficient and ineffectual : such a man lias no proper, direct, sincere willingness to forsake this vice, and the vicious deeds which belong to it : for he acts voluntarily in continuing to drink to excess: his desire is very im- properly called a willingness to be temperate ; it is no true desire of that virtue, for it is not that virtue that terminates his wishes, nor have they any direct respect at all to it. It is only the saving his money, and avoiding poverty, that terminates and exhausts the whole strength of his de- sire. The virtue of temperance is regarded only very indirectly and improperly, even as a necessary means of gratifying the vice of covetousness. So, a man of an exceeding corrupt and wicked heart, who lias no love to God and Jesus Christ, but on the contrary, being very profanely and carnally inclined, lias the greatest distaste of the things of religion, and enmitv against them ; yet being of a family that, from one genera- tion to another, have most of them died in youth, of an hereditary consumption ; and so having little hope of liv- 244 WHAT WILLINGNESS AND PART III. ing long, and having been instructed in the necessity of a supreme love to Christ, and gratitude for his death and sufferings, in order to his salvation from eternal misery; if under these circumstances, he should, through fear of eternal torments, wish he had such a disposition, but his profane and carnal heart remaining, he continues still in his habitual distaste of, and enmity to, God and religion, and wholly without any exercise of that love and grati- tude, (as doubtless the very devils themselves, notwith- standing all the devilishness of their temper, would wish for a holy heart, if by that means they could get out of hell) : in this case, there is no sincere willingness to love Christ, and choose him as his chief good : these holy dis- positions and exercises are not at all the direct object of the will ; they truly share no part of the inclination or de- sire of the soul ; but all is terminated on deliverance from torment : and these graces and pious volitions, notwith- standing this forced consent, are looked upon undesirable ; as when a sick man desires a dose he greatly abhors, to save his life. From these things it appears : 3. That this indirect willingness, which has been spo- ken of, is not that exercise of the will which the command requires, but is entirely a different one ; being a volition of a different nature, and terminated altogether on differ- ent objects; wholly falling short of that virtue of will which the command has respect to. 4. This other volition, which has only some indirect concern with the duty required, cannot excuse for the want of that good will itself which is commanded ; being not the thing which answers and fulfils the command, and being wholly destitute of the virtue which the command seeks. SECT. V. SINCERITY IS NO EXCUSE. 245 Further to illustrate this matter. If a child has a most excellent father, that has ever treated him with fatherly kindness and tenderness, and has every way, in the high- est decree, merited his love and dutiful regard, being with- al very wealthy ; but the son is of so vile a disposition, that he inveterately hates his father, and yet, apprehend- ing that his hatred of him is like to prove his ruin, by bringing him finally to poverty and abject circumstances, through his father's disinheriting him, or otherwise — which is exceeding cross to his avarice and ambition — he there- fore wishes it were otherwise ; but yet remaining under the invincible power of his vile and malignant disposition, he continues still in his settled hatred of his father. Now, if such a son's indirect willingness to have love and honor towards his father, at all acquits or excuses before God, for his failing of actually exercising these dispositions towards him, which God requires, it must be on one of these ac- counts. (1) Either that it answers and fulfils the com- mand. But this it does not, by the supposition ; because the thing commanded is love and honor to his worthy pa- rent. If the command be proper and just, as is supposed, then it obliges to the thing commanded ; and so nothing else but that can answer the obligation. Or, (2) It must be at least, because there is that virtue or goodness in his indirect willingness that is equivalent to the virtue required ; and so balances or countervails it, and makes up for the want of it. But that also is contrary to the supposition. The willingness the son has merely from a regard to money and honor, has no goodness in it to countervail the want of the pious filial respect required. Sincerity and reality, in that indirect willingness which has been spoken of, does not make it the better. That 21* 246 WHAT SINCERITY OF ENDEAVORS PART III. which is real and hearty is often called sincere ; whether it be in virtue or vice. Some persons are sincerely bad, : others are sincerely good ; and others may be sincere and hearty in things which are in their own nature indiffer- ent ; as a man may be sincerely desirous of eating when he is hungry. But a being sincere, hearty, and in good earnest, is no virtue, unless it be in a thing that is virtuous. A man may be sincere and hearty in joining a crew of pi- rates or a gang of robbers. When the devils cried out, and besought Christ not to torment them, it was no mere pretence ; they were very hearty in their desires not to be tormented ; but this did not make their will or desires vir- tuous. And if men have sincere desires, which are in their kind and nature no better, it can be no excuse for the want of any required virtue. And as a man's being sincere in such an indirect desire or ivillingness to do his duty as has been mentioned, can- not excuse for the want of performance, so it is with en- deavors arising from such a willingness. The endeavors can have no more goodness in them than the will which they are the effect and expression of. And, therefore, however sincere and real, and however great a person's endeavors are, yea, though they should be to the utmost of his ability, unless the will which they proceed from be truly good and virtuous, they can be of no avail, influ- ence, or weight, to any purpose whatsoever, in a moral sense or respect. That which is not truly virtuous in God's sight, is looked upon by him as good for nothing ; and so can be of no value, weight, or influence in his ac- count, to recommend, satisfy, excuse, or make up for any moral defect. For nothing can counterbalance evil but good. If evil be in one scale, and we put a great deal SECT. V. TS NO EXCUSE. 247 into the other, sincere and earnest desires, and many and great endeavors ; yet, if there be no real goodness in all, there is no weight in it ; and so it does nothing towards balancing the real weight which is in the opposite scale. It is only like the subtracting a thousand noughts from be- fore a real number, which leaves the sum just as it was. Indeed, such endeavors may have a negatively good influence. Those things which have no positive virtue have no positive moral influence ; yet they may be an occasion of persons avoiding some positive evils. As, if a man were in the water with a neighbor that he had ill- will to, who could not swim, holding him by his hand : which neighbor was much in debt to him ; and should be tempted to let him sink and drown, but should refuse to comply with the temptation, not from love to his neigh- bor, but from the love of money, and because by his drowning he should lose his debt, that which he does in preserving his neighbor from drowning is nothing good in the sight of God : yet hereby he avoids the greater guilt that would have been contracted if he had designedly let his neighbor sink and perish. But when Arminians, in their disputes with Calvinists, insist so much on sincere desires and endeavors, as what must excuse men, must be accepted of God, etc., it is manifest they have respect to some positive moral weight or influence of those desires and endeavors. Accepting, justifying, or excusing, on the account of sincere honest endeavors (as they are call- ed), and men's doing what they can, etc., has relation to some moral value, something that is accepted as good, and, as such, countervailing some defect. But there is a great and unknown deceit arising from the ambiguity of the phrase, sincere endeavors. Indeed, 248 WHAT SINCERITY OF ENDEAVORS PART III. there is a vast indistinctness and unfixedness in most, or at least very many, of the terms used to express things pertaining to moral and spiritual matters. Whence arise innumerable mistakes, strong prejudices, inextricable con- fusion, and endless controversy. The word sincere is most commonly used to signify something that is good : men are habituated to understand by it the same as honest and upright ; which terms excite an idea of something good in the strictest and highest sense ; good in the sight of Him who sees not only the outward ap- pearance, but the heart. And, therefore, men think that if a person be sincere, he will certainly be accepted. If it be said that any one is sincere in his endeavors, this suggests to men's minds as much as that his heart and will is good, that there is no defect of duty as to virtuous inclination ; he honestly and uprightly desires and endeavors to do as he is required ; and this leads them to suppose, that it would be very hard and unreasonable to punish him only because he is unsuccessful in his endeavors, the tiling endeavored being beyond his power. Whereas it ought to be observed, that the word sincere has these different significations : 1. Sincerity, as the word is sometimes used, signifies no more than reality of will and endeavor, with respect to anything that is professed or pretended, without any consideration of the nature of the principle or aim whence this real will and true endeavor arises. If a man has some real desire to obtain a thing, either direct or indirect, or does really endeavor after a thing, he is said sincerely to desire or endeavor it ; without any consideration of the goodness or virtuousness of the principle he acts from, or any excellency or worthiness of the end he acts for. SECT. V. IS NO EXCUSE. 249 Thus, a man who is kind to his neighbor's wife who is sick and languishing, and very helpful in her case, makes a show of desiring and endeavoring her restoration to health and vigor; and not only makes such a show, but there is a reality in his pretence — he does heartily and earnestly desire to have her health restored, and uses his true and utmost endeavors for it ; he is said sincerely to desire and endeavor it, because he does so truly or really ; though perhaps the principle he acts from is no other than a vile and scandalous passion ; having lived in adul- tery with her, he earnestly desires to have her health and vigor restored, that he may return to his criminal pleas- ures with her. Or, 2. By sincerity is meant, not merely a reality of will and endeavor of some sort or other, for some considera- tion or other, but a virtuous sincerity. That is, that in the performance of those particular acts that are the mat- ter of virtue or duty, there be not only the matter, but the form and essence of virtue, consisting in the aims that governs the act. and the principle exercised in it. There is not only the reality of the act, that is as it were the body of the duty ; but also the soul, which should pro- perly belong to such a body. In this sense, a man is said to be sincere, when he acts with a pure intention ; not from sinister views or by-ends : he not only in reality de- sires and seeks the thing to be done, or qualification to be obtained, for some end or other; but he wills the thing directly and properly, as neither forced nor bribed ; the virtue of the thing is properly the object of the will. In the former sense, a man is said to be sincere, in op- position to a mere pretence and show of the particular thing to be done or exhibited, without any real desire or 250 OB* PROMISES PART III. endeavor at all. In the latter sense, a man is said to be sincere, in opposition to that show of virtue there is in merely doing the matter of duty, without the reality of the virtue itself in the soul, and the essence of it, which there is a show of. A man may be sincere in the former sense, and yet in the latter, be in the sight of God, who searches the heart, a vile hypocrite. In the latter kind of sincerity, only, is there anything truly valuable or acceptable in the sight of God. And this is the thing which in Scripture is called sincerity, up- rightness, integrity, truth in the inward parts, and a being of a perfect heart. And if there be such a sincerity, and such a degree of it as there ought to be, and there be any thing further that the man is not able to perform, or which does not prove to be connected with his sincere desires and endeavors, the man is wholly excused and acquitted in the sight of God ; his will shall surely be accepted for his deed : and such a sincere will and endeavor is all that in strictness is required of him by any command of God. But as to the other kind of sincerity of desires and en- deavors, it, having no virtue in it (as was observed be- fore), can be of no avail before God, in any case, to recommend, satisfy, or excuse, and has no positive moral weight or influence whatsoever. Corol. 1. Hence it may be inferred, that nothing in the reason and nature of things appears from the considera- tion of any moral weight of that former kind of sincerity, which has been spoken of, at all obliging us to believe, or leading us to suppose, that God has made any positive promises of salvation, or grace, or any saving assistance, or any spiritual benefit whatsoever, to any desires, pray- ers, endeavors, striving, or obedience of those who hither- SECT. V. TO GRACELESS ENDEAVORS. 251 to have no true virtue or holiness in their hearts ; though we should suppose all the sincerity, and the utmost degree of endeavor, that is possible to be in a person with- out holiness. Some object against God's requiring, as the condition of salvation, those holy exercises which are the result of a supernatural renovation : such as, a supreme respect to Christ, love to God, loving holiness for its own sake, etc. ; that these inward dispositions and exercises are above men's power, as they are by nature ; and therefore that we may conclude, that when men are brought to be sin- ce! 3 in their endeavors, and do as well as they can, they are accepted ; and that this must be all that God requires in order to men's being received as the objects of his fa- vor, and must be what God has appointed as the condi- tion of salvation : concerning which [ would observe, that in such a manner of speaking of men's being accepted be- cause they are sincere, and do as well as they can, there is evidently a supposition of some virtue, some degree of that which is truly good, though it does not go so far as were to be wished. For if men do what they can, unless their so doing be from some good principle, disposition, or exercise of heart, some virtuous inclination or act of the will, their so doing what they can, is in some respects not a whit better than if they did nothing at all. In such a case, there is no more positive moral goodness in a man's doing what he can, than in the wind-mill's doing what it can ; because the action does no more proceed from virtue ; and there is nothing in such sincerity of endeavor, or do- ing what we can, that should render it any more a proper or fit recommendation to positive favor and acceptance, or the condition of any reward or actual benefit, than doing 252 INDIFFERENCE INCONSISTENT PART III. nothing ; for both the one and the other are alike nothing, as to any*true moral weight or value. Corol. 2. Hence also it follows, there is nothing that appears in the reason and nature of things which can just- ly lead us to determine, that God will certainly give the necessary means of salvation, or some way or other be- stow true holiness and eternal life on those heathen who are sincere (in the sense above explained) in their endea- vors to find out the will of the Deity, and to please him, according to their light, that they may escape his future displeasure and wrath, and obtain happiness in the future slate, through his favor. SECTION VI. LIBERTY OF INDIFFERENCE NOT ONLY NOT NECESSARY TO VIRTUE, BUT UTTERLY INCONSISTENT WITH IT ; AND ALL EITHER VIRTUOUS OR VICIOUS HABITS OR INCLINATIONS IN- CONSISTENT WITH ARMINIAN NOTIONS OF LIBERTY AND MORAL AGENCY. To suppose such a freedom of will as Arminians talk of, to be requisite to virtue and vice, is many ways con- trary to common sense. If indifference belongs to liberty of will, as Arminians suppose, and it be essential to a virtuous action that it be performed in a state of liberty, as they also suppose, it will follow, that it is essential to a virtuous action that it be performed in a state of indifference : and if it be per- formed in a state of indifference, then doubtless it must be performed in the time of indifference. And so it will fol- low, that in order to the virtuousness of an act, the heart must be indifferent in the time of the performance of that SECT. VI. WITH VIRTUE. 253 act, and the more indifferent and cold the heart is with relation to the act which is performed, so much the bet- ter ; because the act is performed with so much the great- er liberty. But is this agreeable to the light of nature ? Is it agreeable to the notions which mankind, in all ages, have of virtue ; that it lies in that which is contrary to in- difference, even in the tendency and inclination of the heart to virtuous action ; and that the stronger the incli- nation, and so the further from indifference, the more vir- tuous the heart, and so much the more praiseworthy the act which proceeds from it? If we should suppose (contrary to what has been be- fore demonstrated) that there may be an act of will in a state of indifference ; for instance, this act, viz. the will's determining to put itself out of a state of indifference, and give itself a preponderation one way ; then it would fol- low, on Arminian principles, that this act or determina- tion of the will is that alone wherein virtue consists, be- cause this only is performed, while the mind remains in a stale of indifference, and so in a state of liberty ; for when once the mind is put out of its equilibrium, it is no longer in such a state ; and therefore all the acts which follow afterwards, proceeding from bias, can have the nature nei- ther of virtue nor vice. Or if the thing which the will can do, while yet in a state of indifference, and so of lib- erty, be only to suspend acting, and determine to take the matter into consideration, then this determination is that alone wherein virtue consists, and not proceeding to action after the scale is turned by consideration. So that it will follow, from these principles, all that is done after the mind, by any means, is once out of its equilibrium, and already possessed by an inclination, and arising from that 22 254 INDIFFERENCE INCONSISTENT PART III. inclination, has nothing of the nature of virtue or vice, and is worthy of neither blame nor praise. But how plainly contrary is this to the universal sense of mankind, and to the notion they have of sincerely virtuous actions? which is, that they are actions which proceed from a heart well disposed and inclined; and the stronger and the more fixed and determined the good disposition of the heart, the greater the sincerity of virtue, and so the more of the truth and reality of it. But if there be any acts which are done in a state of equilibrium, or spring immediately from perfect indifference and coldness of heart, they can- not arise from any good principle or disposition in the heart; and consequently, according to common sense, have no sincere goodness in them, having no virtue of heart in them. To have a virtuous heart, is to have a heart that favors virtue, and is friendly to it, and not one perfectly cold and indifferent about it. And besides, the actions that are done in a state of in- difference, or that arise immediately out of such a state, cannot be virtuous, because, by the supposition, they are not determined by any preceding choice. For if there be preceding choice, then choice intervenes between the act and the state of indifference ; which is contrary to the suppositionof the act's arising immediately out of indiffer- ence. But those acts which are not determined by pre- ceding choice, cannot be virtuous or vicious, by Arminian principles, because they are not determined by the will. So that neither one way nor the other can any actions be virtuous or vicious, according to Arminian principles. If the action be determined by a preceding act of choice, it cannot be virtuous ; because the action is not done in a state of indifference, nor dees immediately arise from such SECT. VI, WITH VIRTUE. 255 a state ; and so is not done in a state of liberty. If the action be not determined by a preceding act of choice, then it cannot be virtuous ; because then the will is not self-determined in it. So that it is made certain, that neither virtue nor vice can ever find any place in the uni- verse. Moreover, that it is necessary to a virtuous action that it be performed in a state of indifference, under a notion of that being a state of liberty, is contrary to common sense ; as it is a dictate of common sense, that indifference itself, in many cases, is vicious, and so to a high degree. As, if when I see my neighbor or near friend, and one who has in the highest degree merited of me, in extreme distress and ready to perish, I find an indifference in my heart with respect to anything proposed to be done, which I can easily do, for his relief. So, if it should be proposed to me to blaspheme God, or kill my father, or do num- berless other things which might be mentioned, the being indifferent, for a moment, would be highly vicious and vile. And it may be further observed, that to suppose this liberty of indifference is essential to virtue and vice, de- stroys the great difference of degrees of the guilt of differ- ent crimes, and takes away the heinousness of the most flagitious, horrid iniquities ; such as adultery, bestiality, murder, perjury, blasphemy, etc. For, according to these principles there is no harm at all in having the mind in a state of perfect indifference with respect to these crimes ; nay, it is absolutely necessary in order to any virtue in avoiding them, or vice in doing them. But for the mind to be in a state of indifference with respect to them, is to be next door to doing them ; it is then infinitely near to 256 OF VIRTUOUS PART III. choosing, and so committing the fact : for equilibrium is the next step to a degree of preponderation ; and one, even the least degree of preponderation (all things consid- ered) is choice. And not only so, but for the will to be in a state of perfect equilibrium with respect to such crimes, is for the mind to be in such a state as to be full as likely to choose them as to refuse them, to do them as to omit them. And if our minds must be in such a state, wherein it is as near to choosing as refusing, and wherein it must of necessity, according to the nature of things, be as likely to commit them as to refrain from them, where is the exceeding heinousness of choosing and committing them ? If there be no harm in often being in such a state wherein the probability of doing and forbearing are exactly equal, there being an equilibtium, and no more tendency to one than the other, then, according to the nature and laws of such a contingence, it may be expected, as an inevitable consequence of such a disposition of things, that we should choose them as often as reject them : that it should generally so fall out, is necessary, as equality in the effect is the natural consequence of the equal tendency of the cause, or of the antecedent state of things from which the effect arises. Why then should we be so exceed- ingly to blame if it does so fall out ? It is many ways apparent, that the Arminian scheme of liberty is utterly inconsistent with the being of any such things as either virtuous or vicious habits or disposi- tions. If liberty of indifference be essential to moral agency, then there can be no virtue in any habitual incli- nations of the heart ; which are contrary to indifference, and imply in their nature the very destruction and exclu- sion of it. They suppose nothing can be virtuous in which SECT. VI. AND VICIOUS HABITS. 257 no liberty is exercised ; but bow absurd is it to talk of exercising indifference under bias and prepondcration ! And \{ self -determining power in tbe will be necessary to moral agency, praise, blame, etc., tben notbing done by tbe will can be any further praise or blameworthy, than so far as the will is moved, swayed, and determined by itself, and the scales turned by the sovereign power the will has over itself. And therefore the will must not be put out of its balance already, the preponderation must not be determined and effected before-hand ; and so the self-determining act anticipated. Thus it appears another way, that habitual bias is inconsistent with that liberty which Arminians suppose to be necessary to virtue or vice ; and so it follows, that habitual bias itself cannot be either virtuous or vicious. The same thing follows from their doctrine concerning the inconsistence of necessity with liberty, praise, dis- praise, etc. None will deny, that bias and inclination may be so strong as to be invincible, and leave no possi- bility of the will's determining contrary to it ; and so be attended with necessity. This Dr. Whitby allows con- cerning the will of God, angels, and glorified saints, with respect to good ; and the will of devils, with respect to evil. Therefore, if necessity be inconsistent with liberty ; then, when fixed inclination is to such a degree of strength, it utterly excludes all virtue, vice, praise, or blame. And if so, then the nearer habits are to this strength, the more do they impede liberty, and so diminish praise and blame. If very strong habits destroy liberty, the lesser ones proportionally hinder it, according to their degree of strength. And therefore it will follow, that then is the act most virtuous or vicious when performed without any 22* 258 OF VIRTUOUS PART III. inclination or habitual bias at all, because it is then per- formed with most liberty. Every prepossessing fixed bias on the mind brings a degree of moral inability for the contrary ; because, so far as the mind is biassed and prepossessed, so much hinder- ance is there of the contrary. And therefore if moral in- ability be inconsistent with moral agency, or the nature of virtue and vice, then, so far as there is any such thing as evil disposition of heart, or habitual depravity of inclina- tion, whether covetousness, pride, malice, cruelty, or whatever else, so much the more excusable persons are, so much the less have their evil acts of this kind the na- ture of vice. And, on the contrary, whatever excellent dispositions and inclinations they have, so much are they the less virtuous. It is evident, that no habitual disposition of heart, whether it be to a greater or less degree, can be in any degree virtuous or vicious ; or the actions which proceed from them at all praise or blameworthy. Because, though we should suppose the habit not to be of such strength as wholly to take away all moral ability and self-determining power ; or hinder but that, although the act be partly from bias, yet it may be in part from self-determination ; yet in this case, all that is from antecedent bias must be set aside, as of no consideration ; and in estimating the de- gree of virtue or vice, no more must be considered than what arises from self-determining power, without any in- fluence of that bias, because liberty is exercised in no more ; so that all that is the exercise of habitual inclina- tion, is thrown away, as not belonging to the morality of the action. By which it appears, that no exercise of these SECT. VI. AND VICIOUS HABITS. 259 habits, let them be stronger or weaker, can ever have any thins; of the nature of either virtue or vice. Here if any one should say, that notwithstanding alj these things, there may be the nature of virtue and vice in the habits of the mind, because these habits may be the effects of those acts wherein the mind exer- cised liberty ; that however the fore-mentioned rea- sons will prove that no habits which are natural, or that are born or created with us, can be either virtuous or vicious : yet they will not prove this of ha- bits which have been acquired and established by re- peated free acts. To such an objector I would say, that this evasion will not at all help the matter. For if freedom of will be es- sential to the very nature of virtue and vice, then there is no virtue or vice but only in that very thing wherein this liberty is exercised. If a man in one or more things that he does, exercises liberty, and then by those acts is brought into such circumstances, that his liberty ceases, and there follows a long series of acts or events that come to pass necessarily ; those consequent acts are not virtu- ous or vicious, rewardable or punishable ; but only the ^•ee acts that established this necessity ; for in them alone was the man free. The following effects, that are neces- sary, have no more of the nature of virtue or vice, than health or sickness of body have properly the nature of vir- tue or vice, being the effects of a course of free acts of tem- perance or intemperance; or than the good qualities of a clock are of the nature of virtue, which are the effects of free acts of the artificer ; or the goodness and sweetness of the fruits of a garden are moral virtues, being the ef- fects of the free and faithful acts of the gardener. If lib- 260 ARMINIANISM INCONSISTENT PART III. erty be absolutely requisite to the morality of actions, and necessity wholly inconsistent with it, as Arminians greatly insist ; then no necessary effects whatsoever, let the cause be never so good or bad, can be virtuous or vicious; but the virtue or vice must be only in the free cause. Agree- ably to this Dr. Whitby supposes the necessity that at- tends the good and evil habits of the saints in heaven, and damned in hell, which are the consequence of their free acts in their state of probation, are not rewai dable or pun- ishable. On the whole, it appears, that if the notions of Armin- ians concerning liberty and moral agency be true, it will follow, that there is no virtue in any such habits or quali- ties as humility, meekness, patience, mercy, gratitude, generosity, heavenly-mindedness; nothing at all praise- worthy in loving Christ above father and mother, wife and children, or our own lives ; or in delight in holiness, hun- gering and thirsting after righteousness, love to enemies, universal benevolence to mankind ; and, on the other hand, there is nothing at all vicious, or worthy of dispraise, in the most sordid, beastly, malignant, devilish dispositions ; in being ungrateful, profane, habitually hating God and things sacred and holy ; or in being most treacherous, en- vious, and cruel towards men. For all these things are dispositions and inclinations of the heart. And, in short, there is no such thing as any virtuous or vicious quality of mind; no such thing as inherent virtue and holiness, or vice and sin : and the stronger those habits or dispositions are, which used to be called virtuous and vicious, the fur- ther they are from being so indeed ; the more violent men's lusts are, the more fixed their pride, envy, ingrati- tude, and maliciousness, still the further are they from be- SECT. VI. WITH MORAL HABITS AND MOTIVES. 261 ing blameworthy. If there be a man that by his own re- peated acts, or by any other means, is come to be of the most hellish disj30sition, desperately inclined to treat his neighbors with injuriousness, contempt, and malignity ; the further they should be from any disposition to be an- gry with him, or in the least to blame him. So, on the other hand, if there be a person, who is of a most excel- lent spirit, strongly inclining him to the most amiable ac- tions, admirably meek, benevolent, etc., so much is he fur- ther from anything rewardable or commendable. On which principles, the man Jesus Christ was very far from being praiseworthy for those acts of holiness and kindness which he performed, these propensities being strong in his heart. And, above all, the infinitely holy and gra- cious God is infinitely remote from anything commenda- ble, his good inclinations being infinitely strong, and he, therefore, at the utmost possible distance from being at liberty. And in all cases, the stronger the inclinations of any are to virtue, and the more they love it, the less vir- tuous they are : and the more they love wickedness, the less vicious. — Whether these things are agreeable to scrip- ture, let every Christian, and every man who has read the Bible, judge : and whether they are agreeable to common sense, let every one judge that has human under- standing in exercise. And, if we pursue these principles, we shall find that virtue and vice are wholly excluded out of the world : and that there never was, nor ever can be, any such thing as one or the other, either in God, angels, or men. No propensity, disposition, or habit, can be virtuous or vicious, as has been shown ; because, they, so far as they take place, destroy the freedom of the will, the foundation of 262 ARMINIANISM INCONSISTENT, ETC. PART lit. all moral agency, and exclude all capacity of either virtue or vice. — And if habits and dispositions themselves be not virtuous nor vicious, neither can the exercise of these dis- positions be so ; for the exercise of bids is not the exercise of free self-determining ivill, and so there is no exercise of liberty in it. Consequently, no man is virtuous or vi- cious, either in being well or ill-disposed, nor in acting from a good or bad disposition. And whether this bias or disposition be habitual or not, if it exists but a moment before the act of will, which is the efFect of it, it alters not the case, as to the necessity of the effect. Or if there be no previous disposition at all, either habitual or occa- sional, that determines the act, then it is not choice that determines it : it is therefore a contingence, that happens to the man, arising from nothing in him ; and is necessary 7 , as to any inclination or choice of his; and, therefore, can- not make him either the better or worse, any more than a tree is belter than other trees, because it oftener hap- pens to be lit upon by a swan or nightingale: or a rock more vicious than other rocks, because rattlesnakes have happened oftener to crawl over it. So that there is no vir- tue nor vice in good or bad dispositions, either fixed or tran- sient ; nor any virtue pr vice in acting from any good or bad previous inclination ; nor yet any virtue or vice, in acting wholly without any previous inclination. Where, £ben, shall we find room for virtue or vice ? SECT. VII. MOTIVE AND INDUCEMENT, ETC. 263 SECTION VII. ARMINIAN NOTIONS OP MORAL AGENCY INCONSISTENT WITH ALL INFLUENCE OF MOTIVE AND INDUCEMENT, IN EITHER VIRTUOUS OR VICIOUS ACTIONS. As Arminian notions of that liberty, which is essential to virtue or vice, are inconsistent with common sense, in their being inconsistent with all virtuous or vicious habits and dispositions ; so they are no less so in their inconsis- tency with all influence of motives in moral actions* It is equally against those notions of liberty of will whether there be, previous to the act of choice, a prepon- derancy of the inclination, or a preponderancy of those circumstances which have a tendency to move the incli- nation. And, indeed, it comes to just the same thing: to say, the circumstances of the mind are such as tend to sway and turn its inclination one way, is the same thing as to say, the inclination of the mind, as, under such cir- cumstances, tends that way. Or if any think it most proper to say, that motives do alter the inclination, and give a new bias to the mind, it will not alter the case, as to the present argument. For if motives operate by giving the mind an inclination, then they operate by destroying the mind's indifference, and laying it under a bias. But to do this, is to destroy the Arminian freedom : it is not to leave the will to its own self-determination, but to bring it into subjection to the power of something extrinsic, which operates upon it, sways and determines it, previous to its own determina- tion. So that what is done from motive, cannot be either 264 MOTIVE INCONSISTENT PART III. virtuous or vicious. — And besides, if the acts of the will are excited by motives, those motives are the causes of those acts of the will ; which makes the acts of the will necessary ; as effects necessarily follow the efficiency of the cause. And if the influence and power of the motive causes the volition, then the influence of the motive deter- mines volition, and volition does not determine itself; and so is not free, in the sense of Arminians (as has been largely shown already) and consequently can be neither virtuous nor vicious. The supposition, which has already been taken notice of, as an insufficient evasion in other cases, would be, in like manner, impertinently alleged in this case ; namely, the supposition that liberty consists in a power of suspen- ding action for the present, in order to deliberation. If it should be said, though it be true that the will is under a necessity of finally following the strongest motive, yet it may, for the present, forbear to act upon the motive pre- sented, till there has been opportunity thoroughly to con- sider it, and compare its real weight with the merit of other motives : I answer as follows : Here, again, it must be remembered, that if determin- ing thus to suspend and consider, be that act of the will, wherein alone liberty is exercised, then in this all virtue and vice must consist; and the acts that follow this consid- eration, and are the effects of it, being necessary, are no more virtuous or vicious than some good or bad events, which happen when they are fast asleep, and are the con- sequences of what they did when they were awake. Therefore, I would here observe two things : 1. To suppose that all virtue and vice, in every case, consists in determining, whether to take time for consid- SECT. VII. WITH ARMINIAN VIRTUE AND VICE. 265 eration or not, is not agreeable to common sense. For, according to such a supposition, the most horrid crimes f adultery, murder, sodomy, blasphemy, etc. do not at all consist in the horrid nature of the things themselves, but only in the neglect of thorough consideration before they were perpetrated, which brings their viciousness to a small mat- ter, and makes all crimes equal. If it be said, that neglect of consideration, when such heinous evils are proposed to choice, is worse than in other cases : I answer, this is in- consistent, as it supposes the very thing to be, which, at the same time, is supposed not to be ; it supposes all moral evil, all viciousness and heinousness, does not consist merely in the want of consideration. It supposes some crimes in themselves, in their own nature, to be more hein- ous than others antecedent to consideration or inconsidera- tion, which lays the person under a previous obligation to consider in some cases more than others. 2. If it were so, that all virtue and vice, in every case, consisted only in the act of the will, whereby it determines whether to consider or no, it would not alter the case in the least, as to the present argument. For still in this act of the will on this determination, it is induced by some motive, and necessarily follows the strongest motive ; and so is necessarily, even in that act wherein alone it is either virtuous or vicious. One thing more I would observe, concerning the incon- sistence of Arminian notions of moral agency with the in- fluence o # f motives. — I suppose none will deny, that it is possible for motives to be set before the mind so powerful, and exhibited in so strong a light, and under so advanta- geous circumstances, as to be invincible ; and such as the mind cannot but yield to. In this case, Arminians will 23 266 MOTIVE AND INDUCEMENT, ETC. PART III. doubtless say, liberty is destroyed. And if so, then if motives are exhibited with half so much power, they hin- der liberty in proportion to their strength, and go half-way towards destroying it. If a thousand degrees of motive abolish all liberty, then five hundred take it half away. If one degree of the influence of motive does not at all in- fringe or diminish liberty, then no more do two degrees ; for nothing doubled, is still nothing. And if two degrees do not diminish the will's liberty, no more do four, eight, sixteen, or six thousand. For nothing multiplied never so much comes to but nothing. If there be nothing in the nature of motive or moral suasion that is at all oppo- site to liberty, then the greatest degree of it cannot hurt liberty. But if there be anything in the nature of the thing that is "against liberty, then the least degree of it hurts it in some degree, and consequently hurts and di- minishes virtue. If invincible motives to that action which is good, take away all the freedom of the act, and so all the virtue of it ; then the more forcible the motives are, so much the worse, so much the less virtue ; and the weaker the motives are, the better for the cause of virtue ; and none is best of all. Now let it be considered, whether these things are agreeable to common sense. If it should be allowed, that there are some instances wherein the soul chooses with- out any motive, what virtue can there be in such a choice ? I am sure there is no prudence or wisdom in it. Such a choice is made for no good end : for it is for no end at all. O 3 • If it were for any end, the view of the end would be the motive exciting to the act ; and if the act be for no good end, and so from no good aim, then there is no good in- tention in it : and, therefore, according to all our natural SECT. VII. ARMINIAN ARGUMENT, ETC. 267 notions of virtue, no more virtue in it than in the motion of the smoke, which is driven to and fro by the wind, without any aim or end in the thing moved, and which knows not whither, nor why and wherefore, it is moved. Corol. 1. By these things it appears, that the argu- ment against the Calvinists, taken from the use of coun- sels, exhortations, invitations, expostulations, etc. so much insisted on by Arminians, is truly against themselves. For these things can operate no other way to any good effect, than as in them is exhibited motive and inducement, ten- din